Life — December 10, 1885 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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THE MAVERICK MYSTERY. lL T was the twenty-fourth of December, eight o'clock in the evening. Mr. and Mrs. Maverick were in the sitting- room. Mr. Maverick was reading; or, rather, he affected to do so, in order to express his dissatisfaction with the harangue which his wife had been engaged in delivering. Mrs. Maverick was an admirable woman, but she had a gen- tle persistency which, at times, seemed monotonous to the subjects of it,—among which subjects her husband. was naturally the most frequent. This couple lived in an ancient house on the outskirts of a venerable town in one of our old- est States. They got the house cheap, because it bore a bad name; that is, a former owner had hanged himself, under circumstances of peculiar horror, to the hook intended for the gas-fixture in the ceiling of the front bed-room. The legend asserted that his spirit still pervaded the premises. Up to the present time, however, nothing wholly inexplicable had occurred. Strange sounds had been heard; but such as rats, loose blinds. warped doors and moaning draughts might have sufficed to account for. Mrs. Maverick had been less impressed by these phenomena than her husband,svho was of a nervous and excitable organization, with a powerful imagi- nation. He had latterly lapsed into a somewhat abnormal state, giving rise to anxiety in the breast of his spouse ; and she was constantly urging upon him the expediency of taking medical advice. But Mr. Maverick, unfortunately, had con- ceived a mortal antipathy against anything in the shape of a doctor,—an antipathy which may have had its source in the fact that his wife's uncle was a member of that profession, and had, many years before, administered an emetic to Mr. Maverick by mistake for a slecping-potion. From that time, at any rate, Mr. Maverick had declared bloody vengeance against whatsoever representative of the faculty should darken his doors. It will readily be conceived, therefore, that Mrs. Maverick, who was really concerned about his condition, was at her wit’s end how to proceed. 327 Ve R. MAVERICK, in a fit of nervous exasperation, slammed the book he had not been reading down on the table. “ Maria, let us have no more of this !’" he exclaimed. “Once for all, I will #o¢ see a physician! and if you bring one into the house, I ‘ll murder him !” These fearful words had hardly left his mouth when there was a sound as of a heavy fall in the room overhead. The globes of the chandelier jingled and the window panes rattled. Mr. Maverick sprang to his feet. “ Great Heavens! what was that ?” he cried out. Mrs. Maverick had not moved from her chair; but she looked up at him in a distressed way. ‘Oh, my poor dear,” she murmured, “ what is the matter?” “That noise! Upstairs! Like a heavy body hurled to the floor! and there ’s no one in the house but ourselves and the cook—and she's down in the village. “A noise, my dear?” faltered Mrs. Maverick. “Was there anoise? Where? Where?” Her‘ husband slowly turned, and stared at her. The startled expression in his widely-opened eyes deepened into amazement, and finally darkened into something like terror. “You didn’t hear it, Maria?” he said, below his breath. Are you mad, or am 1? Why, the whole house trembled!” “Are you sure you are not mistaken, John? I'm sure it was only your nervousness,” said his wife, anxiously. ‘* Oh, if you would only consult a physician !” “Physician be !" began Mr. Maverick, excitedly ; but he stopped short. “I have it!” he went on, in a changed tone. “The noise was in the front bed-room, where the old fellow hanged himself. And when the rope broke, he fell!" * “Surely, John, you don't place faith in all that gossip,” protested Mrs. Maverick. You're not quite yourself, dear, that’s all!” Mr. Maverick made no verbal reply. He buttoned up his coat resolutely, stepped over to the old writing-table in the corner of the room, and took from one of its drawers a silver- plated Colt’s revolver. Having satisfied himself that it was loaded, he lit a candle, and started for the door. Mrs. Maverick, now seriously disturbed, tried to calm him in vain. At length, with a sigh for his obstinacy, she arose and followed him. Il. HERE is no one here, said Mr. Maverick, after an exhaustive search of the front bed-room. “ But there is that old hook he hanged himself from; and he fell right here.” “Do come down stairs again, John. I was sure you would find nothing. Think how often ——” Her husband caught her arm. His lips were parted, and he was listening intently. “Steps! he whispered. “ Steps inthe hall! Listen! there—now—steps !” “T hear nothing!” said Mrs. Maverick, after a moment. comicbooks.com