Creeping Horror Lurked
Beyond the Door
An Unusual Story
By Paul Suter
"You haven't told me yet how it happened," I said to Mrs. Malkin.
She set her lips and eyed me, sharply.
"Didn't you talk with the coroner, sir?"
"Yes, of course," I admitted; "but as I understand you found my uncle, I thought"
"Well, I wouldn't care to say anything about it," she interrupted, with decision.
This housekeeper of my uncle's was somewhat taller than I, and much heavier—two physical preponderance which afford any woman possessing them an advantage over the inferior male. She appeared a subject for diplomacy rather than argument.
Noting her ample jaw, her breadth of cheek, the unsentimental glint of her eye, I decided on conciliation. I placed a chair for her, there in my Uncle Godfrey's study, and dropped into another, myself.
"At least, before we go over the other parts of the house, suppose we rest a little," I suggested, in my most unctuous manner. "The place rather gets on one's nerves—don't you think so?"
It was sheer luck — I claim no credit for it. My chance reflection found the weak spot in her fortifications. She replied to it with an undoubted smack of satisfaction:
"It's more than seven years that I've been doing for Mr. Sarston, sir: Bringing him his meals regular as clockwork, keeping the house clean—as clean as he'd let me—and sleeping at my own home, o'nights; and in all that time, I've said, over and over, there ain't a house in New York the equal of this for queerness."
"Nor anywhere else," I encouraged her, with a laugh; and her confidence opened another notch:
"You're likely right in that, too sir. As I've said to poor Mr. Sarston, many a time, 'It's all well enough,' says I, 'to have bugs for a hobby. You can afford it; and being a bachelor and by yourself, you don't have to consider other people's likes and dislikes. And it's all well enough if you want to,' says I, 'to keep thousands and thousands o'them in cabinets, all over the place, the way you do. But when it comes to pinnin' them on the walls in regular armies,' I say, 'and on the ceiling of your own study; and even on different parts of the furniture, so that a body don't know what awful thing she's agoin' to find under her hand of a sudden when she does the dusting; why, then,' I says to him, 'it's drivin' a decent woman too far.'"
