The Spanish Chest Part 23

"The location was wonderful, on a cliff overlooking the sea and though the place had been altered for the purposes of a hotel, it was still a good bit churchly. The part.i.tions between the cells had been knocked out and additions built, but the hotel dining- room was the old refectory with stone walls and floor, and the wonderful garden was much as the monks left it. Such roses you never saw and such climbing vines and flowering trees. Oh, there's no place like Italy!"

Constance stopped. The moonlight falling across her bed touched her face into almost unearthly beauty.

"We had connecting rooms that night," she went on. "Dad and Mother took the corner one with two beds. Next was a tiny room where I was to sleep and Max's was beyond mine. All were originally cells opening on a terrace, covered with roses and pa.s.sion-flowers and looking down to the sea, which was s.h.i.+ning with little silver ripples.

"We'd had an especially happy day and I was so keyed up with enjoyment that I couldn't go to sleep right away, but lay looking out at the flowers and the waves. Mother went through to see that Max was all right and then came back to kiss me. She closed the door into his room, but left open the one from mine into hers.

"I remember hearing Mother and Dad laugh a little about something and I suppose I went to sleep, because I woke very suddenly with a start, all awake in a minute."

Connie paused, this being the proper moment for a thrill. "What do you think I saw?" she asked impressively.

"Oh, I can't imagine!" gasped Frances, s.h.i.+vering in delighted antic.i.p.ation. "Do go on!"

"Have you chills down your spine!" laughed Constance. "In the moonlight right beside my bed, I saw a monk, dressed in white, the usual robe of the Dominicans. He had a wise, kind face, with a pleasant expression, and as I looked at him, he took my wrist very gently, and put his finger on my pulse."

"Oh-h!" said Edith, pulling the covers about her more tightly.

"Oh, Miss Connie, what did you do?"

"That frightened me," said Connie. "Up to that time, I noticed only his pleasant, gentle look, but it seemed as though a bit of ice touched me and I gave a scream that brought Mother and Dad up standing. Of course, when they came hurrying in, n.o.body was visible. I made a big fuss, presumably because I wanted to be petted and coddled.

"I told them about the monk and Dad at once thought that Max had been playing a joke on me. He stepped into Max's room, intending to be severe, but Max was sound asleep and besides, the door into his room squeaked so that he couldn't possibly have opened it without waking us all.

"Then they said I had the nightmare. Perhaps I did," said Constance with a smile, "but I can see yet the kindly face of that old monk. I didn't want to stay in my room, so Dad told me to go in with Mother and he'd take my bed. We all settled ourselves again.

"I was asleep or nearly so, feeling so comfy and safe in my bed close to Mother's when suddenly she sat up straight and said 'Richard!' in such an odd, startled tone. I woke and heard poor Dad piling out of bed again to come into our room. Mother sat there looking very troubled and holding one wrist in the other hand. She didn't say anything more,--neither of them did,--but I knew perfectly well that the old monk had been feeling her pulse."

"And what happened in the morning?" demanded Frances breathlessly.

"Nothing at all," said Constance cheerfully. "In the morning everything was beautiful and lovely as in no other country but Italy. Mother and I merely agreed that we had an odd dream. We did not stay a second night, for we were on our way back to Rome."

"Did you ever hear anything more about the monk?" asked Edith.

"Years after," said Connie dreamily, "we met some Americans in Switzerland who told us of a similar experience in this hotel.

Later, I learned that Dad found out at the time that the place was reputed to be haunted by an old monk physician who turns up at intervals and feels people's pulses, and is often seen pottering about the garden in broad daylight. Monks are such a common sight in Italy that the hotel guests stop and converse with him, thinking him a gardener and never suspecting that he is a ghost."

"But the Manor ghost isn't like that?" asked Edith, who wanted rea.s.surance.

"Not a bit," said Constance. "As for that, there was nothing so very frightful or repellent about the monk. Don't you think we should go to sleep now and give his spooks.h.i.+p his innings?"

The girls agreed and silence fell over the big room with its three white beds. Outside the open cas.e.m.e.nts a vine waved within Fran's line of vision, tapping gently against a window pane.

Presently a slight sound caught Fran's wakeful ear, as of steps on a somewhat unfamiliar stair where it was necessary to grope one's way. Touching Edith's shoulder, she sat up in bed. They had entered the haunted room by a door now locked, opening on a big stone staircase; these steps seemed upon m.u.f.fled wood.

Next moment there came a sudden convulsive sneeze that sounded in her very ear. Frances gasped but Constance sat up laughing.

"No fair!" she exclaimed.

For a second there was absolute silence, then somebody laughed, extremely close at hand, though yet behind a part.i.tion. The laugh was followed by the soft sound of retreating footsteps.

"What happened, Miss Connie?" begged Edith.

"No ghost," said their hostess merrily. "I had forgotten. That was clever of Max."

Silence again followed for a period, succeeded by the sound of music in the garden below the windows, soft and very sweet.

"Oh, is _that_ the ghost?" demanded Frances in great excitement.

"Your mother will bless me for letting you stop awake all night,"

said Constance. She sat up, wrapped a white robe about her and stuck her feet into slippers. Upon the music came the sudden unearthly miaow of a cat.

The noise sounded directly in the room and all three girls jumped.

Constance laughed again.

"I might have known Max did not come into that pa.s.sage for nothing," she sighed. "Where's that electric torch?"

Having turned on the flash-light, Connie approached the large oil painting set into one side of the gloomy room, its base about a foot above the floor. She touched a k.n.o.b on its frame and the portrait became a door opening outward and revealing a narrow, dusty winding stair descending to the floor below. On its top step sat the big cat, just opening its mouth for another howl.

"Come in, Grayfur," said Constance. "Max brought you, didn't he?

If he hadn't sneezed and given himself away, he'd have opened the door a crack and let you in."

"Is it a secret stair?" asked Frances, her eyes big with excitement. "Where does it go? Wouldn't Roger be crazy over it?"

"We will let him go up it," answered Connie, swinging the portrait into place again. "The pa.s.sage comes out below in the library. Max thought he would provide one ghost anyway."

Putting the cat into the hall, she locked the door again and then stuck her pretty head from the window.

"Max," she said severely, addressing the unseen musician, "you are spoiling your fiddle and breaking your promise. You said you wouldn't be silly. Go to bed now like a good boy."

The fiddle responded with two ear-splitting squawks.

"Stop it!" commanded Constance. "There goes a string and it serves you quite right. You'll have the bobbies coming to investigate if you don't leave off."

The unappreciated serenader appeared squelched by this threat, for complete silence followed.

"Nothing more is at all likely to happen tonight," said Constance, coming back to bed. "And I hope Max will go properly to his room.

Now go to sleep, girlies, and in the morning, I'll tell you how the Manor ghost disports itself."

CHAPTER XVI

THE MANOR GHOST

In spite of a firm intention to remain awake, Frances soon fell into quiet slumber and knew nothing more until the next morning.

February dawns in England are dark, but when she finally opened her eyes, the room was faintly lighted by the coming sun and her watch told her that it was after eight.