Free 3stalwarts by Unknown Page A

don’t get too rough with things.”
    “All right, I’ll go upstairs.”
    Gil wanted to get away from the big downstairs rooms. The fine black-cherry dining room table and the delicate chairs worried him; for they were things he would have liked Lana to have. But seeing them against the papered wall, dark though the room was, made him realize that a per-son could not merely own them.
    The holland cupboard in the hall, with its wax figures, half like persons in spite of their small size, the soft feeling of the green carpet under his boots, gave him the same uneasiness. It was not until he stepped onto the bare wood of the stair treads that he felt remotely like himself.
    But even on the stairs, the voices of the militia had an alien sound, as if by their entry they had done more than violate a house. They had put an end to a life. The house, shut up, could have fallen to ruin in dignity.
    On the second floor, however, seeing the bedrooms opening from the hall, with the big beds unmade, as they had been left by the Thompsons, Gil felt a kind of unreasoning anger. By abandoning it, the people, apparently, had thought no more of the house than the militia had in forcing an entrance. And those that were abovestairs felt no compunctions.
    One was holding up a flimsy dressing gown.
    “Would a man or woman wear this?” he was asking.
    The lace that edged the sleeves hung limply, and his calloused finger-tips rasped on the silk.
    “You can’t tell what they wear,” said a muffled voice. Christian Reall came backing from under the bed dragging a piece of crockery. “Look at this, Van Slyck. It’s got gilt on it.”
    Van Slyck glanced down with lukewarm interest. “Yes, it’s a nice article,” he said politely. He dropped the dressing gown. “I wish I could get me one of these good and warm.”
    Reall crouched over the chamber pot. “It would be a handy thing. My wife gets chilblains horrible in winter.”
    They were as conscienceless as men inspecting a line of goods in a store. Gil wandered into the next room. There was less in it to interest one, perhaps, for there was only a narrow bed and a great closet of dark wood standing in the corner. He was curious to see what might be inside the closet.
    He found it empty of everything except, lying in a corner, a piece of silk that might have been used as a head wrapping. It was bright green with little white birds printed on it. He picked it up almost mechanically, thinking suddenly how well it would look on Lana’s dark hair. Glancing round, he saw that he was alone. It made him feel like a thief, but he comforted himself with thinking that it had no real value. And he had meant to bring Lana something. He had not been so long away from her since they were married. Inevitably it went into his pocket.
    Then he looked round him. He felt that he ought to do something, to show his zealous sense of duty.
    In the corner of the room behind the door a ladder leaned against the wall. He had not noticed it at first. He would not have noticed it now ex-cept that in the pale light creeping through the shutters the dust on the rungs looked disturbed.
    At first Gil thought that there might be rats in the house; but he did not see why rats should be climbing to the attic. He decided to have a look.
    He had to lift a trapdoor.
    The attic seemed no darker than the rest of the house, and he could see quite plainly. The two central chimneys came up side by side out of the floor and continued at a slight outward angle like the trunks of a double tree. Between them was a bed.
    There was nothing else in the attic. Gil stared a long time to make sure before he hoisted himself through.
    He kept well away from the chimneys until he had circled both of them. On their outside edges the dust lay thick and unmarked, but sometime recently a man had come through the trap and gone to bed. Even if it had not been for the tracks, Gil would have noticed the faint tobacco smell.
    He sniffed at the blankets.