VINTAGE MYSTERIES - 70+ Stories in One Volume (Thriller Classics Series). Robert Barr
about the ghost with a club-foot, my lord?' said I genially. 'May I take it that in the City, that sensible, commercial portion of London, no spirits are believed in except those sold over the bars?'
'If you mean,' began his lordship, struggling to reach his dignity once more, 'if you mean to ask if there is any man fool enough to place credit in the story of a ghost, I answer no. I am a practical man, sir. I now possess in the north property representing, in farming lands, in shooting rights, and what not, a locked-up capital of many a thousand pounds. As you seem to know everything, sir, perhaps you are aware that I propose to build a modern mansion on the estate.'
'Yes; I saw the letter in the Times.'
'Very well, sir. It has come to a fine pass if, in this country of law and the rights of property, a man may not do what he pleases with his own.'
'I think, my lord, cases may be cited where the decisions of your courts have shown a man may not do what he likes with his own. Nevertheless, I am quite certain that if you level Rantremly Castle with the ground, and build a modern mansion in its place, the law will not hinder you.'
'I should hope not, sir, I should hope not,' said his lordship gruffly. 'Nevertheless, I am not one who wishes to ride roughshod over public opinion.
'I am chairman of several companies which depend more or less on popular favour for success. I deplore unnecessary antagonism. Technically, I might assert my right to destroy this ancient stronghold tomorrow if I wished to do so, and if that right were seriously disputed, I should, of course, stand firm. But it is not seriously disputed. The British nation, sir, is too sensible a people to object to the removal of an antiquated structure that has long outlived its usefulness, and the erection of a mansion replete with all modern improvements would be a distinct addition to the country, sir. A few impertinent busybodies protest against the demolition of Rantremly Castle, but that is all.'
'Ah, then you do intend to destroy it?' I rejoined, and it is possible that a touch of regret was manifest in my tones.
'Not just at present; not until this vulgar clamour has had time to subside. Nevertheless, as a business man, I am forced to recognise that a large amount of unproductive capital is locked up in that property.'
'And why is it locked up?'
'Because of an absurd belief that the place is haunted. I could let it tomorrow at a good figure, if it were not for that rumour.'
'But surely sensible men do not pay any attention to such a rumour.'
'Sensible men may not, but sensible men are often married to silly women, and the women object. It is only the other day that I was in negotiation with Bates, of Bates, Sturgeon and Bates, a very wealthy man, quite able and willing to pay the price I demanded. He cared nothing about the alleged ghost, but his family absolutely refused to have anything to do with the place, and so the arrangement fell through.'
'What is your theory regarding this ghost, my lord?'
He answered me with some impatience.
'How can a sane man hold a theory about a ghost? I can, however, advance a theory regarding the noises heard in the castle. For years that place has been the resort of questionable characters.'
'I understand the Rantremly family is a very old one,' I commented innocently, but his lordship did not notice the innuendo.
'Yes, we are an old family,' he went on with great complacency. 'The castle, as perhaps you are aware, is a huge, ramshackle place, honeycombed underneath with cellars. I dare say in the old days some of these cellars and caves were the resort of smugglers, and the receptacle of their contraband wares, doubtless with the full knowledge of my ancestors, who, I regret to admit, as a business man, were not too particular in their respect for law. I make no doubt that the castle is now the refuge of a number of dangerous characters, who, knowing the legends of the place, frighten away fools by impersonating ghosts.'
'You wish me to uncover their retreat, then?'
'Precisely.'
'Could I get accommodation in the castle itself?'
'Lord bless you, no! Nor within two miles of it. You might secure bed and board at the porter's lodge, perhaps, or in the village, which is three miles distant.'
'I should prefer to live in the castle night and day, until the mystery is solved.'
'Ah, you are a practical man. That is a very sensible resolution. But you can persuade no one in that neighbourhood to bear you company. You would need to take some person down with you from London, and the chances are, that person will not stay long.'
'Perhaps, my lord, if you used your influence, the chief of police in the village might allow a constable to bear me company. I do not mind roughing it in the least, but I should like someone to prepare my meals, and to be on hand in case of a struggle, should your surmise concerning the ghost prove correct.'
'I regret to inform you,' said his lordship, 'that the police in that barbarous district are as superstitious as the peasantry. I, myself, told the chief constable my theory, and for six weeks he has been trying to run down the miscreants, who, I am sure, are making a rendezvous of the castle. Would you believe it, sir, that the constabulary, after a few nights' experience in the castle, threatened to resign in a body if they were placed on duty at Rantremly? They said they heard groans and shrieks, and the measured beat of a club-foot on the oaken floors. Perfectly absurd, of course, but there you are! Why, I cannot even get a charwoman or labourer to clear up the evidences of the tragedy which took place there six weeks ago. The beds are untouched, the broken china and the silver tray lie today at the foot of the stairway, and everything remains just as it was when the inquest took place.'
'Very well, my lord, the case presents many difficulties, and so, speaking as one business man to another, you will understand that my compensation must be correspondingly great.'
All the assumed dignity which straightened up this man whenever I addressed him as 'my lord', instantly fell from him when I enunciated the word 'compensation'. His eyes narrowed, and all the native shrewdness of an adept skinflint appeared in his face. I shall do him the justice to say that he drove the very best bargain he could with me, and I, on my part, very deftly concealed from him the fact that I was so much interested in the affair that I should have gone down to Rantremly for nothing rather than forgo the privilege of ransacking Rantremly Castle.
When the new earl had taken his departure, walking to the door with the haughty air of a nobleman, then bowing to me with the affability of a business man, I left my flat, took a cab, and speedily found myself climbing the stair to the first floor of 51 Beaumont Street, Strand. As I paused at the door on which were painted the words, 'S. Brooks, Stenography, Typewriting, Translation', I heard the rapid click-click of a machine inside. Knocking at the door the writing ceased, and I was bidden to enter. The room was but meagrely furnished, and showed scant signs of prosperity. On a small side-table, clean, but uncovered, the breakfast dishes, washed, but not yet put away, stood, and the kettle on the hob by the dying fire led me to infer that the typewriting woman was her own cook. I suspected that the awkward-looking sofa which partly occupied one side of the room, concealed a bed. By the lone front window stood the typewriting machine on a small stand, and in front of it sat the woman who had visited me the morning before. She was now gazing at me, probably hoping I was a customer, for there was no recognition in her eyes.
'Good-morning, Lady Rantremly,' was my greeting, which caused her to spring immediately to her feet, with a little exclamation of surprise.
'Oh,' she said at last, 'you are Monsieur Valmont. Excuse me that I am so stupid. Will you take a chair?'
'Thank you, madam. It is I who should ask to be excused for so unceremonious a morning call. I have come to ask you a question. Can you cook?'
The lady looked at me with some surprise, mingled perhaps with so much of indignation as such a mild person could assume. She did not reply, but, glancing at the kettle, and then turning towards the breakfast dishes on the table by the wall, a slow flush of colour suffused her wan cheeks.
'My lady,' I said at last,