Free The Spiral Staircase by Ethel Lina White Page A

Oates,” she asked, “where, exactly, was she mur dered?”
    “In the dark passage, where the cellars are,” was the reply. “I wouldn’t tell you, just now, but Oates and I always call that bit, ‘Murder Lane’.” . .
    As she listened, it occurred to Helen that Lady W arren’s rambling talk about trees breaking into the house was built on a solid foundation. When she was a young woman, she had been soaked to the marrow in this damp solitude. She had stood at her window staring out into the winter twilight, while the mist curled to shapes, and trees writhed into life.
    One of the trees-a tramp, savage and red-eyed-had actually slipped inside. No wonder, now that she was old, she re-lived the scene in her memory.
    “When did this happen?” she asked.
    “Just before Sir Robert’s death. Lady Warren wanted. to give up the house, as they couldn’t get no servants, and it was rows, all the time, till the accident.”
    “And has the Professor servant-trouble, too?” enquired Nurse Barker.
    “Not till now,” replied Mrs. Oates. “There’s always been old and middle-aged bits, as wanted a quiet home. They’ve kept things going until these murders started the old trouble again.”
    Nurse Barker licked her lips with gloomy relish. “One of them was quite close to the Summit, wasn’t it?” she asked.
    “A few miles off.”
    Nurse Barker laughed as she lit a fresh cigarette.
    “Well, I needn’t worry,” she said. “I’m safe, as long as she is here.”
    “Do you mean-Miss Capel?” asked Mrs. Oates.
    “Yes.”
    Helen .did not like being picked out for this special distinction. She felt sorry that she. had stepped into the limelight, with the announcement of her alleged power to attract men.
    “Why pick on me?” she protested.
    “Because you are young and pretty.”
    Helen laughed, with a sudden sense of fresh security.
    “In that case,” she said, “I’m safe, too. No man would ever look at me, while the Professor’s daughterin-law was by. She is young, too, and oozes sex-appeal.”
    Nurse Barker shook her head, with a smile full of dark meaning.
    “No,” she insisted. “She is safe.”
    “Why?” asked Helen. I In her turn, Nurse Barker put a question.
    “Haven’t you noticed it for yourself?”
    Her hints were so vague and mysterious that they got under Helen’s skin.
    “I wish you would come out in the open,” she cried.
    “I will, then,” said Nurse Barker. “Haven’t you no ticed that the murderer always chooses girls who earn their own living? Very likely he’s a shell-shock case, who came back from the War, to find a woman in his place. The country is crawling with women, like maggots, eating up all the jobs. And the men are starved out.” “But I’m not doing man’s work,” protested Helen,
    “Yes, you are. Men are being employed in houses, now. There’s a man, here. Her husband.” Nurse Barker nodded to indicate Mrs. Oates. “Instead of being at home, you’re out, taking a wage. It’s wages from somebody else. That’s how a man looks at it.”
    “Well-what about yourself?”
    “A nurse’s work has always been held sacred to women.”
    Mrs. Oates made an effort to relieve the tension, as she rose from her chair.’
    “Well, I’d. better see what mess one man’s made of the dinner. Upon my word, Nurse, to hear you talk, you might be a man yourself.”
    “I can see through their eyes,” said Nurse Barker.
    Helen, however, noticed that Mrs. Oates had scored a bull, for Nurse Barker bit her lips, as though she resented the remark. But she kept her eyes fixed upon the girl, who felt herself shrink under the relentless stare. Her common-sense returned at the sound of Mrs. Oates’ loud laugh.
    “Well, anyone what wants to get our little Miss Capel, will have to get past Oates and me first.”
    Helen looked at her ugly face, her brawny arms. She thought of Oates with his stupendous strength. She had two worthy guardians, in case of need.
    “I’d not afraid of