CHAPTER 18 : Interview With A Ghost
BOTH MEN looked startled, as did Pete, Bob and
Worthington.
“But――” Pete started to say.
“They were just wearing women’s clothes and
wigs,” Jupiter said.“I realised that when I felt their
shoes and discovered they were wearing men’s shoes.
Then I understood that all five of the gang who
captured us were really just two men in different
costumes.
“You mean the two Arabs and the Oriental and the
two women―they were all Mr. Rex and Mr. Grant?”
Pete demanded, dumbfounded.
“He’s right.” Mr. Rex sounded very weary.“We
were acting the part of a large gang to give you boys
a real scare. The costumes with robes or skirts we
could put on and take off very swiftly. However, I
don’t want you to think we actually intended to harm
you. I was on my way back to untie you when your
friends caught sight of me.”
“We’re not murderers,” the little man―Mr. Grant
—said.“Nor smugglers either. We’re just ghosts.”
He chuckled, but Mr. Rex looked solemn.
“I’m a murderer,” he said.“I killed Stephen
Terrill.”
“Oh, that’s right.” The little man said that as if it
was just something that had slipped his mind―like
forgetting to wind his watch.“You did do away with
him, but that hardly counts.”
“The police may think differently,” Worthington
said.“Lads, I think we should summon the
authorities.”
“No, wait.” The Whisperer held up his hand.“Give
me a moment and I’ll let you talk to Stephen Terrill
himself.”
“You mean talk to his ghost?” Pete yelled.
“Exactly. Talk to his ghost. He will explain to you
why I killed him.”
Before anybody could do anything to stop him. The
Whisperer slipped through a door into the next room.
“Don’t worry,” Mr. Grant said.“He’s not trying to
escape. He won’t be a minute. By the way, here is
your knife back, Jupiter Jones.”
“Thank you,” Jupiter said. He was attached to that
knife.
It was barely sixty seconds before the door opened
again, and a man came out. But this time it wasn’t
The Whisperer. This man was shorter and younger-
looking, and had neatly combed grey-brown hair. He
wore a tweed jacket and looked at them with a
pleasant smile.
“Good evening,” he said.“I am Stephen Terrill.
You wanted to see me?”
They all stared at him, not knowing what to say.
Even Jupiter was silent for once.
Finally Mr. Grant spoke up.“It really is Stephen
Terrill,” he said.
And then Jupiter looked as if he had bitten into a
nice, juicy apple and found half a worm left in it. He
looked angry―at himself.
“Mr. Terrill,” he said.“You are also Jonathan Rex,
The Whisperer, are you not?”
“Him The Whisperer?” Pete exclaimed.“Why, he’s
not as tall, and he’s got his hair, and――”
“At your service,” said Stephen Terrill. He
suddenly whipped off a wig and showed a bald head
underneath. He stood very straight, making himself
look much taller, squinted his eyes, changed the set of
his lips, and hissed:“Stand still! If you value your
lives!”
It was so convincing they all jumped. He was The
Whisperer, all right. And he was also the movie star
who had supposedly died so long ago. That much, at
least, Bob and Pete were able to figure out.
Mr. Terrill took from his pocket a curious object. It
was an artificial scar, made of plastic.
“When I attached this to my throat, took off my
wig and put on elevator shoes, I stopped being
Stephen Terrill,” he explained.“I reduced my voice to
a sinister whisper and became that frightening
individual known as The Whisperer.”
He put his wig back on and looked like an ordinary
man again.
They all started to ask questions at once, and he
held up his hand.
“We’d better all sit down,” he said,“and I’ll
explain. You see that picture?” He pointed to the
photograph on the table, which showed him shaking
hands with The Whisperer―shaking hands with
himself, really.
“That was trick photography, of course―to further
the illusion of two totally different men. You see,
many years ago when I became a moving-picture star,
I found my shyness and my lisp made it very difficult
to handle my business affairs properly. I hated to talk
to people. I couldn’t argue for my rights.
“So I created the character of The Whisperer to be
my business manager. The Whisperer always
whispered in a fierce tone, which hid my lisp; and he
looked so menacing that I had no difficulty in dealing
with anyone. No one, except my friend Charlie Grant
here, knew that I was both men. Charlie was my
make-up man, and he used to help me change from
being Stephen Terrill into being The Whisperer.
“This scheme worked well until I made my first
talking picture. Then the whole world laughed at me!
It was a terrible blow to my pride. I withdrew to my
home. When I learned the bank wanted to take that
away from me too, I became despondent and
desperate.
“At the time of building my castle, the workmen
had discovered a fault in the rocks of Black Canyon.
The fault ran all the way through the ridge to the
other side, where Winding Valley Road ended. I had
the natural tunnel walled up, but secretly installed a
hidden door. Then, as Jonathan Rex, I bought the
land at the other end of the secret passage and built a
small home there. That way I could come and go and
no one would suspect my double identity.
“Often in those days I went for long, solitary drives
in an effort to shake off my deep depression. One day
I was driving high above the ocean when I conceived
the brilliant idea of a faked accident.”
“You drove your car off that cliff yourself, didn’t
you?” Jupiter broke in.
Terrill nodded.“Yes. First I wrote the note, leaving
it where someone would be sure to find it. Then one
dark, stormy night I staged the accident, letting my
car topple over the cliff―without me in it, of course.
And that was the end of Stephen Terrill as far as the
world was concerned. Also as far as I was concerned.
To me he was as good as dead and buried, and I
wanted to keep it that way. I also wanted to keep my
castle. The thought of anyone else owning it or living
in it was too much to bear.
“Although the castle was empty now, I could enter
it at will through the natural tunnel. So I was secretly
on hand when the police conducted their search, and I
made sure they all left in a hurry. When I built the
castle, you see, I installed various devices in it for
giving my friends thrills. Later these were most useful
in helping me to build the public impression that the
castle was haunted.
“I made even more of a ghostly disturbance when
the bank sent their men to collect my goods. Soon it
was scarcely necessary to do anything to frighten
those who entered the castle. Their own imagination
did it for them. But I made certain that the fearsome
reputation of the building did not wane. And just to
make the whole spot seem less desirable to anyone
who might even think of buying it, I occasionally
rolled rocks down the hillside on to the road.
“My scheme worked. No one wanted to buy the
castle from the bank. Meanwhile I began to save
money to buy it myself. As Jonathan Rex, a breeder
of rare pet birds, I acquired almost enough money for
a down payment ... Then you boys came along.”
The actor sighed.
“You boys were much more stubborn than anyone
else had ever been,” he said.
“Mr. Terrill,” asked Jupiter, who had been listening
intently,“did you phone us after our first visit, and
use a spooky voice to scare us?”
The man nodded.“I thought it would help keep
you away.”
“But how did you know we were coming that night,
and how did you know who we were?” Jupiter asked.
The actor smiled slightly.
“My friend here, Charlie Grant, is my lookout,” he
said. The very short man nodded.“Just at the
entrance to Black Canyon there is a small bungalow,
barely visible. Charlie lives there. Whenever he sees
anyone enter the canyon, he telephones me and I
hurry through the tunnel to be ready for them.
“When he saw the Rolls-Royce go up the canyon, I
recognised it from his description as being the car I
had read about in the paper. And of course I had also
read that you were the one who had won the use of it.
“You boys left rather hurriedly that night. Don’t
feel badly about that―others have left even more
swiftly. I returned to my bungalow and looked for
your name in the telephone book. Not finding it there,
I called Information and found you did have a
telephone. So I called you.”
“Oh,” Jupiter said, and Pete scratched his head. As
Jupiter had said, answers to mysteries can be simple―
when you know them. But until you know them they
can seem very tough.
“Then that’s why Skinny Norris―that is, those
other two boys―left in such a hurry the day Pete and
I came to see you,” Jupiter remarked.
“Yes, Charlie had warned me and I was waiting for
them. However, your arrival at almost the same time
caught us unprepared.”
Little Mr. Grant looked embarrassed.
“I’d like to explain about that, boys,” he said.
“When you drove up, it was too late for me to warn
my friend Steve. So I slipped into the canyon by a side
trail to keep watch. I saw those other boys run out,
and watched you chase them. Then I accidentally
started a rock rolling, and you looked and spotted
me.”
“So it was you we were trying to catch!” Pete
exploded.“And you sent that rock slide down on us.”
“It was truly an accident,” Mr. Grant said
earnestly.“The rocks were piled there to push down
on the road some time when they might help
discourage a prospective buyer. I tried to hide behind
them and dislodged them. I was extremely worried
that you had been seriously hurt, though I saw you
duck into that rocky crevice. Then I saw the end of a
stick appear through the dirt blocking the entrance ...
and I deduced you were safe.
“I waited there until you were safely out, however.
If you had encountered difficulty, I would have come
to your aid.”
At this point Pete couldn’t think of anything more
to say. At least Mr. Terrill’s and Mr. Grant’s
explanations had cleared up several mysteries. It was
easy now to see how the two men had managed to be
ready for them every time any of The Three
Investigators had visited the castle.
Jupiter was still scowling.
“I believe I understand most of what happened,” he
said.“But a few points still remain unclear.”
“Ask anything you want to,” the actor encouraged
him.“You’ve earned the right to know the answers.”
“The afternoon we called on you, Mr. Terrill,”
Jupiter said,“you had a pitcher of lemonade freshly
made, as if you were expecting us. You also said
you’d been cutting dry brush, and that wasn’t true.
They are small points, but I’d like to clear them up.”
The actor chuckled slightly.“After you escaped
from the cave,” he said,“you were too preoccupied to
see my friend Charlie shadowing you back to the car.
He was hidden close enough to hear you give the
chauffeur my address. As soon as you drove off he
telephoned me.
“I immediately got ready for you. From my window
I can see down into a stretch of Winding Valley Road.
That antique Rolls-Royce with its gold trimming is a
car very easily recognised. As soon as I saw it, I made
the lemonade, then slipped out into the bushes,
carrying the machete as an excuse. I was watching you
as you came up my path.
“At that point I had not decided just how to handle
you. I finally decided to be friendly, give you a cold
drink, and try to impress you with the frightening
quality of Terror Castle so you would stay away of
your own accord. Please remember that I did my best
to tell you as few untruths as possible. Of course I
said that Stephen Terrill was dead―but so he was,
in my mind.
“I also said I had never entered the door of the
castle again. I never have. I’ve gone and come through
the tunnel. Having the entrance inside my cage of
birds, I’ve been able to slip in and out without ever
being noticed. Tonight I was in such a hurry I left the
door open, and the birds got into the tunnel.”
Jupiter was pinching his lips again.
“The gipsy warning you sent us, Mr. Terrill,” he
said.“That was your friend Mr. Grant dressed up as
an old gipsy woman, was it not?”
“Exactly, my boy. When I learned you three were
investigators, I knew you might be persistent. So
Charlie made up as a gipsy woman and brought you
the second warning. I did hope it would scare you into
staying away.”
“It actually made me curious, Mr. Terrill.” Jupiter
said politely.“No one else ever had any warnings. I
wondered why we were getting them. Ghosts don’t
bother to warn people. So I deduced someone human
didn’t want us round Terror Castle.
“Then, when I studied the photographs Bob made,
I noticed that the suit of armour in Echo Hall wasn’t
very rusty and there wasn’t much dust in your library.
After so many years, there should have been lots of
rust and dust. It certainly looked as if someone was
secretly taking care of things in Terror Castle.
“And the person the castle meant most to was the
owner, Stephen Terrill. So I deduced at last that you
were still alive, sir. Of course, you threw me off the
track tonight by acting the role of a gang of
international smugglers when you captured us. I
believed you were an Arab, the Oriental and the
Englishwoman, and Mr. Grant was an Arab and the
old gipsy?”
“That is correct.” Stephen Terrill’s eyes twinkled.
“We used part of my large collection of wigs and
costumes. I wanted to give you a lasting scare. I
thought that if you were worried about the vengeance
of a gang of smugglers, instead of mere ghosts, you
might abandon your investigation of Terror Castle.
You were really becoming much too persistent!
“Well, that just about gives you the whole story. Is
there anything else you’d like to know?”
“There’s plenty!” Pete piped up now.“For one
thing, what about that eye that looked at us from the
picture the first night?”
“That was my eye,” Stephen Terrill said.“There’s a
secret passage behind the paintings, and there was a
peep-hole in the picture.”
“But when Bob and I examined the picture later
on,” Pete argued,“there wasn’t any hole in it.”
“After you fled, I hung another similar picture
there,” Mr. Terrill said.“Just in case you came back
to examine it.”
“But the Blue Phantom?” Pete asked.“And the old
organ playing that weird music? And the Fog of
Fear? And the ghost in the mirror? And the cold
draught in the Hall of Echoes?”
“I hate to tell you,” the actor said.“It’s like a
magician telling how he performs his tricks. It takes
the mystery away from them. But you’ve earned the
right to know, and if you really want to――”
“I believe I have been able to deduce some of the
methods you used, sir,” Jupiter said.“The cold
draught was a flow of gas from melting dry ice
coming through a hole in the wall. The weird music
was a record played backwards through an amplifier.
The Blue Phantom was probably cheesecloth covered
with luminous paint. The Fog of Fear was no doubt
some chemical that makes smoke, forced into the
secret passage through small holes.”
“You’re right, boy,” Stephen Terrill admitted.“I
suppose that once you realised a human agency was
behind the strange manifestations, you were able to
deduce the method of creating the effects.”
“Yes, sir,” Jupiter told him.“And the ghost in the
mirror was probably a projection of some kind. But
one thing I’m not sure of. How did you manage to
induce the feeling of nervousness and terror inside the
castle?”
“Please don’t ask me to tell you everything,” the
actor begged.“I’d like to preserve some of my secrets.
As it is, you’ve found out enough to ruin all my plans
... I want to show you something. Look!”
He flung open the door through which he had
ducked to change himself from the sinister Whisperer
into Stephen Terrill. Within they saw a large dressing
room. There were costumes of every kind hanging
from the wall. Wigs were piled high on wig stands.
And in one corner was an enormous pile of the sort of
round cans used for storing motion-picture film.
“There, in that room,” the actor said,“... there is
the real Stephen Terrill. Those costumes. Those wigs.
All those motion pictures stored in the cans. Those
are the real me. Stephen Terrill is just an instrument
that transformed those costumes and wigs into strange
characters to provide enjoyable thrills for millions of
people all over the world.
“For many years Terror Castle was my last pride.
There I was still frightening people instead of being
laughed at. And all the time I was practising. I cured
my lisp. I managed to speak with a deeper voice. I
learned to sound like a ghost, a woman, a pirate, an
Arab, a Chinese―dozens of others. I dreamed of
making a come-back.
“But as those years passed, the kind of motion
picture I made was no longer desired. Now scary
pictures are often produced just to get people to
laugh. Old pictures shown on television have funny
voices and sounds added to produce laughter. And I
refuse to degrade my talents to provide cheap
laughter!”
Mr. Terrill was becoming quite excited. He slapped
his fist into his palm and was breathing hard.“But
now there’s nothing left for me. I can’t be the
Phantom of Terror Castle any more. I’ll lose the
castle itself. I can’t be The Whisperer. I don’t know
what I’ll do.”
He paused to get control of himself and Jupiter,
who had been pinching his lip practically off, spoke
again.
“Mr. Terrill,” he asked,“do those cans in there
contain all of the wonderful scary films you made,
which no one has seen for many years?”
The actor nodded, looking at him.
“What are you thinking of?” he asked.
“I have an idea how you can get your castle back
and still go on entertaining people by scaring them,”
Jupiter said.“You see――”
And, as usual, Jupiter had hit upon an incredibly
good idea.
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