Tales of the Wonder Club, Volume I

by M. Y. Halidom

At length, not being able to bear this suspense any longer, I bethought me of striking terror into my visitant, and though carrying no arms about me, my object was to alarm the stranger into speaking, so I called out in husky tones as loud as my voice would permit me, "Speak, or I fire!"

But no answer was given. What was to be done? I could not carry my threat into execution, having no weapon. I could not even move from my post for fear, I felt the cold perspiration streaming down from my temples, my whole frame shook, and my teeth chattered together.

It was something more than mortal fear that I suffered; it was as if I were in the presence of some supernatural being. Gradually I became aware of a dark form, apparently that of a woman, close to my bed. My eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, and I could distinguish the various objects in my bed-chamber with greater facility.

I rivetted my eyes on the figure, but all I could discern was a long black robe and two white hands. I looked for the face, but in vain. It seemed covered up, for the shoulders merged into the darkness.

Soon, as if to aid my vision, a sort of pale blue light spread a halo around the figure, and grew gradually brighter, setting it off in relief. I could now see the whole figure distinctly. I looked for the head. Oh, horror! It was wanting.

I shuddered, and felt an intense desire to scream, but my voice was gone. Had I then really lived to see a ghost? Was there, then, some foundation for the strange name given to the inn? I had never heard from my friend Rustcoin that it was reported haunted, and I most assuredly should have heard about it if he had had any knowledge of it.

Perhaps it was a thing not generally known; perhaps its appearance was not usual, and it only appeared at intervals to certain privileged beings. Was I one of those beings? I asked myself. Perhaps so. It might have something to communicate. I would address it, but my tongue clove to the roof of my mouth, for now I saw distinctly that the head I had missed was carried under the left arm of the figure.

I marked well the face; it was extremely beautiful, and I thought I recognised a likeness to the old portrait I had been looking at; but oh! how far short that old piece of painted panel fell of the original; if, indeed, it was ever intended for a representation of the lineaments I now gazed upon.

I made a second effort to address it, but as I opened my mouth to speak I heard another most audible moan from the headless figure. I was awed, but that intense fear which I experienced when I became aware that some stranger had entered my chamber had all but vanished now that I was certain that I was in the presence of a denizen of the spirit world.

Awful as this certainty was, it seemed to fade into insignificance when compared with the terrible feeling of doubt I had before experienced. I now felt comparatively relieved; so much so, indeed, that I even found room in my heart for pity—that one so young and so beautiful as she appeared to be should have suffered such a cruel and ignominious death. At length, in a low and subdued tone, I addressed the figure.