The Lonely Shadows: Tales of Horror and the Cthulhu Mythos Read Online Free PDF Page A

opinion about it?” asked Calder. Leaning forward, he filled the other’s glass, then his own. The sunlight, flooding into the windows behind him made everything seem sane and normal, but the other’s words had sent that strange and indefinable chill through him.
    “At the time, I didn’t have one.” The other seemed as if he did not quite trust himself to speak. “I knew I had to get to the bottom of it, get the information from him as soon as possible, or there was a definite chance of him going insane. Eventually, I got most of the story from him. Some of it seemed to have gone so far into his subconscious that nothing short of hypnosis could bring it to the surface. That—I left alone. He didn’t expect anyone to believe a word of what he said, least of all a practical man like myself. And when he did tell me, I think I know why.”
    Woodbridge closed his eyes for a moment and frowned in taut concentration as if trying to remember something, only to find it hard work, something he was not quite up to. “According to his story, he had gone to the house about ten o’clock. It was an evening in late October and it was quite dark at that time with little moonlight, just enough to see by, but not bright enough for him to be seen easily. He apparently didn’t believe the stories about the place and it wasn’t until he was inside the grounds and moving towards a house that he noticed there was a certain feel about the place that he had not noticed before. It was nothing that he could describe to me. All he could say was that he felt something was going to happen that night and that when it did, it would be something hideous and frightening.” The doctor paused and sat down in his chair, his forehead furrowed. “What happened then, according to him, was so unbelievable that at the time, I’m afraid I dismissed it completely as the ravings of a man on the borderline of hysteria. He approached the house from the hill at the back where the Belstead family are buried. It wasn’t until he was going past the vaults that he saw where the iron gate had been pushed down— from the inside .”
    “From the inside! But that’s impossible.”
    “I know. Now you can realise why I thought little about it at the time. Now looking back on it, I think it might have been possible to have averted a lot of what has happened since.”
    “Go on,” prompted Calder.
    “He found bits of torn cloth and dirt on the old pathway outside the vaults and being either a fool or a very brave man—I don’t know which—he followed the trail that led almost directly to the library of the house. He said there were lights in the French windows, and at first, he thought it was candle-light but as he drew closer, he saw that it was something else—a weird, bluish glow that seemed to fill the whole room and spill out into the garden outside. It was a steady light, unlike the flickering of candle-light. Going closer, he looked inside.” A pause, then Woodbridge said in a clear voice: “He discovered for himself, that the old Belstead house was not quite as empty as he had thought.”
    “And you believe his story now?”
    “Yes, I do. Since then, I’ve had a very similar story told me by a young servant girl who had to come past that place one night shortly before midnight. She saw lights in the house, bluish lights she described them, and figures outlined against the windows. Add to this what I saw with my own eyes that day I went up to see Charles Belstead, and what you claim to have seen yesterday and you’ll see why I’m forced believe it.”
    “But it goes against all reason.” Calder’s logical solicitor’s mind was trying to put a rational explanation on to all of this, and failing miserably. “Is there any possible explanation for it?”
    “I’m not sure. It must all tie in with old Henry Belstead. There seems to have been no talk of strange happenings there until he arrived in the house. Prior to that, everything was quite