The Horror Megapack_ 25 Classic and Modern Horror Stories ( PDFDrive )

THE GHOST OF TOWNELEY TOWERS, by
Seabury Quinn
I
PROFESSOR HARVEY FORRESTER sank his chin deeper into the fur collar
of his overcoat and gazed disconsolately about the desolate midwinter prospect.
Festoons of dripping icicles hung from the disused wharf, patches of half-melted
snow alternated with larger patches of foot-fettering mud, and a chill wind
whipped the waters of the Potomac into angry whitecaps and howled dismally
around the eaves and corners of the shuttered and boarded-up summer hotel.
Furthermore, look where he would, the Professor could descry no one who
remotely resembled a messenger from Towneley Towers.
“This,” announced the Professor in a manner which admitted no gainsay or
denial, “is a deuce of a fix we’re in, my dear.”
“Are you sure we got off at the right landing?” his pretty blonde ward inquired,
thrusting her small hands deeper into the pockets of her otter skin coat.
“Sure?” echoed the Professor tartly. “Of course, I’m sure. See, here’s
Towneley’s letter.” From his pocket he produced the crumpled sheet and read:
“‘…take the steamer Swordsmith to Piny Point landing. I’ll come for you in
my launch or send somebody to bring you over to the Towers.’
“And if that ‘somebody’ doesn’t show up pretty soon we’re in a fine pickle,”
he added bitterly, once more surveying the scenery with marked disfavor.
“There’s a man with a boat over by the pier,” the girl replied. “Maybe he
knows the way.”
“Excellent idea,” the Professor commended, putting down his kit bag and
approaching the aged colored man who had just made his “buckeye” one-master
fast to the pierhead.
“How much will you charge to take the young lady and me to Towneley
Towers—if you know where it is?”
The ancient negro hitched his greasy sheepskin reefer about his shoulders and
regarded the Professor solemnly. “Yas, suh, Ah knows whar it is,” he
vouchsafed. “Hit’s up de St. Mary’s crick a piece, ’tother side o’ Inigo’s
Landing. Yas, suh, Ah knows it.”
Professor Forrester suppressed a sigh of vexation. Primitive peoples were alike
the world over, he reflected, whether you encountered them in darkest Africa or