Read Online Charnel House by Graham Masterton - Free Book Online

up?”
    Wallis was watching us with a frown on his face. “That chimney isn’t blocked. I had a fire in there just a few days ago. I was burning some old papers I wanted to get rid of.”
    Bryan took another look up the chimney. “Well, Mr. Wallis, even if it wasn’t blocked then, it’s sure blocked now. It’s possible that the blockage may have had something to do with the noises you heard. Do you mind if I take a look upstairs?”
    â€œBe my guest,” said Wallis. “I’ll stay here, if you don’t mind. I’ve had enough of this for one day.”
    The four of us trooped out into the hallway and switched on the dim light that illuminated the stairs. It was dim because of its olive-and-yellow glass shade, which was thick with dust and spiderwebs. Everything in the house seemed to be musty and faded and covered with dust, but then I suppose that’s what Wallis called character. I was beginning to feel like a dedicated supporter of Formica and plastic and tacky modern building.
    As Bryan mounted the first stair, Jane suddenly noticed the bronze statuette of the bear-lady.
    â€œThat’s unusual,” she said. “Did it come with the house?”
    â€œNo. Seymour Wallis dug it up in Fremont someplace when he was working on a bridge. He builds bridges, or at least he used to.”
    Jane touched the serene face of the statuette as if she expected it to open its eyes at any moment.
    â€œIt reminds me of something,” she said softly. “It gives me the strangest feeling. It’s almost like I’ve seen it before, but I couldn’t have.”
    She paused for a second or two, her hand touching the statuette’s head, and then she looked up. “I can’t remember. Perhaps I’ll think of it later. Shall we get on?”
    With Bryan leading the way, we trod as quietly as we could up the old, squeaking staircase. There were two flights of about ten stairs each, and then we found ourselves on a long landing, illuminated by another dingy glass shade, and carpeted in dusty red. It didn’t look as if the house had been decorated for twenty or thirty years, and all around was that pervasive silence and that moldering smell of damp.
    â€œThe study chimney must come up through this room,” said Bryan, and led us across to a bedroom door that was set at an angle on the opposite side of the landing. He turned the brass handle and opened it up.
    The bedroom was small and cold. It had a window that overlooked the yard, where dark wet trees rose and fell in the wind and the rain. There was pale blue wallpaper on the walls, stained brown with damp, and the only furniture was a cheap varnished wardrobe and a shabby iron bed. The floor was covered with old-fashioned linoleum that must have been green many years ago.
    Bryan went across to the fireplace, which was similar to the fireplace in Seymour Wallis’s study, except that someone had painted it cream. He knelt down beside it, and listened, and the rest of us stood there and watched him.
    â€œWhat can you hear?” I asked him. “Is it still blocked?”
    â€œI think so,” he said, straining his eyes to see up into the darkness. “I just need to see round the ledge and I might be able to …”
    He shifted himself nearer and cautiously poked his head up under the hood of the fire.
    Dr. Jarvis laughed, but it was a nervous kind of a laugh. “Can you see anything?” he asked.
    â€œI’m not sure,” Bryan answered in a muffled voice. “There’s a different kind of resonance here. Some sort of thudding noise. I’m not sure if it’s echoing down the chimney or if it’s vibrating through the whole house.”
    â€œWe can’t hear anything out here,” I told him.
    â€œHang on,” he said, and shifted himself so that his whole head disappeared up the chimney.
    â€œI hope you don’t mind washing your hair before you