The Lock and Key Library: Classic Mystery and Detective Stories | Page 8

himself with no better behavior than
would most unquestionably have brought him and the sharpest particles
of a birch-broom into close acquaintance in the present imperfect state
of existence, could they also suppose a mere poor human being, such as
I was, capable by those contemptible means of counteracting and
limiting the powers of the disembodied spirits of the dead, or of any
spirits?--I say I would become emphatic and cogent, not to say rather
complacent, in such an address, when it would all go for nothing by
reason of the Odd Girl's suddenly stiffening from the toes upward, and
glaring among us like a parochial petrifaction.
Streaker, the housemaid, too, had an attribute of a most discomfiting
nature. I am unable to say whether she was of an usually lymphatic
temperament, or what else was the matter with her, but this young
woman became a mere Distillery for the production of the largest and
most transparent tears I ever met with. Combined with these
characteristics, was a peculiar tenacity of hold in those specimens, so
that they didn't fall, but hung upon her face and nose. In this condition,
and mildly and deplorably shaking her head, her silence would throw
me more heavily than the Admirable Crichton could have done in a
verbal disputation for a purse of money. Cook, likewise, always
covered me with confusion as with a garment, by neatly winding up the

session with the protest that the Ouse was wearing her out, and by
meekly repeating her last wishes regarding her silver watch.
As to our nightly life, the contagion of suspicion and fear was among
us, and there is no such contagion under the sky. Hooded woman?
According to the accounts, we were in a perfect Convent of hooded
women. Noises? With that contagion downstairs, I myself have sat in
the dismal parlor, listening, until I have heard so many and such strange
noises, that they would have chilled my blood if I had not warmed it by
dashing out to make discoveries. Try this in bed, in the dead of the
night: try this at your own comfortable fire-side, in the life of the night.
You can fill any house with noises, if you will, until you have a noise
for every nerve in your nervous system.
I repeat; the contagion of suspicion and fear was among us, and there is
no such contagion under the sky. The women (their noses in a chronic
state of excoriation from smelling-salts) were always primed and
loaded for a swoon, and ready to go off with hair- triggers. The two
elder detached the Odd Girl on all expeditions that were considered
doubly hazardous, and she always established the reputation of such
adventures by coming back cataleptic. If Cook or Streaker went
overhead after dark, we knew we should presently hear a bump on the
ceiling; and this took place so constantly, that it was as if a fighting
man were engaged to go about the house, administering a touch of his
art which I believe is called The Auctioneer, to every domestic he met
with.
It was in vain to do anything. It was in vain to be frightened, for the
moment in one's own person, by a real owl, and then to show the owl. It
was in vain to discover, by striking an accidental discord on the piano,
that Turk always howled at particular notes and combinations. It was in
vain to be a Rhadamanthus with the bells, and if an unfortunate bell
rang without leave, to have it down inexorably and silence it. It was in
vain to fire up chimneys, let torches down the well, charge furiously
into suspected rooms and recesses. We changed servants, and it was no
better. The new set ran away, and a third set came, and it was no better.
At last, our comfortable housekeeping got to be so disorganised and

wretched, that I one night dejectedly said to my sister: "Patty, I begin to
despair of our getting people to go on with us here, and I think we must
give this up."
My sister, who is a woman of immense spirit, replied, "No, John, don't
give it up. Don't be beaten, John. There is another way."
"And what is that?" said I.
"John," returned my sister, "if we are not to be driven out of this house,
and that for no reason whatever, that is apparent to you or me, we must
help ourselves and take the house wholly and solely into our own
hands."
"But, the servants," said I.
"Have no servants," said my sister, boldly.
Like most people in my grade of life, I had never thought of the
possibility of going on without those faithful obstructions. The notion
was so new to me when