Part 15 (2/2)
If the General was surprised to hear me talk, he didn't show it. He didn't sit still for a blink, but bounded out of the chair so quick it was amazing. ”Explain yourself,” he said. Turning his back to me, he dropped his pipe on a table and struck a match.
While he plucked the gla.s.s chimney off a lamp and lit the wick, I said, ”I followed a murderer tonight. He may've come here.”
The General didn't say a thing. He stepped past me lively with the lamp and s.n.a.t.c.hed a revolver off the fireplace mantel. It was huge.
I bet he knew how to use it, too.
”Follow me,” he said. ”Look sharp.”
We hotfooted it out of the parlor, across the foyer and up the stairs. My heart pounded fierce. I hoped the women weren't dead, as that would be a sorry loss for General Forrest. But I sure hoped we'd find Whittle. Scared as I was of the man, I was keen to see him struck by lead. Five or six slugs in the chest would do him proper.
I fetched one of the rocks out of my coat pocket before we reached the top of the stairs. The General moved fast and silent into a hallway up there. I stayed close behind him. The lamp cast a glow that lit us and the walls on both sides, but left a long stretch of darkness ahead.
A runner on the floor kept our footsteps quiet, but boards creaked plenty. They would creak for Whittle, too, I judged, if he came sneaking along. But that didn't ease my mind much, so I looked over my shoulder every few seconds. When we walked past a couple of shut doors, I worried they might fly open and Whittle'd leap out. But they stayed shut.
The next door we came to, it stood open and the General hurried through. He didn't tell me to stay out, so I followed him, not hankering to be left all alone in the hallway. We rushed over to a big canopy bed. I could tell, right off, that Whittle hadn't been at the woman because the covers weren't thrown off and she wasn't a b.l.o.o.d.y carca.s.s. Only her head showed. It wore a bonnet.
The General's hands were full, what with the lamp in one and his revolver in the other, so he gave the mattress a jolt with his knee. The woman let out a moan.
”Stir your bones, Mable.”
She mumbled, ”Huh? Whuh?”
”We may have trouble. Get up now and come along, and be quiet about it.”
She rolled onto her back, caught sight of me and bolted up fast, clutching the covers to her front. She was a skinny, wrinkled old woman. Some white hair stuck out from under the edges of her bonnet. She blinked and worked her jaw. ”Who...? What in heaven's name...?”
”Shhhh,” the General said. ”Let's go.”
”Why, I never...” she mumbled. But she didn't waste any time. Throwing some sour looks in my direction, she scampered out of bed and shoved her feet into slippers. She wore a wool gown so long she had to hoist it a bit so the hem wouldn't drag the floor.
The General took the lead. I hung back and stayed behind Mable, figuring to guard the rear. She had a bit of a limp, but she moved along spritely.
She kept glancing back like she suspected I might knock her on the head with my rock.
Up the hallway a piece, we rushed into another bedroom.
The gal in this one must've been a light sleeper, for she sat up quick before the General got a chance to call out or knee her bed.
”Gracious sakes,” she said, ”what is is going on?” going on?”
”Nothing at all, my dear,” the General told her. ”Nothing at all.”
She frowned, looking fairly perplexed. She was a fine, pretty woman, maybe ten years older than me, with sleek black hair that hung to her shoulders.
”Nothing?” Mable asked, giving the General a sharp look. ”Why, you've frightened me out of ten years' growth. Something had best best be going on, you old fool. Who's this be going on, you old fool. Who's this child? child? What's he doing in our home?” What's he doing in our home?”
”Trevor Bentley, ma'am,” I said.
”He came to warn us of a killer in the house,” the General explained.
”Oh, my,” the younger woman said.
”You stay here and watch the women, Trev.” With that, he headed for the hallway.
”Don't you dare leave us alone with this young rascal,” Mable blurted.
The General, he let on that he didn't hear her. He vanished with his lamp. We were in darkness for a bit. Then a match lit up the young woman. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she touched its flame to a lamp on her night table. She turned the wick up bright, and put the chimney over it, and blew out the match.
Mable went over to the lamp. She picked it up and held it off to her side as if she aimed to pitch it at me. ”I've dealt with my share of ruffians, fellow,” she said. ”Don't tempt me.”
”Settle down, Grandma,” the young one said, not at all snappish but soft and friendly. ”I'm sure Trevor doesn't mean us any harm.”
To show she was right, I tucked away the rock into my pocket.
”There,” she said. ”You see?” She stood up and went to her grandmother, and took the lamp. She set it on the table where it belonged.
She was a head taller than me, and slim and fine-looking. She wore a white nightdress that didn't quite reach to her ankles.
She gave me a smile that warmed me up considerable, then edged on past me and went for the door.
”I shouldn't go out there,” I warned.
She didn't heed that, but stepped out into the hall and looked both ways.
”Sarah, you get back in here this moment!”
Well, she stood out there ignoring me and and her grandmother. I had to admire her pluck, but I was scared for her. So I heeled it into the hall. I had a mind to grab her and tow her back inside the room. Kept my hands to myself, though. Just stayed beside her. her grandmother. I had to admire her pluck, but I was scared for her. So I heeled it into the hall. I had a mind to grab her and tow her back inside the room. Kept my hands to myself, though. Just stayed beside her.
We both studied the darkness.
I didn't know where the General had gone to, but I sure wished he'd show up quick.
”Come back in here and shut the door,” Mable sang out.
Sarah didn't answer. In a quiet voice to me, she said, ”I do hope Grandpa's all right.”
”I doubt the killer's in the house,” I said. I couldn't be certain, of course. I allowed it was a safe bet, considering Mable and Sarah hadn't gotten themselves butchered. But then again, he might've hidden out in another room for some reason. I figured there was no telling, when it came to Whittle. He might be creeping up on us even as we stood there.
Far off at the end of the hall, light came glowing from a doorway. Pretty soon, the general walked out behind his lamp and revolver. He didn't glance our way. He crossed to another door and entered a room.
”Let's go back inside,” I whispered.
She didn't answer, but just stood and folded her arms across her chest. I could hear her breathing sort of ragged. She was barefoot, and must've been mighty cold. Even though she had on a heavy nightdress, the chilly draft was likely chasing right up under it.
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