Daily Short Stories - Mystery & Suspense

Midnight in Beauchamp Row

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Duration:: 35m
Broadcast on:: 14 Jul 2024
Audio Format:: mp3

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At renterswarehouse.com, call 303-974-9444 to speak to a rent estate advisor today. What if you could have a career where the opportunities are as vast as our nation, where it's not about mission statements, but a shared mission? At U.S. Customs and Border Protection, we go beyond to protect more than borders, from ship to shore, air to ground, cities to local communities, CBP agents and officers are keeping people safe. Join U.S. Customs and Border Protection and go beyond for something far greater than yourself. Learn more at cbp.gov/careers. Midnight in Bonsham-Broux by Anna Catherine Green. It was the last house in Bonsham-Broux, and it stood several rods away from its nearest neighbor. It was a pretty house in the daytime, but owing to its deep, sloping roof and small bedtime and windows, it had a lonesome nook at night, non-vastending the crimson hall light which shone through the leaves of its vine-covered doorway. Ned Chivers lived in it with a six-month married bride, and as he was both a busy fellow and a gay one, there were many evenings when pretty litty shiver sat alone until near midnight. She was of an uncomplaining spirit, however, and said little, though there were times when both the day and evening seemed very long and married life not altogether the paradise she had expected. On this evening, a memorable evening for her, the 24th of December, 1894, she had expected her husband to remain with her, for it was not only Christmas Eve, but the night when, as manager of a large manufacturing concern, he brought up from New York the money with which to pay off the men on the next work-in-day, and he never left her when there was any unusual amount of money in the house. But from the first glimpse she had of him coming up the road, she knew she was to be disappointed in this hope, and, indignant, alarmed almost, at the prospect of a lonesome evening under these circumstances, she ran hastily down to the gate to meet him, crying. "Oh, Nett, you look so troubled. I know you have only come home for her, it's upper, but you cannot leave me to-night." "Tenny, their only maid, has gone for a holiday, and I never can stay in this house alone with all that." She pointed to the small bag he carried, which, as she knew, was filled to bursting with bank notes. He certainly looked troubled. It is hard to resist the entreaty in a young bride's uplifted face. But this time he could not help himself, and he said, "I'm dreadful, sorry, but I must ride over to Fairbanks tonight. Mr. Pearson has given me an imperative order to conclude a matter of business there, and it is very important that it should be done. I should lose my position if I neglect this matter, and no one but housebroken suffer knows that we keep the money in the house. I have always given out that I entrusted to hell safe overnight. "But I cannot stand it," she persisted. "You have never left me on these nights. That is why I let Tenny go. I will spend the evening at the Larchus, or better still, call in Mr. and Mrs. Talcott to keep me company." But her husband did not approve of her going out or of her having company. The Larchus was too far away, and, as for Mr. and Mrs. Talcott, they were meddled some people whom he had never liked. Besides, Mrs. Talcott was delicate and denied threatened storm. It seemed hard to subject her to this ordeal, and he showed that he thought so by his manner, but a circumstances where she would have to stay alone, and he only hoped she would be brave and go to bed like a good girl, and think nothing about the money which she would take care to put away in a very safe place. "Or," said he, kissing her downcast face, "perhaps you would rather hide it yourself. Women always have curious ideas about such things." "Yes, let me hide it," she murmured. "The money I mean, not the bag. Everyone knows the bag. I should never dare to leave it in that." And begging him to unlock it, she began to empty it with a feverish haste that rather alarmed him, for he surveyed her anxiously and shook his head, as if he dreaded the effects of this excitement upon her. But as he saw no way of averting it, he confined himself to using such soothing words as where at his command, and then, humoring her weakness, helped her to arrange the bills in the place she had chosen, and re-stuffing the bag with old receipts till it acquired its former dimensions. He put a few bills on top to make the whole look natural, and, laughing at her right face, re-lock the bag and put the key back in his pocket. "There, dear, a notable scheme, and one that should relieve your mind entirely," he cried. "If any one should attempt burglary in my absence and should succeed in getting into a house as safely locked as this will be when I leave it, then trust to their being satisfied when they see this booty, which I shall hide where I always hide it, in the cupboard of both my desk. And when will you be back?" she murmured, trembling and spite of herself at these preparations. By one o'clock, if possible, certainly by two. And our neighbors go to bed at ten, she murmured. But the words were low, and she was glad he did not hear them. For if it was his duty to obey the orders he had received, then it was her duty to meet the position in which it left her as bravely as she could. At supper she was so natural that his face rapidly brightened, and it was with quite an air of cheerfulness that he rose at last to lock up the house, and make such preparations as were necessary for his dismal ride over the mountains to Fairbanks. She had the suppertitious to wash up in Tenny's absence, and as she was a busy little housewife she found herself singing a snatch of a song as she passed back and forth from dining room to kitchen. He heard it, too, and smiled to himself as he bolted the windows on the ground floor and examined the locks of the three lower doors. And when he finally came into the kitchen with his great coat on to give her his final kiss, he had but one parting and junction to urge, and that was that she should lock the front door after him and then forget the whole matter till she heard his stubble knock at midnight. She smiled and held up her ingenious face. "Be careful of yourself," she murmured. "I hate this dark right for you, and on such a night, too." And she ran with him to the door to look out. "It is certainly very dark," he responded, "but I am to have one of brown-safeest horses. Do not worry about me. I shall do well enough, and so will you, too, or you are not the plucky little woman I have always taught you." She laughed, but there was a choking sound in her voice that made him look at her again. But outside of his anxiety she recovered herself and pointing to the clouds set earnestly. "It's going to snow. Be careful as you're right by the gorge, Ned. It's very deceptive there, in a snowstorm." But he vowed that it would not snow before morning, and given her one final embrace, he dashed down the path towards Brown's livery stable. "Oh, what is the matter with me?" she murmured to herself as his steps died out in the distance. I never knew I was such a coward. And she paused for a moment, looking up and down the road. As if in spite of her husband's command, she had the desperate idea of running away to some neighbor. But she was too loyal for that, and smothering aside, she retreated into the house. As she did, so the first flakes fell off the storm that was not to have come till morning. It took her an hour to get to her kitchen in order, and nine o'clock struck before she was ready to sit down. She had been so busy she had not noticed how the wind had increased or how rapidly the snow was falling. But when she went to the front door, for another glance up and down the road, she started back, appalled at the fierceness of the gale, and at the great pile of snow that had already accumulated on the doorstep. To delicate to breast such a wind, she saw herself robbed of her last hope of any companionship. And sighing heavily, she locked and bolted the door for the night, and went back into her little sitting-room, where a great fire was burning. Here she sat down, and determined, now that she must pass the evening alone, to do it as cheerfully as possible, and so began to sow. "Oh, what a Christmas if!" she thought, and a picture of other homes rose before her eyes, homes in which husbands sat by wives and brothers by sisters. In a great wave of regret poured over her, in a longing for something, she hardly dared say what, lest her unhappiness should acquire a sting that would leave traces beyond the passing moment. The room in which she sat was the only one on the ground floor except the dining-room and kitchen. It was therefore used both as parlor and sitting-room, and held not only her piano, but her husband's desk. Communicating with it was the tiny dining-room. In the two, however, was an entry leading to a sight entrance. A lamp was in this entry, and she had left it burning, as well as the one in the kitchen that the house might look cheerful, and as if all the family were at home. She was looking toward this entry, and wondering whether it was the mist made by her tears, that made it look so dismally dark to her, when there came a faint sound from the door at its furthest end. But no further sound came from that direction, and after a few minutes of silent terror, she was allowing herself to believe that she had been deceived by her fears, when she suddenly heard the same sound at the kitchen door, followed by a muffled knock. Frighten now in good earnest, but still alive to the fact that the intruder was as likely to be a friend as a foe, she stepped to the door, and with her hand under lock, stooped and asked boldly enough who was there. But she received no answer, and more affected by this unexpected silence than by the knock, she had heard, she recalled father and father till not only the width of the kitchen, but the dining-room also lay between her and the scene of her alarm. Then, to her other confusion, the noise shifted again to the side of the house, and the door she thought so securely fastened, flung violently open as if blown in by a fierce gust, and she saw, precipitated into the entry, the burly figure of a man, covered with snow and shaking with the violence of the storm that seemed at once to fill the house. Her first thought was that it was her husband come back, but before she could clear her eyes from the cloud of snow which had entered with him, he had thrown off his outer covering, and she found herself face to face with a man in whose powerful frame and cynical visage she saw little to comfort her and much to surprise an alarm. Boog was his coars and rather familiar greeting, "A hard night, Mrs., enough to drive any man indoors, pardon the liberty, but I couldn't wait for you to lift the latch, the wind drove me right in." Was, was not the door locked? She feebly asked, thinking he must have staved it in with his foot, that looked only too well fitted for such a task. Not much, she chuckled. I suppose you're too hospital for that, and his eyes passed from her face to the comfortable fire light shining through the sitting-room. Is it refuge you want, she demanded, suppressing as much as possible all signs of fear? "Sure, Mrs., what else? A man can't live in a gale like that, especially after a tramp of twenty miles or more. Shall I shut the door for you?" he asked, with a mixture of provado and good nature that frightened her more and more. I will shut it, she replied, with half a notion of escaping the sinister stranger by a flight through the night. But one glance into the swirling snowstorm deterred her and, making the best of the alarming situation, she closed the door, but did not lock it, being more afraid now of what was inside the house than of anything left to threaten her from without. The man, who's close were dripping with water, watched her with a cynical smile, and then, without any invitation, entered the dining-room, crossed it, and moved toward the kitchen fire. "Ugh, ugh, but it's warm here," he cried, his nostrils dilating with an animal-like enjoyment, that, in itself, was repugnant to her womenly delicacies. "Do you know, Mrs., I shall have to stay here all night." "Can't go out in that gale again. Not such a fool." Then with a sly look at her trembling form and white face, he insinuatingly added, "All alone, Mrs." The suddenness with which this was put together with the lead that accompanied it made her start. "Alone?" "Yes, but should she acknowledge it? Would it not be better to say that her husband was upstairs?" The man evidently saw the struggle going on in her mind, for he chuckled to himself and he cawled out quite boldly, "Never mind, Mrs., it's all right. Just give me a bit of cold meat and a cup of tea or something, and we'll be very comfortable together." "You're a slender slip of a woman to be minding a house like this." "I'll keep you company, if you don't mind, lest wise than till the storm lets up a bit, which ain't likely for some hours to come." "Bruff night, Mrs. "Bruff night, I expect my husband at home any time, she hasn't to say. And thinking she saw a change in the man's countenance, at this she put on quite an air of sudden satisfaction and bounded towards the front of the house. "There, I think, I hear him now," she cried. Her motive was to gain time, and if possible, to obtain the opportunity of shifting the money from the place where she had first put it into another and safer one. I want to be able, she thought, of swearing that I have no money with me in this house. If I can only get it into my apron, I will drop it outside the door into the snow-bank. It will be as safe there as in the bank it came from. And dashing into the sitting-room, she made a fain of dragging down a shawl from a screen, while she secretly filled her skirt with the bills which had been put between some old pamphlets on the bookshelves. She could hear the man grumbling in the kitchen, but he did not follow her front, and taken advantage of the moment's respite from his non-too-encouraging presence, she unbarred the door and she her fully cowled out her husband's name. The ruse was successful. She was able to fling the notes where the falling flakes would soon cover them from sight, and feeling more courageous, now that the money was out of the house. She went slowly back, saying she had made a mistake, and that it was the wind she had heard. The man gave a gruff by annoying guffal, and then resumed his watch over her, following her steps as she proceeded to set him out a meal. The persistency that reminded her of a tiger, just in the point of springing. But the inviting looks of the vines with which she was rapidly setting the table soon distracted his attention, and allowing himself one grunt of satisfaction, he drew up a chair, and set himself down to what to him was evidently a most savoury repast. No beer, no ale, not that sore a day, don't keep a bar, he growled, as his teeth closed on a huge hunk of bread. She shook her head, wishing she had a little cold poison bottled up in a tight looking jog. Nothing but tea, she smiled, astonished at her own ease of manner in the presence of this alarming guest. Then let's have that, he grumbled, taken the bowl she handed him, with an odd look that made her glad to retreat to the other side of the room. Just listen to the howling wind, he went on between the huge mouthfuls of bread and cheese, with which he was gorging himself. But we are very comfortable, we too, we don't mind the storm, do we? But by his familiarity, and still more moved by the look of mingled inquiry and curiosity, with which his eyes now began to wander over the walls and cupboards, she took an anxious step towards the side of the house, looking toward her neighbours, and lifting one of the shades, which had all been religiously pulled down, she looked out. A swirl of snowflakes alone confronted her. She could neither see her neighbours, nor could she be seen by them. A shout from her to them would not be heard. She was as completely isolated as if the house stood in the center of a desolated western plane. I have no trust but in God she murmured as she came from the window. And, nerfed to meet her fate, she crossed to the kitchen. It was now half past ten, two hours and a half must elapse before her husband could possibly arrive. She said her teeth at the thawd and walked resolutely into the room. "Are you done?" she asked. "I am, ma'am," he leered. "Do you want me to wash the duces?" "I can, and I will," and he actually carried his plate and cupped to the sink, where he turned the water upon them with another loud guffel. If only his fancy would take him into the pantry, she thought I could shut and lock the door upon him and hold him prisoner till Ned gets back. But his fancy ended its flight at the sink, and before her hopes had fully subsided, he was standing on the threshold of the sitting-room door. "It's pretty here," he exclaimed, allowing his eye to rove again over every hiding place within sight. "I wonder now," he stopped. His glance had falling on the cupboard over her husband's desk. "Well," she asked, anxious to break the threat of his thought, which was only to plainly mirror it in his eager countenance. He started, dropped his eyes, and turning, looked at her, with a monetary fierceness. But as she did not let her own glance quail, but continued to look at him, with what she meant for a smile on her pale lips, he subdued this outward manifestation of passion, and, chuckling to hide his embarrassment, began back into the entry, leering an evident enjoyment of the fears he caused, with what she felt was a most horrible smile. Once in the hall, he hesitated, however, for a long time. Then he slowly went toward the garment he had dropped on entering, and stooping, drew from underneath its fold, a wicked-looking stick. Given a kick to the coat, which sent it into her remote corner, he bestowed upon her another smile, and still carrying the stick, went slowly and reluctantly away into the kitchen. "Oh, God almighty helped me," was her prayer. There was nothing for her to do now, but endure. So throwing herself into a chair, she tried to calm the beating of her heart, and summon up courage for the struggle, which she felt was before her, that he had come to rob an only way to take her off her guard, she now felt certain, and rapidly running over in her mind all the expedience of self-defense possible to one in her situation. She suddenly remembered a pistol which Ned kept in his desk. "Oh, why had she not thought of it before?" "Why had she let herself grow mad with terror when here, within reach of her hand, lay such a means of self-defense?" With a feeling of joy, she had always hated pistols before and scolded Ned when he bought this one. She started to her feet and slit her hand into the drawer. But it came back empty. Ned had taken the weapon away with him. For a moment a search of the bitterest feeling she had ever experienced passed over her. And she called reason to her aid and was obliged to acknowledge that the act was but natural, and that from his standpoint he was much more likely to need it than herself. But the disappointment, coming so soon after hope, unnerved her, and she sank back in her chair, giving herself up for last. How long she sat there with her eyes on the door, through which she momentarily expected her assailant to reappear, she never knew. She was conscious only of a sort of apathy that made movement difficult and even breathing a task. In vain she tried to change her thoughts. In vain she tried to follow her husband in fancy over the snow-covered roads and into the gorge of the mountains. Imagination felt her at this point. Through what she would, all was misty in her mind's eye, and she could not see that wandering image. There was blankness between his form and her, and no life or movement anywhere but here in the scene of her terror. Her eyes were on a strip of rug that covered the interfloor, and so strange was the condition of her mind that she found herself mechanically counting the tassels that finished its edge, drawing wrath over one that was worn, till she hated that sixth tassel and mentally determined, that if she ever outlived this night she would strip them all off and be done with them. The wind had lessened, but the air had grown cooler, and the snow made a sharp sound where it struck the pains. She felt it falling, though she had cut off all view of it. It seemed to her that a paw was setting over the world in that she would soon be smothered under its folds. Meanwhile no sound came from the kitchen. Only the dreadful sense of a doom creeping upon her, a sense that grew in intensity till she found herself watching, for the shadow of that lifted stick on the wall of the entry, and almost imagined she saw the tip of it appearing, when without any premonition that fatal sight-door again blew in and admitted another man of so threatening an aspect that she succumbed instantly before him and forgot all her former fears in this new terror. The second intruder was a negro of powerful frame and glorying aspect, and as he came forward and stood in the doorway, there was observable in his fears and desperate countenance, and who attempt at the insinuation of the other, only a fearful resolution that made her feel like a puppet before him, and drove her almost without violation to her knees. "Money? Is it money you want?" was a desperate greeting. "If so, here's my purse, and here are my rings and watch. Take them and go." But the stolid wretch did not even stretch out his hands. His eyes went behind her, and the mingled anxiety and resolve which he displayed would have cowed a stouter heart and that of this poor woman. "Keep the trash!" she growled. "I want the company's money. You've got it. $2,000." "Show me where it is, that's all, and I won't trouble you long after I close on it." "But it's not in the house, she cried. I swear it is not in the house. Do you think Mr. Chivers would leave me here alone with $2,000 to guard?" But the negro, swearing that she lied, leaped into the room and tearing open the cupboard above her husband's desk, seized the bag from the corner where they had put it. He brought it in this, he muttered, and tried to force the bag open, but finding this impossible, he took out a heavy knife and cut a big hole in its sight. Instantly they fell out the pile of old receipts with which they had stuffed it, and seeing these he stamped with rage and flinging them in one great handful at her rush to the drawers below, emptied them, and, finding nothing, attacked the bookcase. "The money's somewhere here." "You can't fool me," he yelled. "I saw the spot your eyes lit on when I first came into the room." "Is it behind these books?" he growled, pulling them out and throwing them helter-skelter over the floor. "Women is smart in the hiding business." "Is it behind these books?" I say. They had been, or rather, had been placed between the books, but she had taken them away, as we know, and he soon began to realize that his search was bringing him nothing, for leaving the bookcase he gave the books one kick. And seizing her by the arm shook her with a murderous glare on his strange and distorted features. "Where's the money?" he hissed. "Tell me, or you're a goner." He raised his heavy fist. She crouched and all seemed over, then, with a rush and a cry, a figure dashed between them, and he fell, struck down by the very stick she had so long been expecting to see fall upon at her own head. The man who had been her terror for hours had, at the moment of need, acted as her protector. She must have fainted, but if so, her unconscious was but momentary, for when she again recognized her surroundings, she found the tramp still standing over her adversary. "I hope you don't mind, ma'am," he said, with an air of umbleness she certainly had not seen in him before, but I think the man's dead. And he stirred with his foot the heavy figure before him. "Oh, no, no, no," she cried. That would be too fearful. "He's shocked, stunned. You cannot have killed him." But the tramp was persistent. "I'm afraid I have," he said. I'd done it before, and it's been the same every time. But I couldn't see a man of that color frightening a lady like you. My supper was too warm in me, ma'am. Shall I throw him outside the house? "Yes," she said, and then, "No, let us first be sure there is no life in him." And hardly knowing what she did, she stooped down and peered into the glassy eyes of the prostrate man. Suddenly she turned pale, no, not pale, but ghastly, and cowering back, shook so that the tramp, into whose feature a certain refinement had passed since he had acted as her protector, saw she had discovered life in those said orbs, and was stooping down to make sure that this was so, when he saw her suddenly lean forward and impetiously plunging her hand into the sneaker's throat, tear open the shirt and give one look at his bare breast. It was white. "O God, O God," she moaned, and, lifting the head in her two hands, she gave the motionless features a long and searching look. "Water," she cried, "bring water." But before the now obedient tramp could respond, she had torn off the bully week disfiguring the dead man's head, and seeing the blonde curls beneath had uttered such a shriek that it rose above the gale and was heard by her distant neighbors. It was the head and hair of her husband. They found out afterwards that he had contemplated this theft for months that each and every precaution possibly to a successful issue to this most daring undertaking had been made use of, and that but for the unexpected presence in the house of the tramp he would doubtless have not only extorted the money from his wife, but have so covered up the deed by a plausible alibi as to have retained her confidence in that of his employers. Whether the tramp killed him out of sympathy for the defenseless woman, or enraged at being disappointed in his own plans, has never been determined. Mrs. Chivers herself thinks he was actuated by a root sort of gratitude. 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