Chapter 3
The next morning, when the Otis family met at breakfast, they discussedthe ghost at some length. The United States Minister was naturally alittle annoyed to find that his present had not been accepted. "I haveno wish," he said, "to do the ghost any personal injury, and I must saythat, considering the length of time he has been in the house, I don'tthink it is at all polite to throw pillows at him,"--a very just remark,at which, I am sorry to say, the twins burst into shouts of laughter."Upon the other hand," he continued, "if he really declines to use theRising Sun Lubricator, we shall have to take his chains from him. Itwould be quite impossible to sleep, with such a noise going on outsidethe bedrooms."
For the rest of the week, however, they were undisturbed, the only thingthat excited any attention being the continual renewal of theblood-stain on the library floor. This certainly was very strange, asthe door was always locked at night by Mr. Otis, and the windows keptclosely barred. The chameleon-like colour, also, of the stain excited agood deal of comment. Some mornings it was a dull (almost Indian) red,then it would be vermilion, then a rich purple, and once when they camedown for family prayers, according to the simple rites of the FreeAmerican Reformed Episcopalian Church, they found it a brightemerald-green. These kaleidoscopic changes naturally amused the partyvery much, and bets on the subject were freely made every evening. Theonly person who did not enter into the joke was little Virginia, who,for some unexplained reason, was always a good deal distressed at thesight of the blood-stain, and very nearly cried the morning it wasemerald-green.
The second appearance of the ghost was on Sunday night. Shortly afterthey had gone to bed they were suddenly alarmed by a fearful crash inthe hall. Rushing down-stairs, they found that a large suit of oldarmour had become detached from its stand, and had fallen on the stonefloor, while seated in a high-backed chair was the Canterville ghost,rubbing his knees with an expression of acute agony on his face. Thetwins, having brought their pea-shooters with them, at once dischargedtwo pellets on him, with that accuracy of aim which can only be attainedby long and careful practice on a writing-master, while the UnitedStates Minister covered him with his revolver, and called upon him, inaccordance with Californian etiquette, to hold up his hands! The ghoststarted up with a wild shriek of rage, and swept through them like amist, extinguishing Washington Otis's candle as he passed, and soleaving them all in total darkness. On reaching the top of the staircasehe recovered himself, and determined to give his celebrated peal ofdemoniac laughter. This he had on more than one occasion found extremelyuseful. It was said to have turned Lord Raker's wig grey in a singlenight, and had certainly made three of Lady Canterville's Frenchgovernesses give warning before their month was up. He accordinglylaughed his most horrible laugh, till the old vaulted roof rang andrang again, but hardly had the fearful echo died away when a dooropened, and Mrs. Otis came out in a light blue dressing-gown. "I amafraid you are far from well," she said, "and have brought you a bottleof Doctor Dobell's tincture. If it is indigestion, you will find it amost excellent remedy." The ghost glared at her in fury, and began atonce to make preparations for turning himself into a large black dog, anaccomplishment for which he was justly renowned, and to which the familydoctor always attributed the permanent idiocy of Lord Canterville'suncle, the Hon. Thomas Horton. The sound of approaching footsteps,however, made him hesitate in his fell purpose, so he contented himselfwith becoming faintly phosphorescent, and vanished with a deepchurchyard groan, just as the twins had come up to him.
[Illustration: "THE TWINS ... AT ONCE DISCHARGED TWO PELLETS ON HIM"]
On reaching his room he entirely broke down, and became a prey to themost violent agitation. The vulgarity of the twins, and the grossmaterialism of Mrs. Otis, were naturally extremely annoying, but whatreally distressed him most was that he had been unable to wear the suitof mail. He had hoped that even modern Americans would be thrilled bythe sight of a Spectre in armour, if for no more sensible reason, atleast out of respect for their natural poet Longfellow, over whosegraceful and attractive poetry he himself had whiled away many a wearyhour when the Cantervilles were up in town. Besides it was his own suit.He had worn it with great success at the Kenilworth tournament, and hadbeen highly complimented on it by no less a person than the Virgin Queenherself. Yet when he had put it on, he had been completely overpoweredby the weight of the huge breastplate and steel casque, and had fallenheavily on the stone pavement, barking both his knees severely, andbruising the knuckles of his right hand.
For some days after this he was extremely ill, and hardly stirred out ofhis room at all, except to keep the blood-stain in proper repair.However, by taking great care of himself, he recovered, and resolved tomake a third attempt to frighten the United States Minister and hisfamily. He selected Friday, August 17th, for his appearance, and spentmost of that day in looking over his wardrobe, ultimately deciding infavour of a large slouched hat with a red feather, a winding-sheetfrilled at the wrists and neck, and a rusty dagger. Towards evening aviolent storm of rain came on, and the wind was so high that all thewindows and doors in the old house shook and rattled. In fact, it wasjust such weather as he loved. His plan of action was this. He was tomake his way quietly to Washington Otis's room, gibber at him from thefoot of the bed, and stab himself three times in the throat to the soundof low music. He bore Washington a special grudge, being quite awarethat it was he who was in the habit of removing the famous Cantervilleblood-stain by means of Pinkerton's Paragon Detergent. Having reducedthe reckless and foolhardy youth to a condition of abject terror, he wasthen to proceed to the room occupied by the United States Minister andhis wife, and there to place a clammy hand on Mrs. Otis's forehead,while he hissed into her trembling husband's ear the awful secrets ofthe charnel-house. With regard to little Virginia, he had not quite madeup his mind. She had never insulted him in any way, and was pretty andgentle. A few hollow groans from the wardrobe, he thought, would be morethan sufficient, or, if that failed to wake her, he might grabble at thecounterpane with palsy-twitching fingers. As for the twins, he was quitedetermined to teach them a lesson. The first thing to be done was, ofcourse, to sit upon their chests, so as to produce the stiflingsensation of nightmare. Then, as their beds were quite close to eachother, to stand between them in the form of a green, icy-cold corpse,till they became paralyzed with fear, and finally, to throw off thewinding-sheet, and crawl round the room, with white, bleached bones andone rolling eyeball, in the character of "Dumb Daniel, or the Suicide'sSkeleton," a _rôle_ in which he had on more than one occasion produced agreat effect, and which he considered quite equal to his famous part of"Martin the Maniac, or the Masked Mystery."
At half-past ten he heard the family going to bed. For some time he wasdisturbed by wild shrieks of laughter from the twins, who, with thelight-hearted gaiety of schoolboys, were evidently amusing themselvesbefore they retired to rest, but at a quarter-past eleven all was still,and, as midnight sounded, he sallied forth. The owl beat against thewindow-panes, the raven croaked from the old yew-tree, and the windwandered moaning round the house like a lost soul; but the Otis familyslept unconscious of their doom, and high above the rain and storm hecould hear the steady snoring of the Minister for the United States. Hestepped stealthily out of the wainscoting, with an evil smile on hiscruel, wrinkled mouth, and the moon hid her face in a cloud as he stolepast the great oriel window, where his own arms and those of hismurdered wife were blazoned in azure and gold. On and on he glided, likean evil shadow, the very darkness seeming to loathe him as he passed.Once he thought he heard something call, and stopped; but it was onlythe baying of a dog from the Red Farm, and he went on, muttering strangesixteenth-century curses, and ever and anon brandishing the rusty daggerin the midnight air. Finally he reached the corner of the passage thatled to luckless Washington's room. For a moment he paused there, thewind blowing his long grey locks about his head, and twisting intogrotesque and fantastic folds the nameless horror of the dead man'sshroud. Then the clock struck the quarter, and he felt the time wascome. He chuckled to himself, and turned the corner; but no sooner hadhe done so than, with a piteous wail of terror, he fell back, and hidhis blanched face in his long, bony hands. Right in front of him wasstanding a horrible spectre, motionless as a carven image, and monstrousas a madman's dream! Its head was bald and burnished; its face round,and fat, and white; and hideous laughter seemed to have writhed itsfeatures into an eternal grin. From the eyes streamed rays of scarletlight, the mouth was a wide well of fire, and a hideous garment, liketo his own, swathed with its silent snows the Titan form. On its breastwas a placard with strange writing in antique characters, some scroll ofshame it seemed, some record of wild sins, some awful calendar of crime,and, with its right hand, it bore aloft a falchion of gleaming steel.
[Illustration: "ITS HEAD WAS BALD AND BURNISHED"]
Never having seen a ghost before, he naturally was terribly frightened,and, after a second hasty glance at the awful phantom, he fled back tohis room, tripping up in his long winding-sheet as he sped down thecorridor, and finally dropping the rusty dagger into the Minister'sjack-boots, where it was found in the morning by the butler. Once in theprivacy of his own apartment, he flung himself down on a smallpallet-bed, and hid his face under the clothes. After a time, however,the brave old Canterville spirit asserted itself, and he determined togo and speak to the other ghost as soon as it was daylight. Accordingly,just as the dawn was touching the hills with silver, he returned towardsthe spot where he had first laid eyes on the grisly phantom, feelingthat, after all, two ghosts were better than one, and that, by the aidof his new friend, he might safely grapple with the twins. On reachingthe spot, however, a terrible sight met his gaze. Something hadevidently happened to the spectre, for the light had entirely faded fromits hollow eyes, the gleaming falchion had fallen from its hand, and itwas leaning up against the wall in a strained and uncomfortableattitude. He rushed forward and seized it in his arms, when, to hishorror, the head slipped off and rolled on the floor, the body assumed arecumbent posture, and he found himself clasping a white dimitybed-curtain, with a sweeping-brush, a kitchen cleaver, and a hollowturnip lying at his feet! Unable to understand this curioustransformation, he clutched the placard with feverish haste, and there,in the grey morning light, he read these fearful words:--
+------------------------------------+
YE OTIS GHOSTE
Ye Onlie True and Originale Spook,
Beware of Ye Imitationes.
All others are counterfeite.
+------------------------------------+
The whole thing flashed across him. He had been tricked, foiled, andout-witted! The old Canterville look came into his eyes; he ground histoothless gums together; and, raising his withered hands high above hishead, swore according to the picturesque phraseology of the antiqueschool, that, when Chanticleer had sounded twice his merry horn, deedsof blood would be wrought, and murder walk abroad with silent feet.
Hardly had he finished this awful oath when, from the red-tiled roof ofa distant homestead, a cock crew. He laughed a long, low, bitter laugh,and waited. Hour after hour he waited, but the cock, for some strangereason, did not crow again. Finally, at half-past seven, the arrival ofthe housemaids made him give up his fearful vigil, and he stalked backto his room, thinking of his vain oath and baffled purpose. There heconsulted several books of ancient chivalry, of which he wasexceedingly fond, and found that, on every occasion on which this oathhad been used, Chanticleer had always crowed a second time. "Perditionseize the naughty fowl," he muttered, "I have seen the day when, with mystout spear, I would have run him through the gorge, and made him crowfor me an 'twere in death!" He then retired to a comfortable leadcoffin, and stayed there till evening.