Read Ebook: The curse of the Reckaviles by Masterman Walter S Walter Sidney

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Ebook has 1739 lines and 54017 words, and 35 pages

Jack felt ashamed of his despair in face of her pluck.

"I have tried everything, but apart from becoming a professional in the Northern Union, if I was good enough, I can't see any hope. How do we stand?"

She knew what he meant, as she it was who had gone through the accounts, and settled the bills, as soon as the lawyers had done their part and taken their heavy toll.

"We shan't have much, dear, about fifty pounds I reckon, perhaps a little more, couldn't you possibly manage on that?"

"Impossible, and you have to live as well, remember," and he smiled at her. "No, there is only one thing. If I can get away to some quiet place, I may be able to do something, there is just a chance. Father told me a secret before he died, and there may be something in it, or it may be that his brain was weakening, and that he was imagining things."

She looked at him questioningly, but understood he did not wish to say anything further.

And then the post brought a letter from a school friend of Ena's, one of the few with whom she had kept in contact. It was to say that her parents had a summer bungalow at Portham-on-Sea, which they did not use in the winter, and that if the Seftons cared to make use of it they were quite welcome. The key was with the agent, and so on.

"There," said Ena gaily, "I told you something would turn up."

"Where is this Portham, I've never heard of it?"

"It's on the South Coast, my friend has often told me of it, shall we go there?"

"I suppose so, we haven't much choice, but I should imagine it's pretty bad this weather. We can't stay here, so had better try."

"Oh! let's get away from here," said Ena, in a voice which showed how the strain was telling on her.

Jack came round and put his arm round her. "Poor old girl, you have had a wretched time, and all the worry has come on you; let's get out of it."

There was little to pack, and the same afternoon saw them on their way to Portham Junction, and as the dreary bungalow town opened before them, hideous and forbidding, their hearts sank within them. Even Ena's spirits were damped, and she clung to Jack for a moment.

"I'm afraid, I don't know why," she said, "but I feel as though we were going into a black tunnel, ever so deep and long."

"Never mind, dear," he said to reassure her "as long as there's an opening the other end."

So Fate plays havoc with our lives.

The Coming of the Stranger

Ena Sefton was returning from the local grocer, who carried on a desperate, and fortuitous existence during the winter months, hoping to reap a harvest in the summer. The place now was derelict, like a show when the season has finished, and the few inhabitants wandered round like the survivors of a plague.

Some of the bungalows had wooden shutters nailed over the windows to save the glass, and looked like houses of the dead. Others showed through the uncurtained windows dim suggestions of deck chairs, and furniture covered with sheets. Pebbles and sand covered the verandas, and pools of discoloured water stood in the rutted road.

There was no symmetry or order about the bungalows; some more pretentious than others, showed marks of distinction, such as a ship in full sail over the roof, as a wind-vane, or a conservatory where languid flowers and shrubs waited for the spring. These were the aristocrats of Bungalow Town. Nestling between two such, would come a chubby democrat, quite unashamed of his appearance, made of two railway carriages with a pent roof over them, and a notice stating that "This Desirable Bungalow" was "to be Let Furnished."

In the summer all alike would be crowded with happy people, but now they were ruinous and depressing.

Ena made her way down the road, stopping now and then as a fierce blast struck her and a blinding spindrift nearly choked her.

Progress was difficult against the wind bitter with salt and driven sand, carrying a heavy shopping basket. The stranger almost collided with her, and drew on one side with apologies. He glanced at the girl, and then politely asked if he might carry the basket, and with quiet insistence took it from her.

"The storm is very bad just here between the bungalows," he said. "I will come with you for a little way if I may."

With his cultured tone there was a note of determination, and Ena was glad of his help, besides being amused at his presumption. He walked beside her regardless of the pools of water, sheltering her from the worst of the storm, till they came to her bungalow, which was all dark and forbidding.

"This is where we live," she said "but my brother is evidently not back yet; won't you come in and wait for the rest of the storm to blow over, he cannot be long."

"My name is Halley," said the man, bowing slightly. "I am staying here for a short time, but I think I had better get back; I shall have the wind behind me, you see."

Ena glanced at him, and noticed in the dim light that he was tall and fragile-looking.

"Are you afraid of coming in?" she asked with a mocking laugh, "or is it merely a question of convention?"

"Neither, Miss . . ." he began.

"Sefton is my name . . . Ena Sefton, and my brother's name is Jack."

Her manner was refreshing and he judged her very young.

"I will certainly do so if you ask me in that way, but an invitation in these circumstances is often a matter of form, to be refused like a dinner invitation when one knows there is nothing to eat."

They both laughed, and Ena opened the door. Her life was so lonely that she was rather enjoying the chance of talking to one who was evidently a gentleman.

He carried the basket in for her, helped her light a lamp, and an oil stove, which had gone out and had been smoking horribly.

"My brother will be back soon, and you must let me make you a cup of tea. You see there is something to eat from the weight of the basket." He saw a merry smile come to her mouth, and a pair of trusting blue eyes looked into his.

Soon they were sitting over the oil stove, now giving out a welcome heat, and had started to thaw.

"I wonder where Jack can have got to?" she said. "He went out for a walk some time ago."

Halley thought to himself "And left you to carry the supplies," but he left the remark unsaid.

"He has taken lately to these long walks, and I find it rather lonely. I would like you to see him."

"I shall be delighted," answered Halley, amused at her na?ve manner. "I am a stranger here, perhaps the air will do me good."

She glanced at him, and thought he looked ill, though straight and very handsome. She imagined he had suffered in health or through some secret sorrow, and her girlish fancy was already building a romantic past round him.

The silence was becoming awkward. Outside the rain was streaming from the roof, and the wind moaned with sullen fury.

"How do you like this place?" she asked, to say something.

"It is quiet, and suits me, but . . ."

"What?"

He glanced at her. "Well, this horrible murder at the castle has rather upset things."

She gave a nervous shudder. "It has upset us all. I get quite frightened, my brother is out so much, and I sit here and listen to the wind, and imagine all sorts of things."

"You poor girl!" he said so gently that it took all the familiarity from the remark.

"The villagers, what there are of them, declare there is a curse on the Reckaviles," she said and shivered.

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