Patricia Wentworth - The Case of William Smith

William came up into the shallows where dreams begin. The dream that met him there was the one he knew, only this time it was different. Always before it had begun in the street. He would be walking up the steps and going into the house. The last time he had had the dream was when he was hit over the head and he couldn’t get into the house because someone was holding the door against him. That hadn’t ever happened before, and it worried him. This time was quite different, because he was not only in the house, but he was right up at the top of the stairs. As a rule, that was when he woke. Always in the dream someone was waiting for him, and when he got to the top, or nearly to the top, he woke up.

This time it was different. He stood at the top of the stairs and looked down. He could see all the way down the stairs into the hall. There was plenty of light – but not daylight – there wasn’t ever daylight in his dream. Everything was all right. And then quite suddenly it wasn’t. The dream took a slant, the way dreams sometimes do. The newel-posts which were carved with the four Evangelists went queer. He was standing at the head of the stairs between the eagle and the man, looking down to the lion and the ox at the foot, and all at once they were different. The eagle had changed into a Boomalong Bird, and the man was Mr. Tattlecombe, looking indignant, as well he might, with his grey hair standing up and his eyes very blue. And down there on either side of the bottom step there was a Wurzel Dog and a Crummocky Cow. He came down the stairs into the hall, and someone knocked three times on the door. They wanted to get in, but the door was barred. Then they came through the door – just like that – the door didn’t open, they came through it with their arms linked – three of them, with the woman in the middle. He knew her at once. She was Miss Jones, the secretary who had told him that Eversleys wouldn’t be interested in the Wurzel toys. He knew her, but he didn’t know the men, because there wasn’t anything to know. They were just trousers and coats, and faces painted smooth and featureless with the paint they used in the workshop for undercoating the toys. It was a horrid pinkish colour and it glistened. The faces had no eyes and no features. They were just paint. They came towards him. He called out, ‘No – no – no! and the dream broke up. He opened his eyes on the room, the glimmering square of the window, the light air coming in.

Katharine slipped her arm under his head and drew it to her shoulder.

‘What is it? You called out.’

‘What did I say?’

‘You said, “No – no – no!” ’

He said, ‘I was dreaming.’

‘Tell me.’

‘Well, it’s rather odd. It’s a dream I have sometimes, about going up three steps into a house. There’s an old door – oak, with nails in it – and I go through into a hall with a staircase going up on the right. The hall has panelling – it goes all the way up the stairs too. There are pictures let into it. There’s a girl in a pink dress. The stair goes up on the right, and the newel-posts are carved with the four Evangelists – a lion and an ox at the bottom, and an eagle and a man at the top – ’ He broke off suddenly. ‘Katharine, I’ve never remembered that before. It’s been in the dream, but I haven’t remembered it when I was awake – not till now. That’s funny, isn’t it?’

‘I don’t know – ’

‘I’ve never remembered it before, but it was there. I used to remember going up the steps and into the house, and that I was coming home. Do you think it’s something real and I remember it when I’m asleep?’

She felt his rough fair hair under her cheek. She said,

‘Does it feel like that?’

‘I don’t know – I don’t know what it would feel like. It’s always felt good – until tonight. ’

‘What happened tonight?’

‘Well, as a rule I come in and I go upstairs, and then I wake up. It doesn’t sound much, but it feels good. Tonight it all went queer. Three of the Evangelists turned into Wurzel toys, and the man was Mr. Tattlecombe. And then it all got horrid. Three people came through the door – I mean really right through it, when it was shut. Two of them were men, with their faces all smoothed out with undercoating paint – no features or anything – but the one in the middle was that Miss Jones I saw when I went to Eversleys.’

Katharine drew a sharp breath.

He said, ‘What’s that for?’

‘It was rather horrid.’

‘Yes. But I woke up – don’t let’s bother about it any more. I love you.’

‘Do you?’

‘Yes. I feel as if I’d loved you always.’

They went back to the shop on Monday morning, and received the acid congratulations of Miss Cole.

‘So very sudden. Quite unexpected, if I may say so. But Mrs. Bastable tells me she saw you married. And Mrs. Salt there too! Really I had no idea at all, though I naturally thought it very strange when you and Miss Eversley both took the afternoon off. If there had been a rush of business, I don’t know how I should have managed.’

This from Miss Cole who had steadily refused to have help in the shop. She hoped they would be happy in tones which suggested that she feared the worst. They escaped thankfully to the workshop.

At eleven o’clock Mrs. Salt rang up to say that Mr. Tattlecombe would be coming home that afternoon. She made no explanation, merely remarking that she had ordered a taxi for half-past three, and that she would of course accompany her brother. This diverted Miss Cole’s attention, and sent Mrs. Bastable into a perfect fever of preparation.

Mr. Tattlecombe arrived triumphantly at four o’clock. He kissed his sister and thanked her for all she had done for him, but he did not press her to stay. William helped him upstairs, gave him a footstool and a rug, and attended to his frank opinion of Emily Salt.

‘Listens at doors,’ said Abel, looking exactly like he had looked in William’s dream – hair sticking up on end and blue indignant eyes. ‘I always thought she did, and now I’ve caught her. Last night it was, after Abigail got back from chapel. I got talking to her about you getting married, and natural enough we got on to my leaving you the business.’

William began, ‘I hope Mrs. Salt – ’ but Mr. Tattlecombe put up a hand to stop him.

‘Abby’s agreeable. I told you she was when we talked about it before. The one that isn’t is Emily Salt.’ Two bright patches came up into his cheeks. ‘Emily Salt, if you please, that’s no more relation to me than she is to you! “Don’t talk about it in front of Emily,” my sister says. Well, that’s what I’ve never done, and so I told her. “Well,” she said, “Emily knows, and it’s upset her.” “What’s it got to do with her for her to be upset about it?” I said. “I’ll thank her to mind her own business – she’s no call to upset herself about mine. What does she know about it anyway?” Abby didn’t say anything, so I told her straight out. “She listens at doors,” I said.’

Abel had quite obviously enjoyed himself. He had wanted to say what he thought about Emily Salt for a long time. Well, now he had said it. And Abby had just sat there looking down into her lap. She hadn’t said anything because she couldn’t say anything. He explained this to William with a good deal of satisfaction.

‘Doctor came Saturday, and said I’d got to use my leg, so I got up out of the chair and tried it. Wasn’t too good, and wasn’t too bad. What I was aiming at was getting near the door, for there’s a stair that creaks, and I’d heard it. Abby’s a bit hard of hearing, but I’m not, thank the Lord. I’d heard that stair, but I hadn’t heard the one that goes on up, so I’d a pretty good idea where Emily was. I began talking about you again, and I raised my voice a bit, thinking it would be a pity for her to miss anything. I said I wondered if it would ever come out who you were. And that’s when I got to the door and pulled it open. I tell you I nearly had her in on top of me.’