Scandal at High Chimneys Read Online Free PDF Page A

Harriet Pyke. The woman was guilty. No: it put me in mind only of housebreakers and thieves. I knew Penelope Burbage must have encountered one. In the shortest time it took to put on robe and slippers, I was at the head of the stairs with my candle held high.
    “Burbage and the two footmen, I must confess, were not much longer in descending from the top floor. Penelope Burbage had not fainted, though she crouched at the foot of the staircase in a pitiable condition of shock.
    “Her father would have run to her, but that I ordered him and the footmen to make an immediate search of the house and discover if we had been robbed. I myself lifted the young woman to her feet. Did I—did I mention that my physician, Dr. Thompson Bland, was our guest at the time and is still with us? Did I mention that?”
    Clive shook his head.
    “No, sir. You said Mrs. Damon had written to him, that’s all.”
    “Well! I was grateful for his presence. For some reason this young woman appeared to harbour extraordinary suspicions of me (of me! ), shrinking away and screaming again. Dr. Thompson Bland descended soon afterwards and administered brandy. It was some time before Penelope could be persuaded to tell what happened.”
    “And what had happened?”
    Silence.
    “What had happened, sir?”
    “As I surmised,” continued Mr. Damon, calm and bleak once more, “Penelope had entered by the back door, which she locked and closely barred after her. Burbage had left her bedroom candle on a table by this door, but she could not light it. The kitchen fire had gone out, and there were no Lucifers at hand.
    “Our rooms at High Chimneys, you may recall, are heavily curtained. However, it was not too difficult to grope her way through and light the candle by what little remained of the fire in the main hall. This being contrived, Penelope started up the front staircase. She did not go far.
    “There was a man standing partway up the staircase, looking down at her.
    “The man did not move or speak, nor did Penelope. After a moment Penelope said, ‘Is that you, sir?’ and lifted the light higher without being able to see his face. Still the figure did not move or speak. Penelope cried out, ‘Who’s there?’ The man put out both hands and ran down at her to seize her, but his footsteps made no sound as he ran.
    “Penelope stumbled backwards, throwing her arm across her face. The candle went out. Penelope screamed and continued to scream in the dark, though nothing touched her. By the time I myself appeared, she was alone.”
    Georgette Damon started as a head loomed up dark in silhouette outside the compartment-windows. It was only the guard, edging past on the footboard outside to collect tickets. Much dirt blew in; afterwards Clive closed the window hastily.
    “She was alone?” he repeated. “What had happened to the man on the stairs?”
    “Apparently he had disappeared.”
    “Could Penelope describe him?”
    “After a fashion. She stated with some positiveness that he was wearing a frock-coat, a dark waistcoat, patterned trousers, and socks without shoes. Aside from the last point, which would account for the absence of sound, half the men in England must own such a costume.”
    “True; but …”
    “Was he tall or short? Old or young? Fat or thin? Penelope, badly frightened, could not say. Nor did she see his face. She has an impression that the figure was gigantic; but this, she acknowledges, may have been because it stood well above her on the stairs.”
    “Did you learn anything else from her?”
    The deep-set eyes gleamed.
    “Only that Penelope told the truth. I have not spent half a lifetime at the Old Bailey for nothing. But it is ironical, Mr. Strickland, that the level-headed Penelope’s story should have seemed so unconvincing to others. I can still see Dr. Thompson Bland turning to me and saying, ‘My dear Damon, this young woman has been dreaming.’ Apparently, I repeat, apparently, the mysterious prowler did not