The Middle Toe of the Right Foot

1

IT is well known that the old Manton house is haunted. In all therural
district near about, and even in the town of Marshall, a mileaway, not
one person of unbiased mind entertains a doubt of it; incredulityis
confined to those opinionated persons who will be called 'cranks'as
soon as the useful word shall have penetrated the intellectualdemesne
of the Marshall Advance. The evidence that the house is hauntedis of
two kinds: the testimony of disinterested witnesses who have hadocular
proof, and that of the house itself. The former may bedisregarded and
ruled out on any of the various grounds of objection which may beurged
against it by the ingenious; but facts within the observation ofall are
material and controlling.
In the first place, the Manton house has been un- occupied by
mortals for more than ten years, and with its outbuildings isslowly
falling into decay-- a circumstance which in itself the judiciouswill
hardly venture to ignore. It stands a little way off theloneliest reach
of the Marshall and Harriston road, in an opening which was oncea farm
and is still dis- figured with strips of rotting fence and halfcovered
with brambles overrunning a stony and sterile soil longunacquainted
with the plough. The house it- self is in tolerably goodcondition,
though badly weather-stained and in dire need of attention fromthe
glazier, the smaller male population of the region havingattested in
the manner of its kind its disapproval of dwelling withoutdwellers. It
is two stories in height, nearly square, its front pierced by asingle
doorway flanked on each side by a window boarded up to the verytop.
Corresponding windows above, not protected, serve to admit lightand
rain to the rooms of the upper floor. Grass and weeds grow prettyrankly
all about, and a few shade trees, somewhat the worse for wind,and
leaning all in one direction, seem to be making a concertedeffort to
run away. In short, as the Marshall town humorist explained inthe
columns of the Advance, 'the prop- osition that the Manton houseis
badly haunted is the only logical conclusion from the premises.'The
fact that in this dwelling Mr. Manton thought it expedient onenight
some ten years ago to rise and cut the throats of his wife andtwo small
children, removing at once to another part of the country, has nodoubt
done its share in directing public attention to the fitness ofthe place
for supernatural phe- nomena.
To this house, one summer evening, came four men in a wagon.Three
of them promptly alighted, and the one who had been drivinghitched the
team to the only remaining post of what had been a fence. Thefourth
remained seated in the wagon. 'Come,' said one of his companions,
approaching him, while the others moved away in the direction ofthe
dwell- ing--'this is the place.'
The man addressed did not move. 'By God!' he said harshly, 'thisis
a trick, and it looks to me as if you were in it.'
'Perhaps I am,' the other said, looking him straight in the faceand
speaking in a tone which had something of contempt in it. 'Youwill
remember, however, that the choice of place was with your ownassent
left to the other side. Of course if you are afraid of spooks--'
'I am afraid of nothing,' the man interrupted with another oath,and
sprang to the ground. The two then joined the others at the door,which
one of them had already opened with some difficulty, caused byrust of
lock and hinge. All entered. Inside it was dark, but the man whohad
unlocked the door pro- duced a candle and matches and made alight. He
then unlocked a door on their right as they stood in the passage.This
gave them entrance to a large, square room that the candle butdimly
lighted. The floor had a thick carpeting of dust, which partlymuf- fled
their footfalls. Cobwebs were in the angles of the walls anddepended
from the ceiling like strips of rotting lace, making undulatory
movements in the disturbed air. The room had two windows inadjoin- ing
sides, but from neither could anything be seen except the roughinner
surfaces of boards a few inches from the glass. There was nofireplace,
no furniture; there was nothing: besides the cobwebs and thedust, the
four men were the only objects there which were not a part of the
structure.
Strange enough they looked in the yellow light of the candle. The
one who had so reluctantly alighted was especially spectacular--hemight
have been called sensational. He was of middle age, heavilybuilt,
deep-chested and broad-shouldered. Looking at his figure, onewould have
said that he had a giant's strength; at his features, that hewould use
it like a giant. He was clean-shaven, his hair rather closelycropped
and grey. His low fore- head was seamed with wrinkles above theeyes,
and over the nose these became vertical. The heavy black browsfollowed
the same law, saved from meeting only by an upward turn at whatwould
otherwise have been the point of contact. Deeply sunken be- neaththese
glowed in the obscure light a pair of eyes of uncertain colour,but
obviously enough too small. There was something forbidding intheir ex-
pression, which was not bettered by the cruel mouth and wide jaw.The
nose was well enough, as noses go; one does not expect much ofnoses.
All that was sinister in the man's face seemed accentuated by an
unnatural pallor--he appeared altogether bloodless.
The appearance of the other men was sufficiently commonplace:they
were such persons as one meets and forgets that he met. All wereyounger
than the man described, between whom and the eldest of theothers, who
stood apart, there was apparently no kindly feeling. They avoided
looking at each other.
'Gentlemen,' said the man holding the candle and keys,' I believe
everything is right. Are you ready, Mr. Rosser?'
The man standing apart from the group bowed and smiled.
'And you, Mr. Grossmith?'
The heavy man bowed and scowled.
'You will be pleased to remove your outer clothing.'
Their hats, coats, waistcoats and neckwear were soon removed and
thrown outside the door, in the passage. The man with the candlenow
nodded, and the fourth man--he who had urged Grossmith to leavethe
wagon--produced from the pocket of his overcoat two long,
murderous-looking bowie- knives, which he drew now from theirleather
scabbards.
'They are exactly alike,' he said, presenting one to each of thetwo
principals--for by this time the dullest observer would haveunderstood
the nature of this meeting. It was to be a duel to the death.
Each combatant took a knife, examined it criti- cally near the
candle and tested the strength of blade and handle across hislifted
knee. Their per- sons were then searched in turn, each by thesecond of
the other.
'If it is agreeable to you, Mr. Grossmith,' said the man holdingthe
light,' you will place yourself in that corner.'
He indicated the angle of the room farthest from the door,whither
Grossmith retired, his second part- ing from him with a grasp ofthe
hand which had nothing of cordiality in it. In the angle nearestthe
door Mr. Rosser stationed himself, and after a whisperedconsultation
his second left him, joining the other near the door. At thatmoment the
candle was suddenly extinguished, leaving all in profounddarkness. This
may have been done by the draught from the opened door; whateverthe
cause, the effect was startling.
'Gentlemen,' said a voice which sounded strangely unfamiliar inthe
altered condition affecting the relations of the senses--'gentlemen,you
will not move until you hear the closing of the outer door.'
A sound of trampling ensued, then the closing of the inner door;and
finally the outer one closed with a concussion which shook theentire
building.
A few minutes afterward a belated farmer's boy met a light wagon
which was being driven furiously toward the town of Marshall. He
declared that be- hind the two figures on the front seat stood athird,
with its hands upon the bowed shoulders of the others, whoappeared to
struggle vainly to free themselves from its grasp. This figure,unlike
the others, was clad in white, and had undoubtedly boarded thewagon as
it passed the haunted house. As the lad could boast aconsiderable
former expe- rience with the supernatural thereabouts his wordhad the
weight justly due to the testimony of an expert. The story (in
connection with the next day's events) eventually appeared in the
Advance, with some slight literary embellishments and aconcluding
intimation that the gentlemen referred to would be allowed theuse of
the paper's columns for their version of the night's adventure.But the
privilege remained without a claimant.
2
The events that led up to this 'duel in the dark' were simple
enough. One evening three young men of the town of Marshall weresitting
in a quiet corner of the porch of the village hotel, smoking anddis-
cussing such matters as three educated young men of a Southernvillage
would naturally find interesting. Their names were King, Sancherand
Rosser. At a little distance, within easy hearing, but taking nopart in
the conversation, sat a fourth. He was a stranger to the others.They
merely knew that on his arrival by the stage-coach that afternoonhe had
written in the hotel register the name Robert Grossmith. He hadnot been
observed to speak to anyone except the hotel clerk. He seemed,indeed,
singularly fond of his own company--or, as the personnel of theAdvance
expressed it, 'grossly ad- dicted to evil associations.' But thenit
should be said in justice to the stranger that the personnel washimself
of a too convivial disposition fairly to judge one differentlygifted,
and had, moreover, experienced a slight rebuff in an effort at an
'interview.'
'I hate any kind of deformity in a woman,' said King, 'whether
natural or--acquired. I have a theory that any physical defecthas its
correlative mental and moral defect.'
'I infer, then,' said Rosser gravely, 'that a lady lacking themoral
advantage of a nose would find the struggle to become Mrs. Kingan
arduous enterprise.'
'Of course you may put it that way,' was the re- ply; 'but,
seriously, I once threw over a most charming girl on learningquite
accidentally that she had suffered amputation of a toe. Myconduct was
brutal if you like, but if I had married that girl I should havebeen
miserable for life and should have made her so.'
'Whereas,' said Sancher, with a light laugh, 'by marrying a
gentleman of more liberal views she escaped with a parted throat.'
'Ah, you know to whom I refer. Yes, she married Manton, but Idon't
know about his liberality; I'm not sure but he cut her throatbecause he
discovered that she lacked that excellent thing in woman, themiddle toe
of the right foot.'
'Look at that chap!' said Rosser in a low voice, his eyes fixedupon
the stranger.
'That chap' was obviously listening intently to the conversation.
'Damn his impudence!' muttered King--' what ought we to do?'
'That's an easy one,' Rosser replied, rising. 'Sir,' hecontinued,
addressing the stranger, 'I think it would be better if you wouldremove
your chair to the other end of the veranda. The presence ofgentle- men
is evidently an unfamiliar situation to you.'
The man sprang to his feet and strode forward with clenchedhands,
his face white with rage. All were now standing. Sancher steppedbetween
the belligerents.
'You are hasty and unjust,' he said to Rosser; 'this gentlemanhas
done nothing to deserve such language.'
But Rosser would not withdraw a word. By the custom of thecountry
and the time there could be but one outcome to the quarrel.
'I demand the satisfaction due to a gentleman,' said thestranger,
who had become more calm. 'I have not an acquaintance in thisregion.
Perhaps you, sir,' bowing to Sancher, 'will be kind enough torepresent
me in this matter.'
Sancher accepted the trust--somewhat reluc- tantly it must be
confessed, for the man's appear- ance and manner were not at allto his
liking. King, who during the colloquy had hardly removed his eyesfrom
the stranger's face and had not spoken a word, consented with anod to
act for Rosser, and the upshot of it was that, the principalshaving
retired, a meeting was arranged for the next evening. The natureof the
arrangements has been already disclosed. The duel with knives ina dark
room was once a commoner feature of south-western life than it islikely
to be again. How thin a veneering of 'chivalry' covered theessential
brutality of the code under which such encounters were possiblewe shall
see.
3
In the blaze of a midsummer noonday the old Manton house washardly
true to its traditions. It was of the earth, earthy. The sunshine
caressed it warmly and affectionately, with evident disregard ofits bad
reputation. The grass greening all the expanse in its frontseemed to
grow, not rankly, but with a natural and joyous exuberance, andthe
weeds blossomed quite like plants. Full of charming lights andshadows
and populous with pleasant-voiced birds, the neglected shadetrees no
longer struggled to run away, but bent reverently beneath theirbur- den
of sun and song. Even in the glassless upper windows was anexpression
of peace and content- ment, due to the light within. Over thestony
fields the visible heat danced with a lively tremor incom-patible with
the gravity which is an attribute of the supernatural.
Such was the aspect under which the place pre- sented itself to
Sheriff Adams and two other men who had come out from Marshall tolook
at it. One of these men was Mr. King, the sheriff's deputy; theother,
whose name was Brewer, was a brother of the late Mrs. Manton.Under a
beneficent law of the State relating to property which had beenfor a
certain period abandoned by an owner whose residence cannot be
ascertained, the sheriff was legal custodian of the Manton farmand
appurtenances thereunto belonging. His present visit was in mere
perfunctory compliance with some order of a court in which Mr.Brewer
had an action to get possession of the property as heir to hisdeceased
sister. By a mere coincidence, the visit was made on the dayafter the
night that Deputy King had unlocked the house for another andvery
different purpose. His presence now was not of his own choosing:he had
been ordered to accompany his superior, and at the moment couldthink of
nothing more pru- dent than simulated alacrity in obedience tothe
command.
Carelessly opening the front door, which to his surprise was not
locked, the sheriff was amazed to see, lying on the floor of thepassage
into which it opened, a confused heap of men's apparel. Exam-ination
showed it to consist of two hats, and the same number of coats,
waistcoats and scarves, all in a remarkably good state ofpreservation,
albeit somewhat defiled by the dust in which they lay. Mr. Brewerwas
equally astonished, but Mr. King's emotion is not on record. Witha new
and lively interest in his own actions the sheriff now unlatchedand
pushed open the door on the right, and the three entered. Theroom was
apparently vacant--no; as their eyes became accustomed to thedimmer
light something was visible in the farthest angle of the wall. Itwas a
human figure--that of a man crouching close in the corner.Something in
the atti- tude made the intruders halt when they had barelypassed the
threshold. The figure more and more clearly defined itself. Theman was
upon one knee, his back in the angle of the wall, his shoulderselevated
to the level of his ears, his hands before his face, palmsoutward, the
fingers spread and crooked like claws; the white face turnedupward on
the retracted neck had an expression of unutterable fright, themouth
half open, the eyes incredibly expanded. He was stone dead. Yet,with
the excep- tion of a bowie-knife, which had evidently fallen fromhis
own hand, not another object was in the room.
In thick dust that covered the floor were some confusedfootprints
near the door and along the wall through which it opened. Alongone of
the ad- joining walls, too, past the boarded-up windows, was thetrail
made by the man himself in reaching his corner. Instinctively in
approaching the body the three men followed that trail. Thesheriff
grasped one of the out-thrown arms; it was as rigid as iron, andthe
application of a gentle force rocked the en- tire body withoutaltering
the relation of its parts. Brewer, pale with excitement, gazedintently
into the distorted face. 'God of mercy!' he suddenly cried, 'itis
Manton! '
'You are right,' said King, with an evident at- tempt at calmness:
'I knew Manton. He then wore a full beard and his hair long, butthis is
he.'
He might have added: 'I recognized him when he challenged Rosser.I
told Rosser and Sancher who he was before we played him thishorrible
trick. When Rosser left this dark room at our heels, for- gettinghis
outer clothing in the excitement, and driving away with us in hisshirt
sleeves--all through the discreditable proceedings we knew whomwe were
dealing with, murderer and coward that he was!'
But nothing of this did Mr. King say. With his better light hewas
trying to penetrate the mystery of the man's death. That he hadnot once
moved from the corner where he had been stationed; that hisposture was
that of neither attack nor defence; that he had dropped hisweapon; that
he had obviously perished of sheer horror of something that hesaw
--these were circumstances which Mr. King's dis- turbedintelligence
could not rightly comprehend.
Groping in intellectual darkness for a clue to his maze of doubt,
his gaze, directed mechanically down- ward in the way of one whoponders
momentous matters, fell upon something which, there, in the lightof day
and in the presence of living companions, affected him withterror. In
the dust of years that lay thick upon the floor--leading from thedoor
by which they had entered, straight across the room to within ayard of
Manton's crouching corpse-- were three parallel lines of
footprints--light but definite impressions of bare feet, theouter ones
those of small children, the inner a woman's. From the point atwhich
they ended they did not return; they pointed all one way. Brewer,who
had observed them at the same moment, was leaning forward in anattitude
of rapt attention, horribly pale.
'Look at that!' he cried, pointing with both hands at the nearest
print of the woman's right foot, where she had apparently stoppedand
stood. 'The middle toe is missing--it was Gertrude!'
Gertrude was the late Mrs. Manton, sister of Mr. Brewer.