“Then there’s nothing left but to try and force the door.” Douglas braced his powerful shoulders against the panels until his muscles almost cracked under the strain. “Run against it,” he gasped, perspiration trickling down his face; and Colonel Thornton obediently threw himself forward as the door gave slightly. “Again!” cried Douglas, and he threw his own weight on the panel, which yielded a little. “Once more,” and with a rending crash the upper and weaker panel splintered sufficiently to allow Douglas to slip his hand inside and turn the key which was in the lock. He also shot back the rusty bolt with difficulty, and withdrew his hand.
“Get the women back into their rooms,” he whispered, his face showing white in the moonlight. “The room is full of escaping gas.”
Thornton gazed blankly at him for a second, then turned to Mrs. Truxton. “Kate, I insist upon your taking these girls to your room.” She nodded understandingly, and he turned to Cynthia with an air of command. “Go with Mrs. Truxton, Cynthia. I promise to come instantly and tell you what we discover in this room.”
She nodded dumbly, past speech. The reaction had come, and Mrs. Truxton and Eleanor led her, unresisting, back to her room and helped her to bed, where she lay, her eyes pleading to be relieved from her mental anguish.
Colonel Thornton and Douglas watched them until they disappeared inside the bedroom, then the latter opened the broken door of the locked room. An overpowering smell of illuminating gas choked them, and they drew back, gasping. Douglas stepped over to the hall window and threw up the sash, letting in the cool air. Then, holding his breath, he rushed inside the room and, locating the escaping gas jet by the overpowering odor, he reached up and turned off the cock of the wall bracket.
“It’s no use; we’ll have to wait and give the gas a chance to evaporate,” he said, returning to the Colonel’s side. “Are you sure the room is unoccupied?”
Thornton’s eyes were half starting from his head. “Unoccupied?” he stammered. “It’s been unoccupied for half a century. This is the southwest chamber, which is supposed to be haunted by my great-aunt. A dog won’t sleep there.”
Douglas stared at his companion in amazement for some seconds, then, holding his breath, again bolted into the room. The remaining gas almost overcame him, but fortunately, catching sight of the outlines of the windows, he opened first one and then the other, and rejoined the Colonel, who was hovering in the doorway, as quickly as possible. Without speaking they waited until the pure night air had swept away the poisonous gas; then Douglas stepped inside the room, struck a match and applied it to the chandelier. As the light flared up a horrified exclamation escaped Thornton.
“Good God! Look!”
Douglas’ eyes followed his outstretched arm. Stretched on the high four-posted bedstead was the body of a woman, lying on her side, her face concealed by the masses of dark hair which fell over it. A book lay by her side, one finger of her left hand caught between the pages. A drop light, minus shade and chimney, stood on a low table beside the bed.