Читать книгу Midnight House - Ethel Lina White - Страница 23

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She went to bed early but she could not sleep. After a while, she got up to assure herself that the children were safe. Phil was curled up in a tight ball inside a blanket bag. Her chest was padded with cotton wool and she was breathing evenly. Satisfied that there was no threat of bronchitis, Elizabeth walked softly into Barney's room.

The light was turned on and the bed-clothes were still lying on the floor, while Barney lay stretched on a stripped bed. His posture was rigid and he blinked up at the ceiling although his eyes looked heavy. He was palpably dead-tired, yet for some reason he was resisting sleep.

"He mustn't go to sleep. She won't let him."

Phil's voice rang in her head as she picked up a blanket and tried to cover Barney. He resisted her so fiercely—kicking off the bed-clothes after she had tucked him in—that she gave up the attempt.

"Why don't you go to sleep first?" he asked, glaring at her with accusing eyes.

As he spoke, she heard the sound of voices in the hall.

"Daddy's come home and Aunt Jerry," she said joyfully.

"Now we'll all go to sleep. Good-night and sleep tight."

As she lay in bed, she listened to Geraldine's movements in the adjoining room, forgetting the darkness pressing against the other wall. Then she fell asleep—to wake with a start. She had the feeling that her door which led out to the corridor—had been stealthily opened and shut.

It was some time before she could arouse herself sufficiently to see if either of the children had got out of bed. When, at last, she made the effort, she found that Phil, apparently, had not stirred, while Barney—relaxed and warm—was asleep under the blankets.

During the night, Elizabeth awoke again, when she suddenly remembered the cause of her conscience-prick in the kitchen.

She was worried by its untidiness. Just before the daily maids had left, a large consignment of goods arrived from the stores. In their haste to go, the women had piled the parcels and tins on every available chair. She had noticed these, when she surprised Barney at the telephone—and she resolved to put them away before she went to bed.

She had forgotten—but it was not her neglect which kept her awake. What perplexed her was the fact that the cartons and bottles had been heaped in such perilous pyramids that the removal of a single article would be sufficient to bring the whole erection crashing to the floor.

A question stirred in her mind. Since none of the chairs were clear, how did Barney manage to fabricate the fingermarks so near the top of the door?

Suddenly she saw the prints again—life-size and corresponding to the impressions left by the hand of a man.