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THAT OLD HOUSE
CHAPTER 4 THE ROOM OF MYSTERY

CHAPTER 4 THE ROOM OF MYSTERY

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It was Max, an enormous cat whose purr was as oversized as his body. The hoarse sound they mistook for heavy breathing was his purr, and the distinct footfalls came from his movements. He had evidently rubbed against some piece of furniture, causing it to scrape across the floor. Relieved, Amanda seized Max, sat down on the floor, and cried, carefully placing her candlestick on the table first. Julie, on the other hand, laughed hysterically for several minutes, the tension of suspense and terror having been very real.

“How did he get in here?” Amanda asked, sniffling.

“Through the window, of course. He must have been here before we arrived. Remember, we found the door at the head of the cellar steps open? I closed it when we came up, so he couldn’t have entered afterward.” Julie scratched Max’s jowls, and he purred even louder.

“Let’s let him stay, since he’s here,” sighed Amanda, wiping her eyes. “He’ll be sort of company.” So Max was allowed to remain, and the two girls, escorted by him, continued their exploration. They retraced their steps through the drawing-room and hall, then moved into the dining-room, pausing to take in the curious scene.

“Isn’t it strange,” Julie said suddenly, “that there’s no silverware here? No knives, forks, spoons, or anything like that. Yet all the china and glass are left. What do you make of it?”

“Maybe someone stole it,” Amanda suggested.

“Nonsense! No one’s been here except us; that’s obvious. The owners must have taken it with them or put it away when they left in a hurry. But why did they leave so suddenly?” Amanda couldn’t answer, so she simply said, “I don’t know.”

Beyond the dining-room, two small steps led up to a door. Opening it, they found themselves in the kitchen, which was just as chaotic as the dining-room. Unwashed dishes and cooking utensils lay scattered around, some even broken. The scene suggested a meal abandoned in haste. However, nothing else in the kitchen held their interest, so they moved on.

“Now for upstairs!” Julie exclaimed. “That’s where I’ve been dying to go. We’re bound to find something interesting up there.” With Max leading the way, they climbed the white, mahogany-railed staircase. On the upper floor, they found a wide hall running from front to back, crossed by a narrower one connecting the wings with the main part of the house. They turned left, heading down the narrow hall and peering into open doorways.

The first room they entered was a high, old-fashioned bedroom with a four-poster bed still neatly made. The room was in perfect order, but Julie’s attention was caught by two candlesticks on the mantel.

“Look at this find!” she announced. “We’ll use these for our candles. They’re nicer and handier than our tin one. We’ll keep that one for emergencies.”

“But should we take them?” Amanda questioned.

“Oh, you’re too particular! What harm can it do? Here, take this one, and I’ll carry the other. This must have been a guest room, and no one was occupying it when—whatever happened—happened. Let’s check the room across the hall.”

The second room was similar to the first: bed untouched, furniture undisturbed. Another room nearby was the same. They ventured down a narrower hall over the kitchen wing. Each side had bedrooms, four in total, all sparsely furnished with cot beds. Each room appeared tumbled and unkempt.

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“These must have been the servants’ rooms,” Amanda remarked.

“That’s the first good guess you’ve made!” Julie teased good-naturedly. “And they left in a hurry too, judging by the mess. I wonder—”

“What?” Amanda prompted, impatient with the pause.

“Oh, nothing much. I just wonder if they left on their own or were dismissed. But one thing is clear—they left right after the dinner party and didn’t stay another night. Most of their beds are made, and they left a mess downstairs. Let’s get to the other end of the hall. Something different is over there!”

They retraced their steps, passing the rooms they had already explored. On the other side of the main hall, they entered a room that was not a bedroom but seemed to be used as a sitting-room and for sewing. An old-fashioned sewing table stood near one window. Two chairs and another table were heaped with material and garments in various stages of completion. An open work-box held dust-covered spools. Yet, there was nothing particularly interesting here, so Julie pulled Amanda toward another partially open door across the hall.

They had barely set foot in the room before the pale flames of their candles illuminated what seemed to be the heart of the mystery. It was another bedroom, larger than the others, with an entirely different atmosphere. The high four-poster bed was disheveled, not from sleep but as if someone had tossed and turned restlessly upon it. Two trunks, open and partly packed, stood on the floor. One held yellowed household linen, once delicate and white, now aged and covered in dust. The other overflowed with a woman’s clothing—frills, laces, silks, and a collapsed hoop skirt lay beside it, puzzling in its wire and tape structure until Julie picked it up and it took shape.

“I think this hoop skirt gave it away,” Julie exclaimed. “Amanda, we must be in the room of the lovely lady from the library’s portrait.”

“How can you be sure?” Amanda asked.

“I’m not sure, but I suspect it. Maybe we’ll find something that proves it later.” Julie leaned over one of the trunks, peering inside. “Dresses, hats, blouses,” she listed. “Oh, they all seem so quaint and old-fashioned!” Suddenly, with a triumphant cry, she pulled out an elaborate silk dress. “Look! What did I tell you? This is the exact dress from the portrait—look at the changeable silk, the big sleeves, and the velvet in that criss-cross pattern! Do you believe me now?”

Amanda couldn’t doubt it anymore. It was undoubtedly the same dress as in the portrait, painted when it was new. They felt they had made significant progress by identifying this room as belonging to the lady in the portrait downstairs. Julie was so excited she could barely contain herself, and Amanda matched her enthusiasm. But there were more details in the room to explore.

An open fireplace showed signs of burned letters, with faint writing still visible on half-charred scraps scattered on the hearth. On the dressing table, toiletry items were strewn about, and candlesticks were placed near the mirror (though there were no candles left in the house, likely scavenged by mice long ago). A large wardrobe stood in one corner, its open doors revealing moth-eaten woolen dresses hanging limply. Next to the bed, a pair of delicate satin slippers stood forgotten after all these years. Everywhere indicated a hasty departure—so abrupt, Julie remarked, “that the lady must have decided not to take her trunks after all, perhaps leaving with only a handbag!”

“Now,” Julie exclaimed, unable to contain her excitement, “we’ve seen everything in this room. Let’s hurry to the last one on this floor, right above the library at the end of the hall. We’ve uncovered so much here, but I have a feeling the best is yet to come!” As they left the room, Max, who had curled up on a soft rug by the fireplace, stretched, yawned widely, and prepared to follow wherever they went.

“Doesn’t he seem at home here!” Amanda chuckled. “I hope he joins us every time. He makes things feel more normal somehow.” They reached the end of the hall, and Julie tried the handle of the door, which was unusually shut compared to the others. For the first time in their exploration of the Boarded-up House, they faced an insurmountable barrier.

The door was locked!