That Affair at Elizabeth

by Burton Egbert Stevenson

Was it not possible that Marcia Lawrence had been lured to the Kingdon cottage or taken there against her will? Who could say how that old injury done the Endicotts would flower and fruit? Who could say what hatred, what desire for vengeance, rankled in the hearts of the Kingdons? I remembered how the face of the maid had darkened with malice, how her eyes had blazed with infernal joy, as she stood there in the door of the library, thinking herself unseen. Her sister I knew nothing of, but if they resembled each other as sisters usually do, I could well believe them capable of any cruelty. Was it not possible that Marcia Lawrence was in their hands? Was it not possible that my dream possessed a basis of reality? I had been thinking of her all the evening; I had gone to sleep with the problem of her disappearance still on my mind; I had been studying her photograph—I was, in a word, in spiritual touch with her, responsive to any suggestion emanating from her—we were tuned to the same pitch. Such, I fancied, was the explanation of the phenomena which a telepathist would give. She had sent that cry into the night, and I, being en rapport with her, had heard it—had witnessed the tragedy which called it forth. Perhaps the struggle was not yet ended; perhaps, even at this moment——

I sprang to my feet, hurried into my clothes, caught up my hat, opened my door and ran noiselessly down the stair. I would solve this problem to-night, if it could be solved. I had been wrong in turning away from the Kingdon cottage the evening before; I should, at least, have made an effort to discover if Marcia Lawrence were really there. But it had not occurred to me then that she could be in any danger. I had thought too much of what Curtiss would wish me to do; too little of what the necessities of the case required. Well, I would not make that mistake a second time.

As I look back upon my frame of mind at that moment and consider the impulse which sent me forth from my room at that hour of the night, I realise how overwrought I was. At a distance, in cold blood, it seems an absurd thing to have done; yet, under the same conditions, I should no doubt behave again in much the same way. And even admitting its absurdity, I am not prepared to say, in view of the event, that there was not back of it some instinct worth following. There are forces in nature not yet explained or recognised, and I am still inclined to think that it was one of these which drew me forth upon that midnight errand.

In a very fever of impatience, I hurried along the street, under the trees, meeting no one except a patrolman. I heard him stop, as I passed him, and knew that he was looking back after me, but I kept on without pausing, and heard him finally start on again. In a minute more I reached the Lawrence place, and stopped in the shadow of a tree for a look around. The house loomed through the darkness grim and gloomy, with no light showing anywhere. I leaped the fence, assured that I was unseen, and pushed my way forward through the grove toward the path which led to the cottage.

Beneath the trees, the darkness was absolute and I could go forward but slowly; yet, starting from the library steps, I found the path without difficulty, and felt my way cautiously along it, until I came to the hedge which marked the limits of the Kingdon place. I examined the house with care, but there was fronting me no lighted window upon which a tragedy could be pictured. Indeed, I saw no vestige of a light and was about to conclude that my midnight pilgrimage had been in vain, when my eye was caught by a faint glimmer near the ground. At first, I was not sure it was a light at all; then I decided that it was a reflection of some sort, or perhaps a phosphorescent glow. But as I stared at it, with eyes contracted, it suddenly took shape in the darkness, and I saw that the light proceeded from a small ventilator set in the foundation of the house.

Trembling with excitement, I softly opened the gate and entered the grounds. Here, with nothing between me and the stars, I suddenly found myself in what seemed a veritable blaze of light. I was seized with panic lest I be seen and scurried into the shadow of the house, then dropped beside the ventilator and examined it.

It was of the ordinary type—a plate of iron some six or eight inches square, perforated with holes perhaps half an inch in diameter, and set in the foundation about six inches from the ground.

I applied an eye to one of the holes and endeavoured to see what lay beyond. For a moment, I saw absolutely nothing; then I perceived in front of me a stretch of clay, which ended abruptly at a distance of six or eight feet. A few inches above the level of my eye were the beams supporting the floor of the cottage. But it was only a glance I gave to these details, though I found them afterwards photographed upon my brain; it was the space beyond which fixed my attention—the space where the clay bank before me dropped abruptly to what was no doubt the cellar of the cottage.

It was from this space that the light proceeded, but of what lay within it I could see almost nothing—only enough, indeed, to fire my curiosity. For from time to time a shadow moved between me and the light—a shadow which showed that the cellar was not empty. The light, I judged, had been placed on a stool or table on the opposite side of the cellar. From the way it varied, now bright, now dim, I decided it was a candle, and that the motions of the person working near it caused the flame to flicker. These motions would continue for a time with considerable regularity; then they would cease while the worker evidently stopped to rest, and then begin again.

Who was this person and what was this work which must be done at such an hour? In vain I sought an answer. I pressed my ear to the ventilator, but could hear nothing; nothing, at least, beyond the faintest of faint sounds, which gave me no clue to what was happening within. I peered through the little orifice moment after moment, until the shadows grew confused and blurred and my eyes ached under the strain.