The House on the Borderland
Public Domain
Chapter 9: In The Cellars
At Last, What With Being Tired And Cold, And The Uneasiness That Possessed Me, I Resolved To Take A Walk Through The House; First Calling In At The Study, For A Glass Of Brandy To Warm Me. This, I Did, And, While There, I Examined The Door, Carefully; But Found All As I Had Left It The Night Before.
The Day Was Just Breaking, As I Left The Tower; Though It Was Still Too Dark In The House To Be Able To See Without A Light, And I Took One Of The Study Candles With Me On My ‘Round. By The Time I Had Finished The Ground Floor, The Daylight Was Creeping In, Wanly, Through The Barred Windows. My Search Had Shown Me Nothing Fresh. Everything Appeared To Be In Order, And I Was On The Point Of Extinguishing My Candle, When The Thought Suggested Itself To Me To Have Another Glance ‘Round The Cellars. I Had Not, If I Remember Rightly, Been Into Them Since My Hasty Search On The Evening Of The Attack.
For, Perhaps, The Half Of A Minute, I Hesitated. I Would Have Been Very Willing To Forego The Task--As, Indeed, I Am Inclined To Think Any Man Well Might--For Of All The Great, Awe-Inspiring Rooms In This House, The Cellars Are The Hugest And Weirdest. Great, Gloomy Caverns Of Places, Unlit By Any Ray Of Daylight. Yet, I Would Not Shirk The Work. I Felt That To Do So Would Smack Of Sheer Cowardice. Besides, As I Reassured Myself, The Cellars Were Really The Most Unlikely Places In Which To Come Across Anything Dangerous; Considering That They Can Be Entered, Only Through A Heavy Oaken Door, The Key Of Which, I Carry Always On My Person.
It Is In The Smallest Of These Places That I Keep My Wine; A Gloomy Hole Close To The Foot Of The Cellar Stairs; And Beyond Which, I Have Seldom Proceeded. Indeed, Save For The Rummage ‘Round, Already Mentioned, I Doubt Whether I Had Ever, Before, Been Right Through The Cellars.
As I Unlocked The Great Door, At The Top Of The Steps, I Paused, Nervously, A Moment, At The Strange, Desolate Smell That Assailed My Nostrils. Then, Throwing The Barrel Of My Weapon Forward, I Descended, Slowly, Into The Darkness Of The Underground Regions.
Reaching The Bottom Of The Stairs, I Stood For A Minute, And Listened. All Was Silent, Save For A Faint Drip, Drip Of Water, Falling, Drop-By-Drop, Somewhere To My Left. As I Stood, I Noticed How Quietly The Candle Burnt; Never A Flicker Nor Flare, So Utterly Windless Was The Place.
Quietly, I Moved From Cellar To Cellar. I Had But A Very Dim Memory Of Their Arrangement. The Impressions Left By My First Search Were Blurred. I Had Recollections Of A Succession Of Great Cellars, And Of One, Greater Than The Rest, The Roof Of Which Was Upheld By Pillars; Beyond That My Mind Was Hazy, And Predominated By A Sense Of Cold And Darkness And Shadows. Now, However, It Was Different; For, Although Nervous, I Was Sufficiently Collected To Be Able To Look About Me, And Note The Structure And Size Of The Different Vaults I Entered.
Of Course, With The Amount Of Light Given By My Candle, It Was Not Possible To Examine Each Place, Minutely, But I Was Enabled To Notice, As I Went Along, That The Walls Appeared To Be Built With Wonderful Precision And Finish; While Here And There, An Occasional, Massive Pillar Shot Up To Support The Vaulted Roof.
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