Free Mystery Villa by E.R. Punshon Page B

walls and the moths fluttered to and fro, and the astonished mice peeped from their holes to discover what was happening. Twice he repeated his summons, shouting with all his power. When he still got no reply, save that of the universal silence into which his loud cry entered and was lost, he went back to the side door. It was provided with a self-locking latch, easily opened from within. He opened the door, and said to Wild, waiting outside: ‘I’ve been calling, but no one answered.’
    â€˜I heard you,’ Wild said. ‘Enough to wake the dead, it was.’
    â€˜It takes a lot to wake the dead,’ Bobby answered, shivering a little in spite of himself, for this strange, drear place was having its effect upon him.
    â€˜Well, what’s the next move?’ Wild demanded.
    â€˜Better have a good look round,’ Bobby suggested.
    â€˜Suppose someone comes along, and wants to know what we’re up to?’ Wild asked uneasily. ‘What’ll we say?’
    â€˜Acting on information received, we felt it our duty to make enquiries to assure ourselves all was in order and no assistance required,’ replied Bobby promptly. ‘That’s all.’
    â€˜Got a gift for telling ’em, you have,’ Wild said, with grudging admiration, as he entered the passage. ‘Comes of all this education, most likely. What’s that noise?’
    â€˜Mice, that’s all,’ answered Bobby.
    They walked along the passage, and entered a large room it led to that had evidently been the kitchen. It presented the same picture of utter desolation. At one side stood an enormous old-fashioned cooking range, and there was a huge open dresser occupying almost all one wall. There was an open knife-basket standing on it, containing knives of which rust had eaten away the blades, and spoons and forks that were quite black. On the floor, before one of the shuttered windows, was a broken bird-cage, that had apparently dropped when the cord whereby it had been suspended had rotted through. By the light of the electric torch Bobby was using in these dim places whence shutter and blind had excluded the light of day for forty years or more they could distinguish a pinch of dust at the bottom of the cage – all that was left, they supposed, of what once had been a pet canary, decayed there into that tiny residue. In this room, too, cobwebs hung everywhere, and spiders scuttled to and fro in alarm at so unwonted an intrusion upon their quiet. In one corner was a door, covered with cobwebs like a curtain. Bobby pulled it open, and found it admitted to a larder or pantry with many dishes, all empty, still standing there.
    â€˜Do you notice there don’t seem to be any chairs, or any table either?’ Bobby remarked.
    â€˜I never saw such a place in my life,’ asserted Wild.
    In the range, there were still a few cinders, or, rather, remnants of them that crumbled at a touch, and Bobby wondered to himself how long it was since last a fire had been lighted there to spread its friendly warmth through this dank place. They went back into the passage, and found another room that must have been a butler’s pantry. There was a sink here that had evidently been in use at a not-too-distant date, and was probably where water had been obtained. Against one wall stood a safe. The door was open, and it seemed empty.
    â€˜Silver all gone,’ Wild remarked. ‘That’s been seen to, anyhow.’
    There were other domestic offices – all of them in the same state of neglect, all showing the same accumulated dust of years. They found some steps leading down to cellars, one evidently intended for coal, but swept quite clear, with not a trace of any coal left in it. Another had apparently been used as a kind of laundry, for it contained another mangle, and an old-fashioned stove for heating irons, and of a third the door was locked. Bobby hazarded a guess that it might be the wine