Lockwood & Co.: The Screaming Staircase

aware that those main doors will remain unlocked all night, should you need to leave the building. In addition, on each level you will find an iron door leading to my apartments in the East Wing. These will be locked, but in case of emergency, rap on them loudly and I will come to your aid. Electrical equipment does not work well in this wing, owing to psychic influences, but we will rig up a telephone in the lobby that will connect you to Starkins’s cottage. All internal doors will, with one exception, be unlocked, so you can roam where you please. As for that exception’ – he tapped his jacket pocket – ‘I have the key here, and will give it to you presently. Any questions so far?’
    ‘It would be useful if you could indicate the areas of most activity, sir,’ Lockwood said quietly. ‘If you have the time.’
    ‘Yes. Yes, of course. Starkins! ’ The old man raised his voice in a roar; from the lobby the even older man came scuttling,wringing his bony hands. ‘Get Boris and Karl setting up the phone,’ Fairfax said. ‘I’m taking Mr Lockwood on a tour. He’s a good servant, Starkins,’ he confided, once the caretaker had bobbed and shuffled away, ‘only hellish timorous. Wouldn’t catch him going upstairs this late, even with the sun still in the sky. Well, I suppose caution’s kept him alive this long. Let’s get on.’
    We left the table and followed Fairfax out across the room. He indicated a door on the far side of the fireplace. ‘Through there you’ll find the garden rooms, reception areas, conservatory and kitchens. They’re old, but not as ancient as this gallery here, which is part of the original priory. It used to lead to other buildings, but they were pulled down long ago.’ He pointed to the tapestry at the end. ‘That’s where the house ends now.’
    He led us back through the lobby and over to an archway beyond. Here was a square, carpeted room made dark by rows of towering bookshelves; on the far side was a studded metal door. Uncomfortable-looking modern chairs of iron and leather stood amongst reading tables. One wall was almost covered by a large collection of framed photographs, some in colour, most in black and white. The largest of all, in pride of place, showed a serious young man, in doublet, ruff and tights, scrutinizing a mouldy-looking skull.
    Lockwood regarded it with interest. ‘Excuse me, sir, but isn’t that you?’
    Fairfax nodded. ‘Yes, that’s me. I played Hamlet in my youth. Indeed, I played most Shakespearean roles, but the Dane was perhaps my favourite. Ah, “To be or not to be”, the hero caught suspended between life and death . . . I flatter myself I was rather good. So then: this is the library, where I spend most time during my visits. My predecessor’s taste in books was poor, so I have replaced his with my own collection, and refurbished it a little. It is just a step through the door there to the safety of my chambers, and the iron furniture – made by my own company, of course – keeps the ghosts away.’
    ‘A very pleasant room, if I may say so,’ Lockwood commented.
    ‘You won’t spend much time here during your search.’ Fairfax returned us to the lobby, where Starkins was setting a black, old-fashioned telephone on a side-table, beside an ornate vase. ‘The Source, whatever it is, is doubtless in the oldest portion of the house. The lobby, the Long Gallery or, most probably, upstairs. Hey, careful there!’ Two footmen were unravelling a coil of telephone wire around the table. ‘That’s Han Dynasty! Do you know the value of that vase?’
    He continued to rebuke them, but I had tuned him out. I walked across the lobby, listening with my inner ear, hearing only my heart beating in the waiting silence. Ahead of me, the great stairs rose, curving to the quarter-landing and onwards into darkness. Strange creatures, with lots of scalesand horns, were carved into the sides of the balustrade every other step. Each supported a small plinth between its claws.
    ‘Hear anything?’ George murmured. He’d drifted alongside me.
    ‘No. The reverse. It’s like it’s cloaked, or something.’
    ‘I see you’ve found the legendary Screaming Staircase!’ Fairfax was back with us once more. ‘See those plinths beside the carved dragons? Those are where the Red Duke set the skulls of his victims – or so the story has it. Perhaps, after tonight, you will be able to confirm the story of the stairs. I hope, for your sake, you do not