“You’ve been a long time, Jane,” said my mother. “Couldn’t you find the shawl?”


* * *

On the second day of the new year there took place a little incident which left a mark on my memory. Amy the housemaid was getting something from the top shelf of a cupboard and in doing so pulled down some holly.

I was in the kitchen at the time—just the two of us, and she said to me: “It’s been in the way ever since it was put up and so’s that on the dresser. It’s time it came down. You help me, Jane.”

So I held the chair while she climbed up, and when she had taken it down, I said: “It looks unfinished now. If that comes down all of it should.”

So we began to take it down and as we were doing so Mrs. Couch came in. She stared at us in horror.

“What are you doing?” she cried.

“The dratted stuff was in the way,” said Amy. “And Christmas has come and gone so it’s time it was down.”

“Time it was down. Don’t you know nothing, Amy Clint. Why, it’s not to come down till Twelfth Night. Don’t you know it brings terrible bad luck to take it down afore.”

Amy had turned white. I looked from one to the other. Mrs. Couch had lost her fat comfortable look; she was like a prophet of evil. Her eyes, never very big, had almost disappeared into her pudding of a face.

“Put it back quick,” she said. “It may not have been noticed.”

“Who might have noticed it?” I asked.

But she was too shaken to tell me.

Later when she was rocking in her chair I asked her why decorations must not come down before Twelfth Night. She said it was knowledge that was passed down from generation to generation except among the ignorant like that Amy Clint. Witches looked on it as an insult.

“Why? What have they got to do with Christmas?”

“There’s things that can’t be explained,” said Mrs. Couch mysteriously. “My brother’s sister-in-law was a scoffer. She took down her decorations on New Year’s Day and look what happened to her.”

“What?”

“She was a corpse within the year. So if that don’t show, what does?”

I was not entirely convinced that Mrs. Couch’s brother’s sister-in-law’s untimely death was connected with the taking down of Christmas decorations but it seemed unwise to express doubts.

That memorable holiday came to an end with a climax which seemed dramatic at the time.

On the 20th January I was to return to school and my mother was busily sewing name tapes on my things and preparing my trunk. She and Mr. Jeffers would drive me to the station. Mr. Jeffers said it was like old times having a young lady to be driven to school—and Cluntons’ too. It was clear that he doubted the propriety of this particular young lady’s going to that exclusive establishment since she was only the housekeeper’s daughter, but like Mrs. Couch he was prepared to accept the fact that times had changed.

I was sorry my stay at Roland’s Croft was coming to an end. Already I seemed like a part of the household. There were two things I regretted and I had hoped that there would be a miracle to bring these about: That I might look inside the Treasure Room to assure myself that it was only precious ornaments which were there, and that I should have an opportunity of seeing Mr. Sylvester Milner.

One of my mother’s theories was that if you wanted something very badly and you believed you would get it, you would, providing you did everything in your power to achieve that end. “Faith and determination,” she used to say. “And one is as important as the other.”

It would be summer holidays before I saw Roland’s Croft again, for it was too far to come home for the few days at Easter. And I had not seen Mr. Sylvester Milner nor the inside of his Treasure Room.

About five days before I was due to leave for school, there was an intimation that Mr. Sylvester Milner would soon return. Ling Fu would precede him. It seemed the most incredible bad luck that Mr. Milner should be coming back two days after I had left for school. However I should at least see his mysterious servant.

I watched from a window and was rather disappointed to see a small man alight from the trap. He looked up at the house as though he knew he was being watched and I jumped back. He could not have seen me of course but I had that guilty feeling eavesdroppers get. I just caught a glimpse of his Oriental features. I was disappointed that he should be in European dress and did not have a pigtail.

He changed his costume in the house though; there he wore shiny alpaca trousers and a loose kind of tunic; his slippers had silver markings on them and turned up slightly at the toes. He looked more Oriental thus.

“Creep creep creep about the house,” complained Mrs. Couch. “You never know where he is. What’s wrong with a good English valet? Tell me that?”

He interested me although he rarely looked my way; and two days before I left for school I saw from my window that the curtains of the Treasure Room had been drawn right back so I knew he was in there.

The urge was irresistible. I could go up to the third floor. I would have to make up some excuse for being there if I were discovered. I wanted to see the view from the upper windows? Would that do? I was too impatient to waste time thinking of a better excuse.

Stealthily I mounted the staircase. The house had that quietness which was so noticeable beyond the first floor. Up I went to Mr. Sylvester Milner’s apartments. My mother had had them all specially cleaned so that they would be ready for his return and there was a smell of the polish she herself made and which she insisted was the best and should always be used—a mixture of beeswax and turpentine. And there was the Treasure Room—and the door was open.

My heart began to beat very fast. I paused on the threshold and peeped in. There was no one there. I took a step into the room. It was true there were beautiful figures everywhere. Some were large, some small. There were vases beautifully colored and several Buddhas in what I supposed to be jade. I gazed in fascination at their strange faces, some benign some sinister. I took a few paces into the room. I was actually inside Mr. Sylvester Milner’s Treasure Room!

There was a small room leading from this one in which was a sink and some cleaning materials. Just as I was peeping into it I heard footsteps. Someone was coming along the corridor! If I tried to get out I should inevitably be seen, so I stepped into the little room and waited.

To my horror I heard the door of the room shut and a gentle grating sound as though a key was being turned in a lock.

I came out into the Treasure Room and went immediately to the door. I was locked in.

I stared at the door in dismay as the implication of what this meant swept over me. I was sure it would result in dire consequences. This was the room full of precious objects. No one was allowed to go into it except Ling Fu. I, who was here under sufferance one might say, had dared break the rule, and for my sins was locked in.

I went to the window. There were bars across it. To protect the treasure I supposed. Perhaps I could attract someone’s attention, I desperately hoped it would be my mother’s. There was no one in the grounds. I went to the door and was about to rap on it when I hesitated. The only person I wanted to open that door was my mother. I felt it would be very embarrassing indeed to face Ling Fu and tell him that I had pried into the room when he was not there. I imagined that he had slipped away for a few seconds into one of the rooms on this floor and by a quirk of fate I had come along precisely at that time.

I looked round the room. It was true then that Mr. Sylvester Milner was a merchant and this was his merchandise. There was no great mystery such as I had imagined. I knew nothing of these things but ignorant as I was I could not help but be impressed by their beauty. They were very valuable I was sure, but I was a little disappointed because I had hoped this room contained some dark secret which would give me a clue to the character of Mr. Sylvester Milner. But it was just as they had said—it was his storeroom of treasures and because they were so valuable he did not want the room left open to the servants, and so entrusted them to the care of Ling Fu who perhaps because he was Chinese understood something of their value.

It was an anticlimax and my curiosity had merely placed me in a difficult position. How could I get out of this room without betraying my indiscretion? If my mother discovered me she would be horrified but she understood how I had always found it impossible to curb my curiosity. I should be hustled out and warned never to do such a thing again. But how could I attract her attention? I went to the window. Those bars made me feel like a prisoner; I tried the door again. Then I looked round the room for inspiration, and I almost forgot my dilemma in the contemplation of those beautiful things. There was the figure of a woman carved in ivory; she was so tall and graceful, so beautiful that I felt overawed. I went to examine her more intently. Her features were finely etched and the expression so lifelike that I felt she was watching me. I did not greatly care for the obese Buddhas with their baleful eyes. There was one huge one in what might have been bronze. He was not fat, he was seated on a lotus flower; his eyes were malevolent and wherever I looked I felt they followed me.

I would have to get out of here. They might be only valuable pieces of stone, bronze, and ivory but there was a certain alien quality about them which fitted in with everything I had ever felt about the house.

I should not like to be in this room when darkness fell. I had a silly notion that then all these seemingly inanimate objects would come to life; it was these—and their master Mr. Sylvester Milner—who had brought that strangeness into the house.

How to get out? I was again at the window. Someone might come into the garden. Oh let it be my mother, I prayed. But even if it were one of the maids I could attract her attention. It was hardly likely to be Mrs. Couch who rarely stirred from the house. Whoever it was I would be grateful and humbly confess my curiosity.

I went to the door, passing the bronze Buddha with the evil eyes. They seemed to sneer as they followed me. I turned the handle. I shook the door. I beat on it and called out in sudden panic: “I’m locked in.”

There was no answer.

Memories of my childhood came back to me. How many times had I been told “Curiosity killed the cat.” And I could hear my mother’s recounting the fate of Meddlesome Matty who lifted the teapot lid to see what was within.

I had been wrong to come in here. I knew it was forbidden. It was, as my mother would tell me, abusing hospitality I had been graciously allowed to stay here and I had behaved with ill grace. I was as bad as Meddlesome Matty and the Curious Cat. Both had suffered for their curiosity and so should I.

I tried to be calm. I looked once more at the beautiful objects. My attention was momentarily caught by a collection of sticks in a jade container. I supposed them to be made of ivory. I counted them. There were forty-nine of them. I wondered what they were.

I went into the small adjoining room and examined it. I opened a cupboard door and saw brushes, dusters, and a long coat which presumably Ling Fu wore for cleaning. There was a chair and I sat down on this and stared despondently at my feet.

From below I heard the sound of horse’s hoofs and I ran to the window. That was the carriage coming round from the coach house and Jeffers was taking it down the drive.

I went back to the chair and asked myself how I could get out of this place.

I didn’t care that I should be caught. I only wanted to get out. I called at the top of my voice. No one answered. The walls were thick and people rarely came to the third floor.

I was beginning to get frightened particularly as twilight, which came early on these winter afternoons, would soon descend. It must have been just after three when I tiptoed into this room. It would now be past four.

My mother would not miss me yet but later she would…

I started to imagine what would happen to me. How often did Ling Fu come to the room? Not every day. Then I should be locked away like the bride in the Mistletoe Bough. They would find nothing but my skeleton. But before that I would have to face a night alone with that leering bronze Buddha. Some of the other pieces made me feel uncomfortable too. Even now when the shadows were beginning to fall they seemed to be changing subtly. And when it was dark… The idea of being in the darkness with such objects sent me to hammer on the door.