LITERATURE.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 5024, 10 June 1884, Page 3

LITERATURE.

BEETL MANSIONS. (The Argosy) [By the Author of " In the Dead of Night."] (Continued.) Some instinct, some feeling — I hardly know what — impelled me to keep my discovery to myself for a time. SThat the room had had a visitant in the dead of nightl couldno longer dcubt ; at the same time I was firmly persuaded that Daniel was altogether innocent of any connivance in the affair. What, then, could be gained by telling him of this discovery ? It would only serve to flutter his nerves more than they were fluttered already. At present the secret was my own. I would, endeavour to fathom it without help from any one ; when I should fail in doing bo, it would be time enough to seek counsel from others. But what could the mystery be ? How could the intruder again access to the rooms ? Night after night, morning after morning, I lay awake listening for a repetition of the sound of the mysterious footsteps overhead ; but time went on till weeks had gone by, and all my listening was still in vain. It was unaccountable. But most things come to him who can afford to wait, and wait I did, night after night, with a sort of grim patience, feeling assured that before I had done with it I should fs,thoin the mystery that at preI sent baffled me. I And so, by and by, it fell out that my patience was rewarded. It was a dull and heavy December night, with the soft rain falling silently outside. I had dozed off ! ou the sofa and had been asleep nearly an hour, when I awoke suddenly to find that it was past two o'clock, and to hear the slow, regular tramp of footsteps overhead. I started to my feet, as wide awake in an instant as ever I had been in my life. I listened, hardly breathing, while one might have counted twenty, and still the slow pacing overhead went on. Then I crept to the door of my room, oj>ened it noiselessly, and ventured on to the dark landing outside. Here I stood listening again. I could still hear the footsteps, but very faintly. Leaving my slippers I began to climb the stairs one by one, and came to the landing abjve. Step by step I drew closer to the doo.' of the mysterious room, until my fingers rested lightly on its panels. Not the creaking of a board, not a sound of any kind hadbetrayed my presence. The darkness was intense. I looked" for a thin thread of light shining from under the door, but I looked in vain. Half kneeling, I laid my ear against the panel of the door. More plainly than ever wag now the sound of the pacing footsteps. There was something weird about that measured, muffled tread in the locked up room in the dead waste and middle of the night. I shuddered while I listened. Who wub this mysterious being who obtained access to the room without anyone knowing how, and who left it after the same unaccountable fashion ? And with what object was he there at all ? After all my waiting and listening, was I any nearer the heart of the secret than I was the first time the sound fell on my startled ears ? I had not stirred when the foctstep3 ceased. The silence that followed was broken, after a few moments, by a low, wailing, inarticulate cry — the cry of a soul in despair, if ever I heard one. Then silence again. I waited longer, but the death like stillness of the old house remained unbroken. Then I crept down to my own room, feeling sad at heart. I am afraid that my duties next day received but a very divided attention at uiy hands. My strange experience of the previous night dwelt in my thoughts to the exclusion of almost everything else. It behoved me to do something in the matter, but what that something ought to bp I was at a loss to decide. I had a call to make after leaving the bank in the evening, which took me half a mile o; 1 more out of my ordinary way. That off my mind I turned into the nearest restaurant to dino, and sat down at the first taWo at which there was a vacant chair, iv waiter handing me the menu. Having given my order I found time to 100-c about mo, and could not

"help a little start of surprise when I saw that my vis-a-vis was none other than my next door neighbour Mr Lydford. I had never spoken to him and felt sure he did not recognise me, but went quietly on with lus dinner, dividing hig attention between it and a newspaper which he had propped up against a decanter close to his plate. I liked much the expression of his face, and it was probably this which induced me to ask myself, " Why should I not take Mr lydford into my confidence, and crave his advice? He, too, may have heard the footsteps — the locked up room is only divided from his room by the thickness of a wall." The idea commended itself to me as the right thing to do. I waited until he was trifling with his cheese and rusks and then introduced myself to him by name as his next door neighbour. He held out his hand with the frankness of an elderly mau toward one so many years his junior. " I thought I knew your face, Mr Dimsdale," he said, " but could Hot call to mind where I had seen it. I am pleased to make your acquaintance." Talking further, it came out, to the surprise of both, of us, that many years before Mr Lydford had been intimately acquainted -with an uncle of mine, who was since dead. The fact at once put me at my ease •with respect to what I wanted to tell him. "May I ask whether you are aware that the room next these occupied by you — that is to say, the rooms on the same floor, but in the next house, the house in which I live — were let arid furnished ready for occupation some eighteen uionths ago?" I said abruptly. "The person for whom they were engaged has hitherto failed to put in an appearance, and they have remained locked up from that time to this. Rather curious, is it not ?" He was balancing a cheese knife absently between his thum and finger when I began to speak, but he put it down at once, and turned his dark keen eyes full upon me. For a moment or two he seemed to.be pondering my question. Then he answered slowly : — "As you Say, Mr Dimsdale, it is rather curious ; but London is a place where many curious things happen." "But I have not >et mentioned the Btrangest part of the affair/ " Indeed ! What is that ?" So I told him everything as I have told it here. No one could have listened more attentively than he. " And now you ask me for my advice in the matter/ he said, when I had done. " I do," I replied, "if you will kindly give it me. The responsibility seems to me one that ought to be shared with others." He smiled a little at this. " Possibly you over-rate the responsibility, Mr Dimsdale. In any case my advice is that you take no definite action of any kind for the present. Wait and see what further comes of the affair. It is seldom well to mix yourself up in business that does not really concern you. Let the mysterious footsteps come or go, what matters it to you ? There are secrets on every side of you, if you only knew it, and this is only one more added to the number." I had asked Mr Lydford for his advice, and I felt bound to abide by it. Under the circumstances it was possibly the best that could be given, yet it was not quite -what I had hoped for. " Mr Lydford turned the subject by calling for a bottle of wine, telling me that we must drink a glass together to the memory of his old friend, my uncle George. " One question, sir," I whispered when the waiter had gone for the wine. "As you have not said so I presume that you never heard any sound of footsteps in the room next yours ? " Mr Lydford shook his head. " I have the -misfortune to be slightly deaf," he replied. " Such a noise as the one you have spoken about would never be heard by me."