Krystyna Gerlach

Mystery of the Haunted Castle

© Krystyna Gerlach, 2023

The Haunted Castle portrays vicissitudes of a noble family inhabiting an ancient castle, struggling throughout long years with reverses of fortune, because of a cruel curse cast on the entire line. Visits of the vindictive ancestors’ spectres seeking redress for the old-time wrongs, the past unsettled conflicts, disclose grim secrets of the mansion’s former proprietors. Chance discovery of the 17th century diary reveals the reasons for casting the curse on the dynasty’s posterior generations.

ISBN 978-83-8324-945-2

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

I

Along the portrait gallery situated on the ground floor of a magnificent stately edifice of an ancient castle bordering to the north on thick infinite primeval forest, the eastern wing overlooking vast – surging at present through fierce thunderstorm raging over the district – welter of roaring sea -waves shooting high up in the air, estate lying away from other mansions – sauntered a strange figure. Bushy ringlets of his silver-grey wig flowed down on his shoulders, dark green doublet was buttoned up to his neck. Black leather shoes and white stockings completed his attire. Although the chamber’s floor was tiled with resonant oriental sheeny mosaic generally reverberating even the faintest sound the man moved about the hall quite noiselessly, not a rustle was heard as – in the depth of night – he strolled along the gallery scrutinising portraits of the ancestry – lack of any illumination whatever – darkness only occasionally dissipated by streaks of lightning penetrating through the grated windows – did not seem to inconvenience him.

One of the portraits in particular riveted the visitor’s gaze. For a long while he stood quite still in front of a painting mounted in a richly gilded frame staring intently at the image of a young knight with a fine head of fair wavy hair and glowing black eyes, then turned away and approached the fireplace the mantelshelf of which exhibited a long range of miniature statuettes and sculptures representing medieval knights and warriors. One of the figurines must have aroused his repugnance as he swiftly reached for it and, – his eyes flashing fire – knocked it over wresting the sword out of the cavalier’s hand almost smashing it to shivers against the marble plate of the mantelshelf. He took a step back narrowly scanning the statuettes, a look of rancour written in his face. Then he whipped round and – setting ajar the heavy oak door – hastened out of the gallery, crossed the castle’s rampant shrubby garden still glinting with dew-drops after the recent storm and made his way towards the forest looming in the distance. As he was crossing the gate his haughty figure all at once seemed to melt away and vanish from sight as if the earth had split open and engulfed him.

Far off in the horizon a glaring blaze of a rainbow flooded the overcast sky.

The day was breaking.

X X X X X X

A young maid aged about 19 with brown eyes and dark hair pinned up in a chignon tiptoed into the dim bedroom and halted for an instant gazing at the girl lying in a huge fringed four-poster, still fast asleep although the other household members had already been up since early morning.

Hesitantly the maid approached the window and drew aside heavy curtains letting sunshine into the room. The sleeping girl blinked and stretched her arms lazily.

— Oh, dear! Anna! What made you wake me up so early? Is anything wrong?

— It’s ten o’clock, Miss.

— Really? Oh, no, it can’t be! – Ellen sat up in the bed and looked at her watch. – Goodness, it’s stopped – she murmured. – the battery must be dead. I didn’t realize it was that late.

— I can hear the countess coming. – said the maid. – Shall I serve breakfast in here, Miss?

— No, thank you, Anna. I’ll go downstairs to the dining-room.

— As you wish, Miss.

Countess Loretti knocked on the door then opened it wide stepping aside to make way for the maid who was just leaving the young lady’s chamber.

— Ellen?

— Come in, mother.

The countess was a tall black-haired, statuesque woman with a very sweet countenance and large dark eyes. She cast her daughter a concerned glance.

— I thought you would be ready by now. Don’t forget lord Danvall has announced his arrival for midday. He must be received with due decorum.

— Quite right, Mum. – smiled Ellen. – but you needn’t remind me of that. After all it was I who invited him, or rather – to tell the truth – it was Robert himself who insisted on paying us a visit. He was very anxious to be introduced to my family and relatives.

— Then make haste and prepare yourself. You must look your best today.

Robert appeared to be a charming refined man when at last he turned up at the castle in the early afternoon. Apart from extremely pleasing appearance he was also distinguishable by urbane manners and courtly demeanour. While watching her daughter’s fiancé during an animated conversation the company embarked on in the cosy living-room Robert Danvall had been ushered into Esther Loretti was very favourably impressed by the guest’s wit, bearing and superior intellect.

To all the visitors entertained at the reception it was self-evident that the man was deeply enamoured of his fiancée. Although it was Robert’s first visit to the Loretti estate the gentleman immediately won hearts of the entire household. The couple had made each other’s acquaintance in London where Ellen worked as an interior designer. Robert was a descendant of a noble Italian stock resident in England for several centuries. According to their mutual friends they were cast in the same mould. Despite her modern upbringing Ellen decided to uphold the tradition observed by her family throughout several generations and marry the man of her choice within the walls of the ancient castle where she was born. Their wedding ceremony was to be celebrated next month.

— And what about Angie, mother? – inquired Ellen. – where is she? Won’t she join us? I hope she hasn’t forgotten that this is quite an exceptional day for me. She should keep us company.

— Sorry dear. – the countess looked confused. – Angie pleaded ill –health. She’s been tormented by nightmares for some time past, had a bad night, has suffered from splitting headache since last evening despite two analgesics I administered her.

— Poor thing. I hope her migraine will soon cease and she’ll be able to attend my engagement party tonight. After all a formal betrothal is not a matter of everyday occurrence. This is a very special event for me. –

— True enough. Well, perhaps Angie’s condition will improve before long – sighed the countess..

That afternoon, directly after the banquet, when family members and relatives – save for the ailing girl – together with the staff – had assembled in the living-room the countess rose from the armchair she was sitting in to make a short speech.

She motioned to her maid Anna waiting in readiness near a tall crystal vase gingerly holding an oval crimson etui – to approach her.

— My dear children – the lady addressed Ellen and Robert. – on the day of your engagement I am in duty bound to convey to you an extremely important piece of information. For almost four centuries our family has been observing certain traditions and – although nowadays most old customs sink into oblivion – despite the passage of time my connections have kept alive one in particular. The rite all the relatives have always set high store by… Anna – she spoke to the girl – would you pass me the casket, please.

The maid stepped forward and handed the jewel-box to her mistress. Countess Loretti opened the combination lock fitted into the top left corner of the case – produced from within a gorgeous diamond necklace and fastened it on her daughter’s neck. Ellen gently fingered the glittering gems.

— What a magnificent rivière – said Robert admiringly. – a true masterpiece.

— As I have already mentioned this jewel has been in the family’s possession for several centuries. In conformity with the adopted age-long custom mother transfers it to her daughter on the bride’s wedding day. The very first time the fiancée wears it however is during her engagement ceremony. Up to the present this tradition used to bring bride luck, for as long as the necklace remains in the stock’s management.

— And in case it gets lost or stolen? Accidents will happen, you never know. – asked Ellen.

— Under no circumstances you are allowed to let it be stolen or lost. – stated the countess – this is our most valued heirloom.

The blaze of the shimmering precious stones adorning the stylish rivière, greatly added to Ellen’s charm. It occurred to Robert that irrespective of photographs which were to be taken at the wedding reception it would be advisable to commission one of the renowned portraitists he had lately been recommended to come to the castle and eternalize on the portrait full loveliness and grace emanating from his prospective wife as she sat there in an antique armchair in the prime flush of beauty, with diamond gems sparkling around her slender neck. Meanwhile-baroness Emma Loretti, mother-in-law of countess Esther for quite a while had been watching Robert Danvall. Almost the moment she had entered the living-room, immediately after wishing her granddaughter luck in her forthcoming marriage, she fixed her eyes on the man’s face gazing steadfastly at him in silence ignoring the other participants of the feast.

— Pardon me, your lordship – she at length unceremoniously interrupted the heated conversation carried on by a group of guests seated on the sofa opposite the armchair she had settled herself in. – there is one thing I’m curious to know. If I remember rightly you’re the prize winner who won last month’s equestrian competition, aren’t you?

— Yes, Madam – confirmed Robert somewhat astonished at the unexpected reference to his glorious victory. – It’s awfully kind of you to remember such particulars.

The baroness brightened up.

— Everything that is somehow or other connected with horses is of the utmost importance to me. Palfreys are quite exceptional creatures. They can understand riders perfectly well, – don’t you get such an impression when you mount one?

The grey-haired lady looked rather cheerless in her black lace dress. According to what Ellen had told him in London one evening a few days prior to her departure for the castle her grandmother had been in deep mourning for about twenty years ever since the day her husband met his tragic death and henceforth had never taken her widow’s weeds off. Over the years she had become eccentric and freakish, had acquired singular whimsical habits, – then- steeds she took pleasure in grooming by herself – rejecting any assistance whatsoever on the part of stable boys – notwithstanding demurs her relatives made on that score, proved in a way instrumental in blotting out of her memory dismal reminiscences regarding woeful events of the past, afforded a moment of forgetfulness. Although occasionally the lady went for a drive in one of the numerous cars parked in the garage she definitely preferred her favourite animals to all kind of vehicles.

— My husband just adored horses – continued baroness Emma growing morose – and I, for my part, have always unreservedly shared his liking for them. – she broke off for a moment, contemplating Robert keenly, then asked with curiosity – do you practice horsemanship regularly or only once in a while?

— Of a Sunday morning I take long rides. I own a pure – blood stallion that is very attached to me.

A smile lit up the baroness’s sorrowful countenance.

— That’s splendid, really. You seem to be an extremely fortunate person. In my opinion steeds are unusually sensitive, responsive beings in many respects superior even to…

— Mother! Please… – countess Loretti cut in imploringly.

— Let me finish, Esther – commanded the baroness trenchantly. – I am certain horses can well be considered as your best friends and I will never recant my words whatever you might say… I think that one of these days….tomorrow perhaps… you would be well-advised to select a stallion or one of the mares from our stable, and along with Ellen take a ride through the neighbourhood ....the more so that since the death of my husband...and my son… hardly anyone rides our steeds – she paused, lapsing pensively into short silence which the gathered company thought discourteous to break, then, upon glancing at the long white envelope a maid had just delivered her the baroness rose from her armchair and, supporting herself with one hand on the back of the settee she bade her relatives good day.

— Will you excuse me – I’m rather tired. I must take a rest – she added leaving the room with airy step.

— Ellen – said countess Loretti as soon as the distinguished lady had turned the corner of the corridor and vanished from sight. – I assume that Robert would like to make a tour of the castle. For all I remember one of his ancestors… – she paused embarrassed. – I’m afraid his name escapes me…

— Baron Benucci. – said Robert.

— Oh, yes, so it is. – rejoined the countess visibly relieved. – Thus baron Benucci had been in residence in this estate for some length of time before the manor became the Lorettis’ property. I’m certain that a visit to these ancient palatial rooms will prove a fascinating experience.

— I shall be delighted, Madam. – Robert bowed his thanks. – I’m very obliged to you.

The castle was a huge magnificent edifice. While roaming long sinuous corridors one might get the impression of having been cast back to the Middle Ages. Spacious palace chambers – through the bygone centuries – had witnessed both tragic events and happy moments, concealed within their walls confessions of secret lovers whispered during clandestine rendezvous as well as insidious plots hatched by treacherous assassins. The windows of this eastern wing overlooked glistening sea-sheet. Surging waves rolled swiftly by, impetuously banging against the buttress vainly trying to reach high walls of the noble pile.

— As far as I can recollect my ancestor’s life-history portrayed in our chronicles that is the set of rooms baron Benucci resided in. – stated Robert halting in front of one of the apartments on the second floor.

— How long did he inhabit the mansion?

— He arrived here about 1620 and stayed for over twenty years.

— And then returned to Italy?

— This is what he initially intended to do but apparently he never reached homeland, vanished on his return journey, no trace has ever been found of him.

— Really? Oh, well, don’t you think that in the meantime some very urgent matter may have arisen, a serious obstacle that thwarted his original plans? There is also a chance that – when confronted with some peril obscure to us – he was compelled to go into hiding and had no opportunity to apprise any of his relatives of the extremity he had got into.

— Most likely that was just the case. After all, Benucci lived in very unsettled times and seemed to feel uncertain of the future.

— Was he involved in a conspiracy of some sort?

— I think not. In accordance with the particulars I have been intimated it was some vague, highly abstruse emergency – or – you could call it an unlucky coincidence – that concurred to his speedily fleeing Italy overnight – whereas thereafter he was forbidden to return home unless he complied with a certain requirement. To my knowledge the fugitive never succeeded in meeting these terms and consequently resolved to retire from the world and establish himself in this outlying spot. As things stood sad plight he had found himself in proved inextricable.

— What condition was the man imposed?

— This is what I never managed to find out. – admitted Robert. – in those times it was a family secret relayed on the sly only by word of mouth, evidently much too tangled to be chronicled.

— Your forbear must have felt terribly lonely in this manor – Ellen looked at the solitary landscape unfolding itself beyond the window.

— He certainly had. The few letters he had sent relatives by favour of some friends – preserved at the time and over many further years in close concealment – showed that initially he was in a critical situation and it took him quite a while to conform himself to the extremity

— Then you have no idea what caused Benucci to leave Italy so suddenly?

— Not even the foggiest. The only available record in our archives portrays but extremely vague version of events …-oh, by the way, who did this chamber belong to? – the man pointed to the nearby beautifully engraved door.

They had just entered a fan-shaped hall giving access to three bedrooms and a couple of parlours. The one indicated by Robert appeared to be totally furnished, all the antique furniture maintained in perfect trim, even a fancy leather-bound Bible still lay on the veneered mahogany bedside table which fact had got imprinted on Ellen’s memory in early childhood when she had first been shown to this suite of rooms and which now, upon unlocking the door with the key her mother had provided her with was the first thing she noticed.

— These are the apartments baroness Esterina occupied over 300 years ago. – replied the girl admitting her fiancé into the ancestor’s parlour.. – she didn’t taste much happiness in her life.

— You mean to say she was unhappily married?

— Oh, no, quite the reverse. Originally everything shaped just splendidly. Esterina married the man she loved to distraction and for a span of time they both lived a life of perfect bliss – that bliss however wasn’t meant to last long. Several years later some kind of misfortune befell her husband. He is presumed to have been treacherously assassinated. The baroness, feeling absolutely unable to reconcile herself to her spouse’s death, committed suicide soon after the murder – recounted Ellen glancing through the Bible. Then, having read a short excerpt from it she replaced the book on the table.

— The lady’s apartments – continued the girl – remained in exactly the same state as in her lifetime. Nothing whatever has been altered in this suite for centuries, no piece of furniture has ever been moved or rearranged. Such was Esterina’s last wish and it was gratified to the letter.

— Quite a dismal story.

— So it is indeed. Would you like to see the portrait gallery now? I’ll introduce you to my ancestry. You should make their acquaintance.

— Do you think I’ll receive their approval? – smiled Robert.

— Certainly. I’m confident they will be enchanted to meet you, and… oh, Angie!

Angelica, rushing along the corridor, almost cannoned into Ellen as the latter, accompanied by her fiancé, was stepping into the lobby. The girl’s hair was dishevelled, her face flushed, strange sparkles glinted in her eyes as she came to a halt at the sight of the couple.

— Oh, good afternoon, Ellen. I never expected to chance upon you in these unfrequented parts. – she said somewhat abashed.

— I didn’t see you this morning. Mother told me you were unwell. Is your headache gone? – inquired Ellen.

— Yes, I’m much better now. I apologize for failing to attend your engagement ceremony. I am aware that for you it was a celebration of special nature but I really could not participate in it. I hope you’ll forgive me and won’t bear me a grudge for that. – she muttered staring avidly at the glittering necklace adorning Ellen’s neck. She reached out and gingerly touched some of the gems set in gold open work mount.

— As I can see you have already been presented with your wedding gift. – she stated unable to take her eyes off the diamonds.

— It’s superb, isn’t it?

— Marvellous. – whispered Angie. – simply gorgeous. It’s the most beautiful necklace I have ever seen. It has always fascinated me. Each time aunt Esther shows it to us I just… – oh, well, – she controlled herself and withdrew her hand. – You are extremely lucky, Ellen. You are the one who had the good fortune to have succeeded to the relic. To be honest I do envy you this rivière.

— We can have an identical necklace made to order for you. – Ellen stroked the girl’s hair. – If only you had told us you had taken such great fancy to it… but – where exactly have you been? – she asked a bit puzzled, noticing a couple of grass blades that had got stuck to some strands of Angie’s long curls.

— I… I just got back from the cemetery.

— The cemetery? – inquired Robert in astonishment.

— There is an old graveyard a little way from the castle, opposite the rear entrance, dating back to the 16th century – explained Ellen when Angie, upon bidding them good-bye, rushed down the winding corridor towards her room. – last year we took her to that place in order to show her the sepulchre baroness Esterina had been buried in. The climate of the tomb created an unusually powerful impression on her and ever since, whenever the opportunity arises, she perseveres in visiting it to say a prayer and put some flowers on the gravestone.

— A girl of her age should have other interests than attending upon the departed.

— Angie is only fifteen though she looks even younger than that. She has changed a great deal since last year – since her first visit to Esterina’s vault in fact. Right now she seems more judicious than she was several months ago. Frankly speaking I don’t see much of her although she is my only cousin. – the young lady added in self-justification locking the baroness’s apartments and guiding her fiancé to the chambers on the ground floor.

The portrait gallery looked very grandiose by daylight. The enormous hall was embellished with finely carved pillars which faithfully reflected splendour and atmosphere prevailing in the castle through the previous centuries. From the magnificent paintings distrustful countenances of the manor’s former proprietors surveyed the visitors ambling along the gallery.

— That’s the portrait of my grandfather – Ellen indicated the picture hanging in the very middle of the hall. – I remember him perfectly well. He was a charming man. When I was a small child he used to play games with me, and it was he who taught me to play billiards and tennis

— Was he the one who died of a heart attack? You claimed that most men in your family had died a sudden, often violent and tragic death

— No, the person afflicted with heart failure was my father. But as far as my grandfather is concerned – the matter is past solution, I’m afraid. He disappeared in mysterious circumstances – circumstances which have never been elucidated. One day or rather – one night – he left home in great haste to keep an appointment made by an acquaintance of his on desolate moorland bordering on rocky area and the forest – it’s about two miles away from the castle. He decided to walk the distance – was exceedingly reluctant to drive over to the spot nor was he willing to reach the meeting place on horseback.

— Moorland? I seem to have heard about it. It’s said to be trappy and pretty impenetrable for visitors, teeming with grottoes and degraded rocks. Moreover it is rumoured to be haunted although I, for my part, doubt whether in open spaces phantoms are indeed that inclined to manifest themselves… by the way, have you any idea as to the identity of the mysterious stranger who fixed that clandestine appointment with your grandfather?

— Grandpa, to everyone’s surprise, was extremely reluctant to disclose the man’s name. My grandmother, too, was amazed at his reticence on the topic since hitherto, before taking the final resolve – it had been customary for grandpa to consult his wife on various problems. On that particular evening, however, the man was unusually secretive and uncommunicative, wouldn’t reveal any details. Directly after dinner, his trusted footman fetched grandpa’s fur coat and – equipped with two powerful electric torches – they both left home.

— A stealthy encounter by torchlight – pondered Robert. – sounds weird. In olden times a surreptitious appointment of this kind might be suggestive of hatching a plot purposed to overthrow the government. – he remarked jocosely.

— In olden times – possibly – smiled Ellen amused at her fiancé’s playfulness. – but in his days, having always been a staunch royalist -,my beloved grandpa would deem such a conjecture, even if enounced in jest, – as an offence to his honour. My grandpa’s memory isn’t a thing to be trifled with. He was a winsome, courteous man, I admit I simply adored him.

— I apologize, Ellen. – Robert grew serious. – I meant no umbrage. Only the story you told me just roused my imagination.

— Certainly. On that night the entire family was at a loss how to read grandfather’s inscrutability. It was beyond our comprehension. All the more reason for our being that appalled by the following day’s events.

— The encounter went wrong? The parties concerned failed to come to terms?

— We had no ghost of a chance to learn anything about the upshot of the appointment. As neither man returned home that night- very early next morning my folks notified the police who immediately set out in quest of both comrades. – the girl paused, pensive. – after a long-drawn search, at noon, grandpa was eventually found – alas – dead. He had been dead for several hours.

— The notification must have given you all a tremendous shock. I understand from your tale that the cause of the man’s demise has never been elucidated and over the years nobody whatsoever succeeded in obtaining whatever particulars concerning the culprit responsible for the crime.

— Actually, the inquest the police immediately opened was all along based on presumptive evidence. There is no absolute certainty that that particular case could be recognized as an assassination.

— On the other hand your grandfather can’t possibly have made his way to the moorland just before midnight to commit suicide.

— Definitely not. His death can by no means be ascribed to suicide. When discovered he lay flat on the ground clutching a still alight torch. The expression on his face, however, was indicative of a desperate attempt he had made – directly before passing away – to explain or justify something, clear up a grievous misunderstanding perhaps, either to persuade or bring his point home to his interlocutor. No sign of fright or apprehension was visible in his face, nothing but that apologetic look none of us felt able to account for…

— And what became of Alex who was to keep your grandpa company? Having witnessed the encounter he was surely the most reliable person to shed some light on the matter.

— The footman vanished. There was no trace of him either on the moorland or in the local forest. He was nowhere to be found.

— How do you mean? – exclaimed Robert so that the walls of the huge chamber sonorously reverberated the sound of his voice. The man lowered his tone.

— In that case aren’t you of the opinion that it’s the domestic who is sure to bear the blame for his master’s homicide? It may have been an act of disloyalty on his part.

— Oh, no, this is entirely out of the question. – Ellen fervently refuted the assumption. – The footman enjoyed my grandfather’s unlimited, implicit confidence. They were the same age, had been raised together from infancy under the same roof, ever since childhood. Alex had shared grandfather’s all secrets, therefore, if then, on that particular night grandpa asked the man to accompany him the appointment must have been of vital importance indeed.

— Surely the police must have found some clues, traces.

— That’s the problem. There were no traces. No traces, no footprints.

— No footprints? Incredible.

— None at all. Police dogs kept running to no avail about the moorland for hours on end but discovered no scent whatsoever.

— What horrible death to die. – remarked Robert gloomily. – Yet, – I believe the disaster might have well been averted if someone, say – a family member had followed him keeping of course at a safe distance from both men so as to pass unnoticed in order to find out where they were heading and thus get the run of things.

— That’s just what a cousin of his did. It was one of my uncles who a couple of days before the tragedy had arrived on a fortnight’s visit to the castle. He appeared to be exceedingly alarmed at grandpa’s bizarre reaction to some mysterious letter he was delivered one evening by an express messenger. Grandfather got extremely vexed at the sight of the sender’s name scribbled on the envelope and became still more exasperated when he began reading the note. Afterwards however, when questioned on the subject he flatly refused to comment on the dispatch’s contents. Subsequently -grandfather and his footman retired to the library and there conferred the matter in whisper for over an hour.

— Who was the letter from?

— We have no idea. Alex burnt it to cinders by grandpa’s order.

— Well, well. Alex seems to be the only person initiated into the whole business. How strange. By the way, what was the upshot of shadowing your grandpa? Did your uncle succeed in spotting any suspicious looking individual or eavesdropping on their conversation?

— Unfortunately not, much to his regret., my grandfather perceived that uncle was keeping track of him and strictly enjoined his kinsman to return home.

— You mean to say your uncle so unreservedly acquiesced in the request? I, for my part, would never have complied with it, particularly under these circumstances.

— You’re quite right. Uncle had no intention of obeying the command either. He lurked behind a tree for a minute or two till he felt certain that this time he would no doubt escape both grandpa’s and Alex’s notice, then, on hearing their voices recede, trying his best to keep out of sight – he followed both men’s traces again – I mean – he set off in the same direction they had made for.

— Therefore he must have seen the killer.

— On the contrary. Hard as he tried he didn’t manage to discern anyone – neither of the men, let alone the person they were supposed to meet, and while reporting to the whole family the previous night’s events he was forced to confess that both grandpa and Alex seemed to have vanished into thin air. They were nowhere to be seen. Uncle kept wandering about the moorland for almost two hours looking for them but since he discerned nobody, heard no voices, not so much as a scrap of conversation, he decided to return home.

Robert stood silent in front of the family elder’s portrait staring at it intently as though keen on penetrating the forbidding secret so meticulously withheld by the noble personage.

— Surely you’d also like to become acquainted with the history of the other notorieties represented on further pictures. – Ellen interrupted his mediations. – How do you like that gentleman with long black beard over there?

— It’s rather the portrait of that dignified young man I’m intrigued by – Robert indicated a full-length painting mounted in an oval gilded frame. – do you happen to know who it presents?

The portrait which excited Robert’s curiosity hang across the hall, right next to the door. Rays of the setting sun falling through the window shone on the picture – lambent beams of playful light livened up dark almond shaped eyes and fine-featured countenance of a presentable youth exhibited in the portrait. While contemplating it at close range a visitor could get the impression he was gazing into the eyes of a living person.

— I’m afraid I have no idea who this is. – replied Ellen somewhat perplexed. – For all I know that painting has been hanging here for several centuries. I’ve been told that the former proprietor of the castle, when negotiating terms of the sale, stipulated that my forefathers retain this portrait upon transference of the title deed to the manor, never remove it from the gallery, let alone dispose of it. Since the painting is a real masterpiece my folks consented to keep it.

— I see. – Robert approached the picture scanning narrowly the gentleman’s countenance. Ellen cast her fiancé an arch glance veiling ill-concealed reproach.

— Directly after our sumptuous engagement party the man of my choice starts to ignore me and seems to take much greater interest in the portraits rather than in his betrothed.

— I apologize, Ellen. I never meant to hurt your feelings. You’re perfectly aware how much you mean to me. – and it’s not all these pictures that arouse my interest. – rejoined Robert his gaze still fixed on the painting. – It’s chiefly the portrait of that refined nobleman I am struck with. I find it a bit puzzling… there is something rather singular about it.

— In what respect?

— Well, I’m under the impression that the man it presents is baron Benucci.

— Are you sure?

— I saw his miniature a couple of days ago – prior to my arrival over here. Of course Marco Benucci was but a youth when it was painted, – still, extraordinary resemblance between the two men is very distinct, clearly perceptible. Oh, yes – I’m positive it’s my relative’s portrait. Except for the signet-ring he wears which I’ve never seen before the features on both pictures are almost identical.

— Supposing you’re in the right – it’s hardly to be wondered at. After all he inhabited this manor for quite many years.

— Indeed. On the other hand I should like to know what on earth impelled a man living an evidently lonely life, rumoured to have resided throughout those years in Spartan conditions, scarcely ever – if at all – entertaining visitors, to order his likeness painted.

— As I see both yourself and your relations are totally ignorant of the style of life baron Marco had led in this mansion – remarked Ellen.

— I regret to admit the data my family is in possession of is but extremely scanty, absolutely insufficient to reconstruct the vicissitudes he had undergone. Throughout those twenty years Benucci spent here his kinsfolk practically lost touch with him. It was exceptionally rare for Marco to send them any news at all. Relatives on their part were in no position to contact the man since Benucci, just to be on the safe side, never informed them of his whereabouts for fear that they might unintentionally blunder it out. The only messages they sometimes received used to be delivered personally through his trusted friends who invariably kept his residence in the strictest secrecy. The man had been forced to take such precautionary measures in order to baffle pursuers since, as I’ve been told after his speedy flight from Italy the relentless ill – wishers, anxious to track the refugee down, – for months, – then years at a stretch – continued to do their level best to take up his reference. Thus, it wasn’t until over twenty years later that for some reason or other things took a new turn and baron’s relatives were eventually notified of his exact domicile. And now – Robert moved away from the portrait – will my beautiful guide kindly show me round the vicinity. I would also be happy to pay a visit to the tomb of the foundress of your dynasty.

— Dynasty? That ‘s an overstatement, – laughed Ellen. – Is this how you chose to term my house? Well, just now I’ll take you round the estate and a part of the neighbourhood,. Before we leave the castle, however, you’d be well – advised to take a look at the miniature statuettes representing the dynasty’s, as you designated my family – cavaliers and knights.

— I shall be glad to.

On the marble plate of the mantelshelf stood lined up images of the ancestry.

— These are – started Ellen indicating the statues – some of the most illustrious… – she broke off catching sight of a mutilated figurine recumbent at the extremity of the row, holding in its metal palm a sword which had evidently been recently fissured.

— Oh, no! – she moaned. – Not again!

— What’s the matter? – inquired Robert.

— That’s the umpteenth time the statuette of this knight has collapsed. Both I – whenever I’m home – and the domestics keep putting it upright each morning they enter the gallery but the figurine never lasts through the night in standing posture – the very next day it appears to have tilted over another time, down on the marble plate. Although my mother had it checked once or twice at a repair shop it still keeps tumbling.

Robert reached for the statuette and turning it round examined it carefully from all sides.

— There is nothing wrong with it as far as I can see. Except for the fissured sword everything is in proper shape. The mounting is quite steady, there is no need to have it re-fixed.

— If so why does it keep toppling over?

— A gust of wind may have knocked it down – suggested Danvall.

— Every single night? Rather unlikely.

— Who does this effigy represent, by the way?

Colonel Cardan. His portrait hangs near the door in the right-hand corner.

From the painting huge, dark, almost black almond shaped eyes embellishing the ancestor’s handsome face gazed at the couple pensively. The nobleman’s countenance reminded Robert of someone he undoubtedly knew though at the present moment he found it impossible to call to mind the person the knight on the portrait bore such great resemblance to.

— Judging by his exterior – the man spoke at length – the colonel must have been an uncommonly refined, and distinguished gentleman. He certainly deserves a superior position than at the tail-end of the array. Let’s move him to the front rank close by the king. Hopefully the re-arrangement may improve the colonel’s frame of mind.

X X X X X X

The castle, when viewed from afar – seemed difficult of access, the more so that there was only one winding narrow road leading up to it. Baron Benucci could well enjoy feeling of perfect security in this setting, should he furthermore be desirous of shunning visitors or purposed to shelter himself from inquisitive meddlers. One wing of the edifice, situated on a buttress overlooked vast expanse of opalescent azure sea sheet while the windows of the northern part faced an extensive flowery meadow and moorland bordering on rampant lush forest. Although at present, in mid-November, the district looked somewhat dreary, the stately castle created an ambience of grandeur. When Robert and Ellen returned from a long tour later that evening the murky halls seemed deserted, the corridors illumined only by sparse tiny crystal sconces casting eerie shadows on the walls, as most kith and kin had already retired for the night to their suits. Having extinguished the remaining lamps lord Danvall escorted his fiancée to her apartment, then, upon parting with her, ambled across the corridor to his own set of room he had been accommodated in by countess Loretti. Lamplight in Ellen’s boudoir shone for a couple of minutes, then went out. Robert smiled to himself jubilant. Although their wedding ceremony wasn’t to be celebrated until the following month he already gleefully looked forward to the festivity in the offing. How wonderful it would be to be married to a girl like Ellen, sharing his life with her. Never before he had met such a charming lass and felt certain he was unlikely to ever again see her match. She was quite unique.

As on nearing his lodgings he pulled the door open it creaked. The sound puzzled him. The hinges were well oiled, the door itself of solid workmanship. While admiring magnificent artistic ornamentation chiselled on its surface he heard the grind recur. This time it surely didn’t issue from his apartment. A loud rattle followed by another weird sound came from the hall situated on the floor below. Robert descended the stairs and bent his steps in that direction. When he turned the corner of the – in this sector – dark corridor – at the very back of it he caught a glimpse of glimmering blaze of a lighted candle. Wan flame dimmed now and then. It was clearly visible that the palm of the stranger standing in the gloom, clutching the candle was evidently trembling. Long shadow of the silhouette lingering in the nook of the hall fell on the tessellated floor of the spacious chamber vis-à-vis. A bit puzzled at the sight of the lonely quiescent figure barely perceptible in the dusk, however unsuccessful in turning on the light for apparent lack of switches on this storey, Robert advanced towards the silhouette.

As he approached – in the stock – still, rooted to the spot figure – he recognized Anna. The maid stood motionless outside equally murky at present portrait gallery watching – as though mesmerized – its gloomy interior. Entirely preoccupied with something she must have noticed in there that totally absorbed her attention she obviously failed to hear Robert’s footsteps, for she shuddered when on drawing near the man spoke to her and, springing back, cast him a stare of horror.

— Good heavens, Anna! What the deuce are you doing in this eerie place at this time of night? I believed the whole household, the staff included, kept early hours and expected the inmates to be fast asleep by now. After all it’s long past midnight.

The maid, looking rather perplexed, was just about to answer the question – before she managed to utter a word, however, another bang, followed by a thud of plod resounded again – this time at very close range.. The sound proceeded from the obscure chamber opposite them where even the hearth had since a long time been extinguished.

— Who on earth can be roistering in the gallery at such a late hour? – reflected Robert. – In pitch – darkness on top of that, without turning the light on. Whoever chose to roam that place must be using a strong torch. The hall is inky-black. It can’t be the countess, let alone a relative of hers. None of them has any reason to be that secretive. Well, then, who is in there, do you know, Anna? Oh, never mind. I guess I had better check up on that myself. – he added and without waiting for the domestic’s reply took a step towards the hall. At that very moment, though, before Robert had a chance to cross the threshold, the maid, having got ahead of him like a shot, blocked the way to the chamber with her outstretched arm trying to prevent the man from entering it.

— Oh, no! lord Danvall, don’t go in there! Please don’t!

— What’s the matter, Anna? Let me through, will you?

He pushed away the horrified girl’s hand and as he was on the point of stepping into the gallery the maid, barring his path again, seized firm hold of his jacket’s coat-tail in order to stop him.

— Your lordship, I wish you’d listen to me. Take my advice… you mustn’t enter that chamber now!

— Calm down, Anna – rejoined Robert impatiently, annoyed at the girl’s irrational behaviour. – A sumptuous manor such as this surely lures burglars of all types. Supposing that rumble is caused by robbers who made an irruption onto the premises despite the security systems installed. Tomorrow morning it may well turn out that the gallery had been stripped of its most valuable paintings, sculptures, etc. – various splendid works of art and then it will be us who will – no doubt – be held responsible for remissness. – argued Robert hoping to bring the maid to reason – despite Anna’s obstinacy – thinking it highly ungentlemanly – just to rudely elbow her aside so as to thereby work his way into the hall. – For the moment, until we ascertain the source of the noise there is no need to give the alarm to the rest of the household – and now – would you please stand clear of the door. – he demanded attempting to tear the lapel of his jacket out of the stubborn girl’s grasp who even then wouldn’t budge from the chamber’s door-sill doggedly keeping her ground, still rendering it impossible for him to enter the gallery.

— You are right, sir. – admitted the maid completely ignoring Danvall’s request. – All the works of art assembled in there are priceless, unique. Apart from antique sculptures the gallery also houses 16th and 17th century paintings, including lots of other masterpieces. Nevertheless you can take my word for it my lord – hazarding yourself into that room at this late hour is extremely risky.

— I credited you with more sense, Anna. – Since – as you declare – you know the value of the amassed collection you undeniably also understand that countess Loretti can’t afford to lose any of the masterpieces.

I have already told you, sir, that whoever entered the gallery is not a burglar – persisted the maid – it’s… – she faltered. – it’s… him… and I assure you it would never… never ever occur to him to rob the mansion… simply because the entire property had once belonged… – she broke off lowering her voice fearfully.

— What!? Who exactly do you have in mind? – Robert stared at the girl in astonishment. – you seem to be acquainted with the caller! Are you? Tell me the truth!

— In these parts, as it were, everyone is familiar with him… I mean – the whole neighbourhood, all the local residents have either met the visitor personally – or know him from hearsay… except Miss Ellen perhaps. I guess she is the only person who – I believe – has no idea of the man’s existence.

— Well, then, Anna. – demanded Robert both exasperated and intrigued – the intruder – whoever he is, must surely have heard and seen us by now and may just be making his escape – all through you wilfulness. So, – if you do know the chap would you at least mind disclosing his name to me?

Anna shook her head violently.

— Oh, no, sir. Never. Never in my life. I dare not.. I’m scared.

— What of?

— If I reveal his identity he is sure to take his revenge on me. I’m dead certain of that.

— Is the fellow that savage? – asked Robert a bit incredulous. – Really, Anna… – oh, wait a moment – an idea suddenly struck him. – are you implying you have already seen the man on the premises? You appear to know him quite well.

— I do, sir. – whispered the maid. – To be honest I glimpsed him on frequent occasions, plenty of times and I’ve been warned that if I happen to antagonize him… anyway, lord Danvall, – I have reasons to believe that the moment I betray the caller’s name I’m sure to incur his ill-will.

Who was the mysterious stranger Anna was so terrified of? – wondered Robert.

— Aren’t you giving the reins to your imagination?

— I can swear to it, your lordship – entering the gallery after dark particularly at this time of night, is tantamount to exposing yourself to danger, – a serious danger.

The girl was trembling with fear. There seemed to be no grounds to distrust her veracity...

— If the stranger is not a burglar and is considered to be that vindictive – then – for some unknown motive – Ellen is also likely to fall victim to his unrestrained revengefulness and I’d do just anything to prevent it. Therefore don’t try to stop me, Anna, nothing whatever can possibly deter me from inspecting that chamber!

— Yes, my lord. – I quite understand. – whined the domestic, finally relinquishing her grip of Robert’s garment and stepping back to make way for him. The man, striding past her, hurried inside the gallery from the depth of which once again some odd sound reached his ears. This time, however, a different kind of noise, much louder, shriller than before, resembling squeak of a sharp-edged metal object being shifted along the wall, was heard.

— Good heavens, Anna, where the hell are the switches in this hall? – inquired Robert irritably as upon crossing the door-sill and vainly groping for one he found none.

— No switches have been installed in this wing of the castle. Baroness Esterina desired this part of the edifice to remain in exactly the same condition as it was in her lifetime. Her wish was complied with – in great measure, that is.

— No switches? Incredible!

— Only one third of the building has been electrified. No other quarters apart from the currently inhabited apartments have been wired. As for the baroness’s former chambers – her wish was gratified to the full extent...

For a split second Robert felt slightly uneasy – for no longer than a twinkling, though. The very next instant he controlled himself.

— Oh, well. If that is the case… would you mind lending me your candle, Anna? There appears to be no other manner in which to illumine that large hall. I haven’t brought any flash-light with me. It never occurred to me I would need one. You don’t seem to be equipped with any either, are you?

— I once dropped a torch and it got shattered to pieces, that’s why I consider candles to be safer. I’ve got two more in my pocket. I formed a habit of carrying a couple on me just in case of a contingency. – she replied, handing one to Robert.

— You are a very provident person, I admit. Will you follow me into the gallery?

— Oh, no! No, sir. – flinched Anna promptly retreating into the farthermost recess of the dark corridor. – I’d much rather stay here.

Robert lit the candle and upon crossing the threshold in its wavering flame looked round the spacious hall. At first glance it was totally empty.

— Well, Anna. – lord Danvall said to the maid. – whoever ventured to invade the chamber must surely be gone by now. There isn’t a living soul in here.

At that very moment he perceived the girl’s eyes widen with horror as she stared fixedly at something she had discerned in the interior of the hall. Robert turned and gazed in the same direction. This time he, too, noticed someone’s presence in the gallery. Anna was right. After all some stranger did force an entrance into the castle. In obscurity loomed a silhouette of a powerfully built man wearing a stylish 17th century attire. The intruder stood by the marble mantelpiece passing his hand over the collection of the noblemen’s statuettes Robert had admired only several hours before. A clangour of a heavy metal object being pushed over resounded.

— Who are you? How did you get inside the building? – demanded Robert sharply. – Don’t move! The police are already on their way here. – he bluffed, stepping forward and lifting the candle high up in the air to take a good look at the man. The stranger withdrew his hand and slowly turned round to face Robert. His green doublet was spotless, yet snow-white lace ruche adorning his sleeve got a little soiled through contact with a dash of soot covering the top of the hearth mantelshelf. Silver-grey curls of the man’s wig were dishevelled. For a long while Danvall stood rooted to the ground surveying the intruder incredulously as it gradually began to dawn on him that the odd outfit the man wore was by no means a theatrical costume – as he had originally assumed – and the individual himself undoubtedly constituted an inseparable integral component – part and parcel – of the gorgeous manor which he was rightfully entitled to abide. Wonder-struck the squire released hold of the candle which slipped from his palm and died down on the tessellated floor.

— Your lordship! Are you all right?

— It’s okay, Anna, get me another candle! Hurry!

Standing in the middle of the gallery Robert illuminated the entire hall again. The stranger was no longer there, – nowhere to be seen. Lord Danvall hastened towards the fireplace and attentively examined the statues meticulously arranged on the mantelshelf. The whole detachment kept in close order – all except the little figurine of colonel Cardan which at present lay helplessly aslant on the very edge of the marble top mercilessly smashed by someone’s ruthless hand. The knight’s sabre was fissured in many places, the blade tip visibly severed.

Robert crossed the gallery and halted in front of the portrait of the dynasty’s elder – count Enrico Loretti.

The nobleman’s dark eyes, burning with fury in the gloomy countenance encompassed with silver-grey curls flowing down on the green doublet darted at lord Danvall from the loftiness of his portrait – piercing icy cold glances, breathed boundless hatred and enmity.

II

— Good morning, Ellen. How do you feel after the first day in your family estate having resided away from home for such a long time?

— Just marvellous, Robert, although at daybreak I dreamt some horrible nightmare, and how about you? When you arrive in an unfamiliar environment in most cases you tend to spend a wakeful night – inquired Ellen as the pair was descending the stairs on their way to the dining-room on the following morning..

— This rule does not appertain to me. I have always been a sound sleeper. I might just as well drop off to slumber in the middle of the prairie provided I would shove under my head a saddle doing duty for a pillow.

— Oh, dear! – Ellen burst out laughing. – You don’t seem to think very highly of our four-posters, do you? I wonder – have you really found our superb 18th century bedrooms that uncomfortable?

— There is nowhere else, I daresay, that one can possibly chance upon this kind of furniture or interior decoration. – Robert grew serious. – Those chambers have witnessed distant times of illustrious kings and courtiers standing nightly guard over their masters or sovereigns, interdicting unwelcome visitors from disturbing their monarchs’ sleep. Oh, by the by – talking of the past ages – there is something I need to consult your mother about. Do you mind if I speak to her directly after breakfast? It won’t take long… well, it’s a slight modification of our today’s program, but…

— That’s all right, honey. – Ellen assured her fiancé. – I’ve got a couple of things to see to as well therefore we can safely postpone the arrangements by an hour or so… incidentally – have you any idea where Angie is? I’d like to present her with a gift. In the jewel casket I brought with me from London among other trinkets I also keep a lovely gold tulip– shaped pendant with a large ruby. I realize that this gem will by no means substitute for the necklace she is so entranced with, however…

— Angie is at the cemetery. – interposed Robert. – She went there half an hour ago. To be precise she rushed out of the building. Just as the footman entered my apartment to serve me with my morning coffee we saw her scorch past us down the corridor.

— At the cemetery again. – sighed Ellen. Oh, well, I don’t think that after all this time my cousin’s frequent visits to that place should continue to spring a surprise on me, nonetheless in my estimation her adoration of that dreary burial ground has turned into a positive craze.

— I quite agree with you. At any rate, as she briefly explained to us on her way out she intended to pay a visit to baroness Esterina’s tomb first thing in the morning.

— Baroness Esterina is not Angie’s patroness. – stated Ellen. – she’s unlikely to be of any aid to her.

— Esterina is not her patroness? – Robert looked astounded. – I’m afraid. I don’t understand. What exactly do you mean?

— Oh, I must have forgotten to make mention of a certain tradition strictly observed by the entire family. As is customary the eldest daughter of the dynasty is always christened after the baroness or at least her forename should start with the letter “E”. The baroness is acknowledged as the foundress of our stock. In accordance with the legend if the eldest daughter bearing that name requests the lady to come to her assistance in whatever shape or form the patroness will never disappoint her descendant.

— Has Esterina even borne you a helping hand?

— It has never occurred to me to seek her advice. Frankly speaking I’m a bit mistrustful of the story. All kinds of legends are derived purely from recognized traditions, comprise oddities inherently present in most ancient castles, palaces, various outlying places and predominantly contain nothing but a shred of truth. The major part of such tales is usually invented by people who aim at lending lure and weirdness to antique edifices… oh, good morning, grandma… has Anna failed to serve breakfast to your chamber? – inquired the girl entering the dining-room, amazed to perceive baroness Emma seated at the long table engrossed in a lively conversation with a relative of hers, countess Esther Loretti but occasionally adding a casual remark.

— Grandmother gazed up at Ellen and smiled.

— I thought it advisable to join you for meal this once – she replied. – Besides – full moon last night kept me awake till daybreak. And what about you, Robert? How do you like it in our mansion? – the lady addressed lord Danvall taking a seat next to her. – Don’t you find the seclusion of this place a little annoying?

— Quite the reverse, Madam. I myself was raised in an equally remote district, except that my parents’ manor was situated a mile or so closer to the urban area. Actually I find the setting of this castle – with its ceaseless murmur of the sea – extremely fascinating indeed….-the man broke off, a bit taken aback at the sight of Angie who had just stormed into the dining-hall, her auburn hair wind-blown, then – never sparing the gathered company a single glance, – totally ignoring all the other household members, – she promptly nestled in a chair directly opposite baroness Emma and, snatching a silver fork, pulled over to herself eggs and bacon dish the maid had swiftly served her with.

— Hallo, Angie. You’re late. – countess Loretti gently rebuked her niece.

— I know, Auntie. I couldn’t possibly help it.

— You’ve come right in the middle of breakfast. After all you could go to the cemetery when the meal was over.

— Oh, no, – that’s out of the question. I had to go there early in the morning. – mumbled the girl devouring her course with huge mouthfuls.

— But why? What on earth made you leave home almost at dawn? I don’t see any reason…

Angie gulped down another morsel and from above her plate cast at her aunt a withering glance.

— I simply had to go! – she cried. – I had to! – Don’t ask me why!

Baroness Emma gave the girl a look of reproof.

— Angela, you are forgetting your manners.

Baroness’s tone was soft and quiet, nonetheless it called the rebel to order.

— It’s not seemly for a lady to raise her voice, my dear. – added the baroness.

Angie glared at her relative but managed to control herself.

— I apologize, grandma.

Baroness Emma smiled forbearingly.

— Perhaps you’d like to go to Manchester with me for several days? You might enjoy the trip.

— No, grandma, thank you. I prefer to stay home. I dwell in a large town all the year round except for Christmas and Easter holidays, besides – of course – this short vacation I was granted due to Ellen’s wedding. Sorry, grandma, but I’d much rather keep the premises.

— Really? Well, if so- – all right, do as you please.

— Mother, you never told us you intended to start on a journey. – observed countess Loretti apparently taken by surprise.

— My dear Esther, the idea of undertaking that expedition never crossed my mind until last night. However, upon receiving a letter from a friend of mine – it was a friendship of long standing – she stressed – on the spur of the moment I decided to accept her invitation.

— You mean the letter you got yesterday?

— Exactly. Kate has always been my bosom friend. Our amity dates from early childhood. I also used to be on amicable terms with her husband she made acquaintance with in her teens, while still a high school student. Then, when some years later, upon graduating from college I myself got married, together with my husband I moved to Italy where my spouse was designated to an office. As you probably remember our stay there extended for another tenure – until the Nazi invasion – so – naturally – we were compelled to part company. Soon, Kate was was transferred to France and afterwards I was informed she had not survived the war – had been killed during a blitz one morning. And now, quite unexpectedly, after all those years it came to my knowledge that I had been misinformed. Kate had returned to England as soon as the war was over, attempted hard to contact me and renew our friendship. As it appears it was easier said than done, since in the wartime, after we lost touch, I volunteered for a hospital and performed the functions of a nurse and then, when the peace treaty was signed I rejoined my husband and we both moved to this district she found it impossible to discover my current address. She actually learnt it by sheer accident – obtained it from my late husband’s relative she had happened to run into at the opera house last week. She wrote me a long letter describing both pleasant as well as the most trying experiences she had gone through over the space of years then invited me to spend some time at her place. She seems to be extremely anxious to entertain me. After all we haven’t seen each other for aeons… there are so many subjects we’ve got to discuss… – the baroness looked very animated when saying that.

— Do you really mean to take such a long trip all alone with your heart failure, mother? – asked the countess, visibly concerned.

— I’m not that sick, dear, You’re overprotective, Esther. – the respectable lady sounded determined – Besides, -from now on, I intend to lead more active lifestyle taking example by one of my friends who recently enrolled for a paragliding course. Thus, as you see, there is no need to worry.

— Oh, mother, what an incongruous parallel to draw!

— You don’t mean to raise any objections, I hope. Moreover, in my opinion, practising extreme sports entails greater risk than a voyage around the world. Therefore I’ve simply chosen the lesser of the two evils. – concluded the lady-watching Anna replenishing her cup with tea.

Ellen contemplated her grandmother somewhat amused. According to her earliest childhood memories grandma had always distinguished herself by extraordinary vigour, sense of humour and enterprise except for the years that followed her husband’s death as a consequence of which she had plunged into despondency and for a long spell hardly ever spoke a word to anyone.

— When exactly are you setting out, grandmother? – asked the girl.

— Tomorrow morning, before dawn. The train for Manchester leaves at 6 a.m., so by the time you wake up I’ll already be on my way to Kate’s place.

— I’ll see you off to the coach. – determined countess Loretti. – Just to make sure you arrive safely. By the way, have you ordered a taxi yet? I must avow I hate driving at this untimely hour, in the gloom

.-. A taxi? Whatever for? There are four cars in our garage including my favourite limousine, a gift from my husband, which, alas, I haven’t driven for years. One of them can serve my purpose. And – please note – she emphasized – that I do not require a chauffeur either. Nor companion.

— Don’t tell me you want to drive to the station all by yourself! – exclaimed the countess aghast. – At 5 in the morning it’s still quite dark. Besides – for several years you have kept the house, refused to attend various social evenings, scarcely ever left the premises. I can’t imagine what may happen if you lose your bearings.

— If you allow me, Madam. I will drive you to the station – proffered Robert.

— No, young man, you will not! – rejoined the lady stubbornly. – is there any particular reason for which I should forego to take the wheel myself!? My eyesight is still excellent, and I’m in no need of anyone’s assistance. As for the car – Henry can collect it from the station a bit later on that day while running errands for the house down-town

— I’m alarmed about you. – complained countess Loretti.

— Don’t forget Esther that in my prime I used to be a splendid motorist and although I haven’t driven for ages. I expect I’m still proficient in the field. Therefore – if you mean to indispose me towards the jaunt, deprive me of the pleasure I find in driving a good vehicle I cannot but warn you that you are wasting your time. – It’s no deal – she declared obstinately. – No, Esther, you really needn’t worry about me. – she spoke in a gentler tone perceiving concern written in her daughter – in – law’s face. Then, as though on second thoughts she finally changed her mind and decided in the latter’s favour the baroness added – oh, well, at that juncture you may be altogether in the right. The car is likely to go into a skid in the dark… yes, I had better call for a taxi after all – by the way, could you please send Anna up to my apartment this afternoon? I’d like her to help me pack up.

— Have you reserved a room in a hotel, Mother?

— No, I’ll stay at Kate’s place. She’s got a large villa and apart from her maid and cook lives there all alone. The cook specializes in the oriental cuisine Kate had always delighted in.

— Oh, that reminds me! Where has Anna vanished? – Ellen cut in. – I asked her to bring in some more sugar and she seems to have clean forgotten about it.

She reached out and tugged at the bell-pull. The summon met with no response.

— Have you tasted the cherry jam, Robert? – inquired Angie who until now had been wolfing down her breakfast in total silence, her attention so indivisibly focused on the dish that she never once lifted her eyes from above the victuals in front of her, let alone join in the conversation. – it’s positively delicious – she continued – home made, according to the recipe elaborated by our many years’ service cook. It’s unrivalled, trust me, quite unlike those available in shops. None of them can compare with this one.

— Thanks – Robert smiled at the girl. – Indeed, it does look very appetizing… and it is – he admitted, trying a modicum.

— It appears – Ellen looked round the table – that Anna also failed to bring an extra portion of butter.

Once more she tugged at the bell-pull. This time, too, to no effect.

— Anna has become pretty insubordinate and careless lately. – observed the countess. – much as I like the domestic I’m afraid I’ll have to cut her wages – she repeatedly jerked at the bell – pull evidently extremely irritated.

— Don’t get upset, Mother – Ellen rose from her chair. – I’ll go to the kitchen myself and fetch whatever we ran short of.

— But… Ellen! You can’t!… you shouldn’t…

— We live in modern times, mum. It’s awfully convenient to be waited upon and have the entire staff at your beck and call, nevertheless I assure you that it won’t tarnish my halo if I relieve your maid of her task just this once. – she insisted, motioning to Robert who was on the point of following in her wake to keep his seat.

There was not a living soul in the kitchen when Ellen entered it. Dirty plates were scattered all over the huge table, a crumpled, dripping wet dishcloth lay discarded on the equally damp floor. Alas, her mother was absolutely right. The servants’ conduct left much to be desired, they were unquestionably remiss of their duties.

Ellen opened the fridge, took out a butter dish, put some extra lumps of sugar into the sugar bowl and when she was already about to leave the kitchen she almost bumped into the butler who had just shown up in the doorway.

— Henry! Where on earth have you been? Breakfast isn’t over yet..

— I’m aware of that, Miss. I’m so sorry.

— Anna neglected to supply us with some indispensable foodstuffs that’s why I took it upon myself to fetch these groceries. And now will you please join us in the dining-room..

— Yes, Miss. I’ll be there in a moment.

Having already left the kitchen, on stepping into the hall it flashed upon Ellen that she had forgotten to take along an extra pot of cherry jam. Robert seemed to relish it, so one small jar, half of which Angie had greedily devoured within a couple of minutes, might not be sufficient to go round.

On re-entering the kitchen in order to collect one more she noticed the butler standing by the sink dousing a big handkerchief with a stream of water gushing from the tap and filling a glass with the liquid. He was so preoccupied that he didn’t even hear Ellen come in and approach him.

— Goodness, Henry! What’s up? What do you need this hanky for? And just by the way-where has the rest of the staff gone? Where is Anna? Mother summoned her a few times, she must have heard the bell ring.

The butler looked confused as if caught red-handed.

— I beg your pardon, Miss. I had no intention whatever of being negligent of my work… the thing is that… I must… apply first aid to Anna… she feels rather… unwell.

— What do you mean for heaven’s sake? Anna was perfectly all right only ten minutes ago when she started attending on us at breakfast.

— So she was – agreed Henry – Indeed. – before breakfast, but a moment ago she fell into a swoon. When I saw her she lay on the floor – motionless. I made an attempt to revive her, – without much success unfortunately, therefore I thought it advisable to dab her face with some water. Unhappily the countess does not stock smelling salts.

— To my certain knowledge mother has never yet had any use for them. Well, talking of Anna – where is she?

— In… in the portrait gallery.

— What?! Oh, no, you must be joking. This is the most inopportune time to visit the gallery. Can’t you guess whatever made her go to that exhibition hall right now?

I’ve no idea, Miss, but she is still in there, recumbent on the ground, senseless.

— Is she that sick? – Ellen hastily put the groceries she was holding down on the table. – If that’s the case I must go to that hall. I’d better check what’s the matter with her. Perhaps I’ll be able to help.

The maid lay on the tiled floor near the fireplace. Her left hand reposed on the hearth-stone, with the other she had covered her eyes.

— She may get burned. – observed Ellen drawing the girl’s arm away from the grating.

— I hope not. Fire was kindled only a minute ago just before Anna came in here. The furnace will take a while to heat. We usually extinguish the hearth at dusk so both logs and cinders – if any whatever remained within – are still cold.

— And what about last night? Was it you who put out the fire?

— No, I mean – this is what I intended to do, but when I walked into the rooms a few minutes past 10 p.m. the firebox had already been extinguished. Someone must have forestalled me.

— Anna hardly ever enters the gallery after dark. As you very well know she dreads the shades of night, the more so that electricity has never been conveyed to this hall.

— Naturally, Miss Ellen. I do see your point. Last year she fainted too, when on nearing this place at twilight she imagined she had glimpsed some unearthly figure, claimed to have seen a kind of apparition which soon melted away before her very eyes.

— Lift her head, Henry. – requested Ellen kneeling down on the floor beside the maid. From the glass brought by the butler she poured out some more cold water on the man’s handkerchief and gingerly dabbed with the cloth Anna’s face. The girl stirred restlessly and shuddered, obviously still only half-conscious.

— No, leave me alone! keep away! – she screamed.

— Anna, wake up, what has come over you? It’s only me. Open your eyes – said Ellen softly.

The maid slowly started regaining her consciousness. She fearfully glanced at her mistress, somewhat bewildered.

— Oh, thank goodness. – she whispered. – I got so scared. I thought it was him…. That he was back…

— Tell me exactly what happened. – commanded Ellen returning the damp handkerchief to the butler.

Anna struggled to sit up..

— Nothing in particular, Miss. – she replied hesitantly. I fancied I saw… never mind… it’s over, anyway. I’m fine, I really am. – her gaze involuntarily wandered across the hall to the portraits lining the walls. For a second her eyes lingered on one of the paintings and once again the maid turned ashy pale.

— I… I had best go back to the kitchen, Miss. There is plenty of work to be done. – she looked up at the butler who leaned over her in order to set her on her feet. Avoiding Ellen’s questioning stare the domestic wobbled towards the corridor. Ellen followed her with her eyes watching the girl in wonder then she turned round and scanned all the paintings to find out what had terrified the maid. One of the portraits hang out of the vertical, – in fact, upon careful examination an attentive observer might notice that it was barely perceptibly swinging to and fro, frame edges slightly skimming the wall. Along the length of the painting ran a broad dark grey streak she most certainly had not seen the day before. Ellen’s gaze instinctively shifted to the mantelshelf the marble top of which stored neatly arranged collection of knights’ statuettes. She seized the figurine of the nobleman holding the fissured sword that only last afternoon Robert had placed at the fore-front of the rank. The statuette of colonel Cardan was twisted and cracked all over its surface.

— Goodness gracious, Henry, what is going on in here? What causes such great damages? Or should I rather ask – who in the world can be rancorous enough to keep victimizing that particular figurine every single night?

The butler, poker-faced, blinked the question.

— How should I know, Miss? – he muttered.

— Don’t you really? I feel sure you are thoroughly conversant with the matter.

— You overestimate my cognizance of facts, Miss.

— Indeed? Then what rational explanation can you possibly set forth for nightly ill-treatment of colonel Cardan’s statuette? Almost each morning it receives fresh injuries Someone is evidently bent on destroying it, shattering the poor figurine to pieces.

— That’s a wild surmise, Miss. Quite unverifiable. – replied Henry, his countenance impassive.

— Judging by your tone my assumptions are justified. Ten to one you are familiar with the crux of the matter. If that is the case would you kindly name the malefactor, whoever he is, that bears the responsibility for these atrocious, barbarous incidents. – insisted Ellen.

— Nobody has any reason whatever… well, Miss… I suggest you had better forget all about the problem. – just ignore it. You scarcely ever visit your ancestral manor anyway, therefore…

— Mishaps of this kind also used to take place before, throughout the past years, as early as my childhood in fact. Being just a toddler I remember roaming these halls and chambers for hours on end, I, too, witnessed lots of extraordinary occurrences, only at the time you were much more communicative, you never demurred at elucidating to me oddities that appeared to be above the understanding of a three or four year old kid I then was. Even when I was aged six we often carried long conversations, discussed various phenomena and although due to my inquiring disposition I frequently used to tax your patience you never dodged my posers. I do realize that ages have elapsed since those carefree days, my father was still alive and yet, don’t you think, that irrespective of the weird events occurring in the manor you should be just a little more outspoken and tell me the truth? Never before you have been as reticent on the subject as you are now. We have always regarded you as a family member. As far as I can recollect my father reckoned you to be his best friend, so perhaps at least for his memory’s sake you’ll nerve yourself to enlighten me on that enigma.

— Well, Miss, I don’t really feel entitled… — started the butler, visibly perplexed

— Look here, Henry – my mother is also reluctant to acquaint me with the affair though I questioned her about those sightings again and again -.I suspect it’s because of those eerie flickering lights either in the middle of the night or at dawn – and strange silhouettes promenading the chambers at various times of day and night, –,appearing unawares and vanishing from view, giving the impression of belonging to the bygone epoch – which in childhood unalterably used to strike me with such dreadful panic that my mother eventually decided to enrol me for a boarding school so far away from home. She intended – as I presume – to safeguard me from those frightful encounters. Yet, at a later stage, too, whenever as an adolescent I arrived at the mansion for various holidays I chanced to glimpse awesome strangers I’d much rather shun. Well, mother still persists in contradicting most conjectures I’ve made in this connection, that’s why you are the only person I can put this question to, Henry. Therefore – let me ask you once again – what is the eerie mystery all of you are that set on withholding from me?

— I believe – quibbled the butler – that the only person qualified to divulge the cause of these recondite incidents is the lady herself.

— Why no one but her? What in the world does she have to do with continual devastation of Cardan’s statuette? Does mother at least suspect who is to blame for that outrage? And why the culprit is that determined to keep perpetrating such a ghastly transgression?

— I’m not clear as to that particular instance – mumbled Henry re-aligning the knights and noblemen’s figurines in their proper array – but the countess has always been excellently initiated into all the conundrums regarding the castle.

Ellen got the notion she stood no chance of acquiring any further information.

— All right, Henry, forget it. Since Anna is unwell let her take a rest. As for you – make haste and join us.

— Yes, Miss.

X X X X X X

— Would you be good enough and spare me a few minutes, Madam? – Robert addressed the countess as the assembly was leaving the dining-room. after breakfast that morning. – I’d like to seek your advice.

— Right now? I thought you and Ellen contemplated making a long tour of the neighbourhood. You haven’t seen all the show places as yet.

— I’ve already consulted Ellen on that point and we agreed to postpone our outing for later on. The issue I intend to treat is of the major importance.

Robert Danvall sounded extremely troubled and although at breakfast he took pains not to betray his anxiety it was self-evident that some grave predicament made him feel exceedingly uneasy and perturbed.

— Well, as I see the problem tormenting you must be pretty urgent indeed. Would you follow me to my boudoir. It’s a very peaceful place, we can talk quietly there.

The boudoir was decorated with silver-pink wallpaper the shade of which magnificently harmonized with pale pink crystal sconces hanging around the room. The countess motioned to Robert to take a seat in a finely carved antique armchair upholstered with golden and violet satin.

— Well, Robert, now you’re free to present to me the vexatious topic that preys on you mind.

— Madam, forgive my taking the liberty to broach such a tender subject during the first visit. I’m paying to your mansion, so soon after my arrival here. I am hopeful you will not impute to me irreverence towards traditions and customs observed in your estate- however – the man wavered and broke off, for all his determination and strong-mindedness quite at a loss how to embark upon the discourse and state his case so as not to exacerbate his prospective mother in-law.

— There is no need to deliver such a long address, Robert. Judging by disquietude you attempted to suppress all morning it’s obvious that some disagreeable event must have taken place, something you found extremely annoying. Let me note that although it was only yesterday that I made your acquaintance I hold you in high esteem. The most favourable impression created on my whole family along with truly deep affection Ellen has bestowed on you is perfectly sufficient for me. I am easy on behalf of both of you, feel convinced you’ll be very happy together. Therefore if in the meantime arose any problem at all that I’m not aware of, should anything remain uncertain or questionable, I’ll do my best to dispel your doubts. Don’t hesitate to put the case before me.

I’ll come straight to the point, then, Madam. – said Robert visibly immensely relieved. – It did not escape my attention that you have tremendous influence over Ellen. She sets great store by your opinion that is why I am in need of your support – or – should I rather say – intercession… to be brief – I wonder whether there is any possibility of holding the wedding ceremony a bit sooner, ahead of the fixed date or, better still – shift it to London.

— Ahead of… – but. Robert,! – the countess looked astonished. – Do tell me the truth. What grounds do you have for changing the day? Not to mention the place. After all we’ve been planning the ceremony’s procedure for several past weeks allowing for even minor details – with the utmost accuracy. The preparations are very far advanced by now, invitations sent off, most guests have already confirmed their attendance on that special feast… – the countess shook her head, baffled. – I’m afraid that at this stage of arrangements transference of the event to an earlier date is beyond my power, let alone moving it to a different site.

— Madam, if you have Ellen’s well-being at heart, value her peace of mind which, I daresay is the matter of the last importance to you – replied Robert trenchantly – I insist on your giving dispositions for the ceremony to be transferred to a different date in case you are reluctant to reconsider shifting the festivity’s seat.

— I have already given instructions for a sumptuous wedding party to be organized, which undoubtedly will be a thrilling, never to be forgotten experience for both of you, for all your friends. Festivity of that type cannot be subject to such sudden unforeseen alterations. I can’t imagine what sort of judgement our guests or acquaintances might be likely to form if we rushed the ceremony now.

— With all due respect, Madam, – as far as I’m concerned the sort of opinion an outsider may establish in this singular case is of no interest to me. What I strain after at the moment is to elude whatever kind of disaster that might meanwhile occur. – either in the course of the arrangements or even during the wedding itself – an incident that may occasion a serious disturbance in the festivity’s progress.

— Ellen would be disconsolate should any mishap disturb the celebration.

— Believe me, Madam. – I had no intention whatsoever of advancing the case in such an unceremonious way, much less paint the matter in black colours, on the other hand I have forebodings as far as my fiancée’s safety is concerned., and good reason to entertain fear that if we uphold our resolve to sojourn within the walls of this castle whole month in accordance with the initial design Ellen will in all likelihood be exposed to some horribly nasty trying experiences and contingencies – the origin of which remains undisclosed. As you are undoubtedly aware – prior to my arrival in this manor I have been told – both by Ellen and my own relatives – a number of old legends, various tales and rumours regarding the former proprietors of the estate, certain abstruse, obscure issues touching them, also – unanticipated manifestations of quaint individuals and personages apparently belonging to bygone epochs, spectres evidently unable to reconcile themselves to the fact that they had left some of their temporal affairs yet unsettled, consequently persist in making their appearance, keep haunting the manor as well as the entire neighbourhood, roving the local moorland and forest manifesting their presence to great many – if not all – residents inhabiting the area since a long time. Naturally, Madam, in some cases those apparitions might indeed be deemed as products of witnesses’ vivid imagination, however, – although Ellen perseveres in mistrusting most of the rumours, pretending to belittle hearsays, treat them as pieces of town gossips – it was more than once that I observed that at heart she stands in deadly fear of this kind of sightings, – that’s why I think it vital to guard her from any unlooked for encounter of the type which – I hate to say it, Madam, is liable to take place any moment.

Had Robert dreaded that his exposition would infuriate countess Loretti he could feel easy on that score. The lady stared at him intently and although her grave expression proved that she fully shared both in his views and emotions, and was conscious of what had actuated her guest to apply to her with such a weird request she was nevertheless exceedingly disinclined to own the force of his argument.

— What exactly do you have in mind, Robert? – she asked after a pause in a subdued tone, feigning composure.

— You must have been told, Madam, that Anna. – as well as a number of other people, according to what I’ve heard, so the lass doesn’t seem to be the only witness. – has – on frequent occasions on top of this – perceived a silent figure of a man attired in odd-looking garments of the epoch – strolling nightly the gallery. Well, countess – for my part I can assure you that the phantom Anna saw was by no means the product of her imagination.

— A figure of a man? What man? What on earth are you talking about?

— The one wearing a dark-green doublet and silvery wig, bearing extraordinary resemblance to one of your ancestors exhibited in an antique portrait in the gallery. The maid claims to have frequently spotted the individual.

Countess Loretti waved her hand scornfully.

— You must be joking, Robert. Stories Anna spreads are absurd. She may have been mislead by a reflection of light in the mirror. What she saw was surely a blurred misty gleam.

— Regrettably, Madam, I’m obliged to dispute your assumption. Whatever Anna glimpsed was definitely not a reflection of light. Someone, a very important personage, I daresay, – keeps haunting this estate either in the middle of the night or at dawn.

— Oh, no, that’s impossible. I hold quite a different opinion. I’m certain that for some reason or other Anna has invented an uncanny unbelievable tale, thus you must not, on no consideration – give credence to her report. I assure you that despite all sorts of rumours you might have heard – occurrences of that kind have never taken place in this estate. It sounds utterly preposterous – the lady stated firmly.

— Forgive my saying so, Madam, but you are entirely mistaken. Anna’s story does sound credible enough. Actually, her report is only too true.

— The girl has been seeing things for some time past. – the countess stirred restlessly in her chair, her fingers clenched. – Oh, yes, on several occasions she did indeed assert having seen eerie silhouettes roaming chambers, halls, – abruptly vanishing from view or gradually melting away, she seemed to be scared out of her wits when relating those encounters to me, nevertheless I can assure you that none of those reports, in no circumstance, can be taken seriously.

— The stories your maid tells are in no wise figments of her fancy. Had she really given reins to her imagination it would merely signify that I, too, was subject to hallucination.

— What are you referring to?

— To the 17th century nobleman I saw with my own eyes in the portrait gallery last night, just after midnight. I repeat, countess – I myself have also seen that man, or rather – to be more precise – his spectre.

— Nobody ever enters the gallery at such a late hour. Apart from alarm systems installed all the windows and shutters in that wing are made fast, most doors bolted. You can’t have seen anyone there.

— I’m positive I did. I mean it, Madam. – I saw the fellow quite clearly and took a good look at him. The phantom I discerned bore stupendous resemblance to the gentleman in the portrait.

The countess forced a smile.

— The only person you may have noticed in that hall is our trusted butler. He sometimes dusts the paintings and works of art assembled in there.

— Is he in the habit of dusting those splendid pieces after midnight? Besides – in disguise, dressed in the 17’th century attire?

The countess contemplated Robert in silence evidently unable to set forth any further arguments cogent enough to vindicate rightness of her standpoint – thereby definitively remove lord Danvall’s forebodings and conjectures.

— Is this the reason why you are that keen on precipitating the wedding? – she inquired at length.

— Ellen has always professed to disbelieve gossips, legends or tales of this kind, – questioned the existence of phantom, haunted houses, although to me it’s obvious that under the cover of sham ostensible mistrust she tried hard to quell – or – mask – lurked intense apprehension of that type of phenomena. – replied Robert gravely. – What I now fear is – if in the meantime, – even directly before the wedding – my fiancée chances to meet the spectre I myself came up against last night – the encounter may give her a tremendous shock.

— Ellen won’t butt against anyone in that hall! I’ll never let that happen! – the countess flared up in anger.

— Therefore, after all, you do admit that both the gallery and probably also the other chambers beyond it, including a part of the neighbourhood, as I’ve heard – are pestered by that rum 17’th century stern-looking nobleman? Do you know Madam – proceeded the squire as the countess made no reply. – that my mother found it imperative to summon an exorcist to our estate several years ago?

— Whatever for?

— Your castle is not the only mansion to be plagued. – remarked Robert hastily, pondering over the most suitable manner in which to depict the history of his own family so as not to offend or wound the pride of his prospective wife’s mother. The latter watched her guest confusedly striving to overcome the anxiety she was suddenly seized with…

— My parents’ manor also used to be frequented by a spectral visitor who persevered in harassing the household – lord Danvall continued in an undertone. – He importuned on the inmates almost every single night. Well – it must be acknowledged that through the first weeks, even months he forbore from intruding on our privacy. At the outset he appeared to have made it his aim to scour nothing but vaults, crypts and dungeons underlying the edifice. So long as the caller remained unaggressive and scarcely ever made any noise the whole family tried their best to ignore him. Nevertheless, a couple of years later he began to make irruptions onto the upper storeys, ransack most rooms, closets, escritoires, fetch various documents, letters, etc., as well as my mother’s jewellery out of drawers and fling them about the chambers. In those days we used to catch sight of him quite often as he formed a habit of manifesting his presence to all the kinsfolk. I must say to the vision’s credit that whenever he chose to rove the house in full daylight he never attempted to accost any of us – as a rule walked past in total silence. In case you’re interested to know the intruder’s identity, Madam – Robert heaved a sight – frankly speaking at first both my parents and servants were exceedingly reluctant to disclose the man’s name to me, finally however, yielding to my entreaties, they revealed that the spectre encroaching on our estate was none other than my great-grandfather murdered treacherously in his sleep. The assassin had never been traced – actually my relatives have never succeeded in discovering whatever particulars concerning the killer – what’s more – are still completely in the dark as to the motives for which he had watched for the victim’s life, whereupon perpetrated such atrocious crime. However – all things considered – I have a notion that my great-grandpa had evidently made up his mind to seek redress, resolved to administer justice to the culprit personally, take the law into his own hands and settle accounts with the assassin unaided. It may also have been his intention to induce my parents into instituting one more inquest although my folks assured me solemnly they had done their uttermost to clarify the case Thus, Madam, as you see, my great-grandfather – just like your ancestor – also thought it indispensable to search both the entire estate and the whole of the neighbourhood, repeatedly materializing himself before my relations, friends and acquaintances inhabiting the vicinity of our manor, spreading panic, striking everyone with dismay. Most kith and kin were transfixed with horror at the sight of him as, – having known grandpa since their adolescence, had thronged the graveyard some forty years before to attend his funeral procession.

Robert never took his gaze off the countess’s face while relating the story he had been told when a youngster. A good spell afterwards, as the lady still made no response, he ventured a question.

— Don’t you realize, Madam, that you didn’t even bother to learn the man’s name? I mean – the name of the phantom. Aren’t you curious to know which of your ancestors I met last night in the picture gallery?

The dame kept totally silent as she sat motionless opposite Robert, her stare fixed at the scenery unfolding itself beyond the window of her boudoir as if Danvall’s poser was lost upon her.

— You’d much rather drop the subject, am I right? Relinquish the affair altogether.? I’m certain however, that although you prefer to evade the topic and fly in the face of obvious facts you are perfectly aware what spectre I have in mind.

— Very well, Robert if you are that insistent… – who do you think the unanticipated visitor was? – came the reluctant question.

— His name is – said Robert stressing every word – count Enrico Loretti, as harsh and relentless as he had been in his 17th century stormy lifetime.

The lady of the manor kept gazing with unseeing eyes at the undulating sheet of the sea her boudoir overlooked, vast expanse surging and shimmering in sunbeams, glistening with all shades of green. Despite dissembled indifference written in her face. Robert’s last statement made her turn pale.

— You are familiar with the phantom’s name, aren’t you? – observed lord Danvall watching his companion narrowly. – You too used to see him on the premises, didn’t you?

— Well..yes, indeed. I’ve seen him a couple of times. – admitted the countess unwillingly.

— Therefore, in the light of these facts, being aware of the reasons for which I’m determined to speed up the wedding date…

— Why, Robert? – remonstrated the lady hotly, at last rallying from momentary pensiveness – Enrico Loretti – I mean – his phantom – never forces an entrance onto upper storeys. The only hall he takes interest in is the portrait gallery.

— What’s so special about the gallery of all places?

— So far nobody has been able to elucidate his preference for that chamber. We have done our best to obtain some information regarding the issue, searched old documents, records, inclusive of the 17th and 18th century chronicles stored up in one of the unfrequented wings of the manor, reviewed all the letters dating back to those times, however – apart from the reports dealing with similar cases repeatedly quoted in various family archives – no file giving any clue as to the motive for those inconceivable calls has ever been found.

— The phantom seems to have taken a particular aversion to colonel Cardan and the little figurine representing him.

— So I have noticed. He keeps knocking over and damaging this statuette almost every night.

— Last night he nearly smashed it to pieces. – remarked Robert. – Well, Madam, I wonder… when awake to this extremity are you still intent on abiding by your decision to withhold your consent to alter the date or at least the place of the wedding?

— It’s not that simple to implement your design. For many generations our dynasty has observed a tradition according to which the nuptial ceremony is held in the castle chapel irrespective of the circumstances. This rule applies to the entire family and Ellen, too, has always favoured this time-honoured custom. Such unexpected, unwarranted change would take her completely by surprise. I’m certain she’ll never, on no consideration desist from upholding the tradition. You must be of the opinion that all those incidents we almost daily experience leave mu quite unperturbed, that throughout the years I have hardened myself against my ancestry’s manifestations. Well – to be honest – I haven’t. Neither has baroness Emma though she’s somehow learned to suffer them. Things can’t be helped, I’m afraid. Trust me, Robert – I myself, likewise, am very awkwardly situated. I’ve done my utmost to conceal these visits from Ellen, I confess that initially I made tremendous efforts to protect her against these odd phenomena and nasty encounters which used to take place in the mansion not only after midnight but in broad daylight as well and since my daughter, as you have noticed – has always been – from early childhood in fact – an extremely sensitive girl, each clash with any of those apparitions she has permanently stood in great awe of – glimpsing misty silhouettes materializing, then melting before her very eyes invariably used to strike her with panic. In those days she was but a child that’s why I found it comparatively easy to invent a plausible explanation in extenuation of those occurrences. Thus it was for that reason that – when the girlie was aged nine, I – having naturally consulted my husband on the issue – arranged for her to go to a boarding school in London where she eventually gained a footing, took up studies and began to pursue her career. Both I and my husband were hopeful that in the course of time, whilst in a different environment she would be able to clean forget those distasteful ordeals – and, indeed – I was relieved to find that over the years most of the incidents have faded from her memory. There is one apparition though she luckily, by some miracle, has never come into direct contact with. Amazingly the phantom in question is none other than the troublesome Enrico Loretti. I daresay she’s oblivious of his nightly calls, at any rate has never seen him at close quarters and I would rather it remained that way. – To tell you the truth – I learned from my own bitter experience that even as a spectre Loretti tends to be unusually aggressive. One midnight I was roused from sleep by strange noises coming from the gallery. It struck me as queer that for all the solid gratings and alarm systems installed a burglar somehow contrived to break into the house. I confess I was a bit scared, still, decided to deal with the robber single-handed. I grabbed a revolver – property of my late husband… for obvious – reasons I – for a while – refrained from notifying the police… and ran down the stairs – lady Esther paused for a moment then continued in a low voice: – I caught sight of him as soon as I entered the picture gallery. He stood by the mantelshelf shattering into pieces Cardan’s sword. A week before, after the count’s last attack resulting in the previous blade’s impairment we forthwith ordered another one to be made and soon the poor figurine was fitted with and identical sabre… but – that very night – he… I mean – Enrico Loretti – although he is nothing but a spectre – seemed to be overcome with an access of raving madness. I have no idea what had caused his outburst of wrath, nevertheless – when – jittery – I stole up to the gallery – a strong torch in my hand, – I saw him hurling to the floor one more statuette, – and then – upon turning round – he noticed me standing in the doorway. For a minute he just eyed me in silence, then, – all at once – he spoke to me. Admittedly that was the one and only time I ever heard the count’s phantom address anyone… actually I was scarcely able to follow the drift of his utterance as he used the version of language spoken in the 17th century… present day Italian speech sounds quite different, yet there’s no denying the fact that the spectre’s wild gesticulation as well as infuriated expression on his face conveyed much more meaning than words ever would. He made a reference to Cardan, declaring he would never pardon the colonel, then asserted his boundless hatred of the man which he threatened to harbour for perpetuity.

I was infinitely appalled at Loretti’s sudden fit of rage and while he kept rampaging all over the gallery volleying abuses, reviling and disparaging Cardan I got so terrified that I just couldn’t help dashing away from the chamber running on my way back to my rooms into Henry escorting baroness Emma who had also heard the count’s imprecations and came downstairs to check what was going on… fortunately at the time Ellen was away from home attending college and Easter holidays she planned to spend with us didn’t start until next week… I can’t think how she might react had she witnessed that horrible scene… I’m aware of course that now, when she is grown up, she takes quite a different view of these phenomena, they no longer give her such tremendous fright as in childhood, yet I, hoped that none of the incidents happening on the premises of the estate would ever affect her personally. Now, alas, I can see that I was mistaken. Although – well – in actual fact – for a spell of time – I mean – several weeks or so – the place was relatively peaceful. It was only a couple of days ago that the manifestations I was so anxious to keep secret from her began to recur, and – to make matters worse – almost immediately before the wedding.

— Where is the chapel situated? – asked Robert.

— In the northern wing of the castle.

— You mean to say – in the uninhabited, non – electrified part of the building?

— That’s right. It was there that baroness Esterina married her husband on Saturday afternoon at four o’clock and from then on it has become customary for the nuptials of the affianced pair to be celebrated in the same chapel at the same time.

— But in winter at 4 pm it’s quite dark.

— Bridegroom takes his bride in marriage by candlelight. Numerous candles are placed in 28 brackets fixed in the walls all around the chapel. I can vouch you, Robert, that the shrine is excellently illuminated and this kind of lighting creates truly magic, unique atmosphere. I promise I’ll see to everything, make sure that no one and nothing whatever disturbs the ceremony… there is another thing – I have a request to make – you had better not tap the subject in Ellen’s hearing – nor discuss whatever thorny issues regarding the diverse, most, annoying, admittedly, apparitions, roaming the premises, let alone the discourse we’ve held. I expect you must have observed by now that she’s awfully vulnerable, and I fear she still remembers various phantoms she sometimes glimpsed when on rare holidays in this manor, although she hardly ever refers to them. I’d rather she never learned of the latest incidents, not to mention your last night’s clash with Enrico Loretti. Will you keep it secret?

— Most certainly, Madam. As you wish. Nevertheless I can’t help thinking that Ellen has already taken in the situation. When we started making plans towards our visit in your estate she just could not wait to arrive home, – kept telling me lots of amusing stories, adventures dating from the happy childhood she had led in these parts, trips and cruises she had taken with her parents. She also has a very pleasant memory of your trusted butler who used to look after her like a father when she was a small girl and even admitted she preferred Henry’s company to that of her nanny’s. She was positively jubilant at the prospect of rejoining her relatives after many months’ separation… and this morning… did you notice the look on her face when she realized that Anna had fainted in the portrait gallery due to tremendous shock and fright that overpowered her at the sight of one of the paintings swaying to and fro as if set in motion by someone’s invisible hand? – and then – a moment later – she perceived that this time colonel Cardan’s little statuette had miraculously missed being smashed to smithereens. I’m afraid today’s events made her wonder. At long range, Madam, you will not manage to withhold these occurrences from her no matter how intensely she dreads them.

X X X X X X

That evening while awaiting the maid who was to assist the dame in packing up all the things indispensable for a fortnight’s sojourn at the long unseen close friend’s residence., baroness Emma fetched out of her wardrobe’s top shelf two jewel caskets she had kept in there stored up in the very corner plenty of years ago – then began to inspect their contents. Baroness surveyed the trinkets and valuables she intended to take along with her. The larger case comprised – apart from the treasured keepsakes and souvenirs – a certain amount of jewellery Kate had consigned to her care during the turmoil of war to be stored in safety upon the lady’s coercive separation from her husband.

This gold locket for instance – she mused – set with minute pearls and diamonds containing tiny pictures of Kate, her deceased by now spouse, as well as the couple’s only daughter. The baroness felt certain that the proprietress would be overjoyed to regain possession of the tokens she must have reckoned to be irretrievable after lapse of such a long time. Besides the costly locket the azure casket also held a variety of precious articles Kate Cavery entrusted her friend with – a gold ring with the owner’s name engraved on its rim – an ornate platinum cross ornamented with a thick decorative chain – a fine – wrought open work showy bracelet embellished with turquoises. Baroness Emma gazed at her right hand finger adorned with a huge ruby stone she never parted with. It did not escape her attention that Ellen had taken great fancy to the gem. Now- all of a sudden – it struck the dame that during her stay in Manchester it would be a good idea to have an identical ring made to order for her granddaughter on the occasion of the approaching wedding – trimmed with slightly larger number of minute rubies ornamenting the mount. All these valuables presented a truly gorgeous sight when neatly arranged on the table top of the antique escritoire, which – at the moment – resembled a glass case in an exclusive jeweller’s salon. A handsome sum of ready cash hitherto hidden in the oak commode might under the circumstances prove useful too – just as the newly issued cheque book… traveller’s cheques will surely be of service… perhaps also… – from the escritoire’s bottom drawers the dame took out several other things she considered necessary and placed them next to the valuables. Utterly engrossed in ranging the precious stones she meant to put in a large purse made to special order to serve her purpose and tuck them in her bag before Anna entered the boudoir the lady failed to perceive that a rectangular fragment of the wallpaper near the oval mirror seemed to shift by a few inches and someone’s vigilant eye closely followed her every movement. The observer’s attention was riveted by magnificent sparkle of the jewellery glittering by lamplight.

No sound whatever reached the baroness’s ear when a while later the chip of brick plastered with a scrap of paper hangings concealing the tiny aperture in the wall was gingerly shoved back in its place. A small tapestry screening the crevice on the other side of the partition dropped down veiling a loose brick and a section of the wallpaper thereat torn asunder.

The observer’s countenance assumed an air of triumph and victory.

III

That was a very exhausting evening and although assisting grandmother Emma in packing up her two large trunks and – after Anna retired for the night – reviewing the impressive collection of the lady’s fashionable clothes, smart dresses and tailor – made costumes, some of them – though a bit demodé – were nevertheless still noticeable by their exceptional elegance, chic, most superb and original finery baroness Emma had always delighted in and was keen on taking along some of these sumptuous adornments appeared a thrilling experience.. Fetching out of the capacious wardrobes, various cabinets and drawers long-forgotten souvenirs, tokens of remembrance she intended to inspect once again before her departure – proved to be a task every bit as absorbing as fascinating. When eventually the clock chimed 11 p.m. however, Ellen felt overpowering fatigue sweep over her. Despite the late hour baroness Emma showed no sign of weariness, excited at the forthcoming journey she planned to undertake on the following morning. Thus – it was shortly before midnight that Ellen left her grandma’s boudoir allowing the dame to indulge in reminiscences of the past, enjoy to the full the profusion of keepsakes which for another hour or so the lady evidently had not the least intention of returning to their places and made for her own suite of rooms.

Upon entering her bedroom Ellen pressed the switch. Light didn’t shine – the apartment remained pitch – dark. She pressed the button again and again – yet to no effect. Apparently the bulb had blown. Ellen was far too tired to ring for the footman to have it replaced, the more so that at this time of night all the servants were sure to be fast asleep. This once she was compelled to content herself with one of the candles stored up in the drawer of her bedside table and a ray of sconce light sifting in from the bathroom. She quickly took a shower, put on a warm nightdress and, having extinguished the candle, slipped into bed.

She slowly began to sink into a deep sleep. In the stillness of inky-black moonless night she dimly heard branches of a patulous tree growing within reach of the edifice, tossed by gusts of wind strike against the window embrasure.

The first soft touch of a stranger’s palm on her shoulder didn’t wake her. It wasn’t until someone’s powerful arm forcibly attempted to thrust her own long hair into her mouth that she awoke and opened her eyes in horror. She tried to turn her head in order to take a look at the undesirable intruder to make sure who it was when the white clad figure with all her might dug its fingers into the girl’s neck endeavouring to strangle her, then rammed her into the down pillow so hard that the girl could neither stir nor respire, unable to take breath. Ellen began to weaken, vainly struggling to detach bony hands from her neck. All at once the assailant slackened his grip as if startled by a loud rumble that now resounded in one of the rooms on the floor above. A moment later the door of a big built – in wardrobe fitted in the corner of her bedroom, hitherto standing ajar, banged. Ellen slipped off the four – poster and dazedly staggered towards the suite’s door debauching into the corridor. Before she managed to reach the handle, though, someone’s strong palm smeared with soot or black grease shot out from behind her head and covered her mouth almost suffocating her, dragging her again into the very back of the room. Terror that seized Ellen unexpectedly infused new strength into her. She sank her teeth into the aggressor’s fingers. The latter uttered a hiss of pain and withdrew his arm. Ellen dropped to her knees and started screaming at the top of her voice calling for help. A minute later the countess hastened up to her daughter’s apartment and opened the door wide. Light from the corridor fell into Ellen’s bedroom illuminating the frightened girl still reclining on the parquet floor. The countess leaned over her, exceedingly worried.

— What’s the matter, Ellen. Did you have a bad dream?

She pressed the switch – to no avail. Then on the bedside table she noticed the extinguished candle and lit it. Gasping for breath Ellen indicated the wardrobe – still standing ajar..

— I saw… a black hand… over there… someone tried to strangle me…

— A hand? What are you talking about, Ellen? There’s nobody in here besides us.

— But only a moment ago… there was someone – seemed to have sneaked out of the wardrobe. He gave me such horrible fright – she whined tearfully.

The countess, aided by Robert who upon hearing Ellen’s screams rushed into her bedroom an instant later lifted the girl from the floor and helped her to sit on the edge of the bed, trying to soothe her.

— Oh, no, mother! No! – exploded Ellen. I will not stay in this apartment any longer! Not for the world! Don’t make me! I’m scared!

— It’s all right now, dear. – The countess embraced her daughter. – tell me exactly what happened.

— I have already told you. Someone must have hidden himself in that wardrobe while I was at grandma’s boudoir, then – when I returned to my suite and was just falling asleep – he attacked me.

— I had better check that piece of furniture – resolved Robert throwing open the wardrobe’s both leaves. He paid no heed to the clothes hanging on its either side but narrowly scanned those in the very middle – then passed his hand across the stick’s both walls. At first glance the wardrobe did not seem to disguise anything alarming or out of the ordinary, surely no stranger was lurking behind the smart garments. However, the instant Robert grazed the back wall and then, after momentary vacillation gave it a strong push – the panel, as if propelled by means of some invisible spring, emitting a strident creak, yielded and shifted rearwards exposing to view a dark, narrow and musty stone passage giving access to a gloomy, somewhat more extensive tunnel.

Ellen uttered an involuntary cry terrified out of her wits. Both the countess and baroness Emma who had just entered her granddaughter’s apartment were petrified by the sight.

Robert, who as a rule was always ready for the unexpected proved the first to regain his composure.

— Is this some secret passageway? – he inquired.

— I wish I knew it. – the countess quavered out. – I have never seen that tunnel before nor even suspected a camouflaged passage was at all in existence in this wing of the building.

— Am I to understand that you don’t know where exactly the tunnel leads and how far it runs? Could you at least tell me whether movable walls and such secret corridors as this one have been constructed in other parts of the castle as well? Is there any intercommunication between them?

— Frankly speaking I… we… my husband and I, or our relations… hardly ever frequented those uninhabited chambers. 300 years ago the entire opposite wing used to house apartments of Esterina and her spouse, – including a grand banqueting hall, sumptuous ball-rooms and parlours. Yet no intercommunication has ever been mentioned between the few concealed passages I’ve been informed of.

— If that is the case I think it imperative to check what that corridor hides – decided Robert.

— Don’t enter that tunnel! – cried Ellen. – Someone may be skulking in there and make an attempt on your life, too!

— I have never feared any kind of apparitions, still less somebody who pretends to be one. Stay put with your mother. The only thing I might require at the moment is one of your candles and a box of matches.

— If you allow me, sir – I’ll keep you company, – that is, if you wish me to. – volunteered Henry who for the past few minutes had been standing in the doorway, listening to the heated conversation. The offer sprang a surprise on Robert, yet – at heart – the squire was glad Henry made it. Although timorousness was a trait lord Danvall could under no circumstances be charged with – quite the reverse in fact – the prospect of roaming murky winding passage all by himself was -to tell the truth – none too encouraging.. Henry – unfailing, steadfast butler, always on the alert, turned up at the proper moment, a coil of thick rope flung over his arm – to lend his master a helping hand.

— Oh, good. That’s awfully thoughtful of you. A torch might also be of service…

— I’ve brought two, milord. The closet I keep in my room is crammed with essential tools that may prove useful in case of a contingency. In this castle you never know what is likely to crop up the very next moment. Therefore, when I heard the screams…

— Excellent. You’re a pretty far-sighted person as I see. Let’s get a moving, then.

Fusty air enveloped the pursuers as they worked their way through the aperture in the wardrobe into the tunnel. All its walls, ceiling and floor were made of solid stone slabs.

— What made you equip yourself with the rope, Henry?

— It may stand us in good stead, sir. In this maze of sinuous tunnels one never can tell what sorts of obstacles he is apt to meet with.

— Are you referring to the black hand Ellen mentioned?

— Exactly. Do you really believe, sir, that it… was… one of them?

— You mean the spectre haunting the picture gallery? Or some other apparition roving the edifice? I think not.

— Well, sir. If no spectre is to blame for that outrageous assault I really can’t imagine what madman could have taken it into his head to commit that monstrosity.

— Unlike you – said Robert earnestly – I guess I know whose doing it was, moreover I firmly believe that this once no phantom can be charged with the onslaught. The aggressor was a living person.

— Are you implying that one of the manor’s inhabitants lay an ambush for Miss Ellen? In order to… oh, no, milord, no – you can’t be serious. I have lived in this environment since boyhood and I assure you that nobody I know would ever have attempted… no, sir, such an eventuality is rank unthinkable, out of the question. You must be mistaken.

— It’s rather unusual for ghosts to leave traces or finger-marks. Didn’t you notice black stains and smudges resembling coal dust on Ellen’s nightdress and face?

— So I did, sir, however I still can’t comprehend how…

— The point is that lots of Ellen’s clothes in the wardrobe were soiled with identical stains but only those hanging in the very middle, that’s why it occurred to me to try the back wall. Besides – you must have noticed similar smudges running all along the forepart of this passage, over a section of a couple of yards – only, to stop abruptly further off as if someone grazed the stone slabs upon bolting from Ellen’s room. In the latter part of the tunnel those black stains were no longer visible.

— I have always disbelieved rumours claiming that this passage really existed. – Henry muttered under his breath. – I reckoned that servants who gossiped about it were just giving reins to their vivid imagination.

— You disbelieved…! Then after all you have been informed of its existence and never breathed a word about it!

Henry looked extremely confused and abashed.

— Well, – actually – I never gave credence to those stories – he faltered. – most of them rang utterly incredible. Honestly speaking it was my grandfather who first mentioned this tunnel to me. He had been in count Albert Loretti’s employ throughout his lifetime – since the age of sixteen – thus it stands to reason that plenty of reports and gossips, as is but natural, – did come to his ears. According to what his father – i.e. – my great-grandfather had told him, in those times it was rumoured that the camouflaged tunnel served as a hide – out for certain persons – refugees as I gather – who palled with the master of the castle… but – as far as I’m concerned, I regarded all these accounts as just a pack of lies, – the more so that whenever I questioned my grandfather about the precise site of the passage he was pretty vague on the subject. Besides, – it never occurred to me that, – provided the station of this sort really existed – it might be situated that close to Ellen’s apartment.

— Well, – it practically adjoins her bedroom. Nonetheless – if this maze did indeed disguise a hiding-place sheltering refuges these walls must be concealing some other unexplored chambers or secret passages leading to a number of different halls. After all those refugees can’t have vegetated in such wretched conditions for days or weeks together – on top of that in this Cimmerian darkness, shivering with could in the chilly tunnel.

— I don’t remember my grandpa ever mention any other concealed chambers or passages, milord.

All right, then. We’d better check in detail the lobby’s section within our reach.

Strong beam of torchlight shone on the rough slabs. To Robert’s enormous disappointment, however, the wall appeared to constitute a compact, serried block, which, despite narrow scrutiny conducted, never exposed so much as a tiniest chink. The rugged surface couldn’ t possibly screen any secret passage..

— I wish you had paid more attention to your grandfather’s stories, Henry.-

I wish I had, sir. – but as I said – in those days I just didn’t take them seriously. I spent most of my spare time playing football or tennis with my school mates rather than lending an ear to legends.

— Oh, no – could this be the extremity of the corridor? – muttered Robert incredulously stopping short a few paces away from the far removed boundary of the passageway terminated with a blind wall. – and yet – if this is really where the corridor ends where the devil did Ellen’s assailant disappear? Throughout the length of the tunnel we scanned on our way up here there were no recesses, no ramifications, let alone passages other than this one which might shelter the rascal. That conjecture seems most unlikely.

Henry made no reply – in equal degree astounded by the unfortunate hindrance as his master.. Robert had not the slightest intention of abandoning his quest, though. He palpated the icy stone slabs trying his best to feel a single gap, however minute it might be, or a loose brick which had oft-times been fitted in ancient edifices such as this, and although with unaided eye no crevices could be seen, all at once, as he fingered the surface, a fragment of the massive block budged, then retreated deep into the wall exhibiting yet another obscure corridor, a bit broader than the previous one. -stretching for about five yards or so – leading up to a steep declivitous flight of stairs. While examining it inch by inch both men realized that the division of the passage they had just entered gave access to a network of underground tunnels discernible at the foot of the staircase and which – even from this distance – resembled a Minotaur’s maze. Should they lose their way in the vaults situated that far – down there – there was very little likelihood of anyone ever finding and extricating them from the deserted pitfall. The castle’s present proprietors – to the best of his knowledge – for fully justifiable reasons – had never yet undertaken exploration of the tunnels.

— Well, sir? How does that strike you? Do you mean to descend that staircase? Passages of this sort usually stretch down to the dungeons at times even right round the estate. Neither dynasty members nor any of the servants are acquainted with their exact layout. I don’t think anyone can be hiding there at the moment. The assailant must have made his escape through quite a different route we are totally oblivious of. I daresay he knows his way about this labyrinth to perfection.

— Since we managed to reach that remote spot we are under an obligation to check the whole tunnel throughout its length no matter how far it extends. We cannot afford to turn back now. Yet there is one thing I find intriguing – how come that such an enterprising man which you are has never ventured into any of these passages?

— Well, sir – hesitated Henry – to tell the truth – I have. More than once in fact I hazarded entering a tunnel situated in the northern wing of the castle, though I never ever risked exploring it through and through. There is a blind door in the kitchen for ages blocked up with a huge heavy cupboard opening into a small hall leading to several hitherto concealed corridors. We discovered that door one day by sheer accident. To my certain knowledge both in the present and former generations none but count Albert Loretti was conversant with the plan of the castle, of the entire building including the underground vaults, dungeons, etc. – has conned most of the data by rote, so to say. Evidently that tunnel not only encircles the castle itself but also ranges the whole of the estate. It may well take us hours on end to ransack it. Provided we don’t lose our way, that is.

— Well, on second thoughts I assume that just now there is no need to walk as far as the vaults. Without specialistic equipment we’d best limit ourselves to examining the section of the corridor ranging the foot of the staircase. Unless we track down the aggressor in that division tonight I guess there is little prospect of our capturing the man.

One of the steps they were descending was notched. The domestic, – having failed to discern the gap – missed his footing and staggered, almost losing his balance.

— Watch out, Henry! – Robert quickly seized the butler by the arm to guard his companion from rolling down the precipitous flight of stairs.

— Oh, thank you so much your lordship. That was a near thing.

— You had better give me this coil of rope and hold on to the handrail.

Two minutes later the men, picking their way, reached the landing. A short distance off, several yards away from where they stood came into view yet another passage, far narrower than the previous one, rather sinuous, exhibiting numerous nooks and recesses perceptible on either side of the tunnel.

— Judging by the fragment of the castle plan count Albert once showed me this part of the corridor leads straight to the dungeons. I’m sure of that, sir.

The butler seemed to be right. Some of the cells were still grated, with very thick, at present rust-eaten bars. As the men started working their way through the depth of the tunnel the dreary prison cells were becoming more and more plentiful.

— There are still some remnants of rotten straw in that ward over here, presumably serving unfortunate convicts as a sort of bed. – whispered Henry apparently dispirited by the mournful ambience of the passage. – Can you see that cell, sir?

He hastened forward outpacing Robert so as to ascertain what could be found inside the grated ward when the floor he strode along quaked One of the stone slabs he trod on yielded under his foot, then caved in, revealing a deep pit The butler, dropping his torch on the slabs, vanished from Robert’s view. The man’s ear-piercing shriek resounded from within the black abyss and died away.

— Henry! Where are you?

Lord Robert Danvall played keen beam of torchlight into the fathomless, as it seemed, cavern. The domestic was reclining in the very corner of a squalid dungeon-on chilly, damp ground, a bit dazed by the fall.

— Are you all right, Henry?

— I think I have sprained my arm. I hope it’s not fractured. – the butler replied hoarsely.

— I’ll toss you the rope. Do you feel equal to catching hold of it?

— I’ll have to.

Robert unwound the coil and having tied a loop large enough for Henry to slip it over his shoulders he lowered it into the dungeon trying hard to drop it as close as possible to the spot where his companion was sitting massaging the sore arm. To his disappointment though the manoeuvre proved unsuccessful. – the loop landed in the farthermost, darkest part of the cell.

— Well, comrade, did you find it? – inquired Danvall illuminating the dingy cavern with his torch.

— Just a moment, sir. I’m looking for it.

A second later from the obscure depths reverberated the man’s shrill loud scream.

— There is someone in here, sir! Someone is lying on the floor! Very close to me!

Robert shone the beam of torchlight into the opposite corner of the dungeon. The cell was so deep that the ray of light could barely penetrate to the very bottom of it nonetheless the scene that presented itself to his eyes made his blood run cold.

Reposing on the damp ground reclined a skeleton, a white human skeleton whose hands had been lashed together with – mouldered at present – fetters, – the skeleton itself dressed in an equally decayed, formerly stylish attire of the epoch. Both extremities of the thick, solid resistant chain girdling the victim’s waist were firmly stably secured, – embedded in the section of the wall high above his head.

Robert felt uncomfortable. The upshot of his quest turned out to be altogether unforeseen. The ghastly scene that had so abruptly burst upon his sight was the very last thing he had expected. He had been hopeful to track down Ellen’s aggressor in one of the recesses of the tunnel and would sooner have anticipated a ruthless dogged fight, anything but that chance discovery of some stranger’s mortal remains in an abandoned dungeon. For a long while both men were totally speechless, unable to utter a word.

— Henry, grab the rope and climb up this instant, – commanded Robert when he finally managed to collect himself.

The butler did not need to be repeated the order. He averted his gaze from the shackled victim, slipped the loop over his head down to his shoulders and clutching the rope with both hands he looked round to cast yet another glance at the skeleton. All at once he stopped, rooted to the spot, fixing his eyes on the remains.

— What’s the matter? – asked Robert growing impatient. – why don’t you come out of that cell? make haste!

Henry still kept peering at the ill – starred fellow.

— Milord… this skeleton… I guess it is… yes, I’m sure of that!

— What are you talking about?

— This imprisoned man – he is… I mean… he was… one of your ancestors. Now I come to think of it… yes I’m positive… that prisoner… it is baron Benucci…

— That’s nonsense! Benucci went missing without a trace on his return journey to Italy.

— Such was the prevalent opinion but it seems to have been fallacious. These are baron’s mortal remains, I’m sure.

— You must be mistaken. How could he possibly land in this gruesome ward?

— But this corpse is wearing baron’s signet-ring – argued the butler – exactly the same ring as the one painted on his portrait. Sir – let me have my torch so that I can take a good look at it.

The torch lay close by, on the stone slabs where Henry had dropped it prior to his tumble – fortunately still in working order. Robert gingerly lowered it into the butler’s outstretched hand. This time the latter had no problem catching hold of it. Leaning forward he illuminated the corpse.

— Sir, there are some initials engraved on the signet’s circle. It can’t be a pure coincidence. The jewel is identical… besides under the ruff I can see a ruby brooch. One day countess Loretti read us some excerpts from the family chronicle dating back to those times. One of them gave a detailed description of a certain ruby brooch the baron had been conferred in token of gratitude for some secret favour he had rendered the king, and, judging by the account quoted in the chronicle Benucci greatly treasured the jewel – -never parted with it. These two facts alone serve to show that the corpse imprisoned in here had once been baron Benucci… sir… wavered the domestic -….. perhaps… it would be advisable to remove that ring from the… bone… and submit it for the countess’s inspection? I presume that under the circumstances the lady is the only person entitled to appraise the jewel and pass her judgement on it.

— That’s a good idea, I suppose. Also, if your assumptions are well-founded and that poor soul in reality was at one time baron Benucci we must not leave his skeleton behind in this damp place. We will have to return to the dungeon tomorrow, excavate these remains then arrange for a punctilious formal burial worthy of his rank.

Henry knelt down beside his master’s ancestor and, taking the utmost care, began to pull off the signet-ring. Unhappily the moment he involuntarily happened to brush baron’s finger the latter stirred and toppled over to his side shattering into fragments. The butler sprang to his feet and dashed aside clutching the signet in his palm, then tucked the gem together with the torch into his pocket and started climbing the rope with lightning speed despite shooting pain in the injured arm.

— What horrible death fate ordained the forbear to die. – he remarked sadly as, with Robert’s aid, he struggled out of the dingy cell, finally setting foot on the stone floor by lord Danvall’s side, unable to take his gaze away from the reliquae of the man who had once been reckoned among the most illustrious of the dynasty. Nothing but shreds of the formerly elegant attire -now hanging in tatters- remained of him. From underneath the frayed ruff only the ruby brooch glittered.

— Ashes to ashes, dust to dust-whispered the domestic.

— He was buried alive in this cave four centuries ago. – said Robert. – Died of thirst and starvation I believe. Can you see – he illuminated the murky bottom of the cell – he wasn’t even supplied with a water vessel.

— I can’t help wondering which of his acquaintances breathed such uncommon intransigence and hatred intense enough to mercilessly cast the victim into the underground ward thus condemning him to inevitable death. – meditated Henry.

— You mean you’ve really been unaware of this savagery? After all various rumours in this connection must have been whispered over the years and since you or rather your relatives have resided in this mansion for generations…

— True enough, sir. – admitted the butler unwillingly. – local inhabitants do spread tales, – however, as regards baron Benucci’s ordeal no gossips whatever have circulated and, apart from a short excerpt comprised in the Lorettis’ chronicle no further concrete facts have ever been disclosed.

X X X X X X

On reflection baroness Emma decided against calling for a taxi. – Ignoring her family’s misgivings she resolved to take the wheel herself. Just after 4 a.m. she tiptoed into Esther’s apartment on the sly – so as not to wake her – to turn off the alarm-clock her daughter-in-law had set intending to see her off to the railway station, thus ascertaining that its ringing would not disturb restless sleep the lady had sunken into while awaiting Robert’s and Henry’s return from the hidden tunnel, then, before leaving – made sure that her granddaughter was absolutely safe and sound after yesterday’s nasty adventure and would surely suffer no harm. Last night, as soon as Ellen had left her boudoir, she ordered one of the footmen to put her luggage into the boot without anyone’s knowledge, therefore right now she only needed to drive the car out of the garage. On her bedside table the baroness had left a message requesting her daughter-in-law to collect the car from the station later that day.

Preoccupied with unlocking the garage door the dame failed to perceive a slim skulking figure who had meanwhile sneaked out of the house in her wake, stealthily slipped along the wall of the building and ambushed behind a clump of shrubbery growing in the proximity of the garage – thus keeping out of sight and waiting for the lady to leave the car for a short moment in order to lock the garage door…

It was 5 a.m. sharp-ascertained the baroness as she glanced at her watch upon returning to the conveyance and starting the engine. Journey to the station would take about twenty minutes. Long high-road meandered among hills and hillocks and although it’s been ages since the lady had last taken the steering wheel she still appeared to be a proficient driver. She leaned comfortably against the back of the seat and with one hand opened fair-sized leather bag she had placed close by, then touched the azure jewel box stuffed deep inside it, at the very bottom.

The dame had already covered the greater part of the distance on her way to the station when all at once she felt a soft stroke graze against her hair and a second later two strong hands tightened around her neck. In the rear-view mirror she caught a glimpse of someone’s blurred features reflected in the glass. There was something very familiar about the countenance and at first the lady seemed to recognize it, it but before she got an opportunity to take a good look at the person the assailant’s fingers clenched still harder, strangling her. The baroness, unable to respire, gasping for breath, unsuccessfully trying to repulse the attack and fight off the aggressor, exerted all her strength – made a desperate effort to defend herself, digging her nails into the assailant’s palm, jerking at his wrists, attempting to wrench herself free from his grasp. Her foot unwittingly pressed the accelerator sending the vehicle scorching down the road at top speed, passed by inches a big tree that suddenly emerged from the gloom, then – gathering momentum, miraculously escaped crashing into a roadside boulder…

X X X X X X

— I can hardly believe your story! It sounds utterly incredible!

— And yet such are bare facts, Madam. I saw Benucci’s remains with my own eyes. So did Henry. – stated Robert Danvall when reporting to Esther Loretti results of the quest conducted in the vaults that night. – I confess that at the outset I myself was also at a loss what view to form of the matter. The upshot of our night-long search sprang a complete surprise on me. In my estimation however the signet-ring Henry happened to discover gives the significant proof of the fact. The jewel bears Benucci’s initials engraved on the rim. Moreover, the ruby brooch the victim wore should also be taken into consideration. Who could have perpetrated that crime? I wonder. Judging from the data comprised in the family chronicles, rare letters the man sent his relatives, documents which are in our possession – we had grounds to presume Benucci to be the only resident of the estate.

— This is precisely what the entire clan firmly believed – admitted the countess.

— However in the light of the latest findings – pondered lord Danvall – all those reports and statements turned out to be unsound and misleading. We appear to have been deliberately misinformed. The compiled evidence clearly indicates that baron had a companion sharing this place together with him, whose identity for motives unknown to us he would not reveal, likewise – some mortal enemy or enemies we are unaware of As things are I’ve now come to the conclusion that that was the case. Otherwise he would never have been jailed in that God-forsaken den, condemned to meet a cruel death in atrocious conditions, deserted by everyone.

— This affair is simply ghastly! Past all belief! – observed the countess exceedingly shocked while closely following the account Robert, accompanied by the faithful butler, gave her on entering the lady’s boudoir about 5.30 that morning just after baroness Emma’s furtive, unattended journey to the nearby station, which stealthy departure the countess, much to her regret, became aware of the moment Robert appeared at her apartment in order to relate the outcome of the quest effected in the recesses of the trappy tunnels and desolate dreary basements. The man’s astounding lengthy report totally threw Esther Loretti off her balance. Very agitated she nervously paced up and down the boudoir, too upset to take a seat even for one instant.

— Why, that poor wretch has lain in the dungeon hopeless, forlorn, wholly abandoned for so many years and nobody had the faintest idea of the tragic end he had met with. None of my relatives had any inkling such vileness had ever taken place.

— None but just one person knew what had befallen baron Marco – Henry cut in – none save for the blackguard who chained the gentlemen down then imprisoned him in that shabby cell. It must have been an exceptionally ill – natured villain – a rascal wicked to the core!

— A rascal? – echoed the countess. – some man, you mean? Possibly. Still, the person who had the victim jailed, whereupon either executed or left alone in the lurch might well have been an embittered, unforgiving woman whose fierce rancour he could have unwittingly provoked. Supposing that – contrary to the foregoing assumptions – you are not far wrong in surmising that Benucci was not the only tenant of the castle. Had he at least formed a habit of giving balls, parties, holding soirees, which at the time was social conventions dictate strictly observed in the epoch, had he entertained celebrities, writers, poets…

— Alas, for all I know he had not entered into any important contacts with personages of artistic, literary or political circles. – grumbled Robert. – I have made a thorough study of his biography, examined in detail both the established data and gossips concerning the fellow, read scarce letters the man had sent his relatives upon fleeing Italy – unfortunately no source of information available to me communicated whatever vital particulars bearing on this questionable issue, nothing besides an extremely snatchy picture of the style of life Benucci used to lead in exile.

— And yet he had enemies – insisted Henry – or at least one mortal foe.

— That’s true – mused Robert – but how can we possibly find out whose anger the man incurred, which of his opponents appeared to be irreconcilable enough to put him to death? Who – apart from his closest kinsmen – did he keep in touch with over those twenty years? His guardedly worded letters give no clue whatever to these issues. Worse still, to his folks’ amazement baron would not allow any of his relatives to pay him a visit in England. Moreover – all of them were strictly enjoined to keep his whereabouts secret, which measure, considering the sorry plight he was envisaged with was fully justified. – Danvall paused for a moment endeavouring to recollect some further particulars regarding his ancestor’s life-history when all of a sudden a certain idea dawned upon him.

— Madam, isn’t it the statuette of Benucci that is knocked over every single night?

— I think not. That figurine represents colonel Cardan.

— Were both men connected with each other in any way? Perhaps they had mutual friends or were engaged in some kind of business venture? – suggested Robert Danvall.

— Not that I know of… no such rumours have come to your ears, either, or have they, Henry? – the lady consulted her butler who shook his head. – Although – she continued – I admit they do bear a certain resemblance to each other which is pretty noticeable when contemplating their portraits as if Cardan and Benucci had been at least distantly related Yet, under the circumstances I don’t think such far-fetched interpretation is at all plausible.

— Rather unlikely. – agreed Robert – however – he added hesitantly – when I come to consider the matter, the pros and cons… well, I fear we stand no chance of ever solving that enigma.

— The persecutor – provided we can so term the spectre- evincing such tearing intense animosity against his victim, – enmity inducing him to keep tormenting Cardan’s statuette every night as though designing to wreak his vengeance or settle old scores with the nobleman is – I hate to admit it – none other than my forbear Enrico Loretti – remarked the countess sullenly. – I’m afraid that the oppressor’s attitude towards that unfortunate figurine does indeed look like revenge from beyond the grave. I can’t think on what grounds though. As far as I gather your family chronicles do not name whatever reasons for resentment Loretti might have borne against Cardan? On the other hand both of them may have been involved in some shady affair.

— The data comprised in my chronicles – said Robert – indicate that Benucci started on his return journey one year before Loretti purchased this castle.

— This argument in no wise vindicates the count’s innocence. My ancestor harboured unspeakable hatred and abomination of Marco Benucci. That hostility seems to be so extraordinarily deep-rooted and powerful that it obviously survived several centuries, and still is as firm as ever. By the way, what do your annals state as regards Enrico’s biography?

— Nothing much – sighted Robert resignedly. – He bought the castle from the former landowner in 1641., then- two years later – he took in marriage Harriet Morbury – his distant cousin. Had two children by her – Elizabeth and Harold. His daughter died at the age of four. His life-sketch sheds no light whatever on the matter in question.

— And what about the assailant who lay an ambush in Ellen’s room? From your words I understand you were unsuccessful in tracking him down?

— I’m afraid so. He disappeared, vanished into thin air. The tunnel may house camouflaged entrances to some other secret passages that are excellently screened from sight – our sight-while the aggressor, apparently well acquainted with the premises is familiar with all the nooks and crannies of the building therefore had no difficulty in evading pursuit And what about Ellen? Has she recovered from that tremendous shock the attack gave her?

— Oh, yes, she has. Luckily. I did my best to reassure her, make her regain her composure. I accommodated her in a different bedroom situated next to mine. The walls of that apartment are constructed of solid stone and brick – surely no secret passage adjoins it. I administered her a tranquillizer and I hope that she will soon forget the nasty experience.

X X X X X X

On the following morning Robert woke up just before dawn and, resolved to take a lonely stroll so as to familiarize himself with the neighbourhood on his own hook. The entire household was still fast asleep. Slight frost which last night blighted most plans now remitted. The day was breaking.

Robert sauntered along the narrow path, lost in thought, pondering on the incidents that had taken place the other evening, heedless of the direction he was steering for, when all at once he came to a dead stop, realizing he was standing outside the gate of the cemetery he had visited in Ellen’s company only a couple of days before. He felt a bit astounded. It had definitely not been his intention to revisit the graveyard or tombs this morning, especially at such an early hour, nevertheless, sunken deep in reverie, he had bent his steps towards quite a different spot than he had initially planned. Through the grating of half-open gateway he perceived some of the tombstones with names, dates of births and deaths engraved on them, occasionally photographs of the deceased fixed to the monuments. Some of the departed died very young. Just then it struck him that during his previous visit to this place he had not called on all Lorettis’ tombs due to rapidly falling dusk and also missed the opportunity to see the monument of the renowned baroness Esterina, the illustrious lady whose life-sketch Ellen had depicted to him many times.. To the best of his recollection the tomb was situated in the eastern part of the graveyard. Robert crossed the gate and following the path ranging the cemetery wall headed for that sector.

Most sepulchral slabs were in perfect condition, lanes around them tidied up, scavenged, several monuments displayed wreaths of various sizes, whereas others, overgrown with weed, grimy, gave the impression of being thoroughly neglected, barely perceptible amidst rampant grass blades. Long-forgotten, desolate, seemed to have been consigned into oblivion by their relatives. Robert tripped over something hard and, losing his balance, fell down hurting his elbow against the sharp edge of a marble tombstone tearing a hole in the sleeve of his leather jacket. The fall was so painful that for a moment it took his breath away. As soon as the pang ceased a little Robert shoved aside a tuft of exuberant grass he had collapsed on. The rumpled tussock shielded a small tomb faced with tessellated granite blocks. Narrow grooves between respective plates were weed-chocked. Letters carved out on the centre slab were plastered with dry foliage and mud – upon clearing a section of the granite surface of dirt he succeeded in deciphering the name of the person committed to the earth over here. “Elizabeth Lore… born 12 December 1645… died…” Therefore that was the very sepulchre of the prematurely deceased daughter of the former lord of the castle! But why so pitilessly abandoned and forgotten? Suddenly it flashed on the man that the grave of Enrico Loretti’s son should be close by too, in the vicinity of his sister’s. But it wasn’t. Despite unavailing meticulous search conducted at the burial ground amongst a dozen or so monuments Robert failed to discover it. The tomb of the only son of count Enrico Loretti was nowhere to be found.

It was almost 9 o’clock. High time to return to the castle. Danvall was certain everyone was already down – taking seats at the huge table in the dining-room and might be alarmed at his non-attendance. Deciding to take a short-cut he made for the path ranging the wall in order to leave the cemetery through the opposite gate opening into a high-road leading straight to the rear entrance of the mansion. Robert was already half-way across the terrain when a muffled, plaintive cry coming from a nearby lane reached his ears. Puzzled, he stopped and looked round but didn’t notice anyone. He resumed his route only to halt again the very next moment. This time he felt sure he had heard a few words uttered in hardly audible tone but from the spot where he stood he was unable to differentiate them. He strained his eyes surveying individual graves separately. Finally, some distance off, he discerned a lonely figure crouching at the foot of one of the tombstones. At a slow pace he began to advance in that direction wondering who he was likely to meet there. For all he knew it was rather unusual for local inhabitants to call at the churchyard at this untimely hour. As he approached he contemplated somewhat intrigued the stranger squatted at the foot of the vault. For several long-drawn minutes the motionless figure remained absolutely still and silent beside the grave staring at the dates carved on the marble tombstone. Lost in thought she was entirely unaware of Danvall’s arrival. It wasn’t until Robert covered a span of another couple of yards and was a few steps away from the early comer that he eventually recognized her. Oh, yes, that was to be expected. The daily visitor – who had made a point of frequenting the graveyard every single morning – turned up at her post again.

The squire stopped short observing with increasing amazement the girl’s peculiar behaviour. A while ago, as he was drawing near he heard her utter a loud scream and fly into a rage. Then all at once she became quiet, whereupon, after a pause, totally oblivious of the surroundings she went into a tantrum again, – having flung herself on the tomb’s marble slab began thumping at it with both fists, yelling at the top of her voice, breaking off only occasionally – when she got tired and was out of breath.

— Help me! – she shrieked to someone invisible. – you can’t let me down! Don’t you understand it? You must! – her voice quavered and she was seized with a fit of convulsive sobbing. Unexpectedly she grew quiet and, gazing at the baroness’s miniature fixed onto the monument, she spoke in a much gentler tone.

— I’ve got to procure it at any price. You know that perfectly well. I want to have it for my own. It should become my property. Exclusively mine. – she fell silent for a second-then- panting – gazed steadfastly at the baroness’s portrait as if awaiting the lady’s reply.

— I’ll be coming here every day until you change your mind and transfer it to me. – she continued. – Give me some sort of sign that you consent to grant my request! You mustn’t keep me waiting for perpetuity! – she cried out angrily. Frantic with fury she once more started pommelling at the tombstone with all her might. Robert lunged forward and caught hold of her both hands, lifting her from the ground.

— Angie, for goodness’ sake, what has come over you?

— Let me go! – vociferated Angela as though flayed, and began to wrench herself free from his grasp. Her eyes flashed fire although she showed no hint of fear or surprise at the unforeseen encounter. For a moment her gaze was expressive of frenzy, then she controlled herself.

— It’s just me, Angie. – said Robert calmly. – Didn’t you see me approach?

The girl darted at the squire a piercing glance, her eyes glinted with anger and malevolence for disturbing her daily morning ritual. Whitened fists were still strongly clenched – on some of the fingers dark stains resembling vestige of soot or drawing ink were noticeable as if she had soiled her hands with smoke-black or perhaps-clods of earth. The sight of black substance called forth a certain association involuntarily reminding the man of the latest incidents. A vague suspicion flashed through his head only to be dismissed the very next instant as pure absurd.

— Have you been digging the graveyard with your palms? They are awfully dirty – inquired lord Danvall looking at his companion’s smudged fingers, unwittingly squeezing them with great power as she kept tearing her hands out.

— You’re hurting me. – hissed Angie wresting away her left palm.

— Oh, I’m so sorry. – Robert released hold of the girl’s fingers. The lass quickly tucked both arms under her cloak watching the squire inimically.

— I saw you sitting over here when I was already on my way back home. What made you come to this place so early in the morning? – asked the man with feigned indifference pretending to be unacquainted with the reason for her everyday calls.

— And you? – Angie glared at him.

— Me? Oh, well. I woke up at dawn and thought it a good idea to take a stroll before breakfast. So did you, I suppose?

— I fetched a bunch of flowers for baroness Esterina.

— Is this her monument?

— It is. – the girl rejoined briefly, obviously adamantly disinclined to maintain the conversation. Robert squinted at her somewhat amused, then took a look at the tomb. It was made of beige marble stabs surrounded with variegated flowers planted all around it. In the middle of the plaque lay a crimson-yellow chaplet. A nosegay of roses Angie had brought from the castle’s green-house stood in a vase placed in the top corner of the grave. The tombstone was immaculate, in far better condition than the neighbouring ones and plenty of others the squire had seen on his way over here.

— Is it you who took it on yourself to tend this grave? I mean during summer holidays and each vacation which, as I’ve been told, you always spend in these parts?

Angie nodded her head.

— That’s very considerate of you. – remarked Robert.

She made no response.

— Baroness died quite young. – added Danvall reading the epitaph incised on the monument.

— Such was the decree of fate. – Angie rejoined sadly.

— I’ve heard she wasn’t happily married.

— Oh, no, that’s a downright lie! – exclaimed the girl resentfully. – who made bold to spread these rank aspersions? Baroness’s life shaped pretty successfully, all her dreams came true… I mean – she wavered fumbling for words. – In the beginning, over the first stage of her marriage. It wasn’t until years later that things got complicated, took an unfavourable turn and Esterina was forced to wrestle with adversities of fortune.

— How do you know that? – asked the man intrigued.

— So has the tale circulated by most relatives. – asserted Angie.

— You seen to have been well-informed as regards Esterina’s life.

— The entire neighbourhood is acquainted with the affair, included in some castle members’ biographies. To be honest – for many reasons baroness makes me envious. – she exploded.

— Is that so? Why? – asked Robert in astonishment.

— I haven’t the ghost of a chance to parallel her. – confessed Angela sincerely. – I wish I could but I’m aware I’ll never be able to. Least of all as regards comeliness. She is superior to me in respect of good looks, isn’t she? For one thing I’m not as beautiful as she was, am I?

She whipped round to face Robert and cast him a defiant glance, Lord Danvall, completely taken aback by her reaction and unanticipated poser given in a rather acrimonious tone contemplated the girl’s countenance for a moment. Her features were fine and regular. Long auburn wavy hair flowing down on her shoulders matched the grey-green tint of her large eyes.

— You seem to underrate your beauty. In my opinion you are lovely, only perhaps a bit too pale. Your complexion is almost waxen, as if you scarcely ever took air. I guess you should spend more time out of doors, riding on horseback or playing tennis just like Ellen does. Follow her example instead of staying at home most of the day.

— I don’t usually spend that much time indoors – only in winter, when the weather is frosty. Besides – as for winter mornings – provided of course that I spend weekend at the estate – airing I take every day when crossing the moorland and hummocks on my way to the cemetery is quite sufficient for me – Angela snorted irascibly – anyway we’ve got to go back home. It’s past 9 o’clock. Everyone must have already gathered in the dining-room at breakfast by now. Auntie will be worried if we come late.

IV

Night set in. Outside the thick walls of the castle reigned dead silence undisturbed even by dogs’ barking or nocturnal birds’ warble. Within doors, however, someone still kept vigil although it was long past midnight. In one of the windows in the northern wing wan light glimmered then died out instantly. A tall silhouette of a dignified lady wearing a celadon ankle-length silk gown came into view. The lady tripped along murky corridor, passed a number of spacious chambers, eventually – quite noiselessly, sneaked into Ellen’s apartment. Current of cold air whiffed into the bedroom. Heavy curtains in the window swayed and parted. The refined lady ambled up to the foot of the four-poster and lingered there, watching the slumbering girl. The latter, subconsciously sensing the visitor’s steadfast gaze stirred restlessly and instantly woke up catching sight of the stranger. As though spell-bound she stared at the long raven black curls reaching down to the caller’s waist, pallid face, elegant silk dress adorned with multitude of laces discernible in the light of the dimmed salt-lamp. The lady stood there motionless, looking at Ellen with enormous sorrowful eyes. In one of the farthermost chambers a clock resounded striking 1 a.m. Startled by the sound the lady budged and took a step forward, clearly purposed to approach Ellen, but the dazed girl hastily recoiled and, overcome with panic, clung to the bedhead muffling herself up with the eiderdown as if this move could possibly guard her against entering into contact with the phantom.

The black-haired lady, perceiving her companion’s apprehension halted and wavered, then, evidently changing her mind, turned round and – as noiselessly as she had walked in – left the apartment, crossed the corridor and began to descend the stairs. All of a tremble, her heart pounding with fear, Ellen jumped out of bed, flung a dressing gown on her shoulders then cautiously peeped into the hall. It was totally empty. Ellen ran over to her mother’s room, gave a knock at it.

— Are you still awake? May I come in? – she asked setting the door ajar.

— Certainly, dear. Oh, – I had no idea it was that late – added the dame glancing at her watch. – I was sent a gripping book yesterday and lost myself in it. But what are you doing here at this time of night? I thought you were fast asleep. Tomorrow you’re getting up early in the morning. As far as I remember you and Robert have made plenty of plans which will keep you busy whole day. You must get a good sleep.

Ellen approached the wide antique bed her mother lay in and sat on the very edge.

— Didn’t you hear her rove the halls and nearby chambers on our floor, Mum? She resumed her peregrination anew. You must have seen her too, haven’t you? This time she started roaming the part of the hall abutting on my suite, apparently made it her aim to contact me.

— Who on earth are you talking about? – asked the countess putting aside her book.

— Oh, mother, would you please stop pretending and keeping the matter dark? – said Ellen visibly annoyed. – You know perfectly well who I’m referring to… the person who wants to get in touch with me is none other than baroness Esterina herself. This once, Mother, I insist on your priming me about her – you must not dismiss the subject any longer. The more so that scarcely a minute ago she paid a call on me.

— What? Esterina came to see you? That’s impossible. What led you to believe that…

— You’re trying to dodge my question, Mother. Tonight I saw her quite clearly when she stepped into my room. Although – actually, the very first time I ever glimpsed her was a few years ago when I arrived for Christmas and stayed here whole week… but at that time – or rather – that evening when I chanced to observe her walking past my apartment I thought I was just seeing things. That manifestation lasted no longer than two or three seconds, that’s why I couldn’t tell for sure whether what I saw was real. Moreover during the week I spent here I happened to overhear snatches of conversation, some gossips I formerly used to ignore – broaching the topic of legends and rumours circulating round the neighbourhood, dealing with frequent materializations, spectres haunting the manor, strange occurrences taking place in the northern wing. It was only then that it dawned on me that all those reports are truthful and Esterina in point sof fact does haunt this place. You’ve seen her too, haven’t you?

— Well,...actually… I’ve chanced on her several times… — admitted the countess unwillingly.

— There you are! So you know what I mean – Ellen shuddered at the mere recollection of the phantom’s intrusion. – It was an awful experience. Previously, especially in childhood, I never really attached importance to these phenomena probably because they were simply above my understanding although I admit they used to fill me with awe. Furthermore, Mum, you, on each recurrence of such nasty incident, also did your best to dispel my fears, persuade me that all those sightings of weird, freakish, mostly awfully dismal individuals including frequent calls of that strange silent gentleman in the portrait gallery I happened to glimpse once or twice – never mentioned these encounters to you I suppose – ought to be ascribed to nothing but pure coincidence. Tonight, however, Mum, when quite unexpectedly I saw the baroness at close quarters I finally realized that all or at least most of the rumours regarding the problem I’ve heard so far are only too true, I just can’t…

— Things don’t look that bad, Ellen. At any rate not as tragic as you believe them to be. Esterina means no harm, trust me. Besides you should keep in mind that the castle, the whole of the estate in fact, had once been her property and it’s several centuries now since she began to manifest her presence. Both the relatives as well as most of our neighbours have already become accustomed to these occurrences.

— Have you got used to these visits too?

— Of course!

— Well, you obviously tend to take an entirely different view of the topic, having resided in this manor practically since infancy. You belong here, have never been keen on travelling – like I am – consequently even flatly declined to come and see me in London. The climate of the estate along with its old-time legends, unaccountable mysteries agrees with you, you just take it for granted whereas I, unlike you, find it absolutely unfeasible to get accustomed so readily to quotidian invasion of spectres, phantoms – whatever these things are termed. They’ve always struck me with indescribable horror.

— By the way, Ellen – are you certain the ghost you saw tonight was none other than Esterina herself? – to be quite honest – added the countess noticing bewilderment on her daughter’s face – as you very well know – the baroness is not the only phantom to haunt the premises…

— I saw her pretty distinctly. There can be no doubt as to her identity. The phantom that called on me resembled to perfection the refined lady exhibited in the 17th century portrait hanging in the picture gallery. She wore an identical richly embroidered willow-green silk dress adorned with laces, had raven-black curls reaching down to her waist. I’m positive the lady who visited me was Esterina. Only this time she didn’t limit herself to ambling the nearby corridors. Tonight she entered my apartment.

— Really? That’s incredible! – declared the countess. – For all I remember Esterina has never before called on any family member in their rooms.

— Apparently tonight she resolved to defy her set habits and paid me an unforeseen visit. What’s wrong, Mother? You look surprised. Don’t you trust me? – inquired Ellen perceiving the enigmatic glance her mother gave her.

— That’s not the point, dear. – the countess watched her daughter thoughtfully. – I can recollect but merely one occasion on which the baroness ever risked approaching a girl in her private apartment… no, don’t worry – she smiled reassuringly seeing concern in Ellen’s face, then, wishing to anticipate further questions that might be asked of her she continued.

— The baroness came to see your grandmother Emma.

— Whatever for? What did she want from grandma?

— Esterina advised her to transfer the wedding ceremony to a later date. – by one week to be precise.

— Advised? How so? Ghosts don’t talk! They are immaterial!

— Most of them are taciturn, – true. Yet Esterina is by no means an ordinary phantom and this rule surely does not apply to her. I can but venture a guess as to the motive of her recurrent visits, however, in my opinion something has evidently been preying on the lady’s mind over the past centuries, keeps running through her head even in the grave, that’s why she’s trying hard to contrive some manner in which to communicate to us the cause of her anguish. It may just as well bear on some ancient secret no relative has ever been initiated into. In those stormy days people were likely to meet with all sorts of tragedies imaginable, thus, presumably it must have been an outstanding family affair, a sense of wrong that still rankles in the lady’s heart – makes her incessantly haunt the entire estate.

— Can’t you guess what type of calamity might have been involved in this particular case?

— I hate to confess I haven’t the remotest idea. Had any intelligence whatsoever – at least partly elucidating the riddle – come meanwhile to our knowledge we would undoubtedly have devised a method in which to ease the patroness of the distress tantalizing her. Nevertheless much to my regret none of the relatives – for all the steps they had taken to this end – had ever succeeded in obtaining whatever information regarding the topic.. Even letters written two or three centuries ago, some of them pretty detailed and circumstantial -gave us no vaguest clue.

— On the other hand what makes you so confident that Esterina’s unrest is well-founded? And that there really exists some vital issue – whatever the crux may concern – she is indeed troubled by? Provided naturally that phantoms are at all able to fret themselves about anything… let alone think.

— I daresay this particular attribute is not typical of all the apparitions – stated the countess seriously. – but Esterina’s ghost comports herself exactly as she had in her lifetime, is also whispered to have manifested her presence to a large number of inmates through good many years following her death. Then – for several subsequent generations she never once put in a single appearance, thus falling into almost total oblivion. Nonetheless for the past 110 years she’s been extremely restless again, has haunted plenty of relatives who frequently arrived at at the mansion to pay us a visit, as well as, the entire staff and most of the family members, including – as I have already said – your grandmother Emma.

— But what on earth induced her to see me tonight? – me of all people. Through long years I’ve been an uncommonly rare visitor at the manor… Esterina should hold me in disregard.

— I rather think she meant to communicate to you a very important piece of news, then – on realizing what awful fright you took at the sight of her she must have thought better of it and left your apartment. You had best forget the whole thing, stop worrying and go to bed. It’s almost one o’clock.

— All the same I’m still terrified. – sighed Ellen rising from the edge of her mother’s four-poster and making for the door. She opened it and pressed the switch in the corridor to turn the light on, then looked fearfully round. To her great relief there was not a soul within sight.

— There is nothing to be scared of, dear. Especially not of Esterina. You can take my word for that. She’ll do you no harm.

Somewhat reassured Ellen returned to her apartment utterly oblivious of quite a different kind of peril she was exposed to at the moment – a wholly tangible irrational design conceived this time by a living person’

A few minutes after the light in the hall went out, in pitch-darkness dissipated only by a flickering flame- towards the young lady’s suite – holding an alight candle in one hand, screening the glimmer with the other palm so as to pass unnoticed in the gloom, carefully picking her way, tiptoed Angie. Right now she was actuated by the one and only idea-by hook or by crook she had to delay Ellen’s wedding. The girl was well aware that on the day of the ceremony the happy bride – according to the time – honoured custom – would be transferred the valuable diamond necklace which, ever since she had first set her eyes on it a year before, had been a longed – for yet altogether unattainable target for herself. Notwithstanding patently insuperable obstacles foiling her purpose the determined lass – fostering unrestrained desire to come into the possession of the jewel – was prepared to attempt the impossible to carry her scheme into effect. It never entered Angie’s head that her wanton deed would undoubtedly render her cousin miserable. In her estimation Ellen was a sweet charming maiden whose magnificent trump card was her bushy honey-golden curls which greatly added to the relative’s beauty and stood in marked contrast with enormous black eyes, heritage of Italian ancestry. If it hadn’t been for that gorgeous hair forming a halo around her cousin’s face perhaps lord Danvall wouldn’t cherish such vast affection for his fiancée and rupture the betrothal, which breach of promise would prevent the prospective bride from succeeding to the treasured family rivière – and thus the immensely coveted necklace of her dreams might eventually become her own property?

Gripping sharp scissors in her palm Angie hastened up to Ellen’s chamber and pressed the handle to open the door. Just then the flame of the candle twinkled, some imperceptible formidable power jerked the lurking girlie backwards with such stupendous vehemence that Angela staggered, almost toppling down. For a couple of seconds the flame glimmered at the very base of the candle – wick as if it was about to go out – a minute later – though – it blazed up again. Confusedly – embarrassed at having been caught in the act Angie looked about her – but there was no one within the range of vision. She concluded she must have stumbled on a ply in the carpet and once more, clutching scissors strongly in her hand she advanced in the direction of Ellen’s apartment. This time the invisible power pulled the lass away from the door so violently that Angie measured her length on the floor, dropping both the scissors and the candle which went out instantly. Simultaneously, for a short instant she felt someone’s soft palm graze against the nape of her neck which brush made her blood curdle.

— Who… who is here? – she stuttered.

She reached out and cautiously passed her hand around her and across the floor, but apart from the pair of scissors she quickly stuck into her pocket her fingers encountered nothing. At that very moment a strong waft of icy cold air – issuing from nowhere – blew on her..

— Who is in here? – repeated Angela, her voice breaking.

By way of reply she heard a whisper, pretty distinct, though so faint that it seemed to proceed from unfathomable depths.

— Let Ellen be! Don’t you dare enter that chamber! I forbid you!

— Where are you? I can’t see you! – moaned Angie.

— You are not allowed to approach the bride’s apartment! Go away! Leave this place! I command you! – the whisper sounded very clear now – on top of that proceeded from the proximity of Ellen’s chamber. Angie automatically groped for the candle she had dropped, intending to re-light it, yet her unidentified companion apparently had no difficulty in piercing Cimmerian darkness the corridor was plunged in and evidently must have perceived her gesture since the very instant Angela held out her hand for it she heard the candle start rolling speedily along the hall beyond her reach, shoved away by someone’s strong arm.

Panic-stricken, Angie instinctively uttered a loud scream. The vociferation infiltrated thick walls of the edifice bringing to the corridor some of the servants including countess Loretti herself. The dame pressed the switch fixed close by her apartment thus inundating the entire hall with flood of light-streaming from lamp brackets lining the tapestried passage. Completely stunned to see her niece kneeling on the floor in a daze, wearing merely a sateen nightdress the lady hastened up to Angela and helped her rise from the ground.

— What do you think you’re doing here, dearie, at that late hour, in this… – she eyed the girl up and down – most improper garb?

— I have no idea. – murmured Angie, too bewildered at the unforeseen interference and frustration of her meticulous plan to keep a level head.

— What’s the matter with you? Are you hurt? – asked the countess visibly exceedingly upset.

— I don’t know… I really… I feel so strange…

The lady of the manor soothingly stroked her niece’s long hair.

— I’ll take you back to your room. – oh, Anna – she addressed the maid who had just turned up in the hall – would you fetch that pink dressing gown from my bathroom? Angie must be chilled to the marrow.

— Yes, Madam.

— Where is my candle? – whined Angela in despair, looking round the hall.

— What candle do you mean? – inquired Ellen surprised.

— The one I got from grandma Emma. – muttered the lass avoiding her cousin’s gaze. – It’s adorned with plenitude of gorgeous ornaments. I must have tripped over something on my way to… I guess it slipped from my hand and rolled away. I can’t find it anywhere… she faltered.

Anna, who had just reappeared in the doorway of the countess’s apartment holding the lady’s warm dressing gown – on handing the garment to her mistress who wrapped it round Angela’s shoulders although the latter was much too agitated to feel cold, – hearing the girl’s lamentations the maid began to pace the corridor up and down in search of Angie’s lost property peeking into all the nooks of the hall, under chest of drawers as well as behind tall vases containing artificial flowers placed by the walls, whereupon she rejoined the rest of the company.

— I’m afraid your candle is nowhere to be found, Miss.

— But I had it with me! – insisted Angie irritably. – You must have overlooked it. I made it quite plain I dropped it somewhere here, on the floor and it went out immediately. I want you to find it!

— I checked the whole corridor very thoroughly. – Anna justified herself.

— But not thoroughly enough, it seems!

— If Anna says your candle isn’t here then it isn’t. You should take her word for it. She’s hawk-eyed. Besides – that bright purple colour is pretty conspicuous against the carpet’s beige background – Ellen cut in.

— What on earth made you use the candle instead of turning on the light? – inquired Robert listening to the bizarre dispute.

Angela blinked, losing her countenance.

— Well, I … it might have rolled farther off – under the other commode across the hall – she whispered absent – mindedly pretending to miss the question lord Danvall put to her, trying to make the best of a bad bargain.

— If it really did roll that far James will push the commode aside in the morning and recover your property. Don’t worry, honey. You’re sure to retrieve your favourite candle. But right now it’s high time to go back to sleep. Why – it’s almost three o’clock. In case you’re afraid to return to your room all alone Anna will accompany you there – declared the countess beckoning to the maid to approach. – Good night, Angie!

V

Arrangements for superb wedding ceremony were in progress. Standing in front of a large mirror in her bedchamber Ellen was trying on beautiful diamond earrings Robert had bought for her the other day. They matched to perfection baroness Esterina’s necklace. Right now, trigged out in a fashionable cream-yellow lace dress, glitter of precious stones lending glamour to her stately appearance, Ellen looked like a lady who had just stepped down from a gilded picture frame of an 18th century portrait. The clock on the period console table chimed midnight. It was time to retire to rest after the day-long bustle although the prospective bride didn’t feel the slightest fatigue. She took a shower, then, having drawn back the curtains in order to shut the window upon airing the room, slipped into the wide posted bed. By the soft pale orange glimmer emitted by a tiny dimmed lamp burning nightly till dawn since the latest assault for some minutes the girl watched branches of a nearby tree being tossed to and fro by gentle puffs of air. Monotonous sough of the oak boughs made her drowsy. She began to fall asleep, in her slumber muffled blasts of wind and rustle of faded leaves reached her ears.. Presently however an entirely different, more audible sound penetrated through the dull murmur.

— Ellen… Ellen…

Gale intensified. Thunder storm was approaching. A branch – tossed by a powerful gust of wind – struck hard against the window embrasure. Ellen started and, heavy with sleep, opened her eyes for a second, then, dazedly, closed them again.

— Ellen…

This time eerie whisper resounded very distinctly although the tone rather resembled faint ripple of a brook than a human voice.

— Ellen, listen… listen to me…

The whisper was coming from the darkest corner of the bedroom. Ellen, by now wide – awake, strained her eyes to discern the caller – yet to no avail. She reached out to switch on the tall floor lamp standing near her bed but her shaky fingers could not find the knob.

— You needn’t fear me, Ellen… listen carefully… there is something I have to tell you… just…

— Who is in here? – Ellen stammered out, her heart thumping franticly.

— Ask no questions… hear me out…

— Who are you? I can’t see you.

Something moved in the left, farthermost corner of the chamber and a silhouette of a refined lady attired in a willow-green silk dress loomed up from obscurity holding out her hand in Ellen’s direction, then she lifted her arm and made a strange sign in mid-air as though above the girl’s head. At first Ellen found it impossible to recognize the visitor – however – as soon as the lady stepped up to her or rather – to be precise – advanced towards the lass’s four-poster floating across the room, never skimming the parquet floor and the fine features, celadone, richly adorned silk dress, raven-black curls buckled beneath the left ear with a silver clasp discernible in the glow of pale orange lamp-light came into view…

— Ellen, inspect my top drawer,… search my cache…

Transfixed with horror at the sight of the phantom whose renewed visit so soon after the previous recent call at her apartment seemed a rank improbability Ellen felt at first completely flabbergasted then a shrill scream escaped her lips.

— No! don’t come any closer! go away! leave my room! please go! I’m scared!

— I repeat – whispered the lady – search my drawer, and remember – beware of…

Chandelier light in the girl’s chamber shone the moment countess Loretti summoned by her daughter’s outcry stormed into her rooms.

— Are you all right, my sweet? what’s happened?

— It was her… she came to see me once more. – whined the girl shaking with fear..

The countess looked about the suite.

— Apart from us there is nobody in here. – she declared. – you must have had a bad dream again.

That was true. The instant the overhead light shone the apparition vanished.

— No, that wasn’t a nightmare – contended Ellen obdurately. – she really did come to pay me another visit.

— Who?

— Do you need to ask? Baroness Esterina of course.

— You can’t be serious. – the dame looked astonished. – that’s very odd. It’s past 2 o’clock. As a rule Esterina manifest herself at much earlier hour than this. It’s rather unusual for her to accost inmates after midnight.

— Mum, you vouched that Esterina generally refrained from calling on family members in their chambers. If that’s the case -what on earth made her come here tonight? The more so that it was scarcely two days ago that she last paid a visit at my apartment. The worst of it is that lately those unlooked for calls started recurring, are becoming more and more frequent.

— You are probably right. I don’t really know what prompted her to address you again. – the countess shook her head. – As I have already told you over the past years she has been a regular guest on the premises, particularly in this wing of the castle.

— From you words it follows that baroness’s visits should be deemed as a matter of course. – grumbled Ellen reproachfully, still shaking with fear.

— Because that’s exactly what they are. – confirmed the countess. – As far as Esterina is concerned these manifestations and counsels she gives can well be regarded as self-apparent. The more so that none of the neighbours – who are naturally acquainted with the affair and our stock’s history – stand in awe of her. – they all hold the baroness in high esteem and respect her memory. Perhaps – despite misgivings I had as regards your safety and equanimity in case you continued in the property – I made a bad mistake sending you to a boarding school in town. If throughout those years you had remained with us in the estate instead of dwelling in a huge metropolis you also, just like most of us you’d take our patroness’s visits for granted as well.

— Am I to understand, Mother, that you, too, used to glimpse the lady now and then? – I mean – repeatedly.

— Obviously, my dear. Moreover, quite often Esterina used to materialize before my very eyes, frequently just a few paces away from me. -also – at times – in various chambers, in the garden at twilight, once I saw her standing by the turret. Whenever she chanced upon me, however, she always passed me in silence, never ever addressed me, let alone give advice… by the way, – when you woke up and noticed her where exactly did the baroness halt?

— Across the room – in the opposite corner, by the door.

The countess gave her daughter an indulgent smile.

— Well, if so – she must have sensed you were afraid of her. Nonetheless I can’t comprehend why it was tonight that she decided to approach you once again. – so soon after her previous call.

— Does the space of time make any difference?

— Tremendous. In fact her arrival is of extreme significance, As I have already mentioned Esterina addresses family members only in cases of emergency – when she wants to warn a person of a grave illness, imminent danger or complications connected with forthcoming wedding ceremony but even in this last instance baroness’s interventions don’t start until one week before the festivity’s established date. Since it’s only in the latter part of next month that your own ceremony will be celebrated – therefore I don’t see why…

— You speak of Esterina as though she were a living person.

— Because this is precisely the sensation I sometimes experience, the fact I strongly believe in. I mean to say – I trust that the baroness’s soul is still alive and permanently keeps watch over us.

There was a knock on the door and someone pressed the handle. Ellen let out an involuntary cry then broke into hysterical laughter when the door was pushed open and on the threshold appeared Angie Somewhat perplexed the girl looked in wonder at he cousin and her aunt..

— What’s going on in here? I heard a scream and raised voices.

— Everything is perfectly all right, dear. – replied the countess. – Come in and shut the door. Well – you see – she started to explain – it’s just that Ellen had an… an unpleasant adventure a while ago and took alarm, that’s all.

— Alarm? what at? There are no secret passages in this room as was the case with the former apartment. – remarked Angie.

— Baroness Esterina came to pay her yet another visit. – answered the lady.

— Oh, I see. – Angie’s voice displayed no sign of apprehension. On the contrary – both the girl’s tone and the expression on her face betrayed perspicuous ill – concealed unaffected disappointment.

— You don’t give the impression of being in the least surprised – observed Ellen with a hint of reproach.

— Why should I be? Had Esterina called at my apartment, even in the small hours – I would have no reason whatever to get scared. – rejoined Angie. – there is absolutely nothing to fear… Esterina is a wonderful person.

— Is or was? – scoffed Ellen.

— Both. She used to be an admirable dame in her lifetime and over the ages continues to be equally kind-hearted.

— Well, considering things I’m actually inclined to agree with you although I don’t think that rousing people from sound sleep in the middle of the night and frightening them out of their wits can be reckoned as the apparition’s goodwill.

— She had no alternative – Angela admonished her cousin. Can’t you understand? She evidently had no other possibility of contacting you.

— That was a truly ghastly experience – Ellen shuddered at the mere recollection of the spectral visit from the beyond. – I’d rather the baroness’s ghost never crossed my threshold again.

— Really, Ellen, you’re being terribly ungrateful – observed Angie. – You altogether misprize Esterina’s concern for you, I myself would be enraptured if she made me feel her solicitude or care..

— Angie is right. – the countess backed up her niece. Besides, my dear, there is one thing you must keep in mind – namely the incontrovertible tenet that Esterina is your patroness.

— So has the tradition – agreed Ellen. – Still, should any kind of the ancient legends, do you think, exert that formidable influence on whichever dynasty’s life? Up to the present I have never given credence to reports treating of various sorts of apparitions, souls from purgatory wandering about palaces, forests and fields, not even when I happened to watch a TV program treating of the subject. My prejudice against this kind of tales may very likely be ascribed to the fact that I stood no chance to become imbibed with the atmosphere of the castle having spent so many years away from home. The only thing that got imprinted deep on my memory is a vague reminiscence from childhood, nothing but snatches of conversations regarding strange sightings on the premises carried in subdued voices by the staff, queer noises and rumble coming from the void, Frequently spotted dreary, hooded, nebulous figures roving the uninhabited chambers, the attic, the upper storeys, that seemed to melt away before my very eyes the moment I tried to approach them, – phenomena which at the time were utterly incomprehensible to me. Subsequently, upon changing residence, taking up studies – in brief – establishing myself in London – I hardly ever returned home and – to be quite honest – most of those distant recollections in the meantime faded from my memory. And now, when those long-forgotten events suddenly began to recur… they gave me a monstrous shock… those occurrences are just beyond my comprehension and past all belief.

— Regrettably, I, too, in a sense bear the blame for the awkward situation you’ve been forced to brave. – confessed the countess watching her daughter intently. – It was I myself – who resolved to enrol you for a boarding school in town when you were still a small girl-chiefly because of the repeated clashes with… unwelcome guests from the other world, – in order to protect you from certain exceptionally refractory phantom – I mean – one of our ancestors whom luckily neither you nor Angie have encountered face to face is – to put it mildly – uncommonly ill – mannered and discourteous This shortcoming does not appertain to Esterina, though. The baroness does all in her power to shield us from every possible ordeal. The entire family, the whole household is well aware of that.

— If you’d like me to give you a piece of my mind, Ellen – Angela cut in. – I envy you. I really do. I wish I was the relative who, in lieu of you, could be in such great favour with Esterina.

— You needn’t dread her calls. – retorted the chided girl. – Your name doesn’t start with the letter E.

— Yes, that’s true. – how unfortunate. – whispered Angie cheerlessly

— It’s high time you went to bed, Angie. – the countess categorically interrupted the discussion. – Don’t you realize how late it is? It’s long past midnight. In the morning you’ll be unable to get up.

— That’s all right, auntie. – said the girl confidently. – I’ll most certainly not oversleep if this is what you mean. I’ve got to go out early in the morning, before breakfast. I want to take a bunch of fresh flowers to the tomb… – Angela broke off seeing puzzled expression written in the faces of both her relatives. – Good night, auntie. Bye-bye, Ellen. – she muttered quickly hastening up to the door and pulling it open.

— She’s obviously planned yet another visit at the cemetery. – commented the countess in an undertone when the door of Ellen’s apartment closed behind the young lady’s cousin. – Her daily matutinal hikes to Esterina’s tomb irrespective of the weather conditions and the season of the year whenever she arrives at the mansion have become a habit with her. Her conduct causes me great worry, I admit. Well, but now that Angie is gone let’s return to the subject. Since Esterina came to see you again there must be something she is fretting about, therefore I would like you to relate her visit to me with full particulars. What exactly did the baroness want? Did she talk to you? Perhaps she intended to warn you against something or someone?

— Oh, mother, why don’t you trust me? I really can’t remember anything. I was too terrified. When I woke up and saw her approach me… I was still heavy with sleep and…

— You must try to recollect her words at all costs provided she did speak to you. Esterina never addresses any relatives on trivial issues, unless her intervention is absolutely indispensable. This is why I have every reason to believe that if she determined to re-enter your apartment and communicate with you within the space of merely a couple of days following her previous visit she must have been unusually strongly purposed to impart to you an extremely urgent and significant piece of information – vital both to her and to you.

Ellen thought hard. Indeed, now that she partly recovered from shock and having reflected on the question began calling to mind fragments of the awesome visit she clearly remembered the phantom refer to something – although at first the injunction given her did not seem to make any sense, in fact sounded a bit ludicrous.

— A… drawer… – she murmured pensively.

— I beg your pardon?

— The baroness mentioned a drawer, some kind of a cache, I guess, – wanted me to search it. – replied Ellen.

— Didn’t she state more precisely which one she meant? After all there are plenty of drawers in her boudoir. The wardrobe or escritoire also hold a good many. Perhaps she indicated an entirely different suite of rooms, another relative’s property.

— No, Esterina was quite explicit about it. She told me: “search my drawer”, therefore she must have meant no other apartment except hers.

— Didn’t she tap any extra problems?

— I think not. – Ellen shook her head unsuccessfully trying to recollect further details of her patroness’s instructions – she said nothing else as far as I remember… well… frankly speaking she might have intended to add something – admitted the girl noticing scrutinizing glance her parent cast her on realizing that the lady evidently considered the account rendered by her offspring to be of the utmost importance and therefore eagerly caught at even minor, outwardly insignificant piece of information regarding the apparition. – only – she paused abashed – well, mother… the point is that I gave her no chance to have her say.

— If that is the case. – declared the countess rising from the chair she had been sitting on – nothing remains for us to do but to base ourselves on the scant message baroness somehow managed to convey to you. Tomorrow first thing in the morning we will go to Esterina’s apartment and make a thorough inspection of her boudoir, bedchamber, study, all the closets, lockers, commodes we can possibly find.

— Are you really that set on going there? – asked Ellen anxiously. – I’d much rather…

— Esterina will do you no wrong, dear. Besides at this early hour, in the forenoon she’s unlikely to bother us. She scarcely ever makes her appearance in the daytime, generally comes at dusk or at midnight. Tomorrow morning she’ll surely keep away. Moreover – I don’t think she will drive us out of her apartment because that is the very place she wants us to check. She must have had a momentous reason for enjoining us to examine her things. I just wonder what is the big mystery she is that keen on disclosing to you. Now try to get some sleep. There is a serious task ahead of us to perform. It may take us quite a while to discover something of interest.

— And… what if Esterina chooses to visit me once again tonight?

— No, that’s out of the question. You can sleep in peace. She has already charged you with a task All you have to do is to comply with her request.

For a pretty long spell after her mother left the chamber Ellen lay absolutely still gazing fearfully around surveying intently every corner and door curtain of the suite, curling herself up in terror whenever the faintest sound proceeding from within the edifice reached her ears or resounded beyond the window.

It wasn’t until nearing daybreak when the clock struck 4 a.m. that the girl’s tenseness waned a little and she began to get drowsy. Since during the night no phantom troubled her any more she eventually sank into a deep sleep.

She had no difficulty in waking up at 9 o’clock that morning, feeling perfectly rested despite last night’s awesome adventure and, immediately after breakfast, succumbing to her mother’s urgent persuasion followed the lady into Esterina’s apartment.

— In broad daylight the northern wing of the building no longer looks so dismal, does it? And your patroness’ s rooms are quite cosy, too.

— I have a notion I can sense baroness’s presence in there, that she is keeping us company or at least strolling about the nearby halls from where she can supervise our proceedings – while she herself prefers to remain invisible. stated Ellen.

— Even if she is here don’t forget you aren’t alone, thrown entirely to your own resources. I myself have had plenty of time in which to get accustomed to Esterina’s permanent surveillance. Well, then, what do you think we should start our quest with? It might be worthwhile to examine the contents of her wardrobes. – mused the countess looking round the obscure chamber. – But first of all – she advanced towards the window so as to draw aside the heavy dark curtains. – why don’t we let some sunshine in. – This wardrobe does contain plenty of drawers – she continued approaching the nearest piece of furniture. – One of them may be double-bottomed.

— Do you mean to say, Mother, that you have never been tempted to review Esterina’s things, look through some of her closets, cabinets?

— To tell the truth I’ve had no interest for them. It never occurred to me to rummage her personal belongings, still less disturb her privacy, but now, as things are, I guess we simply had no choice.

She pulled at the knob of one of the wardrobe’s leaves which, having at first offered slight resistance accompanied by grating creak – at length jerked open. Obviously for great many years it had never been touched..

— Would you come over here, Ellen? – the countess requested her daughter who was just inspecting a chest of drawers across the room. – You had better check this wardrobe together with me. I could do with some help. Two heads are better than one. What’s wrong? – she asked when the girl, having taken a few steps in her direction halted by Esterina’s bedside table and gingerly picked up the Bible lying on its top.

Ellen gazed at the lady visibly a bit upset, still holding the Bible, turning it about, skimming it over. It was almost as soon as she entered the apartment, that the book, placed at the edge of the table, riveted her attention.

— Mother, will you tell me whether there is anyone else, anyone at all – beside you and grandma Emma – who has access to Esterina’s chambers.

— Oh, no, except for very special occasions nobody ever enters that suite. It’s permanently under lock and key. And the key to it is – as a rule – stored in one of the compartments in my secretary. Even none of the maids – in case these rooms need dusting – is allowed to stay in here unsupervised.

— Really? Nevertheless there is something about this book that strikes me as rather odd. – mused Ellen still browsing the Bible.

— What do you mean?

— I’m under the impression that someone must have been reading the Scripture in the meantime.

— Impossible. As I have already told you nobody is permitted into the apartment, let alone touch the owner’s things without my knowledge.

— Then how come that the bookmark is on a different page than it was last week?

— It can’t be! – the lady of the manor turned away from the half – open wardrobe’s top drawer the contents of which, in the face of her daughter’s reluctance to undertake the search – she started to examine on her own. In the wake of her rapid motion a snow-white shawl interspersed with golden thread caught on one of the buttons in her dress and slipped out of the drawer onto the floor, pulling out of the wardrobe a lovely oval mirror mounted in a finely engraved pearly frame fitted with a chic, silvery handgrip wrapped up in the shawl. The countess, taking no heed of the admirable relic, promptly came up to her daughter and – slightly perturbed – reached for the book.

— Several days ago – explained Ellen – when taking Robert round the castle I also showed him into some of the apartments housed in this wing, including baroness’s chambers. While visiting them we happened to glance through the Bible. In fact, the book opened of itself on page 41 marked with this ribbon. I remember it perfectly well since we even read one of the excerpts. And now – you can see for yourself where the bookmark is – on page 112.

The countess, a bit astounded – contemplated the Scripture attempting to disguise uneasiness that swept over her. Deeply perturbed she somehow managed to keep cool.

— You must have mistaken the pages – she finally replied endeavouring to slight Ellen’s vague suspicions – will you put the Bible back in its place and help me check the other drawers.

Ransacking the wardrobes, commodes as well as two built-in lockers hidden behind paintings proved nevertheless to be of no avail. No clue whatever was discovered to the mystery Esterina’s apparition had mentioned.

— Perhaps we’ll find something in this escritoire – Ellen indicated a huge mahogany desk with gorgeously carved feet standing by the window in the corner of the room.

— I’m afraid it’s no use – sighed the countess resignedly – this bureau is the only piece of furniture in the suite I know inside out. I – together with your grandmother Emma – made a pretty thorough search of it when examining various documents regarding Esterina’s life – letters, records dating from that period – which the baroness carried on fairly systematically. The file comprised a large number of manuscripts and scrolls from before several centuries which – regrettably – revealed nothing that might be instrumental in elucidating the matter.

— And yet – persisted Ellen – the forbear made it quite clear that she wanted me to retrieve something that had been stored up in one of her drawers. At any rate there is no harm in having another try.

Upon unlocking the escritoire and re-examining most documents – the tenor of which – however – fell short of the young lady’s expectations – the latter concluded that her mother had undeniably been in the right after all. None of the records nor letters dating from those times revealed any clue.

— Next time Esterina comes to see you I suggest that you pay a little more attention to whatever message she wishes to impart to you – remarked the countess visibly exceedingly annoyed – we would at least have some idea what exactly the dame wants you to seek.

— I wonder what this compartment holds – muttered Ellen pensively, striving to ease her mother’s agitation – surveying a tiny door placed immediately beneath the escritoire ‘s top within which was fitted just as minute lock.

— This compartment contains merely one very narrow shelf we found empty. It holds nothing that might possibly take your interest.

— Have you got a key to it? I’d like to check it for myself.

Upon unlocking the tiny door Ellen was forced to acknowledge that her parent wasn’t far wrong. The narrow shelf was indeed totally empty While scanning it, though – the girl realized that on one point her mother was definitively mistaken – under the smallish shelf, about five inches below, had been fixed yet another one, a barely perceptible protrusion – just a few inches long.

— This part of wood feels damp – said Ellen touching the bottom edge of the tiny shelf. – Do this room’s windows face north? It’s rather chilly in this apartment. In my opinion this place is much too cold for the valued antiques if they are to be preserved in good state.

— This antique furniture has survived in these chambers for over three centuries and must never, on no account be moved or rearranged. Shut the bureau. As you see there is nothing of interest to be found there. Esterina must have meant some other drawer.

— Just a moment, mother. – replied Ellen passing her hand across both small shelves, thereby ascertaining that the bottom protrusion was slightly crooked, Her fingertips encountered a fissure in the wood.

— Did you find anything? – the countess inquired distrustfully. She remembered quite clearly that she herself had inspected the baroness’s escritoire over and over again in quest of camouflaged compartments which generally used to be installed in different pieces of furniture throughout the centuries but in this particular secretary she had never lighted upon any cache.

— That’s possible – said Ellen. – I’m not sure yet.

— From among the writing materials neatly arranged on the desk she took a silvery paper knife and inserted it into the crevice to uncouple the two, as she had presumed, serried parts of the slot the protrusion was composed of, – yet – to no effect.

— That’s nothing but a small fissure – observed the countess… – the secretary has stood in here for aeons on end. Some shelves might have warped.

— That may be true,, but then -why is the surface of this one protrusion that rough? It’s quite unlike any other wooden parts I’ve checked. The unevenness cannot be ascribed purely to the lapse of time. – Ellen kept passing her hand across the shelf until – finally – at a certain spot she brushed – her fingertips encountered a minute oval bulge about one inch long. The instant she touched, then pressed it a little harder, the narrow top shelf, as if propelled by a spring, shot out, exhibiting a large drawer enclosing a book bound in cream – coloured sheeny leather jacket. Ellen reached for it impatiently.

— This may be the very thing baroness wanted me to find, don’t you think, mother? – stated the girl glancing at the initials skilfully impressed on the cover.

All the pages of the book were snow-white, not a single one had mouldered or yellowed with the lapse of time – were filled with uniform, steady handwriting, immaculate and legible as though they had been written scarcely a few days ago.

“Diary. Esterina Moreno” – Ellen read out the owner’s name on the first page.

— Moreno. – she repeated. – do you happen to know that surname, mother?

— It must have been her maiden name, I suppose. – remarked the countess no less intrigued by the discovery of baroness’s diary than her daughter.

Ellen began to turn over the leaves of the book, quickly skimming through its substance, her curiosity aroused, then returned to the first page. It bore the date – March 18th, 1620. Hereafter followed a detailed account of some festivity apparently held in the lady’s house.

“Father was beaming with joy tonight” – read the fragment. – “and wished the whole family and friends to share in his jubilation. The office of the Minister of Finance to which high-ranking post – by his Majesty’s order none other but he was elevated notwithstanding diverse court machinations and a large group of malevolent adversaries declaring their overt disapproval of the appointment, some of whom, I surmise, cherished hopes of forestalling the nominee -thereby attaining the afore-mentioned signal position for themselves, desirous of gaining admission to the royal court circles, won Father great esteem and popularity which, owing to his unrivalled allegiance and devotion to the royalty the elected nobleman fully deserved.

Among the guests feasting at the sumptuous banquet given on the occasion, anxious to honour the prerogative bestowed upon him – father also entertained an earl he deems to be his closest friend. That gentleman’s attendance at the reception was the only inconvenience that largely alloyed my satisfaction, damped my spirits for the entire evening, exceedingly unsettled the delight father’s distinction afforded me. That haughty presumptuous individual kept obtruding upon me throughout the feast, refusing to remove himself from my company, striving to escort me wherever I bent my steps – in the garden as well as in the drawing-room or banquet-hall. The abhorrence that person arouses in me – which repugnance for father’s sake I endeavour to disguise under the mask of affability – seems to be completely lost on the man although I have done my best to shun his company. The overbearing manner in which the earl paid court to me stirred on my part inexpressible disgust and chafe, was simply unendurable. It is over two years now since he started making advances to me -inflicting himself upon me – ever since the day he was first invited to our estate -thereafter becoming a regular guest at the manor -despite violent protests and objections raised by both my mother and sister – as in view of the nobleman’s unbridled debauched life style – which blemish in friendly circles is a matter of common knowledge – neither of them supports deference father shows him or holds the man in respect. What gives me cause for reflection, though, apart from striking me with genuine amazement, is truly extraordinary sway the earl holds over my father and although the man affects a staunch friend I can sense – moreover, too – trust circulated rumours that under the guise of ostentatious refinement he parades the gentleman – in point of fact – is a deceitful, double-dealing shammer, perfidious to the core.

— This excerpt of Esterina’s diary in no way elucidates the problem – said the countess evidently disappointed – As the records concern merely her private affairs they are of no interest to us. Besides, in my estimation these notes are much too personal to be investigated profoundly.

— I disagree, Mum. When thus critically situated I must give careful consideration to whatever information I’m likely to obtain. I still have no idea what track the baroness wanted to put me on, what exactly I am to seek. – the girl broke off catching a look of reproach her mother cast her – involuntarily recollecting the previous night’s events including her own thoughtlessness and rashness with which she had treated Esterina’s phantom refusing to hear out the lady’s command or rather – request. – I believe – Ellen hastened to add – anxious to avoid further reprimand – that I owe it to my patroness as you term the apparition – to conduct a thorough study of her diary so as to detect whatever piece of message the baroness wanted me to fish out.

— Perhaps you’re right. Let’s pass on the next page, then.

“April 27, 1620.

Marco, my beloved Marco, what tremendous viciousness or twist of fate so ordained it that we weren’t destined to make acquaintance until it was too late? We could have been so happy together! If only you had been introduced to us a few months ago my father might not have so stiffly, inconsiderately, without giving it a thought, declined your marriage proposal and after all, upon reconsidering the issue, might have consented to give my hand to you! Alas, – father has already planned out my foreseeable future and taken measures towards implementing his project. Against my will, notwithstanding irreversible point-blank refusal I have firmly expressed as regards the topic – recently – in a somewhat crude fashion – bluntly declared that he had undertaken a peremptory irrevocable decision to coerce me into contracting marriage with the man whose very name is loathsome to me. I fear I stand no chance to be granted a godsend expedient serviceable in eluding my sad predestination. The nobleman father selected for my consort and whose company – obnoxious wooing I have for the past months vainly attempted to evade – is a person of great weight at the court. He sued to father for my hand wholly of my unremitting inflexible flat rejection of his offer of marriage. My fate is sealed – the more so that some weeks ago – through an unlucky coincidence or – should I rather say – antagonists’ insidious scheming – my parent overnight fell into his Majesty’s disfavour. Count L. – which I hate to say to his credit – tried his utmost to restore his friend to the king’s graces, spoke in my parent’s advocacy many a time, which mediation is, at least from the latter’s view – point a matter of the paramount importance. I am sensible of the fact that the count pleaded father’s cause with his Majesty entirely for my sake. I am also aware that it was on the foundation of none but that bizarre miserable affair that I have lately been put under an obligation to marry the intolerable suitor in defiance of ungovernable abomination he fills me with. But then… what about myself? My own sentiments? Are my emotions as well as those harboured by the other – greatly valued gentleman so ruthlessly spurned by my father – the wooer my heart has set ardent affection on – are they to be slighted and scorned? Am I to resign myself to the final resolution so implacably thrust upon me? Oh, Marco, will I ever be allowed to see you again?

June 20

Two months elapsed since the day I last saw the man so dear to my heart. Shortly after a pompous reception given by father on the occasion of my unwelcome betrothal to count L. Marco was impeached of hatching a plot against his Majesty and an attempt on the monarch’s life. I have been told that the charge is regarded as high treason. Yet, for all the evidence and exhibits gleaned with great haste I attach no credence to the indictment. Marco is not guilty. I feel very strongly about it. Besides, being an official of that notable rank, holding at court a post of responsibility, frequenting the royal entourage in no way predisposes functionary to foment sedition or instigates reliable clerks to turn traitors. In my opinion whatever evidence against my beloved has been compiled it has undoubtedly been forged with the object of separating us for ever. I suspect that the irrational indictment had been provoked by the latest declaration of love on which issue Marco recently approached my father in order to sue, once more, for my hand- soliciting again the master of the house to accede to his request and reconsider the contemplated matrimony, giving me away in marriage to the count. Father firmly abides by his decision. Neither Marco’s appeals nor my own entreaties nor even my mother’s intercession were recognized as significant enough grounds for prevailing upon father to relent. Has the news of the renewed proposal made by Marco, my fiancé’s hateful rival and – most distressing altercation the petition entailed – come to the count’s hearing? Ever since that hapless event no opportunity of organizing an appointment with my beloved, at least a clandestine one, presented itself. As a result of the false accusal Marco was compelled to take refuge in stealthy flight from the country…”

— Who was Marco, mother? – asked Ellen curiously.

— I have never heard of him. From Esterina’s words it appears that was the man she loved to distraction although by her parent’s command she was forced into marriage with another suitor. I never imagined her life was that embroiled.

— Is this why the baroness died so young?

— We will learn it when we’ve read the diary through. It seems to comprise facts none of us had the remotest idea of. Apparently Esterina for some reason or other considered it necessary to enlighten you on her private affairs – that’s why she called on you last night… that’s right… now I come to think of it I become convinced that this was the very message she designed to impart to you… oh, I guess I can hear someone coming over here, in the direction of this apartment – the lady paused for a moment straining her ears. Outside, in the further part of the corridor resounded a thud of trumping as if someone trudged along the passageway labouring under awfully heavy load he was encumbered with, – then, on nearing the boudoir the rambler reeled bumping against the wall so violently that the flooring shook beneath his feet.

Ellen hastened out of the apartment and looked round the hall but there was not a living soul within the range of vision. The footsteps she had heard only an instant ago faded in one of the ramifications of the sinuous corridor. She came back to the boudoir.

— Who did you see out there? – asked the countess.

— Nobody. Someone must have been heading for the western wing. Let’s return to the diary.

“July 25

Father summoned me to his office this morning to announce he had already assigned the date of my wedding, also – acting in concert with count L. had given indispensable instructions for the festivity to be in state solemnized. I am full of rancour and resentment against my parent, bear him infinite grudge since he never even took the least trouble to seek my own opinion as regards the matrimony I’m definitely averse to, unalterably slighting my sentiments, holding in crass contempt my supplications and protests. I set forth. Instead, he began to unfold before me glorious prospects of life I would lead at the court where, in his judgement, I should establish myself on the morrow of the wedding ceremony. Must I really undertake the obligation so sternly imposed upon me, meet it, thereby making a sacrifice of my entire life and – in proof of gratefulness or rather by way of repayment for the count’s fervent intercession for my father, lately fallen into disgrace, the influential nobleman’s instrumentality respecting arbitration of the matter at issue, which mediation proved largely contributive towards father’s remaining in the high ministerial office- deposition from which impended over him. – ought I to be testimonialized? Am I to be married off or – should I rather say – in requital for the services rendered father – am I to be given away as a trophy to the man I detest and hold in contempt?

Ellen paused and looked up, once more catching the sound of quick footsteps proceeding from the hall.

— Someone is coming this way, again. Can you hear it, mother?

— Perhaps it’s Robert. He may be looking for you.

— If it’s Robert he knows perfectly well where I am. I told him at breakfast where I was going to spend most of the day. I rather think it’s Henry who has some business to you.

— Oh, yes, that’s possible. This morning I was so upset by your last night’s adventure that I clean forgot to give him instructions. Stay here and go on reading. It won’t take long. I’ll be back in a minute.

The countess left the suite and bent her steps towards the hall calling the butler’s name. The latter neither responded nor turned up. A while later the lady re-entered the baroness’s apartment.

— There is nobody out there – she said a bit perplexed. – the whole household is well – acquainted with the layout of this part of the building therefore no one is likely to lose his bearings. Moreover, the inmates ordinarily steer clear of Esterina’s chambers. Too bad I didn’t see Henry. I’ll talk to him after lunch. Now you had best resume studying the diary.

Ellen passed on to the next page.

“Yesterday evening count L. paid me yet another visit at our estate and, utterly disdainful of overt animosity I feel against him, heedless of the objections I raise as to the propounded schemes and designs respecting the contemplated matrimony – besides – showing the utmost superciliousness – he – without restraint – ridiculed all the questions I put to him as regards Marco’s indictment although. I informed him in very plain terms that I throw flat discredit on the submitted evidence, gossips, as well as the high treason the gentleman is supposed to have committed. The count appeared to be disparaging about the judgement I myself have formed on the topic – moreover – angrily derided my inquiries concerning veracity of the circumstantial evidence and exhibits bearing upon Marco’s alleged act of treachery. Then he abruptly changed the subject flippantly dismissing further questions I asked him. -along with absurd and ungrounded – as he defined them – doubts I might entertain as regards the affair, whereafter, referring to the engagement party recently held at father’s manor – the nobleman began making plans towards our honeymoon. He also made a promise that soon after returning to Italy I would – in due form – be presented to the king. The intended introduction my contumelious suitor contemplates is of no importance to me. The count seemed enraged at my lack of enthusiasm or – strictly speaking – attitude of profound indifference I assumed towards the project. Nevertheless I, on no consideration…”

This time the hollow sound of someone’s footsteps which resounded once again in the corridor – alarmed both women in equal degree, the more so that formerly when – on hearing the noise – Ellen peered out into the hall it looked quite deserted. They discontinued reading the account and tensely, waited for the stroller to approach the boudoir. At the sight of a tall black-haired man who presently stood on the door-sill both ladies heaved a sigh of relief.

— Oh, it’s you, Robert. I’m so glad you’ve eventually found your way to this place!

— Didn’t you expect to see me up here? There’s a very strange expression in your eyes. – observed lord Danvall gazing at his fiancée – as though you had just met yet another spectre. For all I remember no local phantoms make their appearance in the daytime – he remarked jocosely involuntarily recollecting Ellen’s consternation that morning when she related to him the previous night’s unforeseen encounter with the baroness’s ghost. Right now, too, she gave the impression of being confused and fidgety.

— What on earth made you wander about the halls on this storey for so long? – asked the countess. – We’ve heard you rove various suites for over ten minutes. You should have come straight to this parlour.

— I didn’t get lost in the edifice’s maze, Madam, if this is what you mean. – gainsaid Danvall. – I have familiarized myself with the arrangement of most chambers in different wings. I know my way about lots of them so had no problem finding the passage leading to this suite of rooms. I mailed several letters this morning, received some faxes which task kept me busy for a good while, then it occurred to me it was high time to make certain how you were getting on with your search. That’s why on finishing my job I headed straight for the renowned baroness’s apartment situated on this floor never halting anywhere… oh, no – excuse me – there is something I forgot to tell you – added the man raising his hand in a gesture of apology – on my way here I entered the picture gallery to take another look at some of the portraits, and… Madam… well, the truth is that one of the paintings does indeed, as I’ve already mentioned, remind me of someone I must have seen elsewhere, in a miniature perhaps, although I’m somehow unable to locate him… and then up here – to Esterina’s chambers. But why did you ask me that question, countess? Has anything extraordinary taken place again?

— Oh, no, nothing much, fortunately. Forget it. – the lady asserted promptly, slightly abashed. – I wonder if you chanced upon the butler on your way. I seem to have heard him roam the adjoining corridors a few minutes ago. I wanted to summon him over here but he just didn’t catch me call him.

— Why, there’s nobody in the halls I crossed. At any rate I failed to notice anyone. As for the butler – he left home twenty minutes ago. Gone down-town on an errand for you – something you commissioned him to settle yesterday.

— Oh, I see. – replied the countess. – I’ll talk to him when he comes back.

— Incidentally, Madam, it did not escape my attention that after all you’ve decided to make some changes in the portrait gallery.

— Why, no! Nothing of the kind! No changes have been made in any of those northern wing chambers for ages, and definitely not in the portrait gallery. It’s a sacred place for the entire dynasty, both close and distant relatives as it gives the insight into the family’s history throughout the centuries and exhibits almost all the stock’s representatives since time immemorial… whatever put that absurd notion into your head?

— Some of the paintings have been rehung.

— Rehung? Impossible! Who in the world made bold to…?

— Only two of them to be precise – Robert hurried to assure the dame. That magnificent portrait of lord Cardan painted in mid-17’th century and the other one presenting Enrico Loretti.

— Oh, no, – who could have conceived the insane idea. to… — the lady shook her head excessively agitated… – are you certain of that?

— Well, Madam, I’m positive I’m not mistaken. For all I remember both those antique paintings used to hang side by side whereas right now they dangle on either side of baroness Esterina’s effigy. Besides – Robert broke off hesitantly. – I realize that it may sound odd, however for a short while I was under the impression that the portrait of Enrico Loretti is situated much closer to Esterina than the picture rendering Lord Cardan.

— I wish I knew which of the servants is to blame for this thoughtless frolic – grumbled the countess extremely annoyed. – I suppose one of the footmen intended to dust picture frames, took them down and afterwards hung these works on wrong hooks. But what on earth made the man take the paintings off the wall? I think I’ll have to call the guilty one to order. Or… perhaps it was Henry? Most unlikely. – I’ll see you later – absent – mindedly she waved her hand to Ellen and Robert then hastened out of the chamber.

It was neither Henry’s fault nor culpability of any of the servants. The lady had an intuition of it though it wasn’t until she entered the picture gallery that she became fully conscious of the fact. The huge painting representing a powerfully built bulky figure of her ancestor had been shifted by almost half a meter closer to Esterina’s portrait, removed to quite a different spot than it had been placed centuries before. as if in the meantime – overnight – some invisible hand had driven into the wall a massive, glistening with sinister sable thick hook. Moreover the painting kept gently swaying to and fro. The motion was practically barely perceptible but to a careful observer which attribute the lady of the manor was undoubtedly characterized by – the shuttle movement was clearly noticeable. Now, standing quiescent in front of the antique work of art, rooted to the ground she gazed intently at the gorgeously framed image of Enrico Loretti which kept on swinging as though propelled by means of an imperceptible spring, at times brushing against the wall with quite a resonant jar.

Awfully dismayed the lady stepped back and-upon crossing the gallery, walked up to the mantelshelf lined with the cavalrymen’s statuettes. The figurine of her ancestor Enrico Loretti stood untouched in its usual place whereas unlucky lord Cardan’s tiny statuette had undergone a radical change. The figure’s metal body was arched backwards, lord Cardan’s head twisted aslant, giving the impression that someone tried to sever it from its trunk…

It was with great relief that Ellen finally left baroness Esterina’s boudoir exceedingly overwhelmed by an air of melancholia reigning in the long – abandoned chambers and – despite Robert’s objections who suggested sticking to their pre-established schedule for that afternoon – the girl resolved to return to her apartment so as to pore over the further fragments of the patroness’s diary. The eerie account of the baroness’s vicissitudes of life – the particulars which the family had hitherto been totally unaware of – entirely absorbed her attention.

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