Voices in a Haunted Room

On the floor leading from the hall were one or two rooms including the winter parlour and Dickon’s study. The winter parlour seemed to have been untouched. This was not the case with Dickon’s study. The door of the cupboard had been forced open and papers were scattered on the floor. One of the drawers of his desk had been broken open.

“This is terrible,” said my mother.

At that moment a maid appeared. She said: “Madam, I took hot water up to the red room. There was no answer so I knocked again and when there was still no answer I went in. There was no one there and the bed hasn’t been slept in.”

We were all aghast and hurried up to the red room. The maid was right. The bed was untouched. It was instantly clear that the people whom we had entertained last night were not Dickon’s friends, but had come here expressly to rob us. My mother was filled with trepidation. She had welcomed them and had entertained them; and all the time she had been harbouring thieves.

We went round the house to try to discover what had been taken. Dickon’s study seemed to have been the main object of their interest. That was what was so alarming, for there was not much of value there. It was true they had taken silver, but why overturn Dickon’s office?

The people calling themselves James and Emma Cardew were clearly no ordinary thieves.

It was no use trying to send someone after them. They would be well away by now, and who could say what direction they had taken? We were helpless and stupidly gullible to have been so deceived.

“But they seemed so genuine,” my mother kept saying. “They knew so much about us.

They must have known Dickon was not home. To think of them prowling about down here while we were all in our beds! It makes your flesh creep. And what were they looking for in Dickon’s study? Did they find it? Oh, I wish he’d come home.”

He returned in the early afternoon.

When he heard what had happened he turned white with anger. He immediately went to his study. Jonathan was with him. In a short time we knew that something very important had been taken. Dickon said little but there was a flush in his face and a glint in his eyes which told me that he was very disturbed. “What were they like?” demanded Jonathan.

We described them as best we could.

“It didn’t occur to us ...” cried my mother. “We didn’t realize that they could be criminals. They knew so much about the family. I naturally thought that they were friends.”

“They had their informants,” said Jonathan. “And they knew that we should be away.”

“They couldn’t have pulled it off otherwise,” added Dickon. “My God, how far has this gone? They knew what was in my study. I’ll have to go back to London at once. We have to follow this up. Lottie, you will have to come with me. It may be that someone will know who they could be.”

“I’ll get ready at once,” said my mother. “Oh, Dickon, I’m sorry, but we have all been taken in.”

“Of course you would be. They would be clever enough and well informed enough to deceive anyone.”

“They took some silver too.”

“Oh, that was to make it seem like an ordinary robbery. It was what was in my study that they came to get. It is better that the servants should think that was the case.

We don’t want them to talk.”

My mother nodded.

“I shall want to leave in an hour,” said Dickon.

He with Jonathan and my mother left for London. The servants could talk of nothing for days but the effrontery of the people who had called themselves Cardew.

To us who knew that there was some ulterior motive for the robbery, the incident seemed very sinister. I wondered more than ever about Dickon’s and Jonathan’s affairs. It had been clear to me for a long time that they were not merely bankers; they were engaged in some secret diplomatic work and of course in such times as ours such work must become increasingly important.

They did live dangerously. Both Dickon and Jonathan were men who knew how to take care of themselves, but I guessed that the work they did made them ruthless, and of course, those who worked against them would be equally so.

I hoped Dickon would not run into danger. I trembled to think of what my mother would do if anything happened to him.

And Jonathan? I tried not to think of him; but he did intrude often into my thoughts.

For a few weeks no subject was discussed in the servants’ quarters but the audacious burglary at Eversleigh, and it was talked of with equal interest in the neighbourhood I was sure.

Dickon, back at Eversleigh, had decreed that there should be no mention of important papers having been taken and that the impression should be given that it was only valuable silver which had been stolen.

“I believe there is an old proverb which says that it is too late to shut the stable door after the horse has been stolen,” I said.

“Quite right,” answered my mother. “But I intend that no more horses shall be stolen.”

“Is Dickon still very upset?”