THE WELL IN THE CELLAR

Hawera Star, Volume XLVII, 7 January 1928, Page 16

THE WELL IN THE CELLAR

Though a lo.'ely e.ening it was getting dariv when GnarleS xebrun l-eaeh-eu .gourdes, ana deliDerated whether it would not be advisaole ar him xo up trier e lor the mgnt instead «>i inting any rurther. lie mul come on ms Hor (a I'jtstancci oi well over 100 miles, and not having leeovered from a serious illness, he n.t pretty well exhausted. Now it'is not dnricult, a.s a rule, to iiuU accomodation’ in Lourdes, but, as baa luck would have it, the town was . uli at the moment, owing to the aavent of the great pilgrimage, and the answer xo his every inquiry iOr a bed u as, in eflect the same. •T am very sorry, monsieur, bux we haven't even a chair or a sofa to oiler ..on."

He therefore found himself obliged to push on, and he resolved if possible to get as Jar as luz, where he knew ne would find excellent quartern. ’ Now, there are two roads leading to Luz from Lourdes, the one tolerably smooth, out indirect; the other ra tner rough; but direct; and Lebrun, anxious to reach his destination' quicxiy, i hose the latter.

Leaving Lourdes at half-past eight, he passea througn the tiny vi.iage or itouiies as its cnurcii clocix was sonorously booming nine, and about twenty minutes later commenced the descent ox the Monte du liix Lierres, one o» the roughest and steepest hills in the district. it was, in fact, so rough unu Le-ore he reacnea the not tom ne was thrown and stunned, and when he came t-o and lose to his leet— not without considerable diflieulty and pain—he found .that the front wheel of his machine was so hopelessly pent and crumpled that it would be impossible lor him to proceed any further on it. But ivhat was he to do? Lines, the neaiest village, was at least lour miles away,- and he was far too shaken ana tired to wait even a quarter of that distance.

Lie was looking at his bicycle and causing the bad luck that had brought him to such straits when the moon, which hitherto had been partially obscured by a, thick' bank of clouds, suddenly burst forth in all its splendour, and'lie saw at the side of the road a pair of large’ iron gates. Concluding they, led to a house, and that pcssibty he might get put up there for the night, he entered, and, advancing aloug a broad avenue ox trees xhat seemed to take all kinds or strange, fantastic shapes in the fluctuating moonlight, he at length espied a large, one-storied building, consisting ot a square castellated tower in the centre, and irregularly constructed wings. It appeared to be built of grey stone, and as he approached it nearer he perceived. that creeping plants luxuriantly festooned the windows, and that the walls were covered with moss.. There were no lights in the windows, and this, coupled with the fact that the lawns and gardens generally were in a wild and neglected condition, led him to suppose that the house was deserted, and again he cursed his bad luck. fortunately, however, it was summer, and the night, despite an occasional. cool breeze from the Pyrenees, was warm. If, therefore, lie could get into the building he could sleep in it, bare and tenantiess though it doubtless was. without coming to any harm; and, buoyed up with this hope, he commenced a tour of inspection. It was one of those old and spacious chateaux that are very far from common in France, and, after twice walking the full round of its exterior, he at length espied a side door that seemed none too secure on its hinges. This he repeatedly pushed with all his strength, till it finally swung open, and he found himselx in a narrow stone passage leading into what was doubtless at one time the principal eptrance hall.

A damp earthy smeil greeted him as he stood on its threshold and looked around. Viewed in the pale light from the moon, its dimensions appeared vast, but decay and neglect—cobwebs hung from its ceiling and panelled walls, and queer, many-legged creatures ran and ciaw.ed over its once polished floors —were apparent everywhere. The broad, dark oak staircase leading irom the hall to the galleries that banked it on both sides was. so still and shadow-laden, and so suggestive of all kinds of grim and ghostly possibilities, that Lebrun fought shy of venturing up it. and decided to remain on the ground floor, as near the main entrance as possible. He was crossing the floor towards it when lie was seized with a lit of giddiness. This was quickly followed by a blank, and he knew nothing till he became dimly conscious of some faroff sound. Then, ms his brain gradually cleared, and all the events of the evening came crowding back to him, he looked about him. Yes; there he was in the great hall which, he remembered, he had been crossing when he was so suddenly taken queer. There were the quaint old casement windows, and through their diamond-shaped panels, dim and grimy with the dust of Ages, he could see the moon, suspended like a great silver ball in a now perfectly cloudless sky.

But when his eyes, growing accustomed to the dim light, saw things more distinctly, greatly to his astonishment he perceived a number of fulllength pictures, portraits of gentlemen and ladies from the time of Louis Quntorze down to about the ’thirties or ’forties of the last century, banging upon its walls. He yas still feeling perplexed, and wondering how it was that he did not recollect seeing them there before, when a soft voice called out:

“Who are you, Monsieur, and what are you doing here in m.y house?” The voice came, Lebrun at length discovered, from the gallery directly over his head, and the owner of it was a tiny woman, almost a dwarf, dressed in wl'uit, to his masculine eyes, seemed very costly but peculiarly old-fashioned clothes. He could not see her distinctly owing to the gloom, but he wins under the impression that she had strongly marked features and was. handsome, with very dark, piercing,! deep-set eyes. One of her hands was gripping the balustrade of the gallery, and that he could see clearly, as a stray moonbeam falling on it threw into relief. It was small and white, j and the fingers tapered, but the nails, loth too pointed and too long, bore an unpleasant resemblance to the talons o some bird of prey. In fact, they • looked cruel, and Lebrun, who was a- portrait painter by profession, was attracted by the hand itself, and

barely noticed the many jewelled riligs with which it was adorned. Indeed, he was so engrossed in his studv of its .shape ancl character that he iTu-got to answer the question ■pu - to him, and it was not until the woman repeated it somewhat more peremptorily- that he thought ot answering her.’ * He then explained matters and told her all about his accident. “Well, well!” she exclaimed, a.s i.-c-.ir. as -he had finished. “So- long as you have broken no bones, Monsieur, it is no matter. 1 am glad you have come, for there is no one in> this big house, saving Cecille, my maid, and myselr, and it is very lonely. Come into my study. In these days of sex equality women, you know, have studies as well as men,” and, candle in hand, she descended the staircase into the hall. ‘‘Follow me, monsieur,” she continued, “and I will take you to more comfortable quarters. 1 have so few visitors such as yourself that it is a .great pleasure to me to show a. little hospitality.” Having said this, she turned down a passage leading out of the hall. Large as the chateau had appeared to be' from the outside, Lebrun was surprised at the vastness of the- interior. Kojm after room they passed through and the walls liung with costly tapestry, covered with fantastic designs, and ceilings embellished with panellings of the time ox the Grand ihmptre, tore evidence to the wealth and magnincent of their owner. “Before taking you into my.study,” the lady said, "I must show you my well. 1 look upon it as my most valuable posses-s ion." &lie opened a. door in one of the iva-.ls as -sue spoke and conducted Lebrun ciown a narrow, winding stone staircase into a cellar, that felt so cold and dank that he shivered. “Here is my • pet,” she exclaimed, pointing to a large,, round cavity m the centre or the stone-nagged no-or. “I wouldn’t be without it lor worlds.” Lebrun walixed as near tlie edge ox it as he dared and peeped down. The feeble candle-light did not permit him to see tar into, the black abyss, but the glimpse he obtained of it made him draw back shudderingly. “Wells are horrible things," lie said.

“What is the depth of this one?” “L can’t say exactly, but over 10J feet,” the iady answered. “Some say 200. But wait a moment and you can judge tor yourself. She then picked up a big stone from a heap pi.ed in one corner of the cellar and deliberately threw it into the well. Lebrun heard it strike the sides several times, and then, alter what seemed to him some considerable time, it apparently touched the bottom, for he heard a laint thud.

“Throwing things down the well is my hobby,” his conductress remarKed, “and the things Cecille and 1 oi'ceii throw down mane such big splashes/ ana she laughed. Letmm looked at her curiously. Was she a lunatic, and the decide She talked about her keeper ? “Come now,” she said, tapping him .on the arm, "we will go to my study.' Leaving the cellar, sue conducted him through more rooms and passages till she finally entered an apartment rather smaller and less sumptuously furnished than most of the rooms, but more homely and cheerful, old xo xhe bright wood fire that blazed in its oidvvond ingie. A dainty repast, consisting oi cold chicken and a variety or sweetmeats, was spread upon a table in the centre of the room, and to this was added by the lady herself several decanters of wine.

“This is all i can offer you, monsieur," she said apologetically, “but 1 can guarantee the excellence of the vintage, which was in the cellar oi this house long before I was born, t Pi ay you be seated.”

Nothing loth, for he was both tiiea and hungry, Lebrun sat down at the table and attacked the gooil things ottered him with alacrity, His hostess, sitting opposite him, ate and tlrana sparingly, but enlivened the meal wiui a conversation that was both witt„. and profound. indeed, she appeared to be the very strangest mixture lie iuul ever met of learning and -rivolit/, ui cynicism and coquetry. Aor instance, at one moment she would be gravely discussing Daudet, Ibsen, and Anatole frame, and at another talitmg enthusiastically of tennis and jazz; the while she glanced adinii mgly at her hands, her Jong ringers and'ntili longer (proportionate, v) .nails, coloured and polished ti.l they shone line rubies.

The meal over, she rang the bell, aim in response a woman, whom slie addressed as Ce~ille, came into the room and began to clear the table. The woman, the very antithesis of her mistress, was a huge, coarse creature, with great bony iianus, and broad, hairy nice. cilie reminded Lebrun strangely of the ehigv of Airs. i>umol- ■ ard, tiie lemalo strangler, in the late chamber of horrors at the great waxwont exhibition known as Madame fussaud’s

After slie had left the room, hi.s hostess produced a pack of cares.

“Can you play french poker?” she said. “It’s a game I’m very fond of. ! learned it from a gentleman, like you, a stranger in these parts ; he had spent a.l his life in California. lint tell me. iirst. why you came to this house. What was it that induced .veto sit—or rather lie —in a cold, draughty hall, when you could June had conuortable quarters in any town ?’’

“I told you the reason,” Lebrun replied. “I met with an accident outside your gates. If you don’t believe m? "o and look at my .bicycle. The front wheel is smashed to pieces.”

“Are sou sure it was not on account of the hauntings?” the lady laughed. “The people round here nay they have seen ghosts and heard all manner of strange noises when passing the house at night; but I can assure you that what they say is ail lies J have lived here all my life, and have never encountered, or had reason to suspect, the existence of anything of a more ghostly nature than Cecille and myself,” and she laughed again, this time more heartily even than before. “Why, how solemn } - oii look,” she went on. “You don’t even smile. I hope you don’t think it terribly wicked to plav cards for money?’’ “I don’t think it wicked at all, provided the stakes are small,” Lebrun said slowly; “but whether right or wrong I never play for big stakes.” “Very well, then,” the lady rejoined; “we will start with francs,” and she proceeded to deal the cards. Though not really fond of cards, Lebrun soon became ( engrossed in the game, and, in spite of his boasted

caution, speculated with a- rashness | that was truly surprising. He had no 1 licit j however. The result of each ileal was the same; the lady won; and whenever he paused, as if deliberating whether to go on or not,, she insisted upon liis drinking more wine. He then increased his stakes with tne calm desperation of the born gambler, and went on till he had parted with every coin on him. “i must stop now,” he said, as she snatched away his stakes. “1 am completely cleared out.V “You have a watch,” she said. “Stake that.” He hesitated; and again she refilled his glass. He drained it, staked his watch, and lost.

“I’ve finished,” lie said, angrily, thr..stnig the i aids from him. “I’ve nothing "left. L wish to goodness 1 nail never come here.”

“Tut, tut, faintheart,” the lady laughed. “lou have lost at the most hut a few pounds, and if you play long enough your luck will turn. Come, a glass of my best Amontillado, and you will win back everything. Cecille shall bring you some.” She then rang the bell, and Cecille immediately appeared with a tray, upon which stood a bottle of tins special wine. As if under some hypnotic influence, Lebrun was powerless to resist; and as his hostess gazed at him with her dark, deep-set eyes, and placed her white, cruel-looking hand on his, he drank.

“How do you feel now?” she asked, stih fixing him with her eyes. “Much better,” he laughed, “fit .as a. fiddle. I’ll go on playing and give .ou ail 1.0. U.”

“A cheque would be more to my liking,” the lady replied. “Come, write oat a cheque for £100.” Lebrun produced , hjs cheque-book and did as he was bid. Then he played again, and again he lost. Yet he couldn’t stop playing, and he went on till he had lost- every penny he possessed.

“You are insured, are you not?’’ said the lady, again filling his glass to the brim

He drank down the wine find nodded. “Very well then,’’ she said, once more- laying her cruel-looking hand on his. “Make a written statement, settling the sum to- be paid at your death upon me. Cecille shall witness vour signature, and I will play you for it. ii vou win I will give you hack everything you have lost; if vou lose, vve.l- ” and she shrugged her little shoulders.

Lebrun tried to refuse, hut the Amontillado and these dark,, piercing eyes of hers overcame the little will that was iefx in him, and he found himselx feebly assenting. He wrote according to her dictation, and Cecille witnessed his signature. He drank more Antillado, mid, as be. ore, played ancl lost. •Seized now with a wild fix of fury, ne sprang up, and was about to snatch at the aforesaid document, which his triumphant hostess now held firmly in tier grasp, when his head suddenly swam, and he fell back into his chair •uzz v anil exhausted.

Through half-closed eyes lie then saw Cecule approach him, now looking x veritable fiend, and felt himself liftail out of the chair and carried from the room. He was conscious of being borne on and on. and finally downstairs into an atmosphere that felt horribly cold and damp, and. which somehow seemed familiar to him. A far-away voice then called out, “In with him,” and the next moment fie leaiised with a sensation oi indescribable horror that he was in tlie well, .ailing down, down, down into that frightful cavity his hostess had called’ her “pet.” His head then struck against something which apparently stunned him. for after that all was a blank, and when next he opened his eyes he was lying on the cold floor ol tne great hail of the chateau, with the early morning sun streaming m through tlie grimy windows oil to lus face.

it took him some minutes to realise he was actualiy alive, but when lie did so he sprang to his feet and looked around, (lone were the portraits on the walls, and the furniture, and instead all was bare ancl empty, just as be recollected seeing it when he had arst arrived

Dubious in his mind as to wliat had happened, whether it was merely a dream, or whether he had actually been brought in contact with the Unknown, lie quicldy left the place, and dragging his broken machine along with linn he eventually reached Lines. “Mon Dieu!” exclaimed the mechanic who was mending Lebrun’s bike, and to whom Lebrun had casually mentioned the chateau. . “Do 1 know that, oicl chateau? I should rather think 1 do! Who doesn’t in these parts? If you’d like to know why, 111 tell ,vou. Many years ago a young lady, the. Marquise de Yiviev, lived there with .her maid, and one day they both mysteriously disappeared. Well, the premises were immediately ■searched, and the marquise and her maid were discovered drowned in a well in a cellar. The house apparently had not been broken into, as nothing in it was touched, so that murder —at least common or garden murder for gain—as a solution of the mystery could obviously be ruled out. Most people supposed that the two women had quarrelled, and that one of them had intended to murder the other by throwing her down the well, and that both in the struggle had fallen in; but the true explanation, of course, remains to this day a matter of surmise. However, to my mind the most interesting feature in this strange case was the finding of other remains in the well. Ciel, it was full of skeletons, and all of them were men! How they got there 1 cannot possibly imagine.” “it is indeed strange,” Lebrun said quiet.y, and, sotto voce, “but 1 think know.” Klliott O’Donnell, in the “Australasian.”