Page:Weird Tales Volume 7 Number 3 (1926-03).djvu/9

Rh peared completely from the face of the world. He said good-night to the servants and was gone the next morning."

"Spirited away?" suggested Nielson, almost flippantly.

"Well, perhaps," I admitted.

"And then," Doris took up the thread of the story, "his brother took possession of the place. That was nearly twenty years ago. His brother, whom I shall call James, as I don't like to keep saying 'his brother' all the time, moved in.

"James was the Baron's exact opposite. You know the kind—poor but jolly and gregarious; in fact he was quite a bit of a profligate. He would have been the last person in the world the Baron would have left his fortune to, for he hated James like poison. But there was no will, so James, being next of kin, took the whole thing, the castle and any loose millions the Baron happened to leave handy. He did a lot of remodeling and redecorating before he moved in. Then he inaugurated the first night with a house-warming. It must have been quite a party, you know, 'Bright the lamps shone o'er fair women,' and the rest of it. You must remember, Harvey, it was long before prohibition was ever dreamed of. 'Fill the flowing bowl' was the cry of all. It must have been about 2 o'clock and they were still dancing in the ballroom, when James and a friend went to the basement (I believe 'donjon’' would be the technically correct term for a castle, wouldn't it?) to get some more 'bottled in bond.' The friend's name must remain anonymous for the simple reason that I don't know it. Ten minutes later he came back (no, Harvey, I mean the friend, not James) a raving maniac, a gibbering idiot, or whatever you choose to call him. He kept repeating something about 'the bearded dwarf, the bearded dwarf.' James seemed utterly to have disappeared.

"Well, none of the party could make out what the poor fellow was trying to say. It was well known that the Baron was a short-bearded fellow, and some thought it was his spirit that the friend had seen. They averred it was the judgment of heaven come to punish James for his wickedness; but they agreed to have a searching party before leaving the house forever. So they all went down to the basement."

"And what did they find?" asked Nielson with dawning eagerness.

"Nothing," I put in. "That is the funny part about it. They searched the whole castle from top to bottom, too. If it hadn't been for the fact that James never showed up again, I'd say the whole thing was a fabrication caused by the premature delight of the 'bottled in bond.' And so they all packed their tents like the Arabs, and if not as silently, at least as efficaciously stole away."

"And from that day to this," Doris added in sepulchral voice, "no one has ever entered the gates of Lochinvar Lodge again."

"I wonder if the charm still works," remarked Nielson.

"Oh, I know what let's do," broke in Doris, the light of adventure gleaming in her limpid blue eyes. "Let's explore Lochinvar Lodge!"

"My child," I said with the paternal air which was so provoking to her, "you know not what you ask. If the demon took at one gulp the tough and indigestible James, and his still more tough and indigestible brother, how long do you suppose a tender morsel like you would last?"

She laughed. She had an adorable little laugh.

"Oh, of course, if you are afraid."

There was an enchanting archness about her that was irresistible.

"It would be rather fun to look the place over," Nielson unexpectedly supported her. "Quite an experience