Meantime I rolled bread pills and remembered my sins; M'Leod considered his own reflection in a spoon; his wife seemed to be praying, and the girl fidgetted desperately with hands and feet, till the darkness passed on--as though the malignant rays of a burning-glass had been shifted from us.""There," said Miss M'Leod, half rising. "Now you see what makes a happy home. Oh, sell it--sell it, father mine, and let us go away!""But I've spent thousands on it. You shall go to Harrogate next week, Thea dear.""I'm only just back from hotels. I am so tired of packing.""Cheer up, Thea. It is over. You know it does not often come here twice in the same night. I think we shall dare now to be comfortable."He lifted a dish-cover, and helped his wife and daughter. His face was lined and fallen like an old man's after debauch, but his hand did not shake, and his voice was clear. As he worked to restore us by speech and action, he reminded me of a grey-muzzled collie herding demoralised sheep.
After dinner we sat round the dining-room fire the drawing-room might have been under the Shadow for aught we knew talking with the intimacy of gipsies by the wayside, or of wounded comparing notes after a skirmish. By eleven o'clock the three between them had given me every name and detail they could recall that in any way bore on the house, and what they knew of its history.
We went to bed in a fortifying blaze of electric light. My one fear was that the blasting gust of depression would return--the surest way, of course, to bring it. I lay awake till dawn, breathing quickly and sweating lightly, beneath what De Quincey inadequately describes as "the oppression of inexpiable guilt."Now as soon as the lovely day was broken, I fell into the most terrible of all dreams--that joyous one in which all past evil has not only been wiped out of our lives, but has never been committed; and in the very bliss of our assured innocence, before our loves shriek and change countenance, we wake to the day we have earned.
It was a coolish morning, but we preferred to breakfast in the south verandah. The forenoon we spent in the garden, pretending to play games that come out of boxes, such as croquet and clock golf. But most of the time we drew together and talked. The young man who knew all about South American railways took Miss M'Leod for a walk in the afternoon, and at five M'Leod thoughtfully whirled us all up to dine in town.
"Now, don't say you will tell the Psychological Society, and that you will come again," said Miss M'Leod, as we parted. "Because Iknow you will not."
"You should not say that," said her mother. "You should say, 'Goodbye, Mr. Perseus. Come again.'""Not him!" the girl cried. "He has seen the Medusa's head!"Looking at myself in the restaurant's mirrors, it seemed to me that I had not much benefited by my week-end. Next morning Iwrote out all my Holmescroft notes at fullest length, in the hope that by so doing I could put it all behind me. But the experience worked on my mind, as they say certain imperfectly understood rays work on the body.
I am less calculated to make a Sherlock Holmes than any man Iknow, for I lack both method and patience, yet the idea of following up the trouble to its source fascinated me. I had no theory to go on, except a vague idea that I had come between two poles of a discharge, and had taken a shock meant for some one else. This was followed by a feeling of intense irritation. Iwaited cautiously on myself, expecting to be overtaken by horror of the supernatural, but my self persisted in being humanly indignant, exactly as though it had been the victim of a practical joke. It was in great pains and upheavals--that I felt in every fibre but its dominant idea, to put it coarsely, was to get back a bit of its own. By this I knew that I might go forward if I could find the way.
After a few days it occurred to me to go to the office of Mr.
J.M.M. Baxter--the solicitor who had sold Holmescroft to M'Leod.
I explained I had some notion of buying the place. Would he act for me in the matter ?
Mr. Baxter, a large, greyish, throaty-voiced man, showed no enthusiasm. "I sold it to Mr. M'Leod," he said. "It 'ud scarcely do for me to start on the running-down tack now. But I can recommend--""I know he's asking an awful price," I interrupted, "and atop of it he wants an extra thousand for what he calls your clean bill of health."Mr. Baxter sat up in his chair. I had all his attention.
"Your guarantee with the house. Don't you remember it?""Yes, yes. That no death had taken place in the house since it was built: I remember perfectly."He did not gulp as untrained men do when they lie, but his jaws moved stickily, and his eyes, turning towards the deed boxes on the wall, dulled. I counted seconds, one, two, three--one, two, three up to ten. A man, I knew, can live through ages of mental depression in that time.
"I remember perfectly." His mouth opened a little as though it had tasted old bitterness.
"Of course that sort of thing doesn't appeal to me." I went on.
"I don't expect to buy a house free from death.""Certainly not. No one does. But it was Mr. M'Leod's fancy--his wife's rather, I believe; and since we could meet it--it was my duty to my clients at whatever cost to my own feelings--to make him pay.""That's really why I came to you. I understood from him you knew the place well.""Oh, yes. Always did. It originally belonged to some connections of mine.""The Misses Moultrie, I suppose. How interesting! They must have loved the place before the country round about was built up.""They were very fond of it indeed."
"I don't wonder. So restful and sunny. I don't see how they could have brought themselves to part with it."Now it is one of the most constant peculiarities of the English that in polite conversation--and I had striven to be polite--no one ever does or sells anything for mere money's sake.
