Chapter 4

“It is now time for us to bid you a solemn farewell, Augustus,” he said, in his hollow old voice.

“You have three hours before you yet, and if you are wise, you will spend them in earnest self-preparation.

“At midnight, punctually, for you must not dare to delay, you will go to the Gray Chamber—the way thither you know, and you will find the Curse prepared for you. Good-bye, then, brave and devoted boy; stand firm, and no harm can befall you!”

“You are going away, all of you!” I cried. They were not what you might call a gay family to sit up with, but even their society was better than my own.

“Upon these dread occasions,” he explained, “it is absolutely forbidden for any human being but one to remain in the house. All the servants have already left, and we are about to take our departure for a private hotel near the Strand. We shall just have time, if we start at once, to inspect the Soane Museum on our way thither, which will serve as some distraction from the terrible anxiety we shall be feeling.”

At this I believe I positively howled with terror; all my old panic came back with a rush.

“Don’t leave me all alone with It!” I cried; “I shall go mad if you do!”

Sir Paul simply turned on his heel in silent contempt, and his wife followed him; but Chlorine remained behind for one instant, and somehow, as she gazed at me with a yearning pity in her sad eyes, I thought I had never seen her looking so pretty before.

“Augustus,” she said, “get up.” (I suppose I must have been on the floor somewhere.) “Be a man; show us we were not mistaken in you. You know I would spare you this if I could; but we are powerless. Oh, be brave, or I shall lose you forever!”

Her appeal did seem to put a little courage into me; I staggered up and kissed her slender hand and vowed sincerely to be worthy of her.

And then she too passed out, and the heavy hall door slammed behind the three, and the rusty old gate screeched like a banshee as it swung back and closed with a clang.

I heard the carriage-wheels grind the slush, and the next moment I knew that I was shut up on Christmas eve in that somber mansion—with the Curse of the Catafalques as my sole companion.

I don’t think the generous ardor with which Chlorine’s last words had inspired me lasted very long, for I caught myself shivering before the clock struck nine, and, drawing up a clumsy leathern armchair close to the fire, I piled on the logs and tried to get rid of a certain horrible sensation of internal vacancy which was beginning to afflict me.