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Chapter fourteen. Things That Go Bump in the Night. |
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poltergeist in the bungalow |
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The next appearance in the bungalow was sheer farce, and rather vulgar at that. (Phenomena, by the way, were going on in the lines all this time as well.) It was at the usual time in the evening, about an hour after dark, and I was just starting dinner. The camp table was pushed up to the partition wall between the two rooms and was just beside the connecting doorway, and the hurricane lamp on it cast a ring of light round the table and myself and for a yard or so through the doorway into the bedroom beyond. I had a book propped against the sauce-bottle and was half-way through a plate of pumpkin soup, when off went a loud, explosive " raspberry ", as unmistakable and as concrete as a " raspberry " can be, just beyond the doorway and within a yard of where I sat. I could tell the spot to a foot, and it was well within the (109) ring of light. I put down the spoon and looked. There was the dog-bed, there was the doorway; there was the wall, there was the half-seen room beyond; and nothing whatever odd about any of them. Well, if a spirit wished to amuse itself by making rude noises in my bungalow, I could see no immediate way to prevent it; so I found my place in the book again and went on with my soup, and that was the end of that episode. |
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Piqued, possibly, by my ignoring it, the incubus next had recourse to more alarming methods. The incident occurred at the same time and place as the others, in the living-room and at about eight o'clock. I was reading after dinner by the fire, with the lamp on the table by me and my back to the two small windows. The shutters of both were closed, and were held shut by a bar across the frame on the inside. A string fastened the bar to the matting shutter, and the matting's natural springiness held all fast. A faint noise made me look round. There was the bar - which, being new and tautly-fastened, it took a sharp pull to dislodge - slipping out corner-wise through the window-space as though someone standing behind me were handling it, and, the next second, the whole freed shutter fell loose with a clatter which, I don't mind saying, startled the living daylight out of me. I yelled for the men, and we searched, but found nothing. I made Namkia sleep in the house at night, after that, by way of company. |
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The next manifestation was also a physical one. It came at an earlier hour than the others, at about six o'clock, the time sacred to my evening bath. At the exact moment, I remember, I was standing up and baling water over myself, and wishing the wind didn't blow so fiercely through the matting wall. At that minute there was a sharp creak from the door. It began to shake and quiver as though someone were trying to open it - it was a heavy door, slung from an overhead cane - and I gave a yell of outrage, grabbed a towel, wrapped it round me, and jerked the door ajar myself to (110) see who it was and rate the intruder. But the bedroom beyond was empty. The cold, grey light slanted across the bare floor, and I stood there, thoughtful. There had been no earthquake. One sharp enough to shake the heavy door would have set the house creaking. I saw clearly, too, what I had not noticed before, that no one could have reached the door, or left it, unheard. The bungalow floors were covered with bamboo matting. They were stiff and thick. The earth below them had packed and sunk with wear, and now when anyone, even the cat, crossed them, the matting sagged and crackled inescapably. There had been no sound either before or after the door moved. |
