Footsteps in the Dark Read Online Free PDF Page A

was told the fishing was good, and the inn comfortable, so I thought I'd give it a trial. You're new to the place yourself, aren't you?"
    "Yes, we only moved in a week ago." Her dimple peeped out. "I must tell you, because it's really rather funny: when we saw you just now we thought you were our ghost."
    He glanced down at her. "Have you got a ghost?" he asked. "How exciting! What sort of a ghost?"
    "Well, we're not sure about that. A squeaking one, anyway."
    "That doesn't sound very awful. Haven't you seen it?"
    "No, thank goodness. Of course I don't suppose it's a ghost at all, really, but when we came out we'd just heard the most gruesome sort of a groan. Honestly, it made one's blood run cold. So Chas - my brother-in-law — is going round oiling all the door-hinges. Look, that's the chapel. Doesn't it look eerie and romantic?"
    "Yes, I don't think I should care to spend the night up there alone," Strange admitted.
    They stood still for a moment, surveying the ruin. Strange glanced back towards the house. "H'm. It's rather cut off by the trees, isn't it? Can you see it from the house at all?"
    "No, not from downstairs. You can from my window, and the landing window. Why?"
    "I only thought it was rather a pity anything so picturesque should be out of sight."
    They walked on slowly. "If the place is haunted at all, I'm sure the ghost lives in the chapel," Margaret said lightly. "lf I had the courage of a mouse, which I haven't, I'd get my brother to sit up with me and watch."
    "I think it's just as well you haven't," said Strange, with another of his swift transforming smiles. "You never know, and - I should hate you to get a fright."
    "Oh, nothing would induce Peter to forsake his bed," she said. "Besides, he doesn't believe in ghosts. Here's your path. You can't miss the way now." She stopped and held out her hand.
    Michael Strange took it in his. "Thank you very much," He said. "It was awfully good of you to bother. I - hope you get another puncture when I'm in the offing."
    " How nice of you." She smiled, and withdrew her hand. "Do come and see us if ever you feel like it. Goodbye!"
    She watched him stride away down the footpath, and turned, and went slowly back to the house.
    "Well, did you find out anything about the fellow?" her brother asked when she entered the library.
    "Oh, he's just on his holiday," she replied.
    "So we gathered," said Charles. "What's his job?"
    "I didn't ask. Why were you two so stuffy? You don't think he was responsible for the noise we heard, do you?"
    "That solution hadn't occurred to me," said Charles. "I admit he didn't give me the impression of one who would stand under someone else's window and groan at them. Still, you never know."
    Celia held up her finger. "I protest. We are not going to talk about groans or ghosts any more. Carried?"
    "Carried unanimously," said Peter.
    That resolution might have been kept longer had it not been for the happenings of the next night.
    It was about half-past ten when a crash that resounded through the house penetrated even to Mrs. Bosanquet's ears, and made Celia, who was improvising idly on the piano, strike a jangling discord. The crash seemed to come from the upper landing, and it was followed by a bump-bump-bump, as though some hard object were rolling down the stairs.
    "Good Lord, who's smashing up the place now?" said Charles, getting out of his chair. He went to the door, and opened it. "That you, Peter?" he called.
    The study door opposite opened. "No. What on earth's happened?" Peter asked.
    "Dunno. Without wishing to leap to conclusions I should hazard a guess that something has fallen over." Charles picked up the lamp that stood on the hall table, and walked to the foot of the stairs.
    "I believe it was a picture," Celia said, at his side. "It sounded to me like glass breaking."
    She ran up ahead of him, and rounded the halflanding. A little exclamation broke from her. "Oh, there's something on the stairs! Do hurry up with the lamp,