The Enchanted Castle by E. Nesbit (smart ebook reader .txt) 📕

The hopes of everyone ran high. It seemed almost certain that the castle would be let for a millionairish rent and Lord Yalding be made affluent to the point of marriage.

“If there were a ghost located in this ancestral pile, I’d close with the Earl of Yalding today, now, on the nail,” Mr. Jefferson D. Conway went on.

“If you were to stay till tomorrow, and sleep in this room, I expect you’d see the ghost,” said Mabel.

“There is a ghost located here then?” he said joyously.

“They say,” Mabel answered, “that old Sir Rupert, who lost his head in Henry the Eighth’s time, walks of a night here, with his head under his arm. But we’ve not seen that. What we have seen is the lady in a pink dress with diamonds in her hair. She carries a lighted taper,” Mabel hastily added. The others, now suddenly aware of Mabel’s plan, hastened to assure the American in accents of earnest truth that they had all seen the lady with the pink gown.

He looked at them with half-closed eyes that twinkled.

“Well,” he said, “I calculate to ask the Earl of Yalding to permit me to pass a night in his ancestral best bedchamber. And if I hear so much as a phantom footstep, or hear so much as a ghostly sigh, I’ll take the place.”

“I am glad!” said Cathy.

“You appear to be very certain of your ghost,” said the American, still fixing them with little eyes that shone. “Let me tell you, young gentlemen, that I carry a gun, and when I see a ghost, I shoot.”

He pulled a pistol out of his hip-pocket, and looked at it lovingly.

“And I am a fair average shot,” he went on, walking across the shiny floor of the state bedchamber to the open window. “See that big red rose, like a tea-saucer?”

They saw.

The next moment a loud report broke the stillness, and the red petals of the shattered rose strewed balustrade and terrace.

The American looked from one child to another. Every face was perfectly white.

“Jefferson D. Conway made his little pile by strict attention to business, and keeping his eyes skinned,” he added. “Thank you for all your kindness.”

“Suppose you’d done it, and he’d shot you!” said Jimmy cheerfully. “That would have been an adventure, wouldn’t it?”

“I’m going to do it still,” said Mabel, pale and defiant. “Let’s find Lord Yalding and get the ring back.”

Lord Yalding had had an interview with Mabel’s aunt, and lunch for six was laid in the great dark hall, among the armour and the oak furniture a beautiful lunch served on silver dishes. Mademoiselle, becoming every moment younger and more like a Princess, was moved to tears when Gerald rose, lemonade-glass in hand, and proposed the health of “Lord and Lady Yalding”.

When Lord Yalding had returned thanks in a speech full of agreeable jokes the moment seemed to Gerald propitious, and he said:

“The ring, you know you don’t believe in it, but we do. May we have it back?”

And got it.

Then, after a hasty council, held in the panelled jewel-room, Mabel said: “This is a wishing-ring, and I wish all the American’s weapons of all sorts were here.”

Instantly the room was full six feet up the wall of a tangle and mass of weapons, swords, spears, arrows, tomahawks, fowling pieces, blunderbusses, pistols, revolvers, scimitars, kreeses every kind of weapon you can think of and the four children wedged in among all these weapons of death hardly dared to breathe.

“He collects arms, I expect,” said Gerald, “and the arrows are poisoned, I shouldn’t wonder. Wish them back where they came from, Mabel, for goodness sake, and try again.”

Mabel wished the weapons away, and at once the four children stood safe in a bare panelled room. But

“No,”, Mabel said, “I can’t stand it. We’ll work the ghost another way. I wish the American may think he sees a ghost when he goes to bed. Sir Rupert with his head under his arm will do.”

“Is it tonight he sleeps there?”

“I don’t know. I wish he may see Sir Rupert every night that’ll make it all serene.”

“It’s rather dull,” said Gerald; “we shan’t know whether he’s seen Sir Rupert or not.”

“We shall know in the morning, when he takes the house.”

This being settled, Mabel’s aunt was found to be desirous of Mabel’s company, so the others went home.

It was when they were at supper that Lord Yalding suddenly appeared, and said: “Mr. Jefferson Conway wants you boys to spend the night with him in the state chamber. I’ve had beds put up. You don’t mind, do you? He seems to think you’ve got some idea of playing ghost-tricks on him.”

It was difficult to refuse, so difficult that it proved impossible.

Ten o clock found the boys each in a narrow white bed that looked quite absurdly small in that high, dark chamber, and in face of that tall gaunt four-poster hung with tapestry and ornamented with funereal-looking plumes.

“I hope to goodness there isn’t a real ghost,” Jimmy whispered.

“Not likely,” Gerald whispered back.

“But I don’t want to see Sir Rupert’s ghost with its head under its arm,” Jimmy insisted.

“You won’t. The most you’ll see’ll be the millionaire seeing it. Mabel said he was to see it, not us. Very likely you’ll sleep all night and not see anything. Shut your eyes and count up to a million and don’t be a goat!”

As soon as Mabel had learned from her drab-haired aunt that this was indeed the night when Mr. Jefferson D. Conway would sleep at the castle she had hastened to add a wish, “that Sir Rupert and his head may appear tonight in the state bedroom.”

Jimmy shut his eyes and began to count a million. Before he had counted it he fell asleep. So did his brother.

They were awakened by the loud echoing bang of a pistol shot. Each thought of the shot that had been fired that morning, and opened eyes that expected to see a sunshiny terrace and red-rose petals strewn upon warm white stone.

Instead, there was the dark, lofty state chamber, lighted but little by six tall candles; there was the American in shirt and trousers, a smoking pistol in his hand; and there, advancing from the door of the powdering-room, a figure in doublet and hose, a ruff round its neck and no head! The head, sure enough, was there; but it was under the right arm, held close in the slashed-velvet sleeve of the doublet. The face looking from under the arm wore a pleasant smile. Both boys, I am sorry to say, screamed. The American fired again. The bullet passed through Sir Rupert, who advanced without appearing to notice it.

Then, suddenly, the lights went out. The next thing the boys knew it was morning. A grey daylight shone blankly through the tall windows and wild rain was beating upon the glass, and the American was gone.

“Where are we?” said Jimmy, sitting up with tangled hair and looking round him. “Oh, I remember. Ugh! it was horrid. I’m about fed up with that ring, so 1 don’t mind telling you.”

“Nonsense!” said Gerald. “I enjoyed it. I wasn’t a bit frightened, were you?”

“No,” said Jimmy, “of course I wasn’t.

“We’ve done the trick,” said Gerald later when they learned that the American had breakfasted early with Lord Yalding and taken the first train to London; “he’s gone to get rid of his other house, and take this one. The old ring’s beginning to do really useful things.”

“Perhaps you’ll believe in the ring now,” said Jimmy to Lord Yalding, whom he met later on in the picture-gallery; “it’s all our doing that Mr. Jefferson saw the ghost. He told us he’d take the house if he saw a ghost, so of course we took care he did see one.”

“Oh, you did, did you?” said Lord Yalding in rather an odd voice. “I’m very much obliged, I’m sure.”

“Don’t mention it,” said Jimmy kindly. “I thought you’d be pleased and him too.”

“Perhaps you’ll be interested to learn,” said Lord Yalding, putting his hands in his pockets and staring down at Jimmy, “that Mr. Jefferson D. Conway was so pleased with your ghost that he got me out of bed at six o clock this morning to talk about it.”

“Oh, ripping!” said Jimmy. “What did he say?”

“He said, as far as I can remember,” said Lord Yalding, still in the same strange voice “he said: “My lord, your ancestral pile is Al. It is, in fact, The Limit. Its luxury is palatial, its grounds are nothing short of Edenesque. No expense has been spared, I should surmise. Your ancestors were whole-hoggers. They have done the thing as it should be done every detail attended to. I like your tapestry, and I like your oak, and I like your secret stairs. But I think your ancestors should have left well enough alone, and stopped at that.” So I said they had, as far as I knew, and he shook his head and said:

“No, Sir. Your ancestors take the air of a night with their heads under their arms. A ghost that sighed or glided or rustled I could have stood, and thanked you for it, and considered it in the rent. But a ghost that bullets go through while it stands grinning with a bare neck and its head loose under its own arm and little boys screaming and fainting in their beds no! What I say is, If this is a British hereditary high-toned family ghost, excuse me!” And he went off by the early train.

“I say,” the stricken Jimmy remarked, “I am sorry, and I don’t think we did faint, really I don’t but we thought it would be just what you wanted. And perhaps someone else will take the house.”

“I don’t know anyone else rich enough,” said Lord Yalding. “Mr. Conway came the day before he said he would, or you’d never have got hold of him. And I don’t know how you did it, and I don’t want to know. It was a rather silly trick.”

There was a gloomy pause. The rain beat against the long windows.

“I say” Jimmy looked up at Lord Yalding with the light of a new idea in his round face “I say, if you’re hard up, why don’t you sell your jewels?”

“I haven’t any jewels, you meddlesome young duffer,” said Lord Yalding quite crossly; and taking his hands out of his pockets, he began to walk away.

“I mean the ones in the panelled room with the stars in the ceiling,” Jimmy insisted, following him.

“There aren’t any,” said Lord Yalding shortly; “and if this is some more ring-nonsense I advise you to be careful, young man. I’ve had about as much as I care for.”

“It’s not ring-nonsense, said Jimmy: “there are shelves and shelves of beautiful family jewels. You can sell them and ,”

“Oh, no!” cried Mademoiselle, appearing like an oleograph of a duchess in the door of the picture-gallery; “don’t sell the family jewels “

“There aren’t any, my lady,” said Lord Yalding, going towards her. “I thought you were never coming.”

“Oh, aren’t there!” said Mabel, who had followed Mademoiselle. “You just come and see,”

“Let us see what they will to show us,” cried Mademoiselle, for Lord Yalding did not move; “it should at least be amusing.”

“It is,” said Jimmy.

So they went, Mabel and Jimmy leading, while Mademoiselle and Lord Yalding followed, hand in hand.

“It’s much safer to walk hand in hand,” said Lord Yalding; “with these children at large one never knows what may happen next.”

It would be interesting, no doubt, to describe