Restless Shades: Tales of Lurking Horror

The Uncertainty

Holding the wineglass in my hand, I swirled the contents within, watching the burgundy splash beneath the rim but not quite enough to spill out. I felt a yawn coming, but managed to stifle the reflex as Richard Chanders approached.

Well, Edward I can tell by the grim expression on your face, and the sure maneuvering of my vintage in your hand, that you seem a trifle weary at my gathering.

A broad grin appeared on his mustached face, and he lumbered toward me, snatching a trio of tea biscuits from a dour-looking serving man. I shook my head, taking a sip from my drink.

Whatever gave you that impression

Ha, he bellowed, slapping me briskly on the shoulder and nearly upsetting my glass. You re not one for such pleasantries. Rather be out on the hunt, with a pack of yelping hounds, wouldn t you

Unquestionably, with a sly fox to the front, and a cool breeze in my hair.

I know you too well. One of these days, I will join you in a countryside frolic.

You ve been saying that for the past decade, I replied.

Richard laughed. Business demands constant attention, my young friend. These parties are the mere indulgences I permit myself.

Although differing in our pastimes, Richard and I remained close comrades, living on adjoining properties for a number of years. It was hard not to like the man, I just preferred more exhilarating pursuits than indoor flippancy. I glanced across the brightly illuminated living room, filled with dozens of guests, the majority of whom I knew well.

In particular, I noticed an odd-looking fellow, standing by himself near the front foyer. He appeared to be in his upper forties, wearing a stark-brown coat with a long scarf draped over his back.His bearded face looked pale in the darker anteroom, and he possessed a quality of uncertainty, which defied my understanding, almost like a shiftless animal, pondering the most expedient method to his next meal.

Richard, I said, who is that strange-looking chap over there I don t believe I ve seen him at any of your parties before. Not intending rudeness on my part, despite the newcomer s scarce-concealed interest, I made a slight gesture with my hand, indicating the need for discretion. Richard feigned a low cough, turning in my indicated direction for a moment, and then answered.

Oh, that s Gregory Higgins, lives on the hill in a small estate. He s an archaeologist.

You don t say Works in excavations and the like

Yes, from what I know, which is little. Seems to be a recluse of sorts, keeps to himself. I m surprised he accepted my invitation. I met him in town quite by accident, actually. I insisted he come tonight. I told him I would send a servant over to his place if he didn t show.

What did he say



I lingered at Richard s party for another hour or so, talking briefly with acquaintances about the dry weather and local harvest. The walls closed in on me, and I found the air becoming increasingly thick from the tiny clouds of cigar smoke swirling lazily towards the high-beamed ceiling overhead.

At the moment, Richard was being cornered by a pair of middle-aged widows, and I saw he relished every second of their wide-eyed attention. I waved a farewell to him from across the hall, and headed for the entryway and the short hike home.

I passed the butler, Harner, and we exchanged parting words. He was a decent fellow, a straight card when it came to formalities and occasions. He offered to drive me over, but I wouldn t hear of it.

A quiet walk under the autumn moonlight will help me to sleep better, I told him. He nodded and I left. A crisp breeze ruffled my collar and I inhaled deeply, embracing the fresh air. My house was only a mile away, our two properties separated by a thin stretch of woods in that area.

I