Free Within That Room! by John Russell Fearn Page B

make her out,” Vera said. “I never know whether she is just acting or whether she means it. Half the time I think she is psychic and really wants to save me from disaster; and the rest of the time I think she is just a sinister woman with a diabolical turn of mind!”
    â€œWell, either way she’s darned good entertainment.”
    Shaking her fair head doubtfully Vera went on with her meal. Then she asked a question.
    â€œI suppose our plans are unchanged? We still telephone Thwaite?”
    â€œDefinitely! And we’ll make a pleasant walk out of it too. I know a long walk around to a telephone box—and I’m going to tell you a lot of things while we’re on our way.”
    â€œWith or without endearments?” Vera asked coolly.
    â€œDepends. If the weather stays as hot as it is now I may come over all romantic. It’s the Latin in me— But joking apart, I want serious words with you. Very serious!”
    Vera could tell from his expression that he was not fooling; so she hurried through her breakfast and finished up one slice of marmalade on toast ahead of him. Then they were preparing to leave when she saw Mrs. Falworth again. Her outburst seemed to have left her more somber than ever.
    â€œWe’re going out, Mrs. Falworth,” Vera informed her. “Whether we will be back for lunch or not is not certain.”
    â€œVery good, miss.”
    She stood with her face expressionless as the two went past her to the front door. It was good to get out into the blaze of June sunshine and the soft summer breeze.
    â€œJust like stepping out of the middle ages into the modern era,” Dick summed up.
    â€œPlenty of relics of the middle ages in that castle I’ve got,” Vera sighed. Especially in the basement. Did you notice those rings and hooks? You should have seen the ghoulish satisfaction on the Dragon’s face when she told me how they used to torture people.” She shuddered. “What a sadistic old hag she is!”
    â€œI noticed the...equipment, and guessed the purpose,” Dick’s jaw set with uncommon firmness. “Things haven’t changed much, Vera. In those days they tore folks to pieces with red-hot pliers and branding irons. In these days they rip up a fine mind—slowly, with merciless erosion. The sort of person who can do that wants acid pouring slowly down the throat...inside!”
    â€œWhat lovely, uplifting conversation for a summer morning,” Vera murmured. They had come out of the tree-lined driveway now to the makeshift road beyond it. “And anyway, what in the world are you talking about?”
    Dick said: “I have the most persistent thought at the back of my mind that horror can be induced! Somewhere in that castle I have seen the absolute explanation for it, but I can’t think where on earth it fits in.... That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Look—take a look at this list I made in bed last night.”
    Vera took the notebook leaf he handed to her and screwed up her eyes as the sunshine reflected back from it.
    â€œâ€˜No psychic phenomena. Red-brown ash in cellar—’ Er, what’s this? Oh! ‘Unpleasant odor! Volcanic deposits. Something seen somewhere which links up—’”
    â€œI am not a detective,” Dick said, “and I don’t even pretend to be clever, but I can see that it is significant that psychic investigators for the past fifty years have examined that horror-room carefully at leisure—at leisure, mind you! And have not found a single odd thing about it!”
    Vera said: “But—” She hesitated and moved her hand indecisively. “This means that Uncle Cyrus and ourselves are the only ones who have experienced that sensation of being—being mentally torn apart.”
    â€œExactly! And we don’t even know that Uncle Cyrus did have such an experience: we’ve only Mrs. Falworth’s word for it,