THE GOVERNESS AT H-HOUSE

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1847, 31 July 1907, Page 8

THE GOVERNESS AT H- HOUSE

It is a queer story I have to tell. Sceptics will probably smile at it, philosophers may ponder over it, ordinary mortals wonder at it. It is, perhaps, too much to expect that any one will be entertained by it —the theme is not exactly of the ‘‘entertaining” kind and I will not attempt any embellishment to make it so. I shall simply re-tell a story that was told to me as true by reputable and trustworthy persons, and leave deductions, explanations, and all else to the reader. One night in September 18—, Jack Finlay, a young Edinburgh clerk, might have been seen sauntering slowly up and down the Meadow Walk, a favourite promenade with Edinburgh folks. Finlay was courting Mary Jameson (that was not the young lady's real name), governess to a family living in the Morningside district. Though dubbed “governess,” Miss Jameson really combined the duties and offices of tutor to the three Patterson- children, and help to their mother, the mistress of H House, and in consequence ' she was pretty closely tied down to drudgery.

Une night only in the week was she free, and this and an afternoon on alternate Sundays were the only occasions on which the sweethearts could enjoy each other's company. On this particular evening ,it was Mary’s “night out,” and Jack was waiting for her. He had been waiting for an hour, and as yet there was .no sign of the girl. The meeting had been arranged for seven o'clock, and it was now on the stroke of eight. Another half-hour went by, and then Finlay thought he had waited long enough. As his sweetheart was usually the soul of promptitude, he could not imagine why she had failed to put in an appearance that night. Could she have misunderstood the trysting-place.?. Had they missed each other in some way. Had Mary wilfully 7 gone on some other quest? Finlay promptly rejected these surmises as improbable Perhaps she had been unexpectedly detained? That seemed, a likely explanation, and so, despite the knowledge that “no followers were allowed” at H House, he resolved to go there and find out if his surmise were correct. He started off at a brisk pace, and soon came to~ the house, one of thirty or forty others in a terrace close by. Somehow to his surprise, he could see no sign of any 7 one being within, and, though it was quite dark, no light appeared in any of the windows. That the family could have retired at this early hour was ; preposterous, that everyone should apparently be out was perplexing. He stood- at the gate wondering. Presently he noticed that the front door was open, and the premises were apparently only secured by the glass-pan-elled -inner door. For the. life of him, he could not tell why, but the whole circumstances filled him with a strange dread. There was a mystery here, and investigate it he felt he must. He walked up the path in the front garden, and listened —to nothing. Not a sound came from within. Everything appeared to confirm his opinion that the house was tenantless. He passed into the hall, even the inner door having been left unsecured. There was no light, and not a soul about. Ho paused at the door of one of the rooms, uncertain if it were justifiable to enter. He quickly (included that not only would it be justifiable, but that the circumstances rendered it .m----perative. He opened the door. Everything was in darkness, and to his query -if any one was there no answer was returned.

One after another he explored the rooms on the ground floor, and found hot a soul in any of final. Then 1 e started off to explore the upper rooms. - He knew that his sweetheart had a room of her own on the second floor, which she used as a sort of sitting-room. She might, he thought, be there. He knocked at the '\ior h>’n answer came, and he knocked again. Still there was no.response, so l e turned thf. handle and entered the room. As he crossed the threshold he had a vague feeling that he was about to discover something. That he would discover the dreadful thing he did. never for a moment occurred to him. A gas-lamp on the street outside fitfully l>t up the apartment, and hv ’ts aid -Finlay could make out a curiously huddled heap on the floor. Hastily striking a match, and lighting the gas, he turned to examine the heap. It was his sweetheart, her hair and clothes dishevelled, hands tightly clasped, jaws slightly apart, face purple almost to blackness. She was dead, and obviously tho cause of death had been strangulation. ' Everything in the room was in disorder. ‘ The lower sash of the window had been thrown up, a curtain had been torn down, a plant pot and stand upset and broken, and the floor littered with crockery and soil. Everything pointed .to a severe struggle having taken place, and the flight of the murderer by the open window. How he got downstairs and into the street Finlay has never been able to explain, but he knows that he was found unconscious near the street gate at H House, and carried into the house of a doctor close by, where, after being partly restored to consciousness, he was put to bed. Next morning, though feeling weak and shaky, lie had recovered sufficiently to he able to give an account of himself, and to tell his story to the doctor. The recital had the effect of raising grave doubts in the doctor’s mind respecting his patient's sanity, as not the faintest rumour of any such dreadful tragedy had got abroad, and the morning papers contained no mention of it. But Finlay's demeanour when interrogated on other subjects was not at all like that of a' man off his mental balance, so the doctor gave him something to "dispel the drink clouds m his brain, and flattered himself that he liacl diagnosed the trouble to a. nicety

An hour or so later Finlay had so far recovered as to be able to leave the .louse. Still somewhat shaky, but buoyed up by excitement, he started off in the direction of II House. As he aporoached the house he was surprised to find everything apparently as usual, there was not, as he fully expected there would he, the usual morbid crowd around the place. Figures were moving about the lawn in front of the house, and one of these he could swear was his., sweetheart. , 7 In another minute he reached the gate, panting and ready drop from wonder and excitement. There, right before his eyes, were two of the Patterson children, and romping about with them was their governess, his sweetheart. Throwing the gate open with a hang that threatened to wrench it off its hinges, he bounded up the path and seized the girl's arm. “Come into the house, Mary, he exclaimed excitedly, “I have something o say to you.” Utterly unable to understand his strange look and stranger behaviour, the girl allowed herself to be half-led, halidragged into the house. When they were alone he told her as much of his story as she dared—how he had come to the house, entered it, and found the place deserted. But he hesitated to mention (die dreadful thing he had seen upstairs in that little room. Indeed, he did not know how he could tell it, being utterly at a loss to understand it. Even in trying to bint at it be turned sick and faint., and liis wild manner and vague speech alarmed and distressed the yirl. “But, Jack,” she said, “I daresay the house ivas, as you say, deserted, for we were all at . a party to which Mr and Mrs Patterson were unexpectedly invited. I hud to go to look after the children. I Avould have sent yon a note telling you why I could not keep my appointment Avith you, but I had no" opportunity. I suppose in our absence* the servants had taken French leaA r e and run out for a little gossip.” But Jack had no ear for these details. Fie ivas in a greater quandary than ever, and hoping that Mary would afford some clue to the mystery, he ventured on a part recital of Avhat he had seen in the room. “You couldn't possibly ha\ r e been in that room, Jack,” said the girl, when ho had finished. “I locked the door before I went out, and took the key Avith “But I was,” he reiterated, almost angrilv, “and I saAV everything I described to you as plainly as I see you now. There were hats and and things on the floor, and—and '' he could not trust himself to tell her A\ r hat else he had seen. “The only thing I cannot understand is that, somehow, I had the impression that the day was NeAv Year's Day. Of course, it couldn't bo that, for Ave are only in September.” “Of course it couldn't," Mary agreed with a forced smile, though her face plainly betrayed the terror she felt. “You have been Avorking too hard, Jack, and need a rest,” adding, with, an attempt at gaiety, “visions are the natural outcome of an overwrought brain, you know.” But Finlay Avas too thoroughly convinced there was something in this “vision,” or Avliatever it avus, to pass t over lightly, and he Avould not leave the house until he had got his sweetheart's promise to give up her situation and prepare for their early marriage. In due time they were married, and settled iii the Stockbridge district, ±insy beuig determined to get as far aivay fVo;p H House as his work would »_ r.nifc-

Though he strove to appear calm, so as not to alarm bis wife, it Avas plain o her he avus sorely troubled in mind, and try as she might, she could not get urn to brighten up. Finlay on his part haunted the neighbourhood of II House, and av?.s continually inquiring about the new governess there. Une day he caught sight of the girl, and actually Avent the length of imploring her to leave her situation and IT. House for ever. Not unnaturally the girl took him to be drunk or mad, and calling a passing gentleman to her assistance, Finlay was pretty roughly handled, and hidden :o rid the neighbourhood of his presence. Now for the climax. New Year's Day dawned a fovtniguc after v inulay's unfortunate interview Avith the gOA'erness, and a most anxious day it was for him. On the folloAving morning Ayhen Mrs Finlay came doAvnstairs sue found her husband, pale a.s death, sittiug in a •hair, a morning paper lying across his knees. He could not speak, hut clutching his Avife's hand he pointed to a certain column in the paper. And there she read that on the previous evening a terrible affair had happened at H House. The governess’s room had been entered and ransacked, evidently for some other purpose than common theft. The windoAV had been found open, a curtain torn down, and a plant stand upset, and draAvers and boxes rifled and their contents streAved about the room. The unfortunate governess Avas found lying a the floor, her fingers tightly pressed into her palms, jaws slightly apart, her face almost black, and the \ r eins standing out like cords>nk Finlay's strange vision bad materialised to the day and to the letter. -“Weekly Scotsman.”