The Canterville Ghost

Chapter 3

The next morning, when the Otis family met at breakfast, they discussed

the ghost at some length. The United States Minister was naturally a

little annoyed to find that his present had not been accepted. "I have

no wish," he said, "to do the ghost any personal injury, and I must say

that, considering the length of time he has been in the house, I don't

think it is at all polite to throw pillows at him,"--a very just remark,

at which, I am sorry to say, the twins burst into shouts of laughter.

"Upon the other hand," he continued, "if he really declines to use the

Rising Sun Lubricator, we shall have to take his chains from him. It

would be quite impossible to sleep, with such a noise going on outside

the bedrooms."

For the rest of the week, however, they were undisturbed, the only thing

that excited any attention being the continual renewal of the

blood-stain on the library floor. This certainly was very strange, as

the door was always locked at night by Mr. Otis, and the windows kept

closely barred. The chameleon-like colour, also, of the stain excited a

good deal of comment. Some mornings it was a dull (almost Indian) red,

then it would be vermilion, then a rich purple, and once when they came

down for family prayers, according to the simple rites of the Free

American Reformed Episcopalian Church, they found it a bright

emerald-green. These kaleidoscopic changes naturally amused the party

very much, and bets on the subject were freely made every evening. The

only person who did not enter into the joke was little Virginia, who,

for some unexplained reason, was always a good deal distressed at the

sight of the blood-stain, and very nearly cried the morning it was

emerald-green.

The second appearance of the ghost was on Sunday night. Shortly after

they had gone to bed they were suddenly alarmed by a fearful crash in

the hall. Rushing down-stairs, they found that a large suit of old

armour had become detached from its stand, and had fallen on the stone

floor, while seated in a high-backed chair was the Canterville ghost,

rubbing his knees with an expression of acute agony on his face. The

twins, having brought their pea-shooters with them, at once discharged

two pellets on him, with that accuracy of aim which can only be attained

by long and careful practice on a writing-master, while the United

States Minister covered him with his revolver, and called upon him, in

accordance with Californian etiquette, to hold up his hands! The ghost

started up with a wild shriek of rage, and swept through them like a

mist, extinguishing Washington Otis's candle as he passed, and so

leaving them all in total darkness. On reaching the top of the staircase

he recovered himself, and determined to give his celebrated peal of

demoniac laughter. This he had on more than one occasion found extremely

useful. It was said to have turned Lord Raker's wig grey in a single

night, and had certainly made three of Lady Canterville's French

governesses give warning before their month was up. He accordingly

laughed his most horrible laugh, till the old vaulted roof rang and

rang again, but hardly had the fearful echo died away when a door

opened, and Mrs. Otis came out in a light blue dressing-gown. "I am

afraid you are far from well," she said, "and have brought you a bottle

of Doctor Dobell's tincture. If it is indigestion, you will find it a

most excellent remedy." The ghost glared at her in fury, and began at

once to make preparations for turning himself into a large black dog, an

accomplishment for which he was justly renowned, and to which the family

doctor always attributed the permanent idiocy of Lord Canterville's

uncle, the Hon. Thomas Horton. The sound of approaching footsteps,

however, made him hesitate in his fell purpose, so he contented himself

with becoming faintly phosphorescent, and vanished with a deep

churchyard groan, just as the twins had come up to him.

On reaching his room he entirely broke down, and became a prey to the

most violent agitation. The vulgarity of the twins, and the gross

materialism of Mrs. Otis, were naturally extremely annoying, but what

really distressed him most was that he had been unable to wear the suit

of mail. He had hoped that even modern Americans would be thrilled by

the sight of a Spectre in armour, if for no more sensible reason, at

least out of respect for their natural poet Longfellow, over whose

graceful and attractive poetry he himself had whiled away many a weary

hour when the Cantervilles were up in town. Besides it was his own suit.

He had worn it with great success at the Kenilworth tournament, and had

been highly complimented on it by no less a person than the Virgin Queen

herself. Yet when he had put it on, he had been completely overpowered

by the weight of the huge breastplate and steel casque, and had fallen

heavily on the stone pavement, barking both his knees severely, and

bruising the knuckles of his right hand.

For some days after this he was extremely ill, and hardly stirred out of

his room at all, except to keep the blood-stain in proper repair.

However, by taking great care of himself, he recovered, and resolved to

make a third attempt to frighten the United States Minister and his

family. He selected Friday, August 17th, for his appearance, and spent

most of that day in looking over his wardrobe, ultimately deciding in

favour of a large slouched hat with a red feather, a winding-sheet

frilled at the wrists and neck, and a rusty dagger. Towards evening a

violent storm of rain came on, and the wind was so high that all the

windows and doors in the old house shook and rattled. In fact, it was

just such weather as he loved. His plan of action was this. He was to

make his way quietly to Washington Otis's room, gibber at him from the

foot of the bed, and stab himself three times in the throat to the sound

of low music. He bore Washington a special grudge, being quite aware

that it was he who was in the habit of removing the famous Canterville

blood-stain by means of Pinkerton's Paragon Detergent. Having reduced

the reckless and foolhardy youth to a condition of abject terror, he was

then to proceed to the room occupied by the United States Minister and

his wife, and there to place a clammy hand on Mrs. Otis's forehead,

while he hissed into her trembling husband's ear the awful secrets of

the charnel-house. With regard to little Virginia, he had not quite made

up his mind. She had never insulted him in any way, and was pretty and

gentle. A few hollow groans from the wardrobe, he thought, would be more

than sufficient, or, if that failed to wake her, he might grabble at the

counterpane with palsy-twitching fingers. As for the twins, he was quite

determined to teach them a lesson. The first thing to be done was, of

course, to sit upon their chests, so as to produce the stifling

sensation of nightmare. Then, as their beds were quite close to each

other, to stand between them in the form of a green, icy-cold corpse,

till they became paralyzed with fear, and finally, to throw off the

winding-sheet, and crawl round the room, with white, bleached bones and

one rolling eyeball, in the character of "Dumb Daniel, or the Suicide's

Skeleton," a _r**_ in which he had on more than one occasion produced a

great effect, and which he considered quite equal to his famous part of

"Martin the Maniac, or the Masked Mystery."

At half-past ten he heard the family going to bed. For some time he was

disturbed by wild shrieks of laughter from the twins, who, with the

light-hearted gaiety of schoolboys, were evidently amusing themselves

before they retired to rest, but at a quarter-past eleven all was still,

and, as midnight sounded, he sallied forth. The owl beat against the

window-panes, the raven croaked from the old yew-tree, and the wind

wandered moaning round the house like a lost soul; but the Otis family

slept unconscious of their doom, and high above the rain and storm he

could hear the steady snoring of the Minister for the United States. He

stepped stealthily out of the wainscoting, with an evil smile on his

cruel, wrinkled mouth, and the moon hid her face in a cloud as he stole

past the great oriel window, where his own arms and those of his

murdered wife were blazoned in azure and gold. On and on he glided, like

an evil shadow, the very darkness seeming to loathe him as he passed.

Once he thought he heard something call, and stopped; but it was only

the baying of a dog from the Red Farm, and he went on, muttering strange

sixteenth-century curses, and ever and anon brandishing the rusty dagger

in the midnight air. Finally he reached the corner of the passage that

led to luckless Washington's room. For a moment he paused there, the

wind blowing his long grey locks about his head, and twisting into

grotesque and fantastic folds the nameless horror of the dead man's

shroud. Then the clock struck the quarter, and he felt the time was

come. He chuckled to himself, and turned the corner; but no sooner had

he done so than, with a piteous wail of terror, he fell back, and hid

his blanched face in his long, bony hands. Right in front of him was

standing a horrible spectre, motionless as a carven image, and monstrous

as a madman's dream! Its head was bald and burnished; its face round,

and fat, and white; and hideous laughter seemed to have writhed its

features into an eternal grin. From the eyes streamed rays of scarlet

light, the mouth was a wide well of fire, and a hideous garment, like

to his own, swathed with its silent snows the Titan form. On its breast

was a placard with strange writing in antique characters, some scroll of

shame it seemed, some record of wild sins, some awful calendar of crime,

and, with its right hand, it bore aloft a falchion of gleaming steel.

Never having seen a ghost before, he naturally was terribly frightened,

and, after a second hasty glance at the awful phantom, he fled back to

his room, tripping up in his long winding-sheet as he sped down the

corridor, and finally dropping the rusty dagger into the Minister's

jack-boots, where it was found in the morning by the butler. Once in the

privacy of his own apartment, he flung himself down on a small

pallet-bed, and hid his face under the clothes. After a time, however,

the brave old Canterville spirit asserted itself, and he determined to

go and speak to the other ghost as soon as it was daylight. Accordingly,

just as the dawn was touching the hills with silver, he returned towards

the spot where he had first laid eyes on the grisly phantom, feeling

that, after all, two ghosts were better than one, and that, by the aid

of his new friend, he might safely grapple with the twins. On reaching

the spot, however, a terrible sight met his gaze. Something had

evidently happened to the spectre, for the light had entirely faded from

its hollow eyes, the gleaming falchion had fallen from its hand, and it

was leaning up against the wall in a strained and uncomfortable

attitude. He rushed forward and seized it in his arms, when, to his

horror, the head slipped off and rolled on the floor, the body assumed a

recumbent posture, and he found himself clasping a white dimity

bed-curtain, with a sweeping-brush, a kitchen cleaver, and a hollow

turnip lying at his feet! Unable to understand this curious

transformation, he clutched the placard with feverish haste, and there,

in the grey morning light, he read these fearful words:--

Hardly had he finished this awful oath when, from the red-tiled roof of

a distant homestead, a c**k crew. He laughed a long, low, bitter laugh,

and waited. Hour after hour he waited, but the c**k, for some strange

reason, did not crow again. Finally, at half-past seven, the arrival of

the housemaids made him give up his fearful vigil, and he stalked back

to his room, thinking of his vain oath and baffled purpose. There he

consulted several books of ancient chivalry, of which he was

exceedingly fond, and found that, on every occasion on which this oath

had been used, Chanticleer had always crowed a second time. "Perdition

seize the naughty fowl," he muttered, "I have seen the day when, with my

stout spear, I would have run him through the gorge, and made him crow

for me an 'twere in death!" He then retired to a comfortable lead

coffin, and stayed there till evening.