The Tower Rooms

by Mary Grant Bruce

The lower balcony that ran partly round the house ended before it reached my room, so that I had a clear view of part of the garden as well as of the track across the paddock to the sea. As I leaned out a faint sound came to me from below. Then two slight figures crossed the strip of moonlit garden, running quietly and quickly, and disappeared in the direction of the back of the house. I had been dreaming, but I came to attention with a jerk. Unquestionably, they were Judy and Jack.

I looked at my watch. Ten o’clock: and the precious pair should have been in bed an hour ago. I went down the passage and out upon the balcony to where their beds stood peacefully side by side. At first glance they appeared to be occupied by slumbrous forms; but a moment’s investigation showed that a skilful arrangement of coats and pillows, humped beneath the sheets, took the places of the rightful occupants. Clearly, my charges were out upon the warpath.

I felt horribly responsible. Lawless as the two were, they were supposed to be in my care, and it seemed to my town-bred mind an unthinkable thing that two such urchins should be careering about in the dead of night. Their elaborate precautions against discovery showed that it was no excursion of a few moments. The direction of their flight was towards the sea. Possibly the McNab urge for bathing had seized them; or they would be quite equal to taking out a boat for a moonlight row. Whatever their fell designs might be, it seemed to me that I should follow them. I could not calmly go to bed, knowing that they were out of the house.

I was in anything but a gentle frame of mind while I hurriedly changed my evening frock for something more serviceable and donned a pair of tennis-shoes. Bed seemed to me a very pleasant place as I switched off my light and stole quietly down the kitchen stairs, hearing the gramophone grinding out a fox-trot in the drawing-room. I could only hope that I would find the truants soon; and that, when found, they would allow themselves to be gathered in peaceably. But I knew already that it was no easy matter to turn Judy and Jack from any set purpose.

I am a good deal of a coward in the dark; the night seemed full of ghostly sounds as I hunted up and down the dim shrubbery, hoping to find my quarry near the house. But there was no sign of them: nothing living could be seen except an old owl that flew out of a bush with a whir of wings that sent my heart into my mouth. So I set off across the paddock towards the shore.

The hummocks were fringed with low scrub, through which a dozen paths wandered. I chose one at random, following its windings until it ended in a deep, stony cleft, down which it would not be easy to scramble in the moonlight. I was about to retrace my steps, to look for an easier path to the beach, when a low giggle fell upon my ears, and looking closely, I saw Judy and Jack crouched behind a boulder below me. They had not heard me; that was clear: all their attention was focused on something beyond them. As I watched, a tall figure came from the shadow of the boat-house. I heard the scratch of a match being struck, and saw the glow as the new-comer lit a cigarette. Then the figure strolled slowly across the moonlit sand by the water, and I saw, with a start of astonishment, that it was Mrs. McNab.

She paced backwards and forwards, with her head bent, her face shadowed by one of the soft hats she always wore. She had changed her evening dress for a dark gown in which she moved like a shadow, the dull glow of her cigarette-tip the most living thing about her. There was something eerie and ghost-like in the dim form, drifting with silent steps by the gently heaving sea. I had an uneasy feeling that I was spying: that I had no right to be there. Clearly, too, it was unnecessary for me to shepherd Judy and Jack when their own mother was about. I was turning to go quietly home when another giggle came from the pair just below me, and I heard Judy’s voice, discreetly lowered.

“Rotten luck!” she whispered. “No earthly chance of getting a boat out, with Mother there. Why on earth can’t she stay in the Tower, without spoiling sport!”

“Let’s go and give her a fright,” Jack suggested. “P’raps she’ll think it’s one of the ghosts Julia’s always talking about, and clear out!”

“Don’t be an ass,” counselled his sister. “She’d be awfully wild.” But her words were wasted. Jack was already making his way softly down the gully.