Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1895-04-20
The Haunted Chamber.
BY THE DUCHESS

Is no fear that any of them will be
about, and so the dimly lighted corri-
dor is wrapped in an unbroken silence.
Not quite unbroken, however. What
is this that strikes upon the ear? What
sound to break the unearthly
s%tillnessp A creeping footstep, a eau
tiOus tread, q Sinking, hating, uncer-
tain motion, belonging surely to some
0ne who sees an enemy, a spy al every
fitting shadow. Nearer and nearer It
comes now into the fuller glare Of the
lamp-light, and stops short at the door
so dreaded by the castle servants.
Looking uneasily around him, Ar
thur Dynecourt-for il is he-unfast-
ems the door, and, entering hastily, clo-
SEES 1t firmly behind him, and ascends
the staircase within. There is no halt
ing in his footsteps now, no uncertain
ty, no caution, only a haste that betok-
ems a desire TO get his errand owe as
quick as possible.
walks slowly and on tiptoe again, and,
creeping up the stone stairs, crouches
down so AS TO bring his ear OH a level
with the lower chink of the door.
Alas, all is still; no faintest groan
car be heardl The silence of Death is
all around. In spite of his hardihood,
the cold sweat Of fear breaks out upon
Dynecourt's brow; and yet he tells him
self that now he is satisfied, all is well,
his victim is secure, Is beyond the pow
er OF words or kindly search to recall
him to life. He may be discovered now
as Don as they like. Who can fix the
fact of his death upon himr There is
no blow, no mark Of violence to crimi-
nate any one He il safe, and all the
wealth he had so coveted is at last his
ownl
There Is something fiendish in the
look of exultation that lights Arthur
Dynecourt's face. He has a small dull
lantern with him, and now it reveals
the vile glance of triumph that fires his
eyes. He would fain have entered to
gaze upon his victim. to assure himself
of his victory, but he Tefrains. A dead
ly fear that he may not yet be quite
dead keeps him back, and, with a
frown, he prepares to descend ono
more.
Again he listens, but the sullen roar
Of the rising night wind is all that can
be heard. His hand shakes, his face
assumes a livid hue, yet he tells him
self that surely this deadly silence is
better than he listened to last night.
Then a ghostly moaning, almost inces-
SAINT and unearthly in sound, had
pierced his brain. 1t was more like the
cry of a dying brute than that of a
man. Sir Adrian slowly starved TO
death! In his own mind Arthur can
see him now, worn, emaciated, lost TO
all likeness of anything fair or comely.
Have the rats attacked him yet? As
this grewsome thought presents itself,
Dynecourt rises quickly from his
crouching position, and, flying down
the steps, does not stop running until
he arrives in the corridor below again.
He dashes into this like one possess
sed: but, finding himself i'm the light of
the hanging lamp, collects himself by
a violent effort, and looks around.
Yes, all is still. No living form but
his is near. The corridor, as he CLAN
ces a~ffrightedly up and down, is empty.
He a see nothing but his W shad-
ow, at sight Of which he starts and
turns pale and shudders.
The next moment he recovers him.
self, and, muttering an anathema upon
bis cowardice, he move noiselessly to-
ward his room and the brandy-bottle
that has been his constant companion
of late.
Yet, here in his own room, he al
not rest. The hours go by with laggard
steps. Midnight has struck, and still
he PAGES his floor from wall TO wall,
half-maddened by his thoughts. Not
that he relents. No feelings of repen-
tance stirs him, there is only a nervous
dread of the hour when it will be nee
cessary to produce the dead body, il
only to prove his claim TO the title 80
dearly and so UNANIMOUSLY purchased.
Is he indeed dead-gone past recall?
Is this house, this place, the old title,
h nance of winning the woman he
would have, all his own2 Is his hateful
rival-hateful to him only because of
his fair face and genial manners and
lovable disposition, and the esteem
with which he filled the hearts of all
who knew him-actually swept out OF
his pathp
Again the lurking morbid longing to
view the body with his own eyes, the
longing that had been his some hours
ago when listening at the fatal door,
seizes hold of him, and grows In inten-
sity with every passing moment.
At last 1t conquers him. Lighting a
candle, he opens his door and peers
~ every IN is abed, and now sleeping
the sleep of the just-all except him.
VIII there ever be any rest or dream
less sleep for him AGAIN.
He goes softly downstairs, and
makes his way TO the lower door.
Meeting no one, he ascends the stairs
like one only half conscious, until he
finds himself again before the door of
the haunted chamber.
Then he wakes into sudden life. An
awful terror takes possession of him.
He struggles with himself, and pres
emily so far succeeds in regaining some
degree Of comPosure that he can lean
against the wall and wipe his forehead,
and VOW to himself that he will never
descend until he has accomplished the
object of his visit. But the result Of
this terrible fight with fear and con
science shows itself in the increasing
pallor Of his brow and the cold per-
spiration that stands thick upon his
forehead.
Nerving himself for a final effort, he
lays his hand upon the door and pushes
1t open. This he does with bowed head
and eyes averted, afraid to look upon
his terrible work. A silence more hor-
ible to his guilty conscience than the
most appalling noises, follows this act;
and, again the nameless terror seizing
him, he leans against it gladly, as II for
support.
And now at last he raises his eyes.
Slowly at first and cringingly, as if
dreading what they might see. Upon
the board at his feet they rest for a
moment, and then glide to the next
board, and so on, until his coward eyes
have covered a considerable portion of
the floor.
And now, grown holder, he lifts his
gaze to the wall opposite and searches
1t carefully. Then his eyes turn again
to the floor. His face CHASTITY, and with
his eyes almost darling from their
sockets, he compels himself to bring his
awful investigation to an end. Avoid
ing the corners at first, as though there
he expects his vile deed will cry aloud
to him demanding vengeance, he gazes
In q dazed way at the center Of the
apartment, and dwells upon 1t stupid
ly, until he knows he must look further
still; and then his dull eyes turn to the
corners where the dusky shadows lie,
brought thither by the glare Of his
small lantern. Reluctantly, but care
fully, he scans the apartment, no reno
test spot escapes his reused attention.
But no object, dead or living, attracts
his notice! The room is empty!
He staggers. His hold upon the door
~relaxes. His lamp falls to the ground;
the door closes with q soft but deadly
thud behind him, and-he Is a prisoner
In the haunted chamber! AS the dark
ness closes in upon him, and he finds
himself alone with what he hardly
|. dares to contemplate, his senses grow
lcOnfuRed. his brain reels. a fearful