Stephen Elliot had just turned eleven. He had been an orphan for six months when he came to live with his cousin, Mr. Abney. Mr. Abney was a quiet, private old man. He was an expert on ancient religions, and he had written many articles on superstitions and myths from around the world. He was so wrapped up in his studies, his neighbors were surprised that he had even heard of his orphan cousin. They were even more surprised that Mr. Abney wished to adopt him.
It was a crisp September evening when Stephen arrived at his new home, Mr. Abney directed his housekeeper; Mrs. Bunch, to fix the boy's supper. Mrs. Bunch and STephen became great friends. She had worked for Mr. Abney for twenty years, and she answered all of Stephen's questions about the house and Mr. Abney. She made Stephen feel as comfortable as possible.
One evening, Stephen was sitting by the fire with Mrs. Bunch. "Is Mr. Abney a good man, and will he go to heaven?" he suddenly asked.
"Good?" said the housekeeper: "Master's as kind a soul as I ever did see. Didn't I tell you of the little boy he took in from the street? And the little girl, too?"
"No. Do tell me about them, Mrs. Bunch,"urged Stephen.
"Well," said Mrs. Bunch, "I don't remember much about the little girl. Mr. Abney brought her home two years after I began to work here. The poor little girl was an orphan. She lived here three weeks. And then one morning she ran away before any of us awoke. No one's seen her since."
"And what about the little boy?" asked Stephen.
"Ah! That poor boy!" sighed Mrs. Bunch. "Master found him about seven years ago. He was a foreigner, all alone in the world. He stayed a while and then he was off one morning just like the girl. No sign of him after that."
That night, Stephen had a curious dream. Down the hall from his bedroom was an unused bathroom. It was kept locked, but the door had a curtainless window in it. Through the door could be seen an old bathtub below a window on the far wall. Stephen dreamed that he was looking through the bathroom door. Moonlight was shining through the outside window. Lying in the tub was a
thin, gray-faced girl wrapped in a burial cloth. Her thin lips were twisted into a faint and readful smile. Her hands were pressed tightly over her heart.
As Stephen watched, the figure moaned and began to move its arms. The terror of the sight woke Stephen. He found himself standing in front of the bathroom door. With remarkable courage, he peeked through the window to see if the figure of his dream was really there. It wasn't. Stephen went back to bed.
The following evening, Mrs. Bunch was in the pantry and Stephen was playing nearby. Mr. Parkes, the butler, rushed in with some news for Mrs. Bunch. He didn't see Stephen.
"Master Abney can get his own wine, if he wants, Mrs. Bunch," blurted the butler. "I'm not going back to the wine cellar. Something's down there. It'd like to say it's rats, but I think it's worse than that. I could hear them talking!"
"Such nonsense, Mr. Parkes!" replied Mrs. Bunch. "You'll frighten Master Stephen with talk like that."
"What? Master Stephen?!" said Parkes, noticing the boy for the first time. "Stephen knows when I'm playing a joke on you, Mrs. Bunch."
But Stephen could tell by the look on Parkes' face that the butler wasn't joking.
It was the first day of spring, a windy, noisy day in March. At lunch, Mr. Abney told Stephen that he had something important to discuss. But since he had a busy day ahead, he asked Stephen to come to his study at eleven o'clock that night. He told Stephen not to mention the appointment to Mrs. Bunch or to anyone else. Stephen was excited about staying up that late. He looked in at the study on his way upstairs that evening and saw a grill in front of the fireplace, an old silver cup of wine, and some sheets of paper with writing on them. Mr. Abney was sprinkling some incense onto the grill from a round silver box as Stephen passed.
About ten o'clock, Stephen was standing at the open window of his bedroom, looking over the countryside. The wind was filled with ghostly sounds. Just as he was thinking of shutting the window, Stephen spotted two figures standing below. They were a boy and a girl, standing side by side, looking up at the window.
With a chill, Stephen recognized the girl from his dream. She stood still, half smiling, with her hands clasped over her heart.
The boy was more terrifying. He was thin, with black hair and ragged clothes. He raised his arms in the air with a look of menance and longing. Stephen could see that the left side of his chest, where his heart should have been, was a gaping black hole. Stephen began to hear the most awful and pitiful cry. But it wasn't exactly a sound. It was more like a feeling in Stephen's brain. It was a hungry, lonely sound that filled Stephen's head. In another moment, the dreadful figures moved swiftly and noiselessly over the dry gravel and vanished.
Horribly frightened, Stephen took his candle and hurried to Mr. Abney's study. It was almost time for their meeting. He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Terrified and frantic, Stephen pushed on the door, but it wouldn't move. Then he heard Mr. Abney try to cry out, but the cry was choked in his
throat. Why? Had he, too, seen the mysterious children? Now everything was quiet. The door swung open.
Stephen found Mr. Abney in his chair. His head was thrown back, and his face had a look of rage, fright, and terrible pain. On the left side of his chest was a deep, black hole where his heart should have been. His hands were clean, and there was no blood on the long knife that lay on his desk.
The window was open. The police decided that Mr. Abney had probably been killed by a wild animal. But years afterward, Stephen Elliott discovered the truth about the death of his cousin.
When Stephen was grown and living on his own, he received a letter from Mrs. Bunch, who was now an old woman. The letter said only, "I didn't know, Stephen. How could I have known?"
Enclosed with the letter were pages from Mr. Abney's diary. As Stephen read them, his blood turned to ice. "I have discovered the ancient secret of eternal life," the diary began. "It requires the sacrifice of three children on the first day of spring. Their hearts must be removed while they are still alive, and burned to ashes on the grill. The ashes are mixed with wine, and then drunk." Stephen couldn't believe what he was reading, but he couldn't put the papers down.
"I have already killed a little girl, whose body I hid in the old bathroom," wrote Mr. Abney. "And also a young foreign boy, whom I buried in the wine cellar. My next - and final - sacrifice will be my cousin, Stephen Elliott. Then I will live forever!"
Stephen trembled as he put down the pages. He remembered the two figures he saw under his window as a child. They were the murdered children, who came back to save Stephen's life.
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