Ghosts by Gaslight - Jack Dann [54]
I paused and found I had already stood, although I had not been conscious of it; I looked at my right hand, recalling that carved grip, and how it had felt to grasp it. “I took it, and was glad to have it. My first thought was that I might meet some of my previous foes outside, Kestrel men who would attack me again. Then that such a finely made weapon might be sold for a good sum to one of the many shops in that city. I had not gone more than a street or two before I saw walking before me my tormentor of a year’s time and more; his swagger, and the tilt of his cap, identified him at once. I had no need to see his face, and if I had seen that face I think I might have thrust the dagger into both his eyes before I had done.”
“You killed him.” The ghost’s sigh held no question. “Because you did, I, who can but rarely converse with the living, have been able to converse with you.”
“I did. I stabbed him from behind and saw him turn and goggle at me, and watched him fall. There had been no mistake. I had killed John Frederick Bolter, third mate of the Jack Robinson. I had been avenged, but the price was the blood-guilt I bear to this hour.”
“You can expunge that guilt by preventing my murder, Brooks. You can expunge it by killing the man who will kill me.” By all that is holy those words should have been delivered in an invidious whisper. So we are taught, and so temptation speaks upon the stage. It was not so for me that night. I heard only the faint voice of the spectre of a desperate young woman, a desperate woman pleading for my help; and I asked who he was, and where he might be found.
“He is in a room of this house, and it is a room that you may enter at any time without arousing suspicion.”
I knew then, and felt as though a bucket of icy seawater had been flung into my face. “You intend my master,” I said. “I will never raise my hand against him.”
“Then I must die tonight!”
My answer was to strike a match and light the gas. By the time its lambent light had filled the room, the ghost was gone.
She came again, an hour before dawn, and woke me with her icy touch. “Sit up, I beg you. You refused the great service I asked of you. I ask a small one now. I perished by violence and died a virgin. You have not earned my blessing, but you may yet escape my curse.”
I sat up, rubbing my eyes.
“My body lies unprotected upon the hill, Brooks. Listen!”
I did, and heard far off the lonely howling of some cur.
“Wild dogs rove the fells, and are the curse of the shepherds. Doubtless you have heard of it. They will savage my body when they find it. I ask that you bear it to some place where it will be discovered quickly. No more than that, and it is the last service I shall ever ask of anyone. Won’t you come to my assistance? I implore you!”
I rose, dressed, and followed her. It was two miles, perhaps, to the place where her body lay. By the light of the dimming stars I stood and looked down upon it. No living woman, the thought was inescapable, sir, had ever looked so fair as Miss Alice Landon did then, recumbent upon the rocky soil, her eyes closed and her skirt above her knees.
Kneeling, I felt her wrist. There was no pulse. I swear that there was none. Her flesh was not yet cold, though not as warm as that of a living person.
“He struck my neck, and all his hatred and disdain were in the blow. It was sufficient, for girls such as I was are not so difficult to kill as rabbits.”
There was yet no stench of decay, only a faint perfume as of lilies of the valley.
“You would not save me, and I know that you will not avenge me. Take me now, if you wish. It will be release for you;