The Golden Key by Marian Womack

Author:Marian Womack
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Titan

CHAPTER NINE

The afternoon passed slowly enough. Sam went for a drive in his car, and eventually drove it back home. He had been looking for something, or someone, but it was only an odd feeling; if he had been asked he would not have known what. He didn’t see Charles, who was attending a committee meeting of the League, and occupied his time alone by writing in his journal, something that he had not done since before the river accident. He read a little of George MacDonald’s book. He had learnt that Viola’s favourite author was still alive, a very old man living in Surrey, and was trying to decide whether a visit to the writer would be at all possible. He had no idea what he expected to achieve from it: it would not bring Viola back. Nothing would.

Something kept nagging at him, pressuring the back of his head. He knew it was connected with the strange past few weeks, but couldn’t put his finger on it. And then it hit him: the beggar. He had seen him twice, he was sure now. The second time, when he was returning from that strange evening at The True Dawn. And the first time it had been in front of Charles’s house, the night of the séance. Two strange evenings, on which his senses had been somewhat heightened, or that had brought with them the vividness of the supernatural, had started or ended by sighting this odd creature.

His hairs stood on end, exactly as they did when he recalled the way Lady Matthews had looked at him.

He went out and crossed the street. The gas-lamp by which the beggar had knelt the night of the séance didn’t work, and he had the feeling it hadn’t since then, although he had not remarked on it. On closer inspection he saw why: the whole long metallic pole was rusty, and the pavement around it, in contrast to the rest of the street, was overtaken by fungus, weeds, rotten leaves. The gas-lamp, newly installed barely two years previously, looked two hundred years old. What was going on?

At about eight o’clock, after a lonely supper, someone rang at the main door, and none other than Jim was shown into the library, where Sam sat, trying to finish MacDonald’s strange novella, but in truth musing on the recent events. Jim’s countenance alarmed Sam a great deal. He looked shocked; his whole face was set in a clenched mask, and he avoided Sam’s eyes.

‘Jim, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’ He got up and served two stiff drinks.

‘Sam, I’ve got news.’

‘Which news?’

‘I thought I better come to tell you in person.’

‘Tell me what? Is it about Freddy? Is he alright?’

Jim took the glass and emptied it in one gulp, gesturing to be served another. Sam complied.

‘Jim, what is going on?’ Sam’s heart missed a beat, as he started to realise that, whatever Jim had come to tell him, it somehow involved him.

‘It’s about Viola.’

Sam caught his breath.

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