THE HOUSE ON THE BOGS

Auckland Star, Volume LIII, Issue 98, 27 April 1922, Page 10

THE HOUSE ON THE BOGS

By KATHERINE TYNAN.

CHAFfER XVI. DEATH AND LOVE. They had lunch in a quiet upstair room of a French restaurant, crowded to the doors in the buffet and {trill room, but practically empty as to the Ladieo' Room. He took off her heavy fur coat with a careful kindness, and hung it up before removing his own coat and hat, after he sat down to consider the menu. The removal of Doreen"s coat had revealed a pink blouse and a string of pearls round a very white neck. Doreen looked like a rose. Be selected from the menu with great care. A girl in love would hardly have known and certainly not cared what she ate in the circumstances, but K:t Lavery c healthy male appetite did not desert him. though he wa9 happily conscious of the glowing face opposite to him and rather'dbappointed that Doreen did not appreciate the dishes as he did. When the repast was done, the waiter, fetching the coats, referred to Doreen as "your lady." Kit Lavery look the coal from him and held it himself for Doreen lo put on. It was lined gorgeously with ruse-coloured satin: from his plain, masculine standard he admired that lining a* he would have admired the plumage of a humming-bird. What wonderful exotic beings they were, these women: who cad themselves in beautiful thinis brought from near and far. All this -plumage of hie lady had for him a most curious and compelling fascination. He had not seemed inclined to hurry the meal, even then he lingered over a cigarette. "When ehe reminded him that time was paesirc. he answered reproachfully that in a day or two she would be back at Moat, and he at Curraugh. "Let us make the most of our time together."' lie said audaciously. The short day was bezmnins to close in by the time they arrived at Xo. 7, The Mali, making their entry throi'fh the *taVes by Golden Lane, which was very far from being as golden as its name suggested. There was another delay before they succeeded in findipg old Simon Keogh. who when, he wae at last unearthed looked distrustfully at Doreen. "I sev you the key of the house before." he said.'"led astray by your pretty face, and what did ye do. but «o lavin' them in the lock an' puttin' the heart across mc wid terror, when I found you'd Q[One an" left no word behind. Morebetoken you'd riz the dining room winda an' gone out be it. lavin , all them vallyables for any -wan that cared to crO39 the palm's. I couldn't ha' slept a wink if I'd known how the house was exposed. It it wasn't for the name ife got—cure an' empty house is like a corp and the foolish people do be runnin' wance the night falls—everything might have been took on mc." "Bufc indeed. I didn't open the diningroom window," eaid Doreen, in earnest protestation. 'It was open when I carr;e. I thought you had opened it te air the I was so eorry t> & away like that, but eomehow the hous< frightened mc. 1 went out by tht front " • ; An ? left the padlock hanging' loose It was broke for years, but it wae a great protection as long as the people didn't know that. How you come tc unlock the dhiing room door bet mc Sure, she had the kay 3 away wid her eelf." "I found the dining room door open.' 'iWell. well! It was never open in my time; that's all I can cay. I only hope to goodness there's nothin' mksin'. Sure T don't know what' was in it at all. Well, I suppose I'd better give you the kay, since herself s aye it. but 111 thank ye. Miss, to go out by the way you come in, this time, and not to' go frickenin' the life out o" mc again." >"Doesn't he make you feel small!" said Doreen, ac they "went into the house—"that little, cold blue eve of his." "Phew!" eaid Kit Lavery, inhaling the etrange thick smell of the houee. "It is obvious the old man haen't given much attention to airing the plare. What a etrange smell! It is worse than common shut-upne3s. worse than mustinese. Let us open all the windows we can, Doreen.'' It was the first time he had called her by that name, and he did not apologise. Rather he looked at her with an audacious challenging look which ehe did not meet. Oh, it wae very different coming here with him! She could he afraid of nothing with that strong, bright pretence beside her. But the atmosphere was stifling, suffocating. With a strong efl'ort he turned the key in the front door and brought it suddenly open. -Outside wae the neglected, over-grown garden. With the high unwindowed walls to either side of it. it looked like a small city graveyard, pressed upon by houses —such graveyardg as exist here and there in an old town, unsuspected often by the passersby. The draught was grateful. There was « southeast wind blowing from the sea; it lilted a picture on the wall and stirred the current of-dust abciut their feel. It was a solid hall, full of heavy old-fashioned furniture, but as the wind blew. in something that hung on the rack, a coat of some kind, dropped from its place, and dust mingled with the dust on the floor. When they stooped to pick it up it broke under their fingers. "Dry rot! I thought co." said Kit Lavery. "Nothing else could smell so villainously. Do you care to go on? You could have a chair and eit in the garden while I explore further. It will be worse than this in the closed-up rooms.' , "1 will go through with it." she said "I don't mind when you are here." He reached out and took her hand ir a warm, close grasp. "'You poor, brave child!" -he said ■■imagine you're coming here' all a.one Xo wonder you fled!' , "This ie the dining-room." she said indicating the door, "where I found the window open. 1 think it must have beer oppn for come time, for it smelt less .evilly than the rest of the house." She remembered how she had not dared to look about the room, because of the strange discovery of the print ol bare,feet in the dust of the floor. The door was -only closed to. Riey pushed it open: there wae a glimmering darkness inside, and the came foul smell came out to meet them. Simon had closed the shutters over the windows. What immunity the room had had was over. He pushed her hack gently into the hall: went in alone, and, having' opened the shutter*, pushed up the.window to •its full height. '•I must have broken the glass if it had not worked." he eaid. coming beck To. her. "Luckily the window moved easily." ■

had an idea that he looked pale, but she could not be sure: already it r wae nearly twilight. j "Let.us open all the windows as we 20." he said. "That is the firet thing to j I be done. Luckily it ie a high wind. That ; staircase window overhead ought to j help. Better stay here till I open some windows above. " I know what dry rot ie. It is poison. 1 don't want you to inhale it." "Please 'ft tip <--"n»" *lie -aid. "I f 'lould be afraid without you. The whole j home feels hauntea. doesn't it"' -, ''With the ghost of dry- rot." lie (. answered. "A most difficult ghost to • c get rid of. I'll tell you what. Doreen. c we'd better cancel that order at Dock- |

t reils. The whole place had better be ! t pulled down: even- bit of woodwork in ie must be rotten." ; j He held a hand to ln>r as they went i , up the stairs, which wore dim in the dm | light, and gathered her hand into hits j clasp, strong and reassuring. The stair- ; 'lease window resisted all his efforts to | 5 I open it. He eoized a chair that stood 1 i close by and dashed it through the j 1 j panes. There was a tremendous shatter ' i of glass: enough to waken the ghosts j " I of the house, thought ■ Doreen. g'anoing ! » I nervously down the corridor that ran . "I I in a line with the gallery. | Kit I.avery set down the chair and ' " loo'.-ed at his fingers. | 'I "That thine is mouiderins too.' , he < * ! ?a:d. "One must be careful what one 1 j handle?. Keep clear of the furniture. ; Doreen. . ' r j They went on again and lie opened a *'door —then pushed her back. j "Stay where you are. near the open' *! window, till T can get some air." he j said. "Good God! it i> pestiferous."' i ~ i She heard the window open after ! some resistance, and he came out. She ' was sure now that he looked pale, but c I although ehe urged him not to enter the. c ! pci-onous rooms he would not be dee . terred. I k i ••To-morrow we ehall. have to come '; B J and see what can be saved out of tne wreckage. It will be just possible toJ, morrow if this wind continues." > i She followed him a loner the corridor, "j awaiting for him while he entered the „ i rooms one after another, and opened the j windows, coming out pale and aimosi.j ' I reeling-. Whie she waited she was a I afraid. The wind now blew fresh and c ) strong through the house, but the move- i c j ment of tome rotten tapestry on the ! "i I wall seemed to her like the stirring of , I come lower order of life. Aβ she looked j on before to the closed doors she had a . feeling that some of them might open and . something evil, she knew not what, come j out. Always she felt the live dust move ! under her feet. J,j She said to herself that it was an old house, a very old bouse. Many tragedies, such as the blood-stained print of ,_ j the child's foot, must have been enacted ' t ] there—many sine einned there. She re- { ; minded herself that the time had been o i when the house had been a comfortable 0 haven to her. It was only the dry rot, ie j only the dry rot. But when the wind c j shook a door she could have screamed. iKven though Kit Lavery was near she c J felt as though there were ghostly a 'jpreeence3 all around her. She was c afraid for him too. Supposing the „ poison proved too much for him! Sup- ;_ posi»g he should faint! » r " I • He did not faint, though he looked \ paler and paler as he went through room "jafter room. At last they came to the n I last locked door. She produced the key (T I Miss Hamilton had given her, bidding '. j her remove every trace in that room ot I. 'the time of her madness, c "T don't know what I did then, child." k she had eaid. "I was not responsible. v Think of it! At the moment when my a joy wae at height, when everything was ready for our "wedding, to hear that he "had betrayed, and deserted mc. I had e|been making ready for his coming. 1 "•; "vas always one to jive. I had given toe ihini with both hands and all my heart. d I He had not even troubled to write and h tell mc why he did it." n The key turned in the lock with a n'groaning sound. He, pushed her back, I 1 but a.3 though something: moved her i, J irreeietibly she. followed him. She did not go beyond the threshold of the r I room. He was fumbling madly with the :. I shutters. They opened and the bar fell ,- with a clang. As though he could not t' wait to wrestle with the window-hasp, 5 or was fainting, he kicked a way clean. f'through the window and she saw him -| put his mouth to the opening as though j c j he thirsted for air. I I '"Go back. Doreen." he said, discovering i c her. "Go bark! It is no place for you." t i lie was opening the other window. | -,Tlie air was rushing in. The large room ! c ran the | full length of the house front. ' ■f with three windows. She looked at his ( I, feet with a horrified gaze. The floor i t>!where had once been a carpet was | d"covered with loathsome funci. that j l- sprnwlej and crawled where hp had I I trodden them, and stood high and sickly j s I where his foot had not been. ! : ! The last gleam of the dying sun. or | d perhaps it wa= pile after-glow, came ■ r.through the window htvl lit up the y horror of the room. Why, the funsi d was every-nrlir-ro—in hideous bunches on c the wall? an d ceiling?, splotched on the n old inaliocrany furniture like some c dreadfil lichen. By the broad ray of d light that entered the room she saw* that r the bed had not .been made. The room | I was in disorder. The water had dried j t.long aso in the basin, leavin; the stain 01 - ' I ' i __Hm ~ ■

of soapy water in a ring about it. Something that had been a towel lay on the floor and the fungi had grown up about it. S'ne stooped to lift it, and it fell to <hist between her fingers. On a stand in the room was a wedding dress of white satin. That too. seemed to waver in the wind, ready to disappear as soon as it was touched. There were trunks standing open aifd half-packed. A row of sliTies had turned to mildew. The ward-robe-door stood open, revealing rows ot garments on their pegs, all rotted in the pestiferous air. She was staring, horror-stricken, with distended eyes, feeling faint and sick, j v. hen he came to her. putting an arm j about her. helped her downstairs. ! "There is hardly a etick in the house that is not rotten." he said. They had turned into the dining room. The room was less "affected .than the others, as though it had not been long shut up'•l did not want yon to see those horrible fungi. They were in all the rooms, upstairs. Look! there is tlie wedding breakfast. Why. she must have j heard on the very morning of her wedding." J The little satin flowers on what had j been the wedding cake rustled in the j wind. The line damask cloth was mildewed: the silver black, the glass dim with something like dust or log. Tlip 'bottles of champagne, which had not I suffered, were trusted on the outside, i What had once been fruit, in beautiful 'Worcester dishes, had dried to a rotten husk. J "We can save the silver, china and glass." he eai,!. "Xotliing else will be I worth the saving. Come, Doreen. let us get out of it. for God's sake." I As he turned to go he trod on the ! spot where the tragic foot-print nioul- ■ dered away under the carpet, and the (Moor seemed to rise and fall under hia strong , tread. Something which had been standing on a Chinese lacquered I cabinet by the wall slid and fell. Jt was a fr'.ohe of the lands of the world, and it I lay in fragments-at his feet. ' "Sic transit gloria mundi!" he said, as lie drew Doreen out into the hall. I "What is below, Doreen? Collars? This house is going to fall into the cellars as soon as people begin, to walk about it. We will save what can be saved and

then we shall hand it over to the housebreakers. There is nothing else for it." They locked the door and went out into the garden at the back, leaving all the windows open, so that the house might be purified before they came again. Under the mulberry tree*, where Doreen had come with the Lame children long ago to pick up the forbidden dainties, he stopped and looked back at the doomed house. • ■'Good Lord, Doreen.'" he said. "Just think of it! Those people. Mr. Deane, and the man at Dockrells thought that we were preparing this house for ourselves! I want to kiss you, Doreen. to comfort you and myself, but I shall not touch you till T have washed. The trail of those unholy things is all over mc. Yon shall'see Curraugh in a day or two, darling. Curraugh is clean and good. There are no tragedies there. The dead I hand is only raised in blessing." (To be continued daily.)