The Duchess of Rosemary Lane. A Novel. Farjeon Benjamin Leopold

yourself." (Assisting her by a push.) "What time was it you told me the new lodger came in?"

      Under the impression that the question had been put to her many hours since, and therefore not quite clear as to its purport, Mrs. Chester said,

      "Eh, Dick?"

      "Eh, Dick! and eh, Dick!" retorted Mr. Chester. "Now, then, are you listening?"

      "Of course I am," she said reproachfully, throwing upon him the onus of evading the question. "Go on."

      "I'm going on. Slow." (With a pause between each word.) "What-time – did-you-tell-me-that-the-new-lodger-came-in-to-night?"

      "He came home about an hour before you."

      "And you were asleep?"

      "Yes, and I'm almost asleep now. That's enough for to-night, Dick."

      "Not half enough, old woman," he said, shaking her without mercy. "If you were asleep, how do you know what time he came in?"

      "He woke me up," replied Mrs. Chester, goaded to desperation, "with the way he slammed the door. I'll give him a bit of my mind in the morning. There's other lodgers in the house besides him, and I ain't going to have them disturbed in that way. I shouldn't wonder if some of 'em don't give us warning to-morrow. For the Lord's sake, don't talk to me any more! I've got to be up at six o'clock."

      He proceeded, without paying the slightest regard to her appeal:

      "When the new lodger comes home a couple of hours ago, you are asleep. He wakes you up with the way he bangs the door. He comes into the house, and goes upstairs to his room. That's it, isn't it?"

      "That's it, Dick," replied Mrs. Chester listlessly.

      "And you don't set your eyes on him?"

      "No, and don't want to."

      "Now, old woman, just keep your mind on what I'm saying-" but here Mr. Chester interrupted himself by exclaiming, "What's that row upstairs? It comes from his room."

      The noise proceeded undoubtedly from the room let to the new lodger, and, as well as she could judge, was caused by the stealthy moving about of furniture. It did not last long and presently all was quiet again.

      "I shall have to go up to him," said Mr. Chester, shaking his head at himself in the dark, "if he gives us any more of that fun. He's a stranger in the neighbourhood. Not a soul in the Royal George ever set eyes on him before to-night. He comes here with a child-a mere baby-that don't seem as if it had any right to be here at all. He takes the room and pays a fortnight in advance, without ever asking for a receipt, and without ever saying his name is George, or Jim, or Jo or whatever else it might be. He pulls out a handful of money, too. Does this sound suspicious, or doesn't it?"

      "It does, as you put it," acquiesced Mrs. Chester, now awake.

      "And, by Jove! there's something more suspicious behind. Who showed him his bedroom?"

      "I didn't."

      "And I didn't. Who showed him how to open the street-door without a key?"

      "I didn't."

      "And I didn't. Then how the devil does he open it without being shown how it is done? and how the devil does he find his way, without a light, to a room he's never seen? I'm going to look into this, Loo, before I close my eyes again."

      Mr. Chester jumped out of bed energetically, with the intention of putting his purpose into execution. But if his determination of looking into the matter had not been formed by his own reasoning, it would have been forced upon him by what took place immediately his feet touched the floor. The moving of furniture in the new lodger's room recommenced-not stealthily now, but with great violence, and much as though it were being thrown about with the wilful intention of breaking it to pieces. The noise had aroused the other lodgers in the house, and a knocking at Mr. Chester's door, followed by a pathetic inquiry about that disturbance upstairs, and an entreaty that it should be stopped at once, as the speaker's old man had a racking headache and the row was driving him out of his mind, quickened Mr. Chester to speedier action.

      "All right, Mrs. Midge," Mr. Chester called out, "I'm going upstairs this minute. It's only a new lodger we've taken in to-night. If he don't stop his row, I'll bundle him neck and crop into the street."

      With the handle of the open door in his hand, he turned to his wife, and telling her not to be frightened, groped his way to the upper part of the house.

      Mrs. Chester, disregarding her husband's injunction sat up in bed, and listened to the noise, which so increased in violence every moment that she got out of bed before Mr. Chester was halfway upstairs, and stood ready to fly to his assistance.

      The person who was causing this commotion had, when he entered the bedroom, fallen upon the bed in a stupor. He had had no rest for a week, and was utterly exhausted. For days he had been haunted and pursued by horrible phantoms, which had driven him almost mad. When the fit first seized him, he was in the country, fifty miles from Rosemary Lane, and the thought occurred to him that there was but one house in all the wide world in which he could find refuge from his enemies. To this refuge he slowly made his way, eating nothing, but drinking whenever the opportunity for doing so presented itself. It gave him for the time a fictitious strength, and enabled him at length to reach Mr. Chester's house.

      The room was in total darkness, and for two hours he lay helpless and supine, unaware that even in his stupor he was ceaselessly picking unearthly reptiles from the blanket upon which he had fallen. For two hours he lay thus, and then consciousness returned to him.

      It slowly dawned upon his fevered imagination that he was no longer alone. The frightful shapes which had pursued him for a week had discovered his sanctuary, and were stealing upon him. They were subtle and powerful enough to force their way through stone walls, through closed doors, and they had done so now. Perhaps, thought he-if it can be said that he thought at all-if I keep my eyes closed, they will not discover me. It is dark, and I shall evade them. They will not think of searching too closely for me here.

      He lay still and quiet, as he believed, with loudly-beating heart; but all the time he struck at the air with his hands, helpless, impotent, terror-bound. Soon, encouraged by the silence, he ventured to open his eyes, and a spasm of despair escaped him as he discovered how he had been juggled. Creeping towards him stealthily was a huge shapeless shadow. Form it had none, its face and eyes were veiled, but he could see huge limbs moving within dark folds. The window and door were fast closed, and it could only have entered the room by way of the chimney and fireplace. If he could thrust it back to that aperture, and block it up, he would be safe. He rose from the bed, shaking and trembling like a leaf in a strong wind, and moved the common washstand between himself and the shadow. Pushing it before him, he whispered triumphantly to himself as he perceived his enemy retreat. Cunningly he drove it towards the fireplace and compelled it into that niche, where it passed away like the passing of a cloud. Thank God! it was gone. And so that it should not again find entrance, he placed against the fireplace all the available furniture in the room. That being done, he lay down upon the bed, with a sense of inexpressible relief.

      But peace was not for him. Within five minutes the shadows began again to gather about him, and the same monstrous shape which had previously threatened him reappeared. Not now in disguise, or veiled. He saw its limbs, its horrible face and eyes, and its aspect was so appalling that a smothered shriek of agony broke from his parched lips. Whither should he fly? How could he escape these terrors? Ah! the door! He moved towards it, but shrank back immediately at the sound of steps and muffled voices. The window! but that was blocked up by a crawling monster, whose thousand limbs were winding and curling towards him, warning him to approach at his peril. He dared not move a step in that direction. In what direction, then, could he find a refuge? In none. He was hemmed in, surrounded by these fearful enemies; the room was filled with them, and they were waiting for him outside. In mad desperation he seized a chair and hurled it at the approaching shapes; with a terrible strength he raised the heavier furniture, and strove to crush them. In vain. There was no escape for him. Closer and closer they approached; their hot breath, their glaring eyes were eating into his soul, were setting his heart on fire. And at that moment Mr. Chester, who had stopped on his way, to obtain a lighted candle, opened the