The Room with the Tassels. Wells Carolyn
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died. She threw a shawl over her head, and ran screamin’ to the village for the doctor. I s’pose remorse got her, for she confessed, and said ‘I killed him! I killed him! At four o’clock I killed him!’
“She went crazy, they say, then and there. Well, the doctor he said he’d come right away, but she ran home first. And he followed’s fast’s he could, and – when he come, here was the woman, – and she was a washin’ the dead man’s lips, – she said, to get the smell of the bitter ammonds off, – you know, prussic acid is for all the world the smell of bitter almonds. The doctor, he found the man was really dead, and he was for havin’ her arrested, but she was so plumb crazy, he decided to take her to an asylum instead.
“He had to go off to get help, and he left her, – here alone in this house with the body. They was in that room,” Stebbins pointed to the room with the locked door, at the right hand of the hall as one entered, “the room with the tassels, it’s called.”
“Why is it called that?” broke in Eve, whose piercing eyes were fairly glittering with excitement, “what sort of tassels?”
“Great heavy tassels on the curtains and lambaquins, ma’am, – want to see it?”
“Not now,” ordained Landon, “the story first.”
“Well,” resumed Stebbins, “they was in that room, the dead husband and the live wife, when the doctor went away, and because he knew she was out of her head, he locked ’em in. And when he came back – she was setting there, just where he’d left her, still in a dazed sort o’ stupor, and – the corpse was gone.”
“Gone! where?” rasped out the Professor.
“Nobody knows. Nobody ever knew. It had just disappeared from off the face of the earth. The doctor and the village folks all agreed that it was sperrited away. ’Cause that woman, – she couldn’t get out o’ the doors to cart it off, and she couldn’t ’a’ got out of a winder with it, without showin’ some signs, and if she had, what in the world could she ’a’ done with it? It wasn’t buried nowhere around, and if she’d ’a’ threw it in the lake, s’posin’ she’d got out a winder, how’d she got in again? Anyhow, that’s the story, and they all said she was a witch and she bewitched the body away, so’s the doctor and sheriff couldn’t smell the prussic acid on it and hang her for murder. They searched and searched but they couldn’t find no signs of her havin’ even moved outen her chair. She sat there like a dead woman herself, when the doctor left her and likewise when he come back.”
“The tale is very circumstantial,” observed Gifford Bruce, a bit drily.
“I’m tellin’ it as I’ve many a time heard it, sir,” said Stebbins, a little resentfully. “This here story’s been common talk around these parts a many years, and I ain’t one to add to nor take from it.”
“Go on,” commanded Landon, briefly.
“They put her away, in a loonytic asylum, and she died in it. They never found hide nor hair of the dead man, and the place fell to some kin that lived down Pennsylvania way. They come up here for a while, I b’lieve, but the ha’nt scared ’em off. It’s been sold some several times and at last it fell to my father’s family. Now it’s mine, and it’s a white elephant to me. I can’t sell or rent it, and so you folks may well believe I jumped at the chance to have you take it for a spell.”
“We haven’t heard about the haunt yet,” said Norma. She spoke quietly, but her lips quivered a little, and her fingers were nervously picking at her handkerchief.
“That,” and Stebbins looked even more sombre than he had, “that’s my own experience, so I can give it to you first hand.
“I come here to live, ’bout ten years ago, and I was plucky enough to hoot at ghost stories and tales o’ ha’nts.
“So I set out to sleep in that – that room with the tassels, – out o’ sheer bravado. But I got enough of it.”
The man’s head fell on his breast and he paused in his narrative.
“Go on,” said Landon, less brusquely than before.
Milly stirred nervously. “Don’t let him tell the rest, Wynne,” she said.
“Oh, yes, dear. Remember, this is what we’re here for.”
Most of the men shifted their positions; Hardwick leaned forward, both hands on his knees. Gifford Bruce sat with one arm flung carelessly over his chair back, a slight smile on his face.
Braye was beside Norma, and watched alternately her face and Eve’s, while Tracy was holding Vernie’s hand, and his gentle calm kept the volatile child quiet.
“I see it all so plainly, – that first night – ” Stebbins said, slowly. “First night! Land! there never was another! Not for me. I’d sooner ’a’ died than slep’ in that room again!”
“See a ghost?” asked Bruce, flippantly.
“Yes, sir,” and Stebbins looked straight at him. “I seen a ghost. I’m a sound sleeper, I am, and I went to sleep quiet and ca’m as a baby. I woke as the big clock there was a strikin’ four. It was that what woke me – I hope.”
“Is there – is there a bed in that room?” asked the Professor.
“Lord, yes, it was them folkses bedroom. In them days, people most always slep’ downstairs. I come awake suddenly, and the room was full of an icy chill. Not just coldness, but a damp chill – like undertakers’ iceboxes.”
Vernie shuddered and Tracy held her hand more firmly. Landon slipped his arm round Milly, and Eve and Norma glanced at each other.
Gifford Bruce replaced his sneering smile, which had somehow disappeared.
“It was winter, and plumb dark at four o’clock in the morning, but the room was full of an unearthly light, – a sort of frosty, white glow, like you see in a graveyard sometimes.
“And comin’ toward me was a tall, gaunt figure, with a shawl over its head, a white, misty shape, that had a sort of a halting step but was comin’ straight and sure toward that bed I was lyin’ on. I tried to scream, I tried to move, but I couldn’t, – I was paralyzed. On and on came the thing – halting at every step, but gettin’ nearer and nearer. As she – oh, I knew it was that woman – ”
“I thought it was a man who was murdered,” put in Mr. Bruce, in his most sardonic tones.
“So it was, sir,” Stebbins spoke mildly, “but it was the murderess doin’ the ha’ntin’. I s’pose she can’t rest quiet in her grave for remorse and that. She came nearer and – and I saw her face – and – ”
“Well?”
“And it was a skull! A grinning skull. And her long bony hand held a glass – a glass of poison – for me.”
“Er – did you take it?” This from Bruce.
“No, sir. I swooned away, or whatever you may call it. I lost all consciousness, and when I come to, the thing was gone.”
“Ever see her again?” inquired Mr. Bruce, conversationally.
“No, sir,” and Stebbins eyed him uninterestedly. It was impossible to annoy the story teller. “No, I never seen her.”
“Heard her?” asked Braye.
“Yes; many’s the time. But – I ain’t never slept in that room since.”
“I should say not!” cried Eve. “But I will! I’ll brave the phantasm. I’d be glad to see her. I’m not afraid.”
“You needn’t be,” said Mr. Bruce, with a short laugh. “You won’t see anything, Miss Carnforth. I’d be willing to try it, too.”
“What other manifestations have you experienced?” asked Braye. “What have you heard?”
“Mostly groans – ”
“And hollow laughter,” interrupted Bruce.