Hell House Read Online Free Page A
capon. Bread sauce in gravy. Creamed cauliflower. For dessert, amandes en crème : crushed almonds in whipped egg whites and heavy cream."
Barrett chuckled. "His guests must have all had heartburn."
"The food wasn't aimed at their hearts," said Fischer, taking a box of candles from the drawer.
12/21 – 12:19 P.M.
They started back across the entry hall, each carrying a candle in a holder. As they moved, the flickering illumination made their shadows billow on the walls and ceiling.
"This must be the great hall over here," said Barrett.
They moved beneath an archway six feet deep and stopped, Edith and Florence gasping almost simultaneously. Barrett whistled softly as he raised his candle for a maximum of light.
The great hall measured ninety-five by forty-seven feet, its walls two stories high, paneled in walnut to a height of eight feet, rough-hewn blocks of stone above. Across from where they stood was a mammoth fireplace, its mantel constructed of antique carved stone.
The furnishings were all antique except for scattered chairs and sofas upholstered in the fashion of the twenties. Marble statues stood on pedestals in various locations. In the northwest corner was an ebony concert grand piano, and in the center of the hall stood a circular table, more than twenty feet across, with sixteen high-backed chairs around it and a large chandelier suspended over it. Good place to set up my equipment, Barrett thought; the hall had obviously been cleaned. He lowered his candle. "Let's push on," he said.
They left the great hall, moved across the entry hall, beneath the overhanging staircase, and turned right into another corridor. Several yards along its length, they reached a pair of swinging walnut doors set to their left. Barrett pushed one in and peered inside. "The theater," he said.
They went inside, reacting to the musty smell. The theater was designed to seat a hundred people, its walls covered with an antique red brocade, its sloping, three-aisled floor with thick red carpeting. On the stage, gilded Renaissance columns flanked the screen, and spaced along the walls were silver candelabra wired for electricity. The seats were custom-made, upholstered with wine-red velvet.
"Just how wealthy was Belasco?" Edith asked.
"I believe he left in excess of seven million dollars when he died," Barrett answered.
"Died?" said Fischer. He held open one of the doors.
"If there's anything you care to tell us…" Barrett said as he stepped into the corridor.
"What's to tell? The house tried to kill me; it almost succeeded."
Barrett looked as though he meant to speak. Then he changed his mind and peered down the corridor. "I think that staircase leads down to the pool and steam room," he said. "No point in going there until the electricity's on." He limped across the corridor and opened a heavy wooden door.
"What is it?" Edith asked.
"Looks like a chapel."
"A chapel? " Florence looked appalled. As she neared the door, she started making sounds of apprehension in her throat. Edith glanced at her uneasily.
"Miss Tanner?" Barrett said.
She didn't answer. Almost to the door, she held back.
"Better not," said Fischer.
Florence shook her head. "I must." She began to enter.
With a faint, involuntary cry, she shrank back. Edith started. "What is it?" Florence was unable to reply. She sucked in breath and shook her head with tiny movements. Barrett put his hand on Edith's arm. She looked at him and saw his lips frame the words, "It's all right."
"I can't go in," Florence said, as though apologizing. "Not now, anyway." She swallowed. "The atmosphere is more than I can bear."
"We'll only be a moment," Barrett told her.
Florence nodded, turning away.
As she went inside the chapel, Edith braced herself, expecting a shock of some kind. Feeling nothing, she turned to Lionel in confusion, started to speak, then waited until they were apart from Fischer. "Why couldn't she come in?" she whispered then.
"Her system is attuned to
Barrett chuckled. "His guests must have all had heartburn."
"The food wasn't aimed at their hearts," said Fischer, taking a box of candles from the drawer.
12/21 – 12:19 P.M.
They started back across the entry hall, each carrying a candle in a holder. As they moved, the flickering illumination made their shadows billow on the walls and ceiling.
"This must be the great hall over here," said Barrett.
They moved beneath an archway six feet deep and stopped, Edith and Florence gasping almost simultaneously. Barrett whistled softly as he raised his candle for a maximum of light.
The great hall measured ninety-five by forty-seven feet, its walls two stories high, paneled in walnut to a height of eight feet, rough-hewn blocks of stone above. Across from where they stood was a mammoth fireplace, its mantel constructed of antique carved stone.
The furnishings were all antique except for scattered chairs and sofas upholstered in the fashion of the twenties. Marble statues stood on pedestals in various locations. In the northwest corner was an ebony concert grand piano, and in the center of the hall stood a circular table, more than twenty feet across, with sixteen high-backed chairs around it and a large chandelier suspended over it. Good place to set up my equipment, Barrett thought; the hall had obviously been cleaned. He lowered his candle. "Let's push on," he said.
They left the great hall, moved across the entry hall, beneath the overhanging staircase, and turned right into another corridor. Several yards along its length, they reached a pair of swinging walnut doors set to their left. Barrett pushed one in and peered inside. "The theater," he said.
They went inside, reacting to the musty smell. The theater was designed to seat a hundred people, its walls covered with an antique red brocade, its sloping, three-aisled floor with thick red carpeting. On the stage, gilded Renaissance columns flanked the screen, and spaced along the walls were silver candelabra wired for electricity. The seats were custom-made, upholstered with wine-red velvet.
"Just how wealthy was Belasco?" Edith asked.
"I believe he left in excess of seven million dollars when he died," Barrett answered.
"Died?" said Fischer. He held open one of the doors.
"If there's anything you care to tell us…" Barrett said as he stepped into the corridor.
"What's to tell? The house tried to kill me; it almost succeeded."
Barrett looked as though he meant to speak. Then he changed his mind and peered down the corridor. "I think that staircase leads down to the pool and steam room," he said. "No point in going there until the electricity's on." He limped across the corridor and opened a heavy wooden door.
"What is it?" Edith asked.
"Looks like a chapel."
"A chapel? " Florence looked appalled. As she neared the door, she started making sounds of apprehension in her throat. Edith glanced at her uneasily.
"Miss Tanner?" Barrett said.
She didn't answer. Almost to the door, she held back.
"Better not," said Fischer.
Florence shook her head. "I must." She began to enter.
With a faint, involuntary cry, she shrank back. Edith started. "What is it?" Florence was unable to reply. She sucked in breath and shook her head with tiny movements. Barrett put his hand on Edith's arm. She looked at him and saw his lips frame the words, "It's all right."
"I can't go in," Florence said, as though apologizing. "Not now, anyway." She swallowed. "The atmosphere is more than I can bear."
"We'll only be a moment," Barrett told her.
Florence nodded, turning away.
As she went inside the chapel, Edith braced herself, expecting a shock of some kind. Feeling nothing, she turned to Lionel in confusion, started to speak, then waited until they were apart from Fischer. "Why couldn't she come in?" she whispered then.
"Her system is attuned to
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