The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1889-06-16

Besides, she liked her r00my mouse. which
was so much larger than it seemed from
the street, stretching out on the garden
side Ill a long wing, which contained a bill
iard-room, ~dining-room and drawing room,
all opening on a veranda that went round
two sides of the house. and gave easy access
to the slOping lawn.
She was still new enough to her position
to feel a thrill of pride as she led her future
parlor-maid through the rooms. Finally
she opened the door of the drawing-room,
touched, proved that Ada was trying to get
rid of the time that now hung heavy on her
hands.
Il shall expect you to- she began, when
the woman by her side uttered a sharp ex-
clamation, ran forward a few steps into the
room. and then fell f~ainting on the floor.
Helen and Ada rushed to help her, but it
was some time before she revived. Even
when she was restored to conscientious
ness she hardly seemed to recognize them,
but looked wildly around the room. Its
the same room,' she muttered. Every
things changed; the paper, and the furni-
ture. and everything. but / can mistake the
room. Ididn't recognize the house. and it
about the ROOM"
We'll, what about the roomf" queried
Helen. with a touch of sharpness. She did
not like mysteries.
moaned. 'The child | had nursed since it
was a month old, and l was fond of it-oh,
if it had been my own / couldn't have
loved it ~more!-lying In this room on a sofa.
and 1 never thought to enter the place
again"
gallay, feeling very much annoyed at the
scene; but the child wasn't your own,
some time ago"
Fifteen years. interrupted Mrs. Wall
work; but you dom understandit, ma'am.
The child-the poor little baby-was killed
murdered by its own father"
Good heavens" exclaimed Helen; but
Ada, who had been listening intently.
caught hold of the woman's wrist with a
%convulsive clasp. Then that was the child
that was killedo she cried breathlessly.
"Yes, the child, but how do you know,
miss3" asked Mrs. WallwOrk, and. What
do you know about 1T, Adaf" demanded
Helen.
Nothing. At least, / have been told
this house that a crime had been committed
in it, and latterly a have felt sure that a
child was murdered here-taken from my
little sItting-rOOm upstairs, carried down
here and killed, and then buried under
it to you, because it seemed such a fantastic
idea, but Pm sure of it all the same"
What nOnsense!" protested her sister;
and, turning to Mr.. Wallwork. added:
1--WE must get you out of his room that
affects you SO much; and perhaps you had
better say nothing about this-ah!--fancy
or recollection of yours. One doesn't like
such stories about a house, and you know
If you didn't recognize the house. you may
be mistaken in the ROOM"
mo mistake at all, ma'am; but you're
right about not speaking of the matter.
Pve never opened my lips about 1T this fif-
teen years, and / don't want ever to men
about what / say, to ke me up to the room
the young lady spoke of, and I'll see If it's
the one I'm thinking Of"
Its quite uselesst" cried Helen.
But Ada said:
"Yes, let us co." and there was a strained,
fierce look on her face that made her sister
thinkit wiser to consent to the suggestion.
She alone knew how self-willed Ada
could be and how obstinate in clinging to
her fancies.
They went upstairs, Mrs. Wallwork lean
ing on Ada's arm, and Helen following
them. For once the younger sister seemed
the more decided of the two.
Yes; this is the room roo said the still
nursery, and l slept here with the baby.
One night about midnight 1 awoke and the
child wasn't IN my arms. and-welL I've
told you the rest"
manded Ada. "Who was this man-this
father who murdered his own child9"
"Ah, but 1 can't tell you. They called
themselves Mr.. and Mrs. Everett; but /
don't think that was their right name. l
took them to be q young married couple.
They had been in Irkham for som months
before the baby was born. | came to them
whenit was a month old, and was here six
months; l suppose they were in Irkham
for about a year. From some things they
said. l guessed they had been in India; but
they didn't get any foreign letters-at least
/ thought not; all that came to the house
had a London postmark. But once / found
an envelope with an Indian stamp. and II it
waS addressed tn nv MASTER IT wasn't IN
the name / knew him by"
what name was it,"
Il don't remember now, it's so long ago,
and / paid no heed at the time. 1t was
only afterward that / began to put things
together"
ibid they know many people in IrkhamY"
asked Helen.
Not a soul. / remember my mistress
more solitary there than in the midst of a
desert, and he answered that there was no
place like big cities for concealment."
And why-why did he do this dreadful
things"
roman. There's things the like of you
don't understand. And perhaps Mr.. Ever
EFT didn't kill his child. l didn't see him
do it: only when l woke up and found the
saws light down stairs. l followed that.
1t came from the open drawing-room door,
and there was the poor child lying dead. L
cried out, II then my master rushed In by
the open window from the garden, and
silenced me-"
"How?"
HE gagged me and carried me up stairs
to the nursery. Then he tied me down to
my bed with the sheets. and left me for a
time. He came back at last, and said:
"UnleSS you a Il grave dug for your
self. too. you had better dress yourself
quietly and come with me-
II was afraid of what he might do, so |
obeyed him. When L was ready, and went
out of the room, / found my mistress wait
ing on the landing, dressed to go out. She
q little. but very quietly, only | could hear
her sobbing occasionally. The three of us
went downstairs. l tried to walk as
heavily as | could. thinking | might rouse
the other two servants. but they slept at
the end of a long passage, in the back of the
house, and / was still gagged and could not
cry. When we got out of doors Mr.. Everett
said to his wife:
"'You know your way, do you not, and
have money enough for the PRESENT. Go
straight away. and I'll follow you as soon
as I have settled this creature
my mistress went OFT by herself. and |
thought my ED had come; but he only kept
me walking through the town till morning
| oh, but | was tired!-and then took me to
the railway station and put ME in the train
for BeerstOwe, the place / came from. He
put some money into my hand, and SAID I
would get more if / held my tongue; and
that was the last | ever saw of him. and
H. ~n.o~ l.ocxIoJ u-1-1 h. l. AN Il