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.

Thus, I Came, At Last, To The Great Cellar That I Remembered. It Is Reached, Through A Huge, Arched Entrance, On Which I Observed Strange, Fantastic Carvings, Which Threw Queer Shadows Under The Light Of My Candle. As I Stood, And Examined These, Thoughtfully, It Occurred To Me How Strange It Was, That I Should Be So Little Acquainted With My Own House. Yet, This May Be Easily Understood, When One Realizes The Size Of This Ancient Pile, And The Fact That Only My Old Sister And I Live In It, Occupying A Few Of The Rooms, Such As Our Wants Decide.