The Paternoster Ruby

by Charles Edmonds Walk

So I merely stood motionless and listened. The circumstance that my straining ears could now hear nothing whatever was in itself ominous. The hush which had fallen upon the place was the sort that heralds an advance through a forest of the most cautious of hunters. Danger might be creeping upon me from every side and in any imaginable guise; if so, here was my warning.

Then it was that I smiled and reached a decision. With infinite caution I sank to the floor, removed my shoes, and draped a rug over the lantern. Only the dimmest points of light showed through the weave of the fabric; merely enough to serve as a guiding beacon in case I wanted to find it in a hurry. Next, with my revolver in hand, I stole to the hall door, which had been left ajar purposely, and peered out.

The darkness was fathomless, the silence complete. The spacious lower hall was the Dionysius' ear of the house; if there was any movement about the place, here if anywhere it would be detected and its source determined.

The floor was of hardwood, and my feet were soon numb with cold. Then, too, bravery is a relative term when all is said and done. A coward may be always a coward, but it is not an inevitable corollary that a brave man is always brave. To know a possible antagonist, to walk boldly up to him in the broad light of day, is one thing; to stand in a hyperborean hall in the dead of the night, surrounded by the darkness of the pit, ignorant alike of the nature of your peril and the point from which an attack may come—that is quite another.

So I freely own that my jaws ached with the effort of keeping my teeth from clicking together like castanets.

In the course of a long and not uneventful career, I have been in a good many tight places and under all sorts of conditions where I had to hold myself to the matter in hand with every grain of will power that I could muster; but never since that night in the old Page hall have I experienced precisely the same unnerving feeling that possessed me then. I came perilously close to an ignominious retreat—and before ever I had an idea of what I was running from!

Fortunately for whatever status I may hold in this chronicle, the movement was checked at its inception. In a flash my momentary panic was forgotten. I caught a sound that I recognized and, moreover, located on the instant. It was the long, unmistakable creak of a loose stair plank such as follows the gradual shifting of a person's weight from one foot to another. Somebody was slowly and cautiously ascending the rear stairs.

I could smile once more and breathe normally. Instead of retreating, I was in the next few seconds stealing up the front stairs. Nor did I move very slowly, either. I knew by experiment that its steps were all solid, and that I need not fear the betrayal of any complaining board.

At the stair head I became cautious again; I did n't want to risk a collision with the étagère. What must I do, however, but stumble against the topmost step and plunge head foremost right into the thing.

The ensuing crash that filled the house was like an explosion. It also drowned my comments. To make matters worse, in my efforts to keep from falling, my revolver shot from my hand and through the balusters, and went clattering down to the landing with the noise of a falling brick.