The Silence by Rayne Sarah

Author:Rayne, Sarah [Rayne, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Tags: Mystery, Speculative Fiction
ISBN: 0727882481
Publisher: Severn House
Published: 2013-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

FIFTEEN

Statement made by Mr Ralph West of Stilter House, Gorsty Lane, Caudle Moor.

Statement taken by Sergeant Kiddimore.

Copy attested and sworn by Mr J Hurst, solicitor and Notary Public

On the evening of Tuesday 10th I was in my drawing room after dinner, writing letters. My son, Esmond, was in bed and my two servants were in their own quarters at the rear of the house.

At about nine o’clock I heard what seemed to be a tapping on the window. It was very light and soft, and at first I thought it was merely a tree branch, disturbed by the wind.

But the tapping came again. It was not loud enough to be someone wanting to attract my attention; rather it was the soft furtive sound of someone wanting to see if there was anyone in the room before breaking in. In case an intruder was prowling around, I opened the curtains to look out. The gas supply had flickered during the evening as it so often does, making the light rather poor, but I assured myself no one was outside and returned to my letters.

The tapping ceased, but I had the strong impression that I was being watched and I could not dismiss the suspicion that someone might be standing outside the window, just beyond my sight. I was making up my mind to investigate further, when the floorboards outside the drawing room creaked.

This ought not to have been alarming. The logical explanation was that the parlourmaid was making a round of the house to close curtains and make sure all doors were locked. Perhaps she was even putting out candles against a complete failure of the gas, which was still dipping and flickering. But there was a soft, stealthy sound to the steps, as if someone did not want to be heard. I was uncomfortably aware that I was in the house with only two female servants – one not young – and my nine-year-old son in bed upstairs.

As I crossed the room to the door, another sound broke the silence – a sound that was so unexpected, but so familiar I ceased to be alarmed. Someone was playing the piano.

I immediately assumed Esmond had crept downstairs and into the music room, and that the footsteps I heard earlier were his. However, half past nine of an evening is not the proper time for a child to be practising the piano, so I accordingly went along to remonstrate with him.

The flickering gas mantles in the hall made the shadows creep and shiver, and the hall seemed unnervingly filled with stealthy movement. Earlier I had felt reassured by the music, but I was starting to be increasingly uneasy, because it was being played with far more skill than Esmond could manage. I was not overly concerned about burglars though, for the average housebreaker was unlikely to sit down at the piano and play Chopin.

The gas mantles in the music room were turned low, and the curtains were open to the garden. The

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