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Swain. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + +h1,h2 {text-align: center; clear: both; font-weight: normal;} + +h1 {line-height: 150%; font-size: 200%; margin-top: 3em;} +h2 {line-height: 180%; font-size: 100%; margin-top: 3em;} +h2 .stl {font-size: 110%;} + +p {margin-top: .1em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .1em; + text-indent: 1.5em;} + +p.tp1, p.tp2, p.tp3, p.tp4, p.stake, p.end, p.noi {text-indent: 0;} + +p.tp1 {text-align: center; font-size: 90%; line-height: 160%; + margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 4em; font-variant: small-caps;} +p.tp2 {text-align: center; font-size: 90%; line-height: 180%; + margin-bottom: 3em;} +p.tp3 {text-align: center; font-size: 70%; line-height: 240%; + margin-bottom: 4em;} +p.tp4 {text-align: center; font-size: 100%; line-height: 160%; + margin-top: 4em; margin-bottom: 4em;} +p.tp5 {text-align: center; font-size: 80%; line-height: 170%; + margin-top: 4em; margin-bottom: 4em;} +p.tp5 .mrj {font-size: 160%; line-height: 200%;} + +hr.l1 {width: 30%; margin-top: 4em; margin-bottom: 4em; + margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} +hr.l2 {width: 60%; margin-top: 4em; margin-bottom: 4em; + margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + +table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center; + max-width: 90%;} +th {font-weight: normal; font-size: 60%; text-align: right;} +td.col1 {text-align: left; padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em; + vertical-align: top; font-variant: small-caps;} +td.col2 {text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom; padding-left: 1em;} + +.pagenum {position: absolute; left: 94%; font-size: 60%; text-align: right; + color: #999999; letter-spacing: 0; text-indent: 0; + font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;} + +.blockquot {margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em; font-size: 90%;} +.blockquot p {padding-left: 2.5em; text-indent: -2.5em; + padding-top: .5em; padding-bottom: .5em;} +.blockquo1 {margin-left: 1.5em; font-size: 100%;} +.blockquo2 {text-align: center; margin: auto; display: table; font-size: 100%;} +.blockquo3 {margin-left: 1.5em; font-size: 100%;} +.blockquo4 {margin-top: .1em; margin-bottom: .1em; font-size: 100%;} +.blockquo4 p {padding-left: 2.5em; text-indent: -2.5em; + padding-top: .1em; padding-bottom: .1em;} + +.tb {text-align: center; padding-top: .8em; padding-bottom: .3em;} +.ast {padding-left: 9%;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +strong {font-weight: normal;} + +abbr {border-bottom-width: 0; font-style: normal;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.stake {text-align: center; letter-spacing: .2em; padding-left: .2em;} + +.end {text-align: center; margin-top: 4em; margin-bottom: 4em; + font-size: 60%; line-height: 200%;} + +.f8 {font-size: 80%;} +.f18 {font-size: 180%;} + +img {max-width: 100%; height: auto;} +.figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center; + padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 2em;} +.figlogo {margin: auto; text-align: center; + padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: .5em;} + +.centered {text-align: center; margin: auto; display: table; max-width: 90%;} +.poem {text-align: left; font-size: 90%;} +.poem br {display: none;} +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} +.poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 1.2em; + padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + +.tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 4em; padding: .5em 1em .5em 1em; font-size: 80%;} +.tn {text-align: center; margin-top: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1.5em; + text-indent: 0;} + +@media handheld { + hr.l1 {margin-left: 35%;} + hr.l2 {margin-left: 20%;} + .pagenum {display: none;} + table {margin-left: 5%; max-width: 100%;} + .centered {margin-left: 5%; display: block; max-width: 90%;} + strong {font-weight: bold;} + .tnote {background-color: #eeeeee;} +} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Stoneground Ghost Tales, by E. G. Swain + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license + + +Title: The Stoneground Ghost Tales + Compiled from the recollections of the reverend Roland + Batchel, the vicar of the parish. + +Author: E. G. Swain + +Release Date: January 4, 2014 [EBook #44581] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STONEGROUND GHOST TALES *** + + + + +Produced by eagkw, sp1nd and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img id="coverpage" src="images/front_cover.jpg" width="524" height="788" alt="Cover" /> +</div> + + +<div class="figlogo"> +<img src="images/logo.png" width="91" height="39" alt="Logo" /> +</div> + +<p class="tp1"> +London:<br /> +Simpkin, Marshall and Co., Ltd. +</p> + +<hr class="l1" /> + + +<h1> +THE STONEGROUND<br /> +GHOST TALES +</h1> + +<p class="tp2"> +COMPILED FROM THE RECOLLECTIONS OF<br /> +THE REVEREND ROLAND BATCHEL,<br /> +VICAR OF THE PARISH. +</p> + +<p class="tp3"> +BY<br /> +<span class="f18">E. G. SWAIN</span> +</p> + +<p class="tp4"> +<span class="smcap">Cambridge</span>:<br /> +W. HEFFER & SONS <span class="smcap">Ltd.</span><br /> +1912 +</p> + +<hr class="l1" /> + + +<p class="tp5"> +TO<br /> + +<span class="mrj">MONTAGUE RHODES JAMES</span><br /> + +(LITT.D., HON. LITT.D. DUBLIN,<br /> +HON. LL.D. ST. ANDR., F.B.A., F.S.A., ETC.)<br /> +PROVOST OF KING’S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE,<br /> +FOR TWENTY PLEASANT YEARS MR. BATCHEL’S FRIEND,<br /> +AND THE INDULGENT PARENT OF SUCH TASTES<br /> +AS THESE PAGES INDICATE.<br /> +</p> + +<hr class="l1" /> + + +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="contents"> +<tr> + <th> </th> + <th>PAGE</th> +</tr><tr> + <td class="col1">I.—The Man With the Roller</td> + <td class="col2"><a href="#I">1</a></td> +</tr><tr> + <td class="col1">II.—Bone to His Bone</td> + <td class="col2"><a href="#II">19</a></td> +</tr><tr> + <td class="col1">III.—The Richpins</td> + <td class="col2"><a href="#III">35</a></td> +</tr><tr> + <td class="col1">IV.—The Eastern Window</td> + <td class="col2"><a href="#IV">63</a></td> +</tr><tr> + <td class="col1">V.—Lubrietta</td> + <td class="col2"><a href="#V">83</a></td> +</tr><tr> + <td class="col1">VI.—The Rockery</td> + <td class="col2"><a href="#VI">103</a></td> +</tr><tr> + <td class="col1">VII.—The Indian Lamp Shade</td> + <td class="col2"><a href="#VII">123</a></td> +</tr><tr> + <td class="col1">VIII.—The Place of Safety</td> + <td class="col2"><a href="#VIII">147</a></td> +</tr><tr> + <td class="col1">IX.—The Kirk Spook</td> + <td class="col2"><a href="#IX">175</a></td> +</tr> +</table></div> + + +<hr class="l2" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> + + +<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I.<br /> + +<span class="stl">THE MAN WITH THE ROLLER.</span></h2> + + +<p>On the edge of that vast tract of East Anglia, +which retains its ancient name of the Fens, +there may be found, by those who know where +to seek it, a certain village called Stoneground. +It was once a picturesque village. To-day it is +not to be called either a village, or picturesque. +Man dwells not in one “house of clay,” but in +two, and the material of the second is drawn +from the earth upon which this and the neighbouring +villages stood. The unlovely signs of +the industry have changed the place alike in +aspect and in population. Many who have +seen the fossil skeletons of great saurians +brought out of the clay in which they have +lain from pre-historic times, have thought that +the inhabitants of the place have not since +changed for the better. The chief habitations, +however, have their foundations not upon clay, +but upon a bed of gravel which anciently gave +to the place its name, and upon the highest part +of this gravel stands, and has stood for many +centuries, the Parish Church, dominating the +landscape for miles around.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p> + +<p>Stoneground, however, is no longer the +inaccessible village, which in the middle ages +stood out above a waste of waters. Occasional +floods serve to indicate what was once its +ordinary outlook, but in more recent times the +construction of roads and railways, and the +drainage of the Fens, have given it freedom of +communication with the world from which it +was formerly isolated.</p> + +<p>The Vicarage of Stoneground stands hard +by the Church, and is renowned for its spacious +garden, part of which, and that (as might be +expected) the part nearest the house, is of +ancient date. To the original plot successive +Vicars have added adjacent lands, so that the +garden has gradually acquired the state in +which it now appears.</p> + +<p>The Vicars have been many in number. +Since Henry de Greville was instituted in the +year 1140 there have been 30, all of whom have +lived, and most of whom have died, in successive +vicarage houses upon the present site.</p> + +<p>The present incumbent, Mr. Batchel, is a +solitary man of somewhat studious habits, but +is not too much enamoured of his solitude to +receive visits, from time to time, from schoolboys +and such. In the summer of the year +1906 he entertained two, who are the occasion +of this narrative, though still unconscious of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> +their part in it, for one of the two, celebrating +his 15th birthday during his visit to Stoneground, +was presented by Mr. Batchel with a +new camera, with which he proceeded to +photograph, with considerable skill, the surroundings +of the house.</p> + +<p>One of these photographs Mr. Batchel +thought particularly pleasing. It was a view +of the house with the lawn in the foreground. +A few small copies, such as the boy’s camera +was capable of producing, were sent to him by +his young friend, some weeks after the visit, +and again Mr. Batchel was so much pleased +with the picture, that he begged for the +negative, with the intention of having the view +enlarged.</p> + +<p>The boy met the request with what seemed +a needlessly modest plea. There were two +negatives, he replied, but each of them had, in +the same part of the picture, a small blur for +which there was no accounting otherwise than +by carelessness. His desire, therefore, was to +discard these films, and to produce something +more worthy of enlargement, upon a subsequent +visit.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel, however, persisted in his +request, and upon receipt of the negative, +examined it with a lens. He was just able to +detect the blur alluded to; an examination<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +under a powerful glass, in fact revealed something +more than he had at first detected. The +blur was like the nucleus of a comet as one +sees it represented in pictures, and seemed to +be connected with a faint streak which extended +across the negative. It was, however, so inconsiderable +a defect that Mr. Batchel resolved to +disregard it. He had a neighbour whose +favourite pastime was photography, one who +was notably skilled in everything that pertained +to the art, and to him he sent the +negative, with the request for an enlargement, +reminding him of a long-standing promise to +do any such service, when as had now happened, +his friend might see fit to ask it.</p> + +<p>This neighbour who had acquired such skill +in photography was one Mr. Groves, a young +clergyman, residing in the Precincts of the +Minster near at hand, which was visible from +Mr. Batchel’s garden. He lodged with a Mrs. +Rumney, a superannuated servant of the Palace, +and a strong-minded vigorous woman still, +exactly such a one as Mr. Groves needed to +have about him. For he was a constant trial +to Mrs. Rumney, and but for the wholesome +fear she begot in him, would have converted +his rooms into a mere den. Her carpets and +tablecloths were continually bespattered with +chemicals; her chimney-piece ornaments had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> +been unceremoniously stowed away and replaced +by labelled bottles; even the bed of Mr. +Groves was, by day, strewn with drying films +and mounts, and her old and favourite cat +had a bald patch on his flank, the result of +a mishap with the pyrogallic acid.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rumney’s lodger, however, was a great +favourite with her, as such helpless men are +apt to be with motherly women, and she took +no small pride in his work. A life-size portrait +of herself, originally a peace-offering, hung in +her parlour, and had long excited the envy of +every friend who took tea with her.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Groves,” she was wont to say, “is +a nice gentleman, <span class="f8">AND</span> a gentleman; and +chemical though he may be, I’d rather wait +on him for nothing than what I would on +anyone else for twice the money.”</p> + +<p>Every new piece of photographic work was +of interest to Mrs. Rumney, and she expected +to be allowed both to admire and to criticise. +The view of Stoneground Vicarage, therefore, +was shown to her upon its arrival. “Well may +it want enlarging,” she remarked, “and it no +bigger than a postage stamp; it looks more +like a doll’s house than a vicarage,” and with +this she went about her work, whilst Mr. Groves +retired to his dark room with the film, to see +what he could make of the task assigned to him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> + +<p>Two days later, after repeated visits to his +dark room, he had made something considerable; +and when Mrs. Rumney brought him +his chop for luncheon, she was lost in admiration. +A large but unfinished print stood upon +his easel, and such a picture of Stoneground +Vicarage was in the making as was calculated +to delight both the young photographer and +the Vicar.</p> + +<p>Mr. Groves spent only his mornings, as a +rule, in photography. His afternoons he gave +to pastoral work, and the work upon this +enlargement was over for the day. It required +little more than “touching up,” but it was +this “touching up” which made the difference +between the enlargements of Mr. Groves and +those of other men. The print, therefore, was +to be left upon the easel until the morrow, +when it was to be finished. Mrs. Rumney and +he, together, gave it an admiring inspection +as she was carrying away the tray, and what +they agreed in admiring most particularly was +the smooth and open stretch of lawn, which +made so excellent a foreground for the picture. +“It looks,” said Mrs. Rumney, who had once +been young, “as if it was waiting for someone +to come and dance on it.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Groves left his lodgings—we must now +be particular about the hours—at half-past two,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> +with the intention of returning, as usual, at five. +“As reg’lar as a clock,” Mrs. Rumney was wont +to say, “and a sight more reg’lar than some +clocks I knows of.”</p> + +<p>Upon this day he was, nevertheless, somewhat +late, some visit had detained him unexpectedly, +and it was a quarter-past five when he +inserted his latch-key in Mrs. Rumney’s door.</p> + +<p>Hardly had he entered, when his landlady, +obviously awaiting him, appeared in the passage: +her face, usually florid, was of the colour +of parchment, and, breathing hurriedly and +shortly, she pointed at the door of Mr. Groves’ +room.</p> + +<p>In some alarm at her condition, Mr. Groves +hastily questioned her; all she could say was: +“The photograph! the photograph!” Mr. Groves +could only suppose that his enlargement +had met with some mishap for which Mrs. +Rumney was responsible. Perhaps she had +allowed it to flutter into the fire. He turned +towards his room in order to discover the +worst, but at this Mrs. Rumney laid a trembling +hand upon his arm, and held him back. “Don’t +go in,” she said, “have your tea in the parlour.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense,” said Mr. Groves, “if that is +gone we can easily do another.”</p> + +<p>“Gone,” said his landlady, “I wish to +Heaven it was.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p> + +<p>The ensuing conversation shall not detain +us. It will suffice to say that after a considerable +time Mr. Groves succeeded in quieting +his landlady, so much so that she consented, +still trembling violently, to enter the room +with him. To speak truth, she was as much +concerned for him as for herself, and she was +not by nature a timid woman.</p> + +<p>The room, so far from disclosing to Mr. +Groves any cause for excitement, appeared +wholly unchanged. In its usual place stood +every article of his stained and ill-used furniture, +on the easel stood the photograph, precisely +where he had left it; and except that his +tea was not upon the table, everything was in +its usual state and place.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Rumney again became excited +and tremulous, “It’s there,” she cried. “Look +at the lawn.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Groves stepped quickly forward and +looked at the photograph. Then he turned as +pale as Mrs. Rumney herself.</p> + +<p>There was a man, a man with an indescribably +horrible suffering face, rolling the lawn +with a large roller.</p> + +<p>Mr. Groves retreated in amazement to +where Mrs. Rumney had remained standing. +“Has anyone been in here?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Not a soul,” was the reply, “I came in to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +make up the fire, and turned to have another +look at the picture, when I saw that dead-alive +face at the edge. It gave me the creeps,” she +said, “particularly from not having noticed it +before. If that’s anyone in Stoneground, I said +to myself, I wonder the Vicar has him in the +garden with that awful face. It took that hold +of me I thought I must come and look at it +again, and at five o’clock I brought your tea in. +And then I saw him moved along right in front, +with a roller dragging behind him, like you +see.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Groves was greatly puzzled. Mrs. +Rumney’s story, of course, was incredible, but +this strange evil-faced man had appeared in +the photograph somehow. That he had not +been there when the print was made was quite +certain.</p> + +<p>The problem soon ceased to alarm Mr. +Groves; in his mind it was investing itself +with a scientific interest. He began to think of +suspended chemical action, and other possible +avenues of investigation. At Mrs. Rumney’s +urgent entreaty, however, he turned the photograph +upon the easel, and with only its white +back presented to the room, he sat down and +ordered tea to be brought in.</p> + +<p>He did not look again at the picture. The +face of the man had about it something<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +unnaturally painful: he could remember, and +still see, as it were, the drawn features, and the +look of the man had unaccountably distressed +him.</p> + +<p>He finished his slight meal, and having lit +a pipe, began to brood over the scientific possibilities +of the problem. Had any other photograph +upon the original film become involved +in the one he had enlarged? Had the image of +any other face, distorted by the enlarging lens, +become a part of this picture? For the space of +two hours he debated this possibility, and that, +only to reject them all. His optical knowledge +told him that no conceivable accident could +have brought into his picture a man with a +roller. No negative of his had ever contained +such a man; if it had, no natural causes would +suffice to leave him, as it were, hovering about +the apparatus.</p> + +<p>His repugnance to the actual thing had by +this time lost its freshness, and he determined +to end his scientific musings with another inspection +of the object. So he approached the +easel and turned the photograph round again. +His horror returned, and with good cause. The +man with the roller had now advanced to the +middle of the lawn. The face was stricken still +with the same indescribable look of suffering. +The man seemed to be appealing to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> +spectator for some kind of help. Almost, he +spoke.</p> + +<p>Mr. Groves was naturally reduced to a +condition of extreme nervous excitement. Although +not by nature what is called a nervous +man, he trembled from head to foot. With a +sudden effort, he turned away his head, took +hold of the picture with his outstretched hand, +and opening a drawer in his sideboard thrust +the thing underneath a folded tablecloth which +was lying there. Then he closed the drawer +and took up an entertaining book to distract his +thoughts from the whole matter.</p> + +<p>In this he succeeded very ill. Yet somehow +the rest of the evening passed, and as it +wore away, he lost something of his alarm. At +ten o’clock, Mrs. Rumney, knocking and receiving +answer twice, lest by any chance she +should find herself alone in the room, brought +in the cocoa usually taken by her lodger at that +hour. A hasty glance at the easel showed her +that it stood empty, and her face betrayed her +relief. She made no comment, and Mr. Groves +invited none.</p> + +<p>The latter, however, could not make up his +mind to go to bed. The face he had seen was +taking firm hold upon his imagination, and +seemed to fascinate him and repel him at the +same time. Before long, he found himself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +wholly unable to resist the impulse to look at it +once more. He took it again, with some indecision, +from the drawer and laid it under the +lamp.</p> + +<p>The man with the roller had now passed +completely over the lawn, and was near the left +of the picture.</p> + +<p>The shock to Mr. Groves was again considerable. +He stood facing the fire, trembling with +excitement which refused to be suppressed. In +this state his eye lighted upon the calendar +hanging before him, and it furnished him with +some distraction. The next day was his mother’s +birthday. Never did he omit to write a letter +which should lie upon her breakfast-table, and +the pre-occupation of this evening had made +him wholly forgetful of the matter. There was +a collection of letters, however, from the pillar-box +near at hand, at a quarter before midnight, +so he turned to his desk, wrote a letter which +would at least serve to convey his affectionate +greetings, and having written it, went out into +the night and posted it.</p> + +<p>The clocks were striking midnight as he +returned to his room. We may be sure that he +did not resist the desire to glance at the photograph +he had left on his table. But the results +of that glance, he, at any rate, had not anticipated. +The man with the roller had disappeared.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +The lawn lay as smooth and clear as at first, +“looking,” as Mrs. Rumney had said, “as if it +was waiting for someone to come and dance on +it.”</p> + +<p>The photograph, after this, remained a +photograph and nothing more. Mr. Groves +would have liked to persuade himself that it +had never undergone these changes which he +had witnessed, and which we have endeavoured +to describe, but his sense of their reality was +too insistent. He kept the print lying for a +week upon his easel. Mrs. Rumney, although +she had ceased to dread it, was obviously relieved +at its disappearance, when it was carried +to Stoneground to be delivered to Mr. Batchel. +Mr. Groves said nothing of the man with the +roller, but gave the enlargement, without comment, +into his friend’s hands. The work of +enlargement had been skilfully done, and was +deservedly praised.</p> + +<p>Mr. Groves, making some modest disclaimer, +observed that the view, with its +spacious foreground of lawn, was such as could +not have failed to enlarge well. And this lawn, +he added, as they sat looking out of the Vicar’s +study, looks as well from within your house +as from without. It must give you a sense of +responsibility, he added, reflectively, to be +sitting where your predecessors have sat for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +so many centuries and to be continuing their +peaceful work. The mere presence before your +window, of the turf upon which good men have +walked, is an inspiration.</p> + +<p>The Vicar made no reply to these somewhat +sententious remarks. For a moment he seemed +as if he would speak some words of conventional +assent. Then he abruptly left the room, to +return in a few minutes with a parchment book.</p> + +<p>“Your remark, Groves,” he said as he seated +himself again, “recalled to me a curious bit of +history: I went up to the old library to get the +book. This is the journal of William Longue +who was Vicar here up to the year 1602. What +you said about the lawn will give you an +interest in a certain portion of the journal. I +will read it.”</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>Aug. 1, 1600.—I am now returned in haste from +a journey to Brightelmstone whither I +had gone with full intention to remain +about the space of two months. Master +Josiah Wilburton, of my dear College of +Emmanuel, having consented to assume +the charge of my parish of Stoneground +in the meantime. But I had intelligence, +after 12 days’ absence, by a messenger +from the Churchwardens, that Master +Wilburton had disappeared last Monday +sennight, and had been no more seen. So +here I am again in my study to the entire<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +frustration of my plans, and can do +nothing in my perplexity but sit and +look out from my window, before which +Andrew Birch rolleth the grass with +much persistence. Andrew passeth so +many times over the same place with his +roller that I have just now stepped without +to demand why he so wasteth his +labour, and upon this he hath pointed out +a place which is not levelled, and hath +continued his rolling.</p> + +<p>Aug. 2.—There is a change in Andrew Birch +since my absence, who hath indeed the +aspect of one in great depression, which +is noteworthy of so chearful a man. He +haply shares our common trouble in +respect of Master Wilburton, of whom we +remain without tidings. Having made +part of a sermon upon the seventh +Chapter of the former Epistle of St. +Paul to the Corinthians and the 27th +verse, I found Andrew again at his task, +and bade him desist and saddle my horse, +being minded to ride forth and take +counsel with my good friend John Palmer +at the Deanery, who bore Master Wilburton +great affection.</p> + +<p>Aug. 2 continued.—Dire news awaiteth me +upon my return. The Sheriff’s men have +disinterred the body of poor Master W. +from beneath the grass Andrew was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +rolling, and have arrested him on the +charge of being his cause of death.</p> + +<p>Aug. 10—Alas! Andrew Birch hath been +hanged, the Justice having mercifully +ordered that he should hang by the neck +until he should be dead, and not sooner +molested. May the Lord have mercy on +his soul. He made full confession before +me, that he had slain Master Wilburton +in heat upon his threatening to make me +privy to certain peculation of which I +should not have suspected so old a +servant. The poor man bemoaned his +evil temper in great contrition, and beat +his breast, saying that he knew himself +doomed for ever to roll the grass in the +place where he had tried to conceal his +wicked fact.</p> +</div> + +<p>“Thank you,” said Mr. Groves. “Has that +little negative got the date upon it?” “Yes,” +replied Mr. Batchel, as he examined it with his +glass. The boy has marked it August 10. The +Vicar seemed not to remark the coincidence +with the date of Birch’s execution. Needless to +say that it did not escape Mr. Groves. But he +kept silence about the man with the roller, who +has been no more seen to this day.</p> + +<p>Doubtless there is more in our photography +than we yet know of. The camera sees more +than the eye, and chemicals in a freshly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +prepared and active state, have a power +which they afterwards lose. Our units +of time, adopted for the convenience of +persons dealing with the ordinary movements +of material objects, are of course conventional. +Those who turn the instruments of science +upon nature will always be in danger of seeing +more than they looked for. There is such a +disaster as that of knowing too much, and at +some time or another it may overtake each of +us. May we then be as wise as Mr. Groves in +our reticence, if our turn should come.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a><br /><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> + + +<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II.<br /> + +<span class="stl">BONE TO HIS BONE.</span></h2> + + +<p>William Whitehead, Fellow of Emmanuel +College, in the University of Cambridge, became +Vicar of Stoneground in the year 1731. The +annals of his incumbency were doubtless short +and simple: they have not survived. In his day +were no newspapers to collect gossip, no Parish +Magazines to record the simple events of +parochial life. One event, however, of greater +moment then than now, is recorded in two +places. Vicar Whitehead failed in health after +23 years of work, and journeyed to Bath in what +his monument calls “the vain hope of being +restored.” The duration of his visit is unknown; +it is reasonable to suppose that he +made his journey in the summer, it is certain +that by the month of November his physician +told him to lay aside all hope of recovery.</p> + +<p>Then it was that the thoughts of the patient +turned to the comfortable straggling vicarage +he had left at Stoneground, in which he had +hoped to end his days. He prayed that his successor +might be as happy there as he had been +himself. Setting his affairs in order, as became<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +one who had but a short time to live, he +executed a will, bequeathing to the Vicars of +Stoneground, for ever, the close of ground he +had recently purchased because it lay next the +vicarage garden. And by a codicil, he added to +the bequest his library of books. Within a few +days, William Whitehead was gathered to his +fathers.</p> + +<p>A mural tablet in the north aisle of the +church, records, in Latin, his services and his +bequests, his two marriages, and his fruitless +journey to Bath. The house he loved, but never +again saw, was taken down 40 years later, and +re-built by Vicar James Devie. The garden, +with Vicar Whitehead’s “close of ground” and +other adjacent lands, was opened out and +planted, somewhat before 1850, by Vicar Robert +Towerson. The aspect of everything has +changed. But in a convenient chamber on the +first floor of the present vicarage the library of +Vicar Whitehead stands very much as he used +it and loved it, and as he bequeathed it to his +successors “for ever.”</p> + +<p>The books there are arranged as he arranged +and ticketed them. Little slips of paper, sometimes +bearing interesting fragments of writing, +still mark his places. His marginal comments +still give life to pages from which all other +interest has faded, and he would have but a dull<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +imagination who could sit in the chamber +amidst these books without ever being carried +back 180 years into the past, to the time when +the newest of them left the printer’s hands.</p> + +<p>Of those into whose possession the books +have come, some have doubtless loved them +more, and some less; some, perhaps, have left +them severely alone. But neither those who +loved them, nor those who loved them not, have +lost them, and they passed, some century and a +half after William Whitehead’s death, into +the hands of Mr. Batchel, who loved them as a +father loves his children. He lived alone, and +had few domestic cares to distract his mind. +He was able, therefore, to enjoy to the full what +Vicar Whitehead had enjoyed so long before +him. During many a long summer evening +would he sit poring over long-forgotten books; +and since the chamber, otherwise called the +library, faced the south, he could also spend +sunny winter mornings there without discomfort. +Writing at a small table, or reading as he +stood at a tall desk, he would browse amongst +the books like an ox in a pleasant pasture.</p> + +<p>There were other times also, at which Mr. +Batchel would use the books. Not being a +sound sleeper (for book-loving men seldom are), +he elected to use as a bedroom one of the two +chambers which opened at either side into the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +library. The arrangement enabled him to +beguile many a sleepless hour amongst the +books, and in view of these nocturnal visits he +kept a candle standing in a sconce above the +desk, and matches always ready to his hand.</p> + +<p>There was one disadvantage in this close +proximity of his bed to the library. Owing, apparently, +to some defect in the fittings of the room, +which, having no mechanical tastes, Mr. Batchel +had never investigated, there could be heard, in +the stillness of the night, exactly such sounds +as might arise from a person moving about +amongst the books. Visitors using the other +adjacent room would often remark at breakfast, +that they had heard their host in the library at +one or two o’clock in the morning, when, in fact, +he had not left his bed. Invariably Mr. Batchel +allowed them to suppose that he had been where +they thought him. He disliked idle controversy, +and was unwilling to afford an opening for supernatural +talk. Knowing well enough the sounds +by which his guests had been deceived, he +wanted no other explanation of them than his +own, though it was of too vague a character to +count as an explanation. He conjectured that +the window-sashes, or the doors, or “something,” +were defective, and was too phlegmatic and too +unpractical to make any investigation. The +matter gave him no concern.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> + +<p>Persons whose sleep is uncertain are apt to +have their worst nights when they would like +their best. The consciousness of a special need +for rest seems to bring enough mental disturbance +to forbid it. So on Christmas Eve, in the +year 1907, Mr. Batchel, who would have liked to +sleep well, in view of the labours of Christmas +Day, lay hopelessly wide awake. He exhausted +all the known devices for courting sleep, and, at +the end, found himself wider awake than ever. +A brilliant moon shone into his room, for he +hated window-blinds. There was a light wind +blowing, and the sounds in the library were +more than usually suggestive of a person moving +about. He almost determined to have the +sashes “seen to,” although he could seldom be +induced to have anything “seen to.” He disliked +changes, even for the better, and would submit +to great inconvenience rather than have things +altered with which he had become familiar.</p> + +<p>As he revolved these matters in his mind, he +heard the clocks strike the hour of midnight, +and having now lost all hope of falling asleep, +he rose from his bed, got into a large dressing +gown which hung in readiness for such occasions, +and passed into the library, with the intention +of reading himself sleepy, if he could.</p> + +<p>The moon, by this time, had passed out of +the south, and the library seemed all the darker<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> +by contrast with the moonlit chamber he had +left. He could see nothing but two blue-grey +rectangles formed by the windows against the +sky, the furniture of the room being altogether +invisible. Groping along to where the table +stood, Mr. Batchel felt over its surface for the +matches which usually lay there; he found, however, +that the table was cleared of everything. +He raised his right hand, therefore, in order to +feel his way to a shelf where the matches were +sometimes mislaid, and at that moment, whilst +his hand was in mid-air, the matchbox was +gently put into it!</p> + +<p>Such an incident could hardly fail to disturb +even a phlegmatic person, and Mr. Batchel +cried “Who’s this?” somewhat nervously. +There was no answer. He struck a match, +looked hastily round the room, and found it +empty, as usual. There was everything, that +is to say, that he was accustomed to see, but +no other person than himself.</p> + +<p>It is not quite accurate, however, to say +that everything was in its usual state. Upon +the tall desk lay a quarto volume that he had +certainly not placed there. It was his quite +invariable practice to replace his books upon +the shelves after using them, and what we may +call his library habits were precise and +methodical. A book out of place like this,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +was not only an offence against good order, +but a sign that his privacy had been intruded +upon. With some surprise, therefore, he lit +the candle standing ready in the sconce, and +proceeded to examine the book, not sorry, in +the disturbed condition in which he was, to +have an occupation found for him.</p> + +<p>The book proved to be one with which he +was unfamiliar, and this made it certain that +some other hand than his had removed it from +its place. Its title was “The Compleat +Gard’ner” of M. de la Quintinye made +English by John Evelyn Esquire. It was not a +work in which Mr. Batchel felt any great +interest. It consisted of divers reflections on +various parts of husbandry, doubtless entertaining +enough, but too deliberate and discursive +for practical purposes. He had certainly +never used the book, and growing restless now +in mind, said to himself that some boy having +the freedom of the house, had taken it +down from its place in the hope of finding +pictures.</p> + +<p>But even whilst he made this explanation +he felt its weakness. To begin with, the desk +was too high for a boy. The improbability that +any boy would place a book there was equalled +by the improbability that he would leave it +there. To discover its uninviting character<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +would be the work only of a moment, and no +boy would have brought it so far from its shelf.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel had, however, come to read, +and habit was too strong with him to be wholly +set aside. Leaving “The Compleat Gard’ner” +on the desk, he turned round to the shelves +to find some more congenial reading.</p> + +<p>Hardly had he done this when he was +startled by a sharp rap upon the desk behind +him, followed by a rustling of paper. He +turned quickly about and saw the quarto lying +open. In obedience to the instinct of the +moment, he at once sought a natural cause +for what he saw. Only a wind, and that of +the strongest, could have opened the book, and +laid back its heavy cover; and though he +accepted, for a brief moment, that explanation, +he was too candid to retain it longer. The +wind out of doors was very light. The window +sash was closed and latched, and, to decide +the matter finally, the book had its back, and +not its edges, turned towards the only quarter +from which a wind could strike.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel approached the desk again and +stood over the book. With increasing perturbation +of mind (for he still thought of the +matchbox) he looked upon the open page. +Without much reason beyond that he felt +constrained to do something, he read the words<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +of the half completed sentence at the turn of +the page—</p> + +<div class="blockquo1"> +<p class="noi">“at dead of night he left the house and +passed into the solitude of the garden.”</p> +</div> + +<p class="noi">But he read no more, nor did he give himself +the trouble of discovering whose midnight +wandering was being described, although the +habit was singularly like one of his own. He +was in no condition for reading, and turning his +back upon the volume he slowly paced the +length of the chamber, “wondering at that +which had come to pass.”</p> + +<p>He reached the opposite end of the chamber +and was in the act of turning, when again he +heard the rustling of paper, and by the time he +had faced round, saw the leaves of the book +again turning over. In a moment the volume +lay at rest, open in another place, and there was +no further movement as he approached it. To +make sure that he had not been deceived, he +read again the words as they entered the page. +The author was following a not uncommon +practise of the time, and throwing common +speech into forms suggested by Holy Writ: +“So dig,” it said, “that ye may obtain.”</p> + +<p>This passage, which to Mr. Batchel seemed +reprehensible in its levity, excited at once his +interest and his disapproval. He was prepared +to read more, but this time was not allowed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +Before his eye could pass beyond the passage +already cited, the leaves of the book slowly +turned again, and presented but a termination +of five words and a colophon.</p> + +<p>The words were, “to the North, an Ilex.” +These three passages, in which he saw no meaning +and no connection, began to entangle +themselves together in Mr. Batchel’s mind. He +found himself repeating them in different orders, +now beginning with one, and now with another. +Any further attempt at reading he felt to be +impossible, and he was in no mind for any more +experiences of the unaccountable. Sleep was, of +course, further from him than ever, if that were +conceivable. What he did, therefore, was to +blow out the candle, to return to his moonlit +bedroom, and put on more clothing, and then to +pass downstairs with the object of going out of +doors.</p> + +<p>It was not unusual with Mr. Batchel to walk +about his garden at night-time. This form of +exercise had often, after a wakeful hour, sent +him back to his bed refreshed and ready for +sleep. The convenient access to the garden at +such times lay through his study, whose French +windows opened on to a short flight of steps, +and upon these he now paused for a moment to +admire the snow-like appearance of the lawns, +bathed as they were in the moonlight. As he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +paused, he heard the city clocks strike the half-hour +after midnight, and he could not forbear +repeating aloud</p> + +<div class="blockquo1"> +<p class="noi">“At dead of night he left the house, and +passed into the solitude of the garden.”</p> +</div> + +<p class="noi">It was solitary enough. At intervals the screech +of an owl, and now and then the noise of a train, +seemed to emphasise the solitude by drawing +attention to it and then leaving it in possession +of the night. Mr. Batchel found himself +wondering and conjecturing what Vicar Whitehead, +who had acquired the close of land to +secure quiet and privacy for garden, would have +thought of the railways to the west and north. +He turned his face northwards, whence a whistle +had just sounded, and saw a tree beautifully +outlined against the sky. His breath caught at +the sight. Not because the tree was unfamiliar. +Mr. Batchel knew all his trees. But what he +had seen was “to the north, an Ilex.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel knew not what to make of it +all. He had walked into the garden hundreds +of times and as often seen the Ilex, but the +words out of the “Compleat Gard’ner” seemed +to be pursuing him in a way that made him +almost afraid. His temperament, however, as +has been said already, was phlegmatic. It was +commonly said, and Mr. Batchel approved the +verdict, whilst he condemned its inexactness,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +that “his nerves were made of fiddle-string,” so +he braced himself afresh and set upon his +walk round the silent garden, which he was +accustomed to begin in a northerly direction, +and was now too proud to change. He usually +passed the Ilex at the beginning of his perambulation, +and so would pass it now.</p> + +<p>He did not pass it. A small discovery, as +he reached it, annoyed and disturbed him. His +gardener, as careful and punctilious as himself, +never failed to house all his tools at the end of a +day’s work. Yet there, under the Ilex, standing +upright in moonlight brilliant enough to cast +a shadow of it, was a spade.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel’s second thought was one of +relief. After his extraordinary experiences in the +library (he hardly knew now whether they had +been real or not) something quite commonplace +would act sedatively, and he determined to +carry the spade to the tool-house.</p> + +<p>The soil was quite dry, and the surface +even a little frozen, so Mr. Batchel left the path, +walked up to the spade, and would have drawn +it towards him. But it was as if he had made +the attempt upon the trunk of the Ilex itself. +The spade would not be moved. Then, first +with one hand, and then with both, he tried +to raise it, and still it stood firm. Mr. Batchel, +of course, attributed this to the frost, slight<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +as it was. Wondering at the spade’s being +there, and annoyed at its being frozen, he was +about to leave it and continue his walk, when +the remaining words of the “Compleat +Gard’ner” seemed rather to utter themselves, +than to await his will—</p> + +<div class="blockquo2"> +<p class="noi">“So dig, that ye may obtain.”</p> +</div> + +<p class="noi">Mr. Batchel’s power of independent action now +deserted him. He took the spade, which no +longer resisted, and began to dig. “Five spadefuls +and no more,” he said aloud. “This is all +foolishness.”</p> + +<p>Four spadefuls of earth he then raised and +spread out before him in the moonlight. There +was nothing unusual to be seen. Nor did Mr. +Batchel decide what he would look for, whether +coins, jewels, documents in canisters, or +weapons. In point of fact, he dug against what +he deemed his better judgment, and expected +nothing. He spread before him the fifth and last +spadeful of earth, not quite without result, but +with no result that was at all sensational. The +earth contained a bone. Mr. Batchel’s knowledge +of anatomy was sufficient to show him +that it was a human bone. He identified it, +even by moonlight, as the <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">radius</i>, a bone of the +forearm, as he removed the earth from it, with +his thumb.</p> + +<p>Such a discovery might be thought worthy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +of more than the very ordinary interest Mr. +Batchel showed. As a matter of fact, the +presence of a human bone was easily to be +accounted for. Recent excavations within the +church had caused the upturning of numberless +bones, which had been collected and reverently +buried. But an earth-stained bone is also +easily overlooked, and this <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">radius</i> had obviously +found its way into the garden with some of +the earth brought out of the church.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel was glad, rather than regretful +at this termination to his adventure. He was +once more provided with something to do. +The re-interment of such bones as this had +been his constant care, and he decided at once +to restore the bone to consecrated earth. The +time seemed opportune. The eyes of the +curious were closed in sleep, he himself was +still alert and wakeful. The spade remained +by his side and the bone in his hand. So he +betook himself, there and then, to the churchyard. +By the still generous light of the moon, +he found a place where the earth yielded to +his spade, and within a few minutes the bone +was laid decently to earth, some 18 inches deep.</p> + +<p>The city clocks struck one as he finished. +The whole world seemed asleep, and Mr. Batchel +slowly returned to the garden with his spade. +As he hung it in its accustomed place he felt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +stealing over him the welcome desire to sleep. +He walked quietly on to the house and ascended +to his room. It was now dark: the moon had +passed on and left the room in shadow. He lit +a candle, and before undressing passed into the +library. He had an irresistible curiosity to see +the passages in John Evelyn’s book which +had so strangely adapted themselves to the +events of the past hour.</p> + +<p>In the library a last surprise awaited him. +The desk upon which the book had lain was +empty. “The Compleat Gard’ner” stood in +its place on the shelf. And then Mr. Batchel +knew that he had handled a bone of William +Whitehead, and that in response to his own +entreaty.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a><br /><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p> + + +<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III.<br /> + +<span class="stl">THE RICHPINS.</span></h2> + + +<p>Something of the general character of +Stoneground and its people has been indicated +by stray allusions in the preceding narratives. +We must here add that of its present population +only a small part is native, the remainder +having been attracted during the recent prosperous +days of brickmaking, from the nearer +parts of East Anglia and the Midlands. The +visitor to Stoneground now finds little more +than the signs of an unlovely industry, and of +the hasty and inadequate housing of the people +it has drawn together. Nothing in the place +pleases him more than the excellent train-service +which makes it easy to get away. He +seldom desires a long acquaintance either with +Stoneground or its people.</p> + +<p>The impression so made upon the average +visitor is, however, unjust, as first impressions +often are. The few who have made further +acquaintance with Stoneground have soon +learned to distinguish between the permanent +and the accidental features of the place, and +have been astonished by nothing so much as by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +the unexpected evidence of French influence. +Amongst the household treasures of the old +inhabitants are invariably found French knick-knacks: +there are pieces of French furniture in +what is called “the room” of many houses. A +certain ten-acre field is called the “Frenchman’s +meadow.” Upon the voters’ lists hanging at the +church door are to be found French names, +often corrupted; and boys who run about the +streets can be heard shrieking to each other +such names as Bunnum, Dangibow, Planchey, +and so on.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel himself is possessed of many +curious little articles of French handiwork—boxes +deftly covered with split straws, arranged +ingeniously in patterns; models of the guillotine, +built of carved meat-bones, and various +other pieces of handiwork, amongst them an +accurate road-map of the country between +Stoneground and Yarmouth, drawn upon a fly-leaf +torn from some book, and bearing upon the +other side the name of Jules Richepin. The +latter had been picked up, according to a +pencilled-note written across one corner, by a +shepherd, in the year 1811.</p> + +<p>The explanation of this French influence is +simple enough. Within five miles of Stoneground +a large barracks had been erected for +the custody of French prisoners during the war<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +with Bonaparte. Many thousands were confined +there during the years 1808-14. The prisoners +were allowed to sell what articles they could +make in the barracks; and many of them, upon +their release, settled in the neighbourhood, +where their descendants remain. There is little +curiosity amongst these descendants about their +origin. The events of a century ago seem to +them as remote as the Deluge, and as immaterial. +To Thomas Richpin, a weakly man +who blew the organ in church, Mr. Batchel +shewed the map. Richpin, with a broad, black-haired +skull and a narrow chin which grew a +little pointed beard, had always a foreign look +about him: Mr. Batchel thought it more than +possible that he might be descended from the +owner of the book, and told him as much upon +shewing him the fly-leaf. Thomas, however, +was content to observe that “his name hadn’t +got no E,” and shewed no further interest in the +matter. His interest in it, before we have done +with him, will have become very large.</p> + +<p>For the growing boys of Stoneground, with +whom he was on generally friendly terms, Mr. +Batchel formed certain clubs to provide them +with occupation on winter evenings; and in +these clubs, in the interests of peace and good-order, +he spent a great deal of time. Sitting +one December evening, in a large circle of boys<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +who preferred the warmth of the fire to the +more temperate atmosphere of the tables, he +found Thomas Richpin the sole topic of conversation.</p> + +<p>“We seen Mr. Richpin in Frenchman’s +Meadow last night,” said one.</p> + +<p>“What time?” said Mr. Batchel, whose +function it was to act as a sort of fly-wheel, and +to carry the conversation over dead points. He +had received the information with some little +surprise, because Frenchman’s Meadow was an +unusual place for Richpin to have been in, but +his question had no further object than to +encourage talk.</p> + +<p>“Half-past nine,” was the reply.</p> + +<p>This made the question much more interesting. +Mr. Batchel, on the preceding evening, +had taken advantage of a warmed church to +practise upon the organ. He had played it from +nine o’clock until ten, and Richpin had been all +that time at the bellows.</p> + +<p>“Are you sure it was half-past nine?” he +asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” (we reproduce the answer exactly), +“we come out o’ night-school at quarter-past, +and we was all goin’ to the Wash to look if it +was friz.”</p> + +<p>“And you saw Mr. Richpin in Frenchman’s +Meadow?” said Mr. Batchel.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Yes. He was looking for something on the +ground,” added another boy.</p> + +<p>“And his trousers was tore,” said a third.</p> + +<p>The story was clearly destined to stand in +no need of corroboration.</p> + +<p>“Did Mr. Richpin speak to you?” enquired +Mr. Batchel.</p> + +<p>“No, we run away afore he come to us,” was +the answer.</p> + +<p>“Why?”</p> + +<p>“Because we was frit.”</p> + +<p>“What frightened you?”</p> + +<p>“Jim Lallement hauled a flint at him and +hit him in the face, and he didn’t take no notice, +so we run away.”</p> + +<p>“Why?” repeated Mr. Batchel.</p> + +<p>“Because he never hollered nor looked at us, +and it made us feel so funny.”</p> + +<p>“Did you go straight down to the Wash?”</p> + +<p>They had all done so.</p> + +<p>“What time was it when you reached +home?”</p> + +<p>They had all been at home by ten, before +Richpin had left the church.</p> + +<p>“Why do they call it Frenchman’s +Meadow?” asked another boy, evidently +anxious to change the subject.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel replied that the meadow had +probably belonged to a Frenchman whose name<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +was not easy to say, and the conversation after +this was soon in another channel. But, furnished +as he was with an unmistakeable <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">alibi</i>, +the story about Richpin and the torn trousers, +and the flint, greatly puzzled him.</p> + +<p>“Go straight home,” he said, as the boys at +last bade him good-night, “and let us have no +more stone-throwing.” They were reckless +boys, and Richpin, who used little discretion +in reporting their misdemeanours about the +church, seemed to Mr. Batchel to stand in real +danger.</p> + +<p>Frenchman’s Meadow provided ten acres of +excellent pasture, and the owners of two or +three hard-worked horses were glad to pay three +shillings a week for the privilege of turning +them into it. One of these men came to Mr. +Batchel on the morning which followed the +conversation at the club.</p> + +<p>“I’m in a bit of a quandary about Tom +Richpin,” he began.</p> + +<p>This was an opening that did not fail to +command Mr. Batchel’s attention. “What is +it?” he said.</p> + +<p>“I had my mare in Frenchman’s Meadow,” +replied the man, “and Sam Bower come and +told me last night as he heard her gallopin’ +about when he was walking this side the +hedge.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> + +<p>“But what about Richpin?” said Mr. +Batchel.</p> + +<p>“Let me come to it,” said the other. “My +mare hasn’t got no wind to gallop, so I up and +went to see to her, and there she was sure +enough, like a wild thing, and Tom Richpin +walking across the meadow.”</p> + +<p>“Was he chasing her?” asked Mr. Batchel, +who felt the absurdity of the question as he +put it.</p> + +<p>“He was not,” said the man, “but what he +could have been doin’ to put the mare into that +state, I can’t think.”</p> + +<p>“What was he doing when you saw him?” +asked Mr. Batchel.</p> + +<p>“He was walking along looking for something +he’d dropped, with his trousers all tore to +ribbons, and while I was catchin’ the mare, he +made off.”</p> + +<p>“He was easy enough to find, I suppose?” +said Mr. Batchel.</p> + +<p>“That’s the quandary I was put in,” said +the man. “I took the mare home and gave her +to my lad, and straight I went to Richpin’s, and +found Tom havin’ his supper, with his trousers +as good as new.”</p> + +<p>“You’d made a mistake,” said Mr. Batchel.</p> + +<p>“But how come the mare to make it too?” +said the other.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p> + +<p>“What did you say to Richpin?” asked Mr. +Batchel.</p> + +<p>“Tom,” I says, “when did you come in? +‘Six o’clock,’ he says, ‘I bin mendin’ my boots’; +and there, sure enough, was the hobbin’ iron by +his chair, and him in his stockin’-feet. I don’t +know what to do.”</p> + +<p>“Give the mare a rest,” said Mr. Batchel, +“and say no more about it.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t want to harm a pore creature like +Richpin,” said the man, “but a mare’s a mare, +especially where there’s a family to bring up.” +The man consented, however, to abide by Mr. +Batchel’s advice, and the interview ended. The +evenings just then were light, and both the +man and his mare had seen something for +which Mr. Batchel could not, at present, +account. The worst way, however, of arriving +at an explanation is to guess it. He was far too +wise to let himself wander into the pleasant +fields of conjecture, and had determined, even +before the story of the mare had finished, upon +the more prosaic path of investigation.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel, either from strength or +indolence of mind, as the reader may be pleased +to determine, did not allow matters even of this +exciting kind, to disturb his daily round of duty. +He was beginning to fear, after what he had +heard of the Frenchman’s Meadow, that he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +might find it necessary to preach a plain +sermon upon the Witch of Endor, for he +foresaw that there would soon be some ghostly +talk in circulation. In small communities, like +that of Stoneground, such talk arises upon very +slight provocation, and here was nothing at all +to check it. Richpin was a weak and timid +man, whom no one would suspect, whilst an +alternative remained open, of wandering about +in the dark; and Mr. Batchel knew that the +alternative of an apparition, if once suggested, +would meet with general acceptance, and this he +wished, at all costs, to avoid. His own view of +the matter he held in reserve, for the reasons +already stated, but he could not help suspecting +that there might be a better explanation of the +name “Frenchman’s Meadow” than he had +given to the boys at their club.</p> + +<p>Afternoons, with Mr. Batchel, were always +spent in making pastoral visits, and upon the +day our story has reached he determined to +include amongst them a call upon Richpin, and +to submit him to a cautious cross-examination. +It was evident that at least four persons, all +perfectly familiar with his appearance, were +under the impression that they had seen him in +the meadow, and his own statement upon the +matter would be at least worth hearing.</p> + +<p>Richpin’s home, however, was not the first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +one visited by Mr. Batchel on that afternoon. +His friendly relations with the boys has already +been mentioned, and it may now be added that +this friendship was but part of a generally keen +sympathy with young people of all ages, and of +both sexes. Parents knew much less than he +did of the love affairs of their young people; +and if he was not actually guilty of match-making, +he was at least a very sympathetic +observer of the process. When lovers had their +little differences, or even their greater ones, it +was Mr. Batchel, in most cases, who adjusted +them, and who suffered, if he failed, hardly less +than the lovers themselves.</p> + +<p>It was a negotiation of this kind which, on +this particular day, had given precedence to +another visit, and left Richpin until the later +part of the afternoon. But the matter of the +Frenchman’s Meadow had, after all, not to wait +for Richpin. Mr. Batchel was calculating how +long he should be in reaching it, when he found +himself unexpectedly there. Selina Broughton +had been a favourite of his from her childhood; +she had been sufficiently good to please him, and +naughty enough to attract and challenge him; +and when at length she began to walk out with +Bob Rockfort, who was another favourite, Mr. +Batchel rubbed his hands in satisfaction. Their +present difference, which now brought him to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +the Broughtons’ cottage, gave him but little +anxiety. He had brought Bob half-way towards +reconciliation, and had no doubt of his ability +to lead Selina to the same place. They would +finish the journey, happily enough, together.</p> + +<p>But what has this to do with the Frenchman’s +Meadow? Much every way. The meadow +was apt to be the rendezvous of such young +people as desired a higher degree of privacy than +that afforded by the public paths; and these two +had gone there separately the night before, each +to nurse a grievance against the other. They +had been at opposite ends, as it chanced, of the +field; and Bob, who believed himself to be alone +there, had been awakened from his reverie by a +sudden scream. He had at once run across the +field, and found Selina sorely in need of him. +Mr. Batchel’s work of reconciliation had been +there and then anticipated, and Bob had taken +the girl home in a condition of great excitement +to her mother. All this was explained, in +breathless sentences, by Mrs. Broughton, by +way of accounting for the fact that Selina was +then lying down in “the room.”</p> + +<p>There was no reason why Mr. Batchel should +not see her, of course, and he went in. His +original errand had lapsed, but it was now replaced +by one of greater interest. Evidently +there was Selina’s testimony to add to that of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +the other four; she was not a girl who would +scream without good cause, and Mr. Batchel felt +that he knew how his question about the cause +would be answered, when he came to the point +of asking it.</p> + +<p>He was not quite prepared for the form of +her answer, which she gave without any hesitation. +She had seen Mr. Richpin “looking for +his eyes.” Mr. Batchel saved for another occasion +the amusement to be derived from the +curiously illogical answer. He saw at once +what had suggested it. Richpin had until +recently had an atrocious squint, which an +operation in London had completely cured. +This operation, of which, of course, he knew +nothing, he had described, in his own way, +to anyone who would listen, and it was +commonly believed that his eyes had ceased +to be fixtures. It was plain, however, that +Selina had seen very much what had been +seen by the other four. Her information +was precise, and her story perfectly coherent. +She preserved a maidenly reticence about +his trousers, if she had noticed them; but +added a new fact, and a terrible one, in her +description of the eyeless sockets. No wonder +she had screamed. It will be observed that Mr. +Richpin was still searching, if not looking, for +something upon the ground.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel now proceeded to make his remaining +visit. Richpin lived in a little cottage +by the church, of which cottage the Vicar was +the indulgent landlord. Richpin’s creditors +were obliged to shew some indulgence, because +his income was never regular and seldom sufficient. +He got on in life by what is called +“rubbing along,” and appeared to do it with +surprisingly little friction. The small duties +about the church, assigned to him out of charity, +were overpaid. He succeeded in attracting to +himself all the available gifts of masculine +clothing, of which he probably received enough +and to sell, and he had somehow wooed and won +a capable, if not very comely, wife, who supplemented +his income by her own labour, and +managed her house and husband to admiration.</p> + +<p>Richpin, however, was not by any means +a mere dependent upon charity. He was, in his +way, a man of parts. All plants, for instance, +were his friends, and he had inherited, or +acquired, great skill with fruit-trees, which never +failed to reward his treatment with abundant +crops. The two or three vines, too, of the +neighbourhood, he kept in fine order by methods +of his own, whose merit was proved by their +success. He had other skill, though of a less +remunerative kind, in fashioning toys out of +wood, cardboard, or paper; and every correctly-behaving<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +child in the parish had some such +product of his handiwork. And besides all this, +Richpin had a remarkable aptitude for making +music. He could do something upon every +musical instrument that came in his way, and, +but for his voice, which was like that of the peahen, +would have been a singer. It was his voice +that had secured him the situation of organ-blower, +as one remote from all incitement to +join in the singing in church.</p> + +<p>Like all men who have not wit enough to +defend themselves by argument, Richpin had +a plaintive manner. His way of resenting +injury was to complain of it to the next person +he met, and such complaints as he found no +other means of discharging, he carried home +to his wife, who treated his conversation just as +she treated the singing of the canary, and other +domestic sounds, being hardly conscious of it +until it ceased.</p> + +<p>The entrance of Mr. Batchel, soon after his +interview with Selina, found Richpin engaged +in a loud and fluent oration. The fluency was +achieved mainly by repetition, for the man had +but small command of words, but it served +none the less to shew the depth of his indignation.</p> + +<p>“I aren’t bin in Frenchman’s Meadow, am +I?” he was saying in appeal to his wife—this is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +the Stoneground way with auxiliary verbs—“What +am I got to go there for?” He acknowledged +Mr. Batchel’s entrance in no other way +than by changing to the third person in his +discourse, and he continued without pause—“if +she’d let me out o’ nights, I’m got better +places to go to than Frenchman’s Meadow. +Let policeman stick to where I am bin, or else +keep his mouth shut. What call is he got to +say I’m bin where I aren’t bin?”</p> + +<p>From this, and much more to the same +effect, it was clear that the matter of the +meadow was being noised abroad, and even +receiving official attention. Mr. Batchel was +well aware that no question he could put to +Richpin, in his present state, would change the +flow of his eloquence, and that he had already +learned as much as he was likely to learn. He +was content, therefore, to ascertain from Mrs. +Richpin that her husband had indeed spent all +his evenings at home, with the single exception +of the one hour during which Mr. Batchel had +employed him at the organ. Having ascertained +this, he retired, and left Richpin to talk himself +out.</p> + +<p>No further doubt about the story was now +possible. It was not twenty-four hours since +Mr. Batchel had heard it from the boys at the +club, and it had already been confirmed by at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +least two unimpeachable witnesses. He thought +the matter over, as he took his tea, and was +chiefly concerned in Richpin’s curious connexion +with it. On his account, more than on +any other, it had become necessary to make +whatever investigation might be feasible, and +Mr. Batchel determined, of course, to make the +next stage of it in the meadow itself.</p> + +<p>The situation of “Frenchman’s Meadow” +made it more conspicuous than any other enclosure +in the neighbourhood. It was upon the +edge of what is locally known as “high land”; +and though its elevation was not great, one +could stand in the meadow and look sea-wards +over many miles of flat country, once a waste +of brackish water, now a great chess-board of +fertile fields bounded by straight dykes of +glistening water. The point of view derived +another interest from looking down upon a +long straight bank which disappeared into the +horizon many miles away, and might have been +taken for a great railway embankment of which +no use had been made. It was, in fact, one of +the great works of the Dutch Engineers in the +time of Charles <abbr title="1">I.</abbr>, and it separated the river +basin from a large drained area called the +“Middle Level,” some six feet below it. In this +embankment, not two hundred yards below +“Frenchman’s Meadow,” was one of the huge<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +water gates which admitted traffic through a +sluice, into the lower level, and the picturesque +thatched cottage of the sluice-keeper formed a +pleasing addition to the landscape. It was a +view with which Mr. Batchel was naturally +very familiar. Few of his surroundings were +pleasant to the eye, and this was about the only +place to which he could take a visitor whom he +desired to impress favourably. The way to the +meadow lay through a short lane, and he could +reach it in five minutes: he was frequently +there.</p> + +<p>It was, of course, his intention to be there +again that evening: to spend the night there, if +need be, rather than let anything escape him. +He only hoped he should not find half the +parish there also. His best hope of privacy lay +in the inclemency of the weather; the day was +growing colder, and there was a north-east +wind, of which Frenchman’s Meadow would +receive the fine edge.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel spent the next three hours in +dealing with some arrears of correspondence, +and at nine o’clock put on his thickest coat and +boots, and made his way to the meadow. It +became evident, as he walked up the lane, that +he was to have company. He heard many +voices, and soon recognised the loudest amongst +them. Jim Lallement was boasting of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +accuracy of his aim: the others were not disputing +it, but were asserting their own merits +in discordant chorus. This was a nuisance, and +to make matters worse, Mr. Batchel heard steps +behind him.</p> + +<p>A voice soon bade him “Good evening.” To +Mr. Batchel’s great relief it proved to be the +policeman, who soon overtook him. The conversation +began on his side.</p> + +<p>“Curious tricks, sir, these of Richpin’s.”</p> + +<p>“What tricks?” asked Mr. Batchel, with an +air of innocence.</p> + +<p>“Why, he’s been walking about Frenchman’s +Meadow these three nights, frightening +folk and what all.”</p> + +<p>“Richpin has been at home every night, and +all night long,” said Mr. Batchel.</p> + +<p>“I’m talking about where he was, not where +he says he was,” said the policeman. “You +can’t go behind the evidence.”</p> + +<p>“But Richpin has evidence too. I asked his +wife.”</p> + +<p>“You know, sir, and none better, that wives +have got to obey. Richpin wants to be took for +a ghost, and we know that sort of ghost. Whenever +we hear there’s a ghost, we always know +there’s going to be turkeys missing.”</p> + +<p>“But there are real ghosts sometimes, +surely?” said Mr. Batchel.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> + +<p>“No,” said the policeman, “me and my +wife have both looked, and there’s no such +thing.”</p> + +<p>“Looked where?” enquired Mr. Batchel.</p> + +<p>“In the ‘Police Duty’ Catechism. There’s +lunatics, and deserters, and dead bodies, but no +ghosts.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel accepted this as final. He had +devised a way of ridding himself of all his +company, and proceeded at once to carry it into +effect. The two had by this time reached the +group of boys.</p> + +<p>“These are all stone-throwers,” said he, +loudly.</p> + +<p>There was a clatter of stones as they +dropped from the hands of the boys.</p> + +<p>“These boys ought all to be in the club +instead of roaming about here damaging property. +Will you take them there, and see them +safely in? If Richpin comes here, I will bring +him to the station.”</p> + +<p>The policeman seemed well pleased with +the suggestion. No doubt he had overstated his +confidence in the definition of the “Police +Duty.” Mr. Batchel, on his part, knew the boys +well enough to be assured that they would keep +the policeman occupied for the next half-hour, +and as the party moved slowly away, felt proud +of his diplomacy.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was no sign of any other person +about the field gate, which he climbed readily +enough, and he was soon standing in the +highest part of the meadow and peering into +the darkness on every side.</p> + +<p>It was possible to see a distance of about +thirty yards; beyond that it was too dark to distinguish +anything. Mr. Batchel designed a zig-zag +course about the meadow, which would +allow of his examining it systematically and as +rapidly as possible, and along this course he +began to walk briskly, looking straight before +him as he went, and pausing to look well about +him when he came to a turn. There were no +beasts in the meadow—their owners had taken +the precaution of removing them; their absence +was, of course, of great advantage to Mr. +Batchel.</p> + +<p>In about ten minutes he had finished his +zig-zag path and arrived at the other corner of +the meadow; he had seen nothing resembling a +man. He then retraced his steps, and examined +the field again, but arrived at his starting +point, knowing no more than when he had left +it. He began to fear the return of the policeman +as he faced the wind and set upon a third +journey.</p> + +<p>The third journey, however, rewarded him. +He had reached the end of his second traverse,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +and was looking about him at the angle +between that and the next, when he distinctly +saw what looked like Richpin crossing his circle +of vision, and making straight for the sluice. +There was no gate on that side of the field; the +hedge, which seemed to present no obstacle to +the other, delayed Mr. Batchel considerably, and +still retains some of his clothing, but he was not +long through before he had again marked his +man. It had every appearance of being Richpin. +It went down the slope, crossed the plank +that bridged the lock, and disappeared round +the corner of the cottage, where the entrance +lay.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel had had no opportunity of confirming +the gruesome observation of Selina +Broughton, but had seen enough to prove that +the others had not been romancing. He was not +a half-minute behind the figure as it crossed the +plank over the lock—it was slow going in the +darkness—and he followed it immediately round +the corner of the house. As he expected, it +had then disappeared.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel knocked at the door, and admitted +himself, as his custom was. The sluice-keeper +was in his kitchen, charring a gate post. +He was surprised to see Mr. Batchel at that +hour, and his greeting took the form of a +remark to that effect.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I have been taking an evening walk,” said +Mr. Batchel. “Have you seen Richpin lately?”</p> + +<p>“I see him last Saturday week,” replied the +sluice-keeper, “not since.”</p> + +<p>“Do you feel lonely here at night?”</p> + +<p>“No,” replied the sluice-keeper, “people +drop in at times. There was a man in on +Monday, and another yesterday.”</p> + +<p>“Have you had no one to-day?” said Mr. +Batchel, coming to the point.</p> + +<p>The answer showed that Mr. Batchel had +been the first to enter the door that day, and +after a little general conversation he brought +his visit to an end.</p> + +<p>It was now ten o’clock. He looked in at +Richpin’s cottage, where he saw a light +burning, as he passed. Richpin had tired himself +early, and had been in bed since half-past +eight. His wife was visibly annoyed at the +rumours which had upset him, and Mr. Batchel +said such soothing words as he could command, +before he left for home.</p> + +<p>He congratulated himself, prematurely, as +he sat before the fire in his study, that the day +was at an end. It had been cold out of doors, +and it was pleasant to think things over in the +warmth of the cheerful fire his housekeeper +never failed to leave for him. The reader will +have no more difficulty than Mr. Batchel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +had in accounting for the resemblance between +Richpin and the man in the meadow. It was a +mere question of family likeness. That the +ancestor had been seen in the meadow at some +former time might perhaps be inferred from its +traditional name. The reason for his return, +then and now, was a matter of mere conjecture, +and Mr. Batchel let it alone.</p> + +<p>The next incident has, to some, appeared +incredible, which only means, after all, that it +has made demands upon their powers of +imagination and found them bankrupt.</p> + +<p>Critics of story-telling have used severe +language about authors who avail themselves +of the short-cut of coincidence. “That must be +reserved, I suppose,” said Mr. Batchel, when he +came to tell of Richpin, “for what really +happens; and that fiction is a game which must +be played according to the rules.”</p> + +<p>“I know,” he went on to say, “that the +chances were some millions to one against +what happened that night, but if that makes it +incredible, what is there left to believe?”</p> + +<p>It was thereupon remarked by someone in +the company, that the credible material would +not be exhausted.</p> + +<p>“I doubt whether anything happens,” +replied Mr. Batchel in his dogmatic way, +“without the chances being a million to one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +against it. Why did they choose such a word? +What does ‘happen’ mean?”</p> + +<p>There was no reply: it was clearly a +rhetorical question.</p> + +<p>“Is it incredible,” he went on, “that I put +into the plate last Sunday the very half-crown +my uncle tipped me with in 1881, and that I +spent next day?”</p> + +<p>“Was that the one you put in?” was asked +by several.</p> + +<p>“How do I know?” replied Mr. Batchel, +“but if I knew the history of the half-crown I +did put in, I know it would furnish still more +remarkable coincidences.”</p> + +<p>All this talk arose out of the fact that at +midnight on the eventful day, whilst Mr. +Batchel was still sitting by his study fire, he +had news that the cottage at the sluice had +been burnt down. The thatch had been dry; +there was, as we know, a stiff east-wind, and an +hour had sufficed to destroy all that was +inflammable. The fire is still spoken of in +Stoneground with great regret. There remains +only one building in the place of sufficient +merit to find its way on to a postcard.</p> + +<p>It was just at midnight that the sluice-keeper +rung at Mr. Batchel’s door. His errand +required no apology. The man had found a +night-fisherman to help him as soon as the fire<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +began, and with two long sprits from a lighter +they had made haste to tear down the thatch, +and upon this had brought down, from under +the ridge at the South end, the bones and some +of the clothing of a man. Would Mr. Batchel +come down and see?</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel put on his coat and returned +to the place. The people whom the fire had +collected had been kept on the further side of +the water, and the space about the cottage was +vacant. Near to the smouldering heap of ruin +were the remains found under the thatch. The +fingers of the right hand still firmly clutched a +sheep bone which had been gnawed as a dog +would gnaw it.</p> + +<p>“Starved to death,” said the sluice-keeper, +“I see a tramp like that ten years ago.”</p> + +<p>They laid the bones decently in an outhouse, +and turned the key, Mr. Batchel +carried home in his hand a metal cross, threaded +upon a cord. He found an engraved figure of +Our Lord on the face of it, and the name of +Pierre Richepin upon the back. He went next +day to make the matter known to the nearest +Priest of the Roman Faith, with whom he left +the cross. The remains, after a brief inquest, +were interred in the cemetery, with the rites of +the Church to which the man had evidently +belonged.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel’s deductions from the whole +circumstances were curious, and left a great +deal to be explained. It seemed as if Pierre +Richepin had been disturbed by some premonition +of the fire, but had not foreseen that +his mortal remains would escape; that he could +not return to his own people without the aid of +his map, but had no perception of the interval +that had elapsed since he had lost it. This map +Mr. Batchel put into his pocket-book next day +when he went to Thomas Richpin for certain +other information about his surviving relatives.</p> + +<p>Richpin had a father, it appeared, living a +few miles away in Jakesley Fen, and Mr. +Batchel concluded that he was worth a visit. +He mounted his bicycle, therefore, and made his +way to Jakesley that same afternoon.</p> + +<p>Mr. Richpin was working not far from +home, and was soon brought in. He and his +wife shewed great courtesy to their visitor, +whom they knew well by repute. They had +a well-ordered house, and with a natural and +dignified hospitality, asked him to take tea with +them. It was evident to Mr. Batchel that there +was a great gulf between the elder Richpin and +his son; the former was the last of an old race, +and the latter the first of a new. In spite of +the Board of Education, the latter was vastly +the worse.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p> + +<p>The cottage contained some French kickshaws +which greatly facilitated the enquiries +Mr. Batchel had come to make. They proved +to be family relics.</p> + +<p>“My grandfather,” said Mr. Richpin, as they +sat at tea, “was a prisoner—he and his brother.”</p> + +<p>“Your grandfather was Pierre Richepin?” +asked Mr. Batchel.</p> + +<p>“No! Jules,” was the reply. “Pierre got +away.”</p> + +<p>“Shew Mr. Batchel the book,” said his wife.</p> + +<p>The book was produced. It was a Book of +Meditations, with the name of Jules Richepin +upon the title-page. The fly-leaf was missing. +Mr. Batchel produced the map from his pocket-book. +It fitted exactly. The slight indentures +along the torn edge fell into their place, and +Mr. Batchel left the leaf in the book, to the +great delight of the old couple, to whom he +told no more of the story than he thought fit.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a><br /><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p> + + +<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV.<br /> + +<span class="stl">THE EASTERN WINDOW.</span></h2> + + +<p>It may well be that Vermuyden and the +Dutchmen who drained the fens did good, and +that it was interred with their bones. It is +quite certain that they did evil and that it lives +after them. The rivers, which these men +robbed of their water, have at length silted up, +and the drainage of one tract of country is +proving to have been achieved by the undraining +of another.</p> + +<p>Places like Stoneground, which lie on the +banks of these defrauded rivers, are now become +helpless victims of Dutch engineering. +The water which has lost its natural outlet, +invades their lands. The thrifty cottager who +once had the river at the bottom of his garden, +has his garden more often in these days, at the +bottom of the river, and a summer flood not +infrequently destroys the whole produce of his +ground.</p> + +<p>Such a flood, during an early year in the +20th century, had been unusually disastrous +to Stoneground, and Mr. Batchel, who, as a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +gardener, was well able to estimate the losses of +his poorer neighbours, was taking some steps +towards repairing them.</p> + +<p>Money, however, is never at rest in Stoneground, +and it turned out upon this occasion +that the funds placed at his command were +wholly inadequate to the charitable purpose +assigned to them. It seemed as if those who +had lost a rood of potatoes could be compensated +for no more than a yard.</p> + +<p>It was at this time, when he was oppressed +in mind by the failure of his charitable enterprise, +that Mr. Batchel met with the happy +adventure in which the Eastern window of the +Church played so singular a part.</p> + +<p>The narrative should be prefaced by a brief +description of the window in question. It is a +large painted window, of a somewhat unfortunate +period of execution. The drawing and +colouring leave everything to be desired. The +scheme of the window, however, is based upon +a wholesome tradition. The five large lights in +the lower part are assigned to five scenes in the +life of Our Lord, and the second of these, +counting from the North, contains a bold +erect figure of St. John Baptist, to whom the +Church is dedicated. It is this figure alone, of +all those contained in the window, that is concerned +in what we have to relate.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> + +<p>It has already been mentioned that Mr. +Batchel had some knowledge of music. He took +an interest in the choir, from whose practices +he was seldom absent; and was quite competent, +in the occasional absence of the choirmaster, to +act as his deputy. It is customary at Stoneground +for the choirmaster, in order to save the +sexton a journey, to extinguish the lights after +a choir-practice and to lock up the Church. +These duties, accordingly, were performed by +Mr. Batchel when the need arose.</p> + +<p>It will be of use to the reader to have the +procedure in detail. The large gas-meter stood +in an aisle of the Church, and it was Mr. +Batchel’s practice to go round and extinguish +all the lights save one, before turning off the +gas at the meter. The one remaining light, +which was reached by standing upon a choir +seat, was always that nearest the door of the +chancel, and experience proved that there was +ample time to walk from the meter to that light +before it died out. It was therefore an easy +matter to turn off the last light, to find the door +without its aid, and thence to pass out, and +close the Church for the night.</p> + +<p>Upon the evening of which we have to speak, +the choir had hurried out as usual, as soon +as the word had been given. Mr. Batchel had +remained to gather together some of the books<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +they had left in disorder, and then turned out +the lights in the manner already described. But +as soon as he had extinguished the last light, his +eye fell, as he descended carefully from the seat, +upon the figure of the Baptist. There was just +enough light outside to make the figures visible +in the Eastern Window, and Mr. Batchel saw +the figure of St. John raise the right arm to its +full extent, and point northward, turning its +head, at the same time, so as to look him full in +the face. These movements were three times +repeated, and, after that, the figure came to rest +in its normal and familiar position.</p> + +<p>The reader will not suppose, any more than +Mr. Batchel supposed, that a figure painted upon +glass had suddenly been endowed with the +power of movement. But that there had been +the appearance of movement admitted of no +doubt, and Mr. Batchel was not so incurious as +to let the matter pass without some attempt at +investigation. It must be remembered, too, +that an experience in the old library, which has +been previously recorded, had pre-disposed him +to give attention to signs which another man +might have wished to explain away. He was +not willing, therefore, to leave this matter +where it stood. He was quite prepared to think +that his eye had been deceived, but was none +the less determined to find out what had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +deceived it. One thing he had no difficulty in +deciding. If the movement had not been +actually within the Baptist’s figure, it had been +immediately behind it. Without delay, therefore, +he passed out of the church and locked the +door after him, with the intention of examining +the other side of the window.</p> + +<p>Every inhabitant of Stoneground knows, +and laments, the ruin of the old Manor House. +Its loss by fire some fifteen years ago was +a calamity from which the parish has never +recovered. The estate was acquired, soon after +the destruction of the house, by speculators who +have been unable to turn it to any account, and +it has for a decade or longer been “let alone,” +except by the forces of Nature and the wantonness +of trespassers. The charred remains of the +house still project above the surrounding heaps +of fallen masonry, which have long been overgrown +by such vegetation as thrives on neglected +ground; and what was once a stately +house, with its garden and park in fine order, +has given place to a scene of desolation and +ruin.</p> + +<p>Stoneground Church was built, some 600 +years ago, within the enclosure of the Manor +House, or, as it was anciently termed, the +Burystead, and an excellent stratum of gravel +such as no builder would wisely disregard,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +brought the house and Church unusually near +together. In more primitive days, the nearness +probably caused no inconvenience; but when +change and progress affected the popular idea of +respectful distance, the Churchyard came to +be separated by a substantial stone wall, of +sufficient height to secure the privacy of the +house.</p> + +<p>The change was made with necessary regard +to economy of space. The Eastern wall of the +Church already projected far into the garden of +the Manor, and lay but fifty yards from the +south front of the house. On that side of the +Churchyard, therefore, the new wall was set +back. Running from the north to the nearest +corner of the Church, it was there built up to +the Church itself, and then continued from the +southern corner, leaving the Eastern wall and +window within the garden of the Squire. It +was his ivy that clung to the wall of the +Church, and his trees that shaded the window +from the morning sun.</p> + +<p>Whilst we have been recalling these facts, +Mr. Batchel has made his way out of the Church +and through the Churchyard, and has arrived at +a small door in the boundary wall, close to the +S.E. corner of the chancel. It was a door which +some Squire of the previous century had made, +to give convenient access to the Church for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +himself and his household. It has no present +use, and Mr. Batchel had some difficulty in +getting it open. It was not long, however, +before he stood on the inner side, and was +examining the second light of the window. +There was a tolerably bright moon, and the +dark surface of the glass could be distinctly +seen, as well as the wirework placed there for +its protection.</p> + +<p>A tall birch, one of the trees of the old +Churchyard, had thrust its lower boughs across +the window, and their silvery bark shone in the +moonlight. The boughs were bare of leaves, +and only very slightly interrupted Mr. Batchel’s +view of the Baptist’s figure, the leaden outline +of which was clearly traceable. There was +nothing, however, to account for the movement +which Mr. Batchel was curious to investigate.</p> + +<p>He was about to turn homewards in some +disappointment, when a cloud obscured the +moon again, and reduced the light to what it +had been before he left the Church. Mr. +Batchel watched the darkening of the window +and the objects near it, and as the figure of the +Baptist disappeared from view there came into +sight a creamy vaporous figure of another +person lightly poised upon the bough of the +tree, and almost coincident in position with the +picture of the Saint.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p> + +<p>It could hardly be described as the figure of +a person. It had more the appearance of half a +person, and fancifully suggested to Mr. Batchel, +who was fond of whist, one of the diagonally +bisected knaves in a pack of cards, as he appears +when another card conceals a triangular half of +the bust.</p> + +<p>There was no question, now, of going home. +Mr. Batchel’s eyes were riveted upon the +apparition. It disappeared again for a moment, +when an interval between two clouds restored +the light of the moon; but no sooner had the +second cloud replaced the first than the figure +again became distinct. And upon this, its +single arm was raised three times, pointing +northwards towards the ruined house, just as +the figure of the Baptist had seemed to point +when Mr. Batchel had seen it from within the +Church.</p> + +<p>It was natural that upon receipt of this sign +Mr. Batchel should step nearer to the tree, from +which he was still at some little distance, and +as he moved, the figure floated obliquely downwards +and came to rest in a direct line between +him and the ruins of the house. It rested, not +upon the ground, but in just such a position as +it would have occupied if the lower parts had +been there, and in this position it seemed to +await Mr. Batchel’s advance. He made such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +haste to approach it as was possible upon +ground encumbered with ivy and brambles, and +the figure responded to every advance of +his by moving further in the direction of the +ruin.</p> + +<p>As the ground improved, the progress +became more rapid. Soon they were both upon +an open stretch of grass, which in better days +had been a lawn, and still the figure retreated +towards the building, with Mr. Batchel in +respectful pursuit. He saw it, at last, poised +upon the summit of a heap of masonry, and it +disappeared, at his near approach, into a crevice +between two large stones.</p> + +<p>The timely re-appearance of the moon just +enabled Mr. Batchel to perceive this crevice, and +he took advantage of the interval of light to +mark the place. Taking up a large twig that lay +at his feet, he inserted it between the stones. He +made a slit in the free end and drew into it one +of some papers that he had carried out of the +Church. After such a precaution it could +hardly be possible to lose the place—for, of +course, Mr. Batchel intended to return in daylight +and continue his investigation. For the +present, it seemed to be at an end. The light +was soon obscured again, but there was no +re-appearance of the singular figure he had +followed, so after remaining about the spot for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +a few minutes, Mr. Batchel went home to his +customary occupation.</p> + +<p>He was not a man to let these occupations +be disturbed even by a somewhat exciting +adventure, nor was he one of those who regard +an unusual experience only as a sign of nervous +disorder. Mr. Batchel had far too broad a mind +to discredit his sensations because they were +not like those of other people. Even had his +adventure of the evening been shared by some +companion who saw less than he did, Mr. +Batchel would only have inferred that his own +part in the matter was being regarded as more +important.</p> + +<p>Next morning, therefore, he lost no time in +returning to the scene of his adventure. He +found his mark undisturbed, and was able to +examine the crevice into which the apparition +had seemed to enter. It was a crevice formed +by the curved surfaces of two large stones +which lay together on the top of a small heap +of fallen rubbish, and these two stones Mr. +Batchel proceeded to remove. His strength was +just sufficient for the purpose. He laid the +stones upon the ground on either side of the +little mound, and then proceeded to remove, +with his hands, the rubbish upon which they +had rested, and amongst the rubbish he found, +tarnished and blackened, two silver coins.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was not a discovery which seemed to +afford any explanation of what had occurred +the night before, but Mr. Batchel could not +but suppose that there had been an attempt +to direct his attention to the coins, and he +carried them away with a view of submitting +them to a careful examination. Taking them +up to his bedroom he poured a little water +into a hand basin, and soon succeeded, with +the aid of soap and a nail brush, in making +them tolerably clean. Ten minutes later, after +adding ammonia to the water, he had made +them bright, and after carefully drying them, +was able to make his examination. They were +two crowns of the time of Queen Anne, minted, +as a small letter E indicated, at Edinburgh, +and stamped with the roses and plumes which +testified to the English and Welsh silver in +their composition. The coins bore no date, +but Mr. Batchel had no hesitation in assigning +them to the year 1708 or thereabouts. They +were handsome coins, and in themselves a find +of considerable interest, but there was nothing +to show why he had been directed to their place +of concealment. It was an enigma, and he +could not solve it. He had other work to do, +so he laid the two crowns upon his dressing +table, and proceeded to do it.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel thought little more of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> +coins until bedtime, when he took them from +the table and bestowed upon them another +admiring examination by the light of his +candle. But the examination told him nothing +new: he laid them down again, and, before +very long, had lain his own head upon the +pillow.</p> + +<p>It was Mr. Batchel’s custom to read himself +to sleep. At this time he happened to be re-reading +the Waverley novels, and “Woodstock” +lay upon the reading-stand which was always +placed at his bedside. As he read of the cleverly +devised apparition at Woodstock, he naturally +asked himself whether he might not have been +the victim of some similar trickery, but was +not long in coming to the conclusion that his +experience admitted of no such explanation. +He soon dismissed the matter from his mind +and went on with his book.</p> + +<p>On this occasion, however, he was tired of +reading before he was ready for sleep; it was +long in coming, and then did not come to stay. +His rest, in fact, was greatly disturbed. Again +and again, perhaps every hour or so, he was +awakened by an uneasy consciousness of some +other presence in the room.</p> + +<p>Upon one of his later awakenings, he was +distinctly sensible of a sound, or what he +described to himself as the “ghost” of a sound.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +He compared it to the whining of a dog that +had lost its voice. It was not a very intelligible +comparison, but still it seemed to describe his +sensation. The sound, if we may so call it +caused him first to sit up in bed and look +well about him, and then, when nothing had +come of that, to light his candle. It was not +to be expected that anything should come of +that, but it had seemed a comfortable thing +to do, and Mr. Batchel left the candle alight +and read his book for half an hour or so, before +blowing it out.</p> + +<p>After this, there was no further interruption, +but Mr. Batchel distinctly felt, when it was +time to leave his bed, that he had had a bad +night. The coins, almost to his surprise, lay +undisturbed. He went to ascertain this as soon +as he was on his feet. He would almost have +welcomed their removal, or at any rate, some +change which might have helped him towards +a theory of his adventure. There was, however, +nothing. If he had, in fact, been visited during +the night, the coins would seem to have had +nothing to do with the matter.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel left the two crowns lying on +his table on this next day, and went about his +ordinary duties. They were such duties as +afforded full occupation for his mind, and he +gave no more than a passing thought to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +coins, until he was again retiring to rest. He +had certainly intended to return to the heap +of rubbish from which he had taken them, but +had not found leisure to do so. He did not +handle the coins again. As he undressed, he +made some attempt to estimate their value, +but without having arrived at any conclusion, +went on to think of other things, and in a +little while had lain down to rest again, hoping +for a better night.</p> + +<p>His hopes were disappointed. Within an +hour of falling asleep he found himself awakened +again by the voiceless whining he so well +remembered. This sound, as for convenience +we will call it, was now persistent and continuous. +Mr. Batchel gave up even trying to +sleep, and as he grew more restless and uneasy, +decided to get up and dress.</p> + +<p>It was the entire cessation of the sound at +this juncture which led him to a suspicion. +His rising was evidently giving satisfaction. +From that it was easy to infer that something +had been desired of him, both on the present +and the preceding night. Mr. Batchel was not +one to hold himself aloof in such a case. If help +was wanted, even in such unnatural circumstances, +he was ready to offer it. He determined, +accordingly, to return to the Manor +House, and when he had finished dressing,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> +descended the stairs, put on a warm overcoat and +went out, closing his hall door behind him, +without having heard any more of the sound, +either whilst dressing, or whilst leaving the +house.</p> + +<p>Once out of doors, the suspicion he had +formed was strengthened into a conviction. +There was no manner of doubt that he had been +fetched from his bed; for about 30 yards in front +of him he saw the strange creamy half-figure +making straight for the ruins. He followed it +as well as he could; as before, he was impeded +by the ivy and weeds, and the figure awaited +him; as before, it made straight for the heap of +masonry and disappeared as soon as Mr. Batchel +was at liberty to follow.</p> + +<p>There were no dungeons, or subterranean +premises beneath the Manor House. It had +never been more than a house of residence, and +the building had been purely domestic in +character. Mr. Batchel was convinced that his +adventure would prove unromantic, and felt +some impatience at losing again, what he had +begun to call his triangular friend. If this +friend wanted anything, it was not easy to say +why he had so tamely disappeared. There +seemed nothing to be done but to wait until +he came out again.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel had a pipe in his pocket, and he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +seated himself upon the base of a sun-dial +within full view of the spot. He filled and +smoked his pipe, sitting in momentary expectation +of some further sign, but nothing appeared. +He heard the hedgehogs moving about him in +the undergrowth, and now and then the sound +of a restless bird overhead, otherwise all was +still. He smoked a second pipe without any +further discovery, and that finished, he knocked +out the ashes against his boot, walked to the +mound, near to which his labelled stick was +lying, thrust the stick into the place where the +figure had disappeared, and went back to bed, +where he was rewarded with five hours of sound +sleep.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel had made up his mind that the +next day ought to be a day of disclosure. He +was early at the Manor House, this time provided +with the gardener’s pick, and a spade. He +thrust the pick into the place from which he +had removed his mark, and loosened the rubbish +thoroughly. With his hands, and with his +spade, he was not long in reducing the size of +the heap by about one-half, and there he found +more coins.</p> + +<p>There were three more crowns, two half-crowns, +and a dozen or so of smaller coins. All +these Mr. Batchel wrapped carefully in his +handkerchief, and after a few minutes rest went<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +on with his task. As it proved, the task was nearly +over. Some strips of oak about nine inches +long, were next uncovered, and then, what Mr. +Batchel had begun to expect, the lid of a box, +with the hinges still attached. It lay, face +downwards, upon a flat stone. It proved, when +he had taken it up, to be almost unsoiled, and +above a long and wide slit in the lid was the +gilded legend, “for ye poore” in the graceful +lettering and the redundant spelling of two +centuries ago.</p> + +<p>The meaning of all this Mr. Batchel was +not long in interpreting. That the box and its +contents had fallen and been broken amongst +the masonry, was evident enough. It was as +evident that it had been concealed in one of +the walls brought down by the fire, and Mr. +Batchel had no doubt at all that he had been in +the company of a thief, who had once stolen +the poor-box from the Church. His task seemed +to be at an end, a further rummage revealed +nothing new. Mr. Batchel carefully collected +the fragments of the box, and left the place.</p> + +<p>His next act cannot be defended. He must +have been aware that these coins were “treasure +trove,” and therefore the property of the Crown. +In spite of this, he determined to convert them +into current coin, as he well knew how, and to +apply the proceeds to the Inundation Fund about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +which he was so anxious. Treating them as his +own property, he cleaned them all, as he had +cleaned the two crowns, sent them to an antiquarian +friend in London to sell for him, and +awaited the result. The lid of the poor box he +still preserves as a relic of the adventure.</p> + +<p>His antiquarian friend did not keep him +long waiting. The coins had been eagerly +bought, and the price surpassed any expectation +that Mr. Batchel had allowed himself to entertain. +He had sent the package to London on +Saturday morning. Upon the following Tuesday, +the last post in the evening brought a +cheque for twenty guineas. The brief subscription +list of the Inundation Fund lay upon his +desk, and he at once entered the amount he had +so strangely come by, but could not immediately +decide upon its description. Leaving the line +blank, therefore, he merely wrote down £21 in +the cash column, to be assigned to its source in +some suitable form of words when he should +have found time to frame them.</p> + +<p>In this state he left the subscription list +upon his desk, when he retired for the night. It +occurred to him as he was undressing, that the +twenty guineas might suitably be described as +a “restitution,” and so he determined to enter +it upon the line he had left vacant. As he +reconsidered the matter in the morning, he saw<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> +no reason to alter his decision, and he went +straight from his bedroom to his desk to make +the entry and have done with it.</p> + +<p>There was an incident in the adventure, +however, upon which Mr. Batchel had not +reckoned. As he approached the list, he saw, to +his amazement, that the line had been filled in. +In a crabbed, elongated hand was written, “At +last, <abbr title="Saint Matthew 5:26">St. Matt. v. 26</abbr>.”</p> + +<p>What may seem more strange is that the +handwriting was familiar to Mr. Batchel, he +could not at first say why. His memory, however, +in such matters, was singularly good, and +before breakfast was over he felt sure of having +identified the writer.</p> + +<p>His confidence was not misplaced. He went +to the parish chest, whose contents he had +thoroughly examined in past intervals of leisure, +and took out the roll of parish constable’s +accounts. In a few minutes he discovered the +handwriting of which he was in search. It was +unmistakably that of Salathiel Thrapston, +constable from 1705-1710, who met his death in +the latter year, whilst in the execution of his +duty. The reader will scarcely need to be +reminded of the text of the Gospel at the place +of reference—</p> + +<p>“Thou shalt by no means come out thence +till thou hast paid the uttermost farthing.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a><br /><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> + + +<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V.<br /> + +<span class="stl">LUBRIETTA.</span></h2> + + +<p>For the better understanding of this +narrative we shall furnish the reader with a few +words of introduction. It amounts to no more +than a brief statement of facts which Mr. +Batchel obtained from the Lady Principal of +the European College in Puna, but the facts +nevertheless are important. The narrative +itself was obtained from Mr. Batchel with +difficulty: he was disposed to regard it as unsuitable +for publication because of the delicate +nature of the situations with which it deals. +When, however, it was made clear to him that +it would be recorded in such a manner as +would interest only a very select body of readers, +his scruples were overcome, and he was induced +to communicate the experience now to be related. +Those who read it will not fail to see +that they are in a manner pledged to deal very +discreetly with the knowledge they are privileged +to share.</p> + +<p>Lubrietta Rodria is described by her Lady +Principal as an attractive and high-spirited +girl of seventeen, belonging to the Purple of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +Indian commerce. Her nationality was not +precisely known; but drawing near, as she did, +to a marriageable age, and being courted by +more than one eligible suitor, she was naturally +an object of great interest to her schoolfellows, +with whom her personal beauty and amiable +temper had always made her a favourite. She +was not, the Lady Principal thought, a girl +who would be regarded in Christian countries +as of very high principle; but none the less, +she was one whom it was impossible not to +like.</p> + +<p>Her career at the college had ended sensationally. +She had been immoderately anxious +about her final examination, and its termination +had found her in a state of collapse. They +had at once removed her to her father’s house +in the country, where she received such nursing +and assiduous attention as her case required. +It was apparently of no avail. For three weeks +she lay motionless, deprived of speech, and +voluntarily, taking no food. Then for a further +period of ten days she lay in a plight still more +distressing. She lost all consciousness, and, +despite the assurance of the doctors, her parents +could hardly be persuaded that she lived.</p> + +<p>Her <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">fiancé</i> who by this time had been +declared, was in despair, not only from natural +affection for Lubrietta, but from remorse. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +was his intellectual ambition that had incited +her to the eagerness in study which was +threatening such dire results, and it was well +understood that neither of the lovers would +survive these anxious days of watching if they +were not to be survived by both.</p> + +<p>After ten days, however, a change supervened. +Lubrietta came back to life amid the +frenzied rejoicing of the household and all her +circle. She recovered her health and strength +with incredible speed, and within three months +was married—as the Lady Principal had cause +to believe, with the happiest prospects.</p> + +<p class="tb">*<span class="ast">*</span><span class="ast">*</span><span class="ast">*</span><span class="ast">*</span><span class="ast">*</span><span class="ast">*</span></p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel had not, whilst residing at +Stoneground, lost touch with the University +which had given him his degree, and in which +he had formerly held one or two minor offices. +He had earned no great distinction as a scholar, +but had taken a degree in honours, and was +possessed of a useful amount of general knowledge, +and in this he found not only constant +pleasure, but also occasional profit.</p> + +<p>The University had made herself, for better +or worse, an examiner of a hundred times as +many students as she could teach; her system +of examinations had extended to the very +limits of the British Empire, and her certificates<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +of proficiency were coveted in every +quarter of the globe.</p> + +<p>In the examination of these students, Mr. +Batchel, who had considerable experience in +teaching, was annually employed. Papers from +all parts of the world were to be found littered +about his study, and the examination of these +papers called for some weeks of strenuous +labour at every year’s end. As the weeks passed, +he would anxiously watch the growth of a neat +stack of papers in the corner of the room, which +indicated the number to which marks had been +assigned and reported to Cambridge. The day +upon which the last of these was laid in its +place was a day of satisfaction, second only to +that which later on brought him a substantial +cheque to remunerate him for his labours.</p> + +<p>During this period of special effort, Mr. +Batchel’s servants had their share of its +discomforts. The chairs and tables they wanted +to dust and to arrange, were loaded with papers +which they were forbidden to touch; and +although they were warned against showing +visitors into any room where these papers were +lying, Mr. Batchel would inconsiderately lay +them in every room he had. The privacy of his +study, however, where the work was chiefly +done, was strictly guarded, and no one was +admitted there unless by Mr. Batchel himself.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p> + +<p>Imagine his annoyance, therefore, when he +returned from an evening engagement at the +beginning of the month of January, and found a +stranger seated in the study! Yet the annoyance +was not long in subsiding. The visitor +was a lady, and as she sat by the lamp, a glance +was enough to shew that she was young, and +very beautiful. The interest which this young +lady excited in Mr. Batchel was altogether +unusual, as unusual as was the visit of such a +person at such a time. His conjecture was +that she had called to give him notice of a +marriage, but he was really charmed by her +presence, and was quite content to find her +in no haste to state her errand. The manner, +however, of the lady was singular, for neither +by word nor movement did she show that she +was conscious of Mr. Batchel’s entry into the +room.</p> + +<p>He began at length with his customary +formula “What can I have the pleasure of doing +for you?” and when, at the sound of his voice, +she turned her fine dark eyes upon him, he +saw that they were wet with tears.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel was now really moved. As a tear +fell upon the lady’s cheek, she raised her hand as +if to conceal it—a brilliant sapphire sparkling +in the lamp-light as she did so. And then the +lady’s distress, and the exquisite grace of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +her presence, altogether overcame him. There +stole upon him a strange feeling of tenderness +which he supposed to be paternal, +but knew nevertheless to be indiscreet. He +was a prudent man, with strict notions of +propriety, so that, ostensibly with a view to +giving the lady a few minutes in which to +recover her composure, he quietly left the study +and went into another room, to pull himself +together.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel, like most solitary men, had +a habit of talking to himself. “It is of no +use, R. B.,” he said, “to pretend that you have +retired on this damsel’s account. If you don’t +take care, you’ll make a fool of yourself.” He +took up from the table a volume of the encyclopedia +in which, the day before, he had been +looking up Pestalozzi, and turned over the +pages in search of something to restore his +equanimity. An article on Perspective proved +to be the very thing. Wholly unromantic in +character, its copious presentment of hard fact +relieved his mind, and he was soon threading +his way along paths of knowledge to which he +was little accustomed. He applied his remedy +with such persistence that when four or five +minutes had passed, he felt sufficiently composed +to return to the study. He framed, as he went, +a suitable form of words with which to open the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +conversation, and took with him his register of +Banns of Marriage, of which he thought he foresaw +the need. As he opened the study-door, +the book fell from his hands to the ground, so +completely was he overcome by surprise, for he +found the room empty. The lady had disappeared; +her chair stood vacant before him.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel sat down for a moment, and +then rang the bell. It was answered by the +boy who always attended upon him.</p> + +<p>“When did the lady go?” asked Mr. Batchel.</p> + +<p>The boy looked bewildered.</p> + +<p>“The lady you showed into the study before +I came.”</p> + +<p>“Please, sir, I never shown anyone into the +study; I never do when you’re out.”</p> + +<p>“There was a lady here,” said Mr. Batchel, +“when I returned.”</p> + +<p>The boy now looked incredulous.</p> + +<p>“Did you not let someone out just now?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” said the boy. “I put the chain +on the front door as soon as you came in.”</p> + +<p>This was conclusive. The chain upon the hall-door +was an ancient and cumbrous thing, and +could not be manipulated without considerable +effort, and a great deal of noise. Mr. Batchel +released the boy, and began to think furiously. +He was not, as the reader is well aware, without +some experience of the supranormal side of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +nature, and he knew of course that the visit of +this enthralling lady had a purpose. He was +beginning to know, however, that it had had an +effect. He sat before his fire reproducing her +image, and soon gave it up in disgust because +his imagination refused to do her justice. He +could recover the details of her appearance, but +could combine them into nothing that would +reproduce the impression she had first made +upon him.</p> + +<p>He was unable now to concentrate his +attention upon the examination papers lying on +his table. His mind wandered so often to the +other topic that he felt himself to be in danger +of marking the answers unfairly. He turned +away from his work, therefore, and moved to +another chair, where he sat down to read. It +was the chair in which she herself had sat, and +he made no attempt to pretend that he had +chosen it on any other account. He had, in +fact, made some discoveries about himself during +the last half-hour, and he gave himself another +surprise when he came to select his book. In +the ordinary course of what he had supposed to +be his nature, he would certainly have returned +to the article on Perspective; it was lying open +in the next room, and he had read no more than +a tenth part of it. But instead of that, his +thoughts went back to a volume he had but once<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +opened, and that for no more than two minutes. +He had received the book, by way of birthday +present, early in the preceding year, from a +relative who had bestowed either no consideration +at all, or else a great deal of cunning, upon +its selection. It was a collection of 17th century +lyrics, which Mr. Batchel’s single glance had +sufficed to condemn. Regarding the one lyric +he had read as a sort of literary freak, he had +banished the book to one of the spare bedrooms, +and had never seen it since. And now, after this +long interval, the absurd lines which his eye +had but once lighted upon, were recurring to his +mind:</p> + +<div class="centered"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Fair, sweet, and young, receive a prize<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reserved for your victorious eyes”;<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p class="noi">and so far from thinking them absurd, as he +now recalled them, he went upstairs to fetch the +book, in which he was soon absorbed. The +lyrics no longer seemed unreasonable. He felt +conscious, as he read one after another, of a side +of nature that he had strangely neglected, and was +obliged to admit that the men whose feelings +were set forth in the various sonnets and +poems had a fine gift of expression.</p> + +<div class="centered"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Thus, whilst I look for her in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Methinks I am a child again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And of my shadow am a-chasing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For all her graces are to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like apparitions that I see,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But never can come near th’ embracing.”<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p class="noi">No! these men were not, as he had formerly +supposed, writing with air, and he felt ashamed at +having used the term “freak” at their expense.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel read more of the lyrics, some of +them twice, and one of them much oftener. +That one he began to commit to memory, and +since the household had retired to rest, to recite +aloud. He had been unaware that literature +contained anything so beautiful, and as he +looked again at the book to recover an expression +his memory had lost, a tear fell upon the +page. It was a thing so extraordinary that Mr. +Batchel first looked at the ceiling, but when +he found that it was indeed a tear from his own +eye he was immoderately pleased with himself. +Had not she also shed a tear as she sat upon the +same chair? The fact seemed to draw them +together.</p> + +<p>Contemplation of this sort was, however, a +luxury to be enjoyed in something like moderation. +Mr. Batchel soon laid down his lyric +and savagely began to add up columns of marks, +by way of discipline; and when he had totalled +several pages of these, respect for his normal +self had returned with sufficient force to take +him off to bed.</p> + +<p>The matter of his dreams, or whether he +dreamed at all, has not been disclosed. He +awoke, at any rate, in a calmer state of mind,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> +and such romantic thoughts as remained were +effectually dispelled by the sight of his own +countenance when he began to shave. “Fancy +you spouting lyrics,” he said, as he dabbed the +brush upon his mouth, and by the time he was +ready for breakfast he pronounced himself +cured.</p> + +<p>The prosaic labours awaiting him in the +study were soon forced upon his notice, and +for once he did not regret it. Amongst the +letters lying upon the breakfast table was one +from the secretary who controlled the system +of examination. The form of the envelope was +too familiar to leave him in doubt as to +what it contained. It was a letter which, to +a careful man like Mr. Batchel, seemed to have +the nature of a reproof, inasmuch as it +probably asked for information which it had +already been his duty to furnish. The contents +of the envelope, when he had impatiently torn +it open, answered to his expectation—he was +formally requested to supply the name and the +marks of candidate No. 1004, and he wondered, +as he ate his breakfast, how he had omitted +to return them. He hunted out the paper of +No. 1004 as soon as the meal was over. The +candidate proved to be one Lubrietta Bodria, of +whom, of course, he had never heard, and her +answers had all been marked. He could not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> +understand why they should have been made +the subject of enquiry.</p> + +<p>He took her papers in his hand, and looked +at them again as he stood with his back to +the fire, having lit the pipe which invariably +followed his breakfast, and then he discovered +something much harder to understand. The +marks were not his own. In place of the usual +sketchy numerals, hardly decipherable to any +but himself, he saw figures which were carefully +formed; and the marks assigned to the +first answer, as he saw it on the uppermost +sheet, were higher than the maximum number +obtainable for that question.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel laid down his pipe and seated +himself at the table. He was greatly puzzled. +As he turned over the sheets of No. 1004 he +found all the other questions marked in like +manner, and making a total of half as much +again as the highest possible number. “Who the +dickens,” he said, using a meaningless, but not +uncommon expression, “has been playing with +this; and how came I to pass it over?” The +need of the moment, however, was to furnish +the proper marks to the secretary at Cambridge, +and Mr. Batchel proceeded to read No. 1004 +right through.</p> + +<p>He soon found that he had read it all +before, and the matter began to bristle with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> +queries. It proved, in fact, to be a paper over +which he had spent some time, and for a +singularly interesting reason. He had learned +from a friend in the Indian Civil Service +that an exaggerated value was often placed +by ambitious Indians and Cingalese upon a +European education, and that many aspiring +young men declined to take a wife who had +not passed this very examination. It was to +Mr. Batchel a disquieting reflection that his +blue pencil was not only marking mistakes, +but might at the same time be cancelling +matrimonial engagements, and his friend’s communication +had made him scrupulously careful +in examining the work of young ladies in +Oriental Schools. The matter had occurred to +him at once as he had examined the answers of +Lubrietta Rodria. He perfectly remembered +the question upon which her success depended. +A problem in logic had been answered by a +rambling and worthless argument, to which, +somehow, the right conclusion was appended: +the conclusion might be a happy guess, or it +might have been secured by less honest means, +but Mr. Batchel, following his usual practice, +gave no marks for it. It was not here that he +found any cause for hesitation, but when he +came to the end of the paper and found that +the candidate had only just failed, he had turned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +back to the critical question, imagined an +eligible bachelor awaiting the result of the +examination, and then, after a period of vacillation, +had hastily put the symbol of failure upon +the paper lest he should be tempted to bring his +own charity to the rescue of the candidate’s +logic, and unfairly add the three marks which +would suffice to pass her.</p> + +<p>As he now read the answer for the second +time, the same pitiful thought troubled him, +and this time more than before; for over the +edge of the paper of No. 1004 there persistently +arose the image of the young lady with the +sapphire ring. It directed the current of his +thoughts. Suppose that Lubrietta Rodria were +anything like that! and what if the arguments +of No. 1004 were worthless! Young ladies were +notoriously weak in argument, and as strong in +conclusions! and after all, the conclusion was +correct, and ought not a correct conclusion to +have its marks? There followed much more to +the same purpose, and in the end Mr. Batchel +stultified himself by adding the necessary three +marks, and passing the candidate.</p> + +<p>“This comes precious near to being a job,” +he remarked, as he entered the marks upon the +form and sealed it in the envelope, “but No. +1004 must pass, this time.” He enclosed in the +envelope a request to know why the marks had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> +been asked for, since they had certainly been +returned in their proper place. A brief official +reply informed him next day that the marks he +had returned exceeded the maximum, and must, +therefore, have been wrongly entered.</p> + +<p>“This,” said Mr. Batchel, “is a curious +coincidence.”</p> + +<p>Curious as it certainly was, it was less +curious than what immediately followed. It was +Mr. Batchel’s practice to avoid any delay in +returning these official papers, and he went out, +there and then, to post his envelope. The Post +Office was no more than a hundred yards from +his door, and in three minutes he was in his +study again. The first object that met his eye +there was a beautiful sapphire ring lying upon +the papers of No. 1004, which had remained upon +the table.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel at once recognised the ring. +“I knew it was precious near a job,” he said, +“but I didn’t know that it was as near as this.”</p> + +<p>He took up the ring and examined it. It +looked like a ring of great value; the stone was +large and brilliant, and the setting was of fine +workmanship. “Now what on earth,” said Mr. +Batchel, “am I to do with this?”</p> + +<p>The nearest jeweller to Stoneground was a +competent and experienced tradesman of the +old school. He was a member of the local<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +Natural History Society, and in that capacity +Mr. Batchel had made intimate acquaintance +with him. To this jeweller, therefore, he +carried the ring, and asked him what he thought +of it.</p> + +<p>“I’ll give you forty pounds for it,” said the +jeweller.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel replied that the ring was not +his. “What about the make of it?” he asked. +“Is it English?”</p> + +<p>The jeweller replied that it was unmistakably +Indian.</p> + +<p>“You are sure?” said Mr. Batchel.</p> + +<p>“Certain,” said the jeweller. “Major +Ackroyd brought home one like it, all but +the stone, from Puna; I repaired it for him +last year.”</p> + +<p>The information was enough, if not more +than enough, for Mr. Batchel. He begged a +suitable case from his friend the jeweller, and +within an hour had posted the ring to Miss +Lubrietta Rodria at the European College in +Puna. At the same time he wrote to the +Principal the letter whose answer is embodied +in the preface to this narrative.</p> + +<p>Having done this, Mr. Batchel felt more at +ease. He had given Lubrietta Rodria what he +amiably called the benefit of the doubt, but it +should never be said that he had been bribed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> + +<p>The rest of his papers he marked with +fierce justice. A great deal of the work, in his +zeal, he did twice over, but his conscience amply +requited him for the superfluous labour. The +last paper was marked within a day of the +allotted time, Mr. Batchel shortly afterwards +received his cheque, and was glad to think that +the whole matter was at an end.</p> + +<p class="tb">*<span class="ast">*</span><span class="ast">*</span><span class="ast">*</span><span class="ast">*</span><span class="ast">*</span><span class="ast">*</span></p> + +<p>That Lubrietta had been absent from India +whilst her relatives and attendants were trying +to restore her to consciousness, he had good +reason to know. His friends, for the most part, +took a very narrow view of human nature and +its possibilities, so that he kept his experience, +for a long time, to himself; there were personal +reasons for not discussing the incident. The +reader has been already told upon what understanding +it is recorded here.</p> + +<p>There remains, however, an episode which +Mr. Batchel all but managed to suppress. Upon +the one occasion when he allowed himself to +speak of this matter, he was being pressed for +a description of the sapphire ring, and was not +very successful in his attempt to describe it. +There was no reason, of course, why this should +lay his good faith under suspicion. Few of us +could pass an examination upon objects with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +which we are supposed to be familiar, or say +which of our tables have three legs, and which +four.</p> + +<p>One of Mr. Batchel’s auditors, however, took +a captious view of the matter, and brusquely +remarked, in imitation of a more famous sceptic, +“I don’t believe there’s no sich a thing.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel, of course, recognised the +phrase, and it was his eagerness to establish his +credit that committed him at this point to a +last disclosure about Lubrietta. He drew a +sapphire ring from his pocket, handed it to the +incredulous auditor, and addressed him in the +manner of Mrs. Gamp.</p> + +<p>“What! you bage creetur, have I had this +ring three year or more to be told there ain’t no +sech a thing. Go along with you.”</p> + +<p>“But I thought the ring was sent back,” +said more than one.</p> + +<p>“How did you come by it?” said all the +others.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel thereupon admitted that he had +closed his story prematurely. About six weeks +after the return of the ring to Puna he had found +it once again upon his table, returned through +the post. Enclosed in the package was a note +which Mr. Batchel, being now committed to +this part of the story, also passed round for +inspection. It ran as follows:—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquo3"> +<p>“Accept the ring, dear one, and wear +it for my sake. Fail not to think sometimes +of her whom you have made happy.—L. R.”</p> +</div> + +<p>“What on earth am I to do with this?” +Mr. Batchel had asked himself again. And this +time he had answered the question, after the +briefest possible delay, by slipping the ring +upon his fourth finger.</p> + +<p>The book of Lyrics remained downstairs +amongst the books in constant use. Mr. Batchel +can repeat at least half of the collection from +memory.</p> + +<p>He knows well enough that such terms +as “dear one” are addressed to bald gentlemen +only in a Pickwickian sense, but even with +that sense the letter gives him pleasure.</p> + +<p>He admits that he thinks very often of +“her whom he has made happy,” but that he +cannot exclude from his thoughts at these +times an ungenerous regret. It is that he has +also made happy a nameless Oriental gentleman +whom he presumptuously calls “the other +fellow.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a><br /><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p> + + +<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI.<br /> + +<span class="stl">THE ROCKERY.</span></h2> + + +<p>The Vicar’s garden at Stoneground has +certainly been enclosed for more than seven +centuries, and during the whole of that time +its almost sacred privacy has been regarded as +permanent and unchangeable. It has remained +for the innovators of later and more audacious +days to hint that it might be given into other +hands, and still carry with it no curse that +should make a new possessor hasten to undo +his irreverence. Whether there can be warrant +for such confidence, time will show. The +experiences already related will show that the +privacy of the garden has been counted upon +both by good men and worse. And here is a +story, in its way, more strange than any.</p> + +<p>By way of beginning, it may be well to +describe a part of the garden not hitherto +brought into notice. That part lies on the +western boundary, where the garden slopes +down to a sluggish stream, hardly a stream at +all, locally known as the Lode. The Lode bounds +the garden on the west along its whole length, +and there the moor-hen builds her nest, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +the kingfisher is sometimes, but in these days +too rarely, seen. But the centre of vision, as +it were, of this western edge lies in a cluster +of tall elms. Towards these all the garden +paths converge, and about their base is raised a +bank of earth, upon which is heaped a rockery +of large stones lately overgrown with ferns.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel’s somewhat prim taste in +gardening had long resented this disorderly +bank. In more than one place in his garden +had wild confusion given place to a park-like +trimness, and there were not a few who would +say that the change was not for the better. +Mr. Batchel, however, went his own way, and +in due time determined to remove the rockery. +He was puzzled by its presence; he could see +no reason why a bank should have been raised +about the feet of the elms, and surmounted +with stones; not a ray of sunshine ever found +its way there, and none but coarse and uninteresting +plants had established themselves. +Whoever had raised the bank had done it +ignorantly, or with some purpose not easy for +Mr. Batchel to conjecture.</p> + +<p>Upon a certain day, therefore, in the early +part of December, when the garden had been +made comfortable for its winter rest, he began, +with the assistance of his gardener, to remove +the stones into another place.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p> + +<p>We do but speak according to custom in +this matter, and there are few readers who +will not suspect the truth, which is that the +gardener began to remove the stones, whilst +Mr. Batchel stood by and delivered criticisms +of very slight value. Such strength, in fact, +as Mr. Batchel possessed had concentrated itself +upon the mind, and somewhat neglected his +body, and what he called help, during his +presence in the garden, was called by another +name when the gardener and his boy were left +to themselves, with full freedom of speech.</p> + +<p>There were few of the stones rolled down +by the gardener that Mr. Batchel could even +have moved, but his astonishment at their size +soon gave place to excitement at their appearance. +His antiquarian tastes were strong, and +were soon busily engaged. For, as the stones +rolled down, his eyes were feasted, in a rapid +succession, by capitals of columns, fragments of +moulded arches and mullions, and other relics +of ecclesiastical building.</p> + +<p>Repeatedly did he call the gardener down +from his work to put these fragments together, +and before long there were several complete +lengths of arcading laid upon the path. Stones +which, perhaps, had been separated for +centuries, once more came together, and Mr. +Batchel, rubbing his hands in excited satisfaction,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +declared that he might recover the best +parts of a Church by the time the rockery had +been demolished.</p> + +<p>The interest of the gardener in such +matters was of a milder kind. “We must go +careful,” he merely observed, “when we come +to the organ.” They went on removing more +and more stones, until at length the whole bank +was laid bare, and Mr. Batchel’s chief purpose +achieved. How the stones were carefully arranged, +and set up in other parts of the garden, +is well known, and need not concern us now.</p> + +<p>One detail, however, must not be omitted. +A large and stout stake of yew, evidently of +considerable age, but nevertheless quite sound, +stood exposed after the clearing of the bank. +There was no obvious reason for its presence, +but it had been well driven in, so well that the +strength of the gardener, or, if it made any +difference, of the gardener and Mr. Batchel +together, failed even to shake it. It was not +unsightly, and might have remained where it +was, had not the gardener exclaimed, “This is +the very thing we want for the pump.” It was +so obviously “the very thing” that its removal +was then and there decided upon.</p> + +<p>The pump referred to was a small iron +pump used to draw water from the Lode. It had +been affixed to many posts in turn, and defied<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +them all to hold it. Not that the pump was +at fault. It was a trifling affair enough. But +the pumpers were usually garden-boys, whose +impatient energy had never failed, before many +days, to wriggle the pump away from its supports. +When the gardener had, upon one +occasion, spent half a day in attaching it firmly +to a post, they had at once shaken out the post +itself. Since, therefore, the matter was causing +daily inconvenience, and the gardener becoming +daily more concerned for his reputation as a +rough carpenter, it was natural for him to +exclaim, “This is the very thing.” It was a +better stake than he had ever used, and as had +just been made evident, a stake that the ground +would hold.</p> + +<p>“Yes!” said Mr. Batchel, “it is the very +thing; but can we get it up?” The gardener +always accepted this kind of query as a challenge, +and replied only by taking up a pick and +setting to work, Mr. Batchel, as usual, looking +on, and making, every now and then, a fruitless +suggestion. After a few minutes, however, he +made somewhat more than a suggestion. He +darted forward and laid his hand upon the pick. +“Don’t you see some copper?” he asked quickly.</p> + +<p>Every man who digs knows what a hiding +place there is in the earth. The monotony +of spade work is always relieved by a hope of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +turning up something unexpected. Treasure +lies dimly behind all these hopes, so that the +gardener, having seen Mr. Batchel excited over +so much that was precious from his own point +of view, was quite ready to look for something +of value to an ordinary reasonable man. Copper +might lead to silver, and that, in turn, to gold. +At Mr. Batchel’s eager question, therefore, he +peered into the hole he had made, and examined +everything there that might suggest the +rounded form of a coin.</p> + +<p>He soon saw what had arrested Mr. Batchel. +There was a lustrous scratch on the side of the +stake, evidently made by the pick, and though +the metal was copper, plainly enough, the +gardener felt that he had been deceived, and +would have gone on with his work. Copper of +that sort gave him no sort of excitement, and +only a feeble interest.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel, however, was on his hands and +knees. There was a small irregular plate of +copper nailed to the stake; without any +difficulty he tore it away from the nails, and +soon scraped it clean with a shaving of wood; +then, rising to his feet, he examined his find.</p> + +<p>There was an inscription upon it, so legible +as to need no deciphering. It had been roughly +and effectually made with a hammer and nail, +the letters being formed by series of holes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +punched deeply into the metal, and what he +read was:—</p> + +<p class="stake"> +MOVE NOT THIS<br /> +STAKE, NOV. 1, 1702.<br /> +</p> + +<p>But to move the stake was what Mr. +Batchel had determined upon, and the metal +plate he held in his hand interested him chiefly +as showing how long the post had been there. +He had happened, as he supposed, upon an +ancient landmark. The discovery, recorded +elsewhere, of a well, near to the edge of his +present lawn, had shown him that his premises +had once been differently arranged. One of the +minor antiquarian tasks he had set himself was +to discover and record the old arrangement, and +he felt that the position of this stake would +help him. He felt no doubt of its being a point +upon the western limit of the garden; not +improbably marked in this way to show where +the garden began, and where ended the ancient +hauling-way, which had been secured to the +public for purposes of navigation.</p> + +<p>The gardener, meanwhile, was proceeding +with his work. With no small difficulty he +removed the rubble and clay which accounted +for the firmness of the stake. It grew dark as +the work went on, and a distant clock struck +five before it was completed. Five was the hour +at which the gardener usually went home; his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +day began early. He was not, however, a man +to leave a small job unfinished, and he went on +loosening the earth with his pick, and trying +the effect, at intervals, upon the firmness of the +stake. It naturally began to give, and could be +moved from side to side through a space of +some few inches. He lifted out the loosened +stones, and loosened more. His pick struck +iron, which, after loosening, proved to be links +of a rusted chain. “They’ve buried a lot of +rubbish in this hole,” he remarked, as he went +on loosening the chain, which, in the growing +darkness, could hardly be seen. Mr. Batchel, +meanwhile, occupied himself in a simpler task +of working the stake to and fro, by way of +loosening its hold. Ultimately it began to +move with greater freedom. The gardener laid +down his tool and grasped the stake, which his +master was still holding; their combined efforts +succeeded at once; the stake was lifted out.</p> + +<p>It turned out to be furnished with an +unusually long and sharp point, which explained +the firmness of its hold upon the ground. The +gardener carried it to the neighbourhood of the +pump, in readiness for its next purpose, and +made ready to go home. He would drive the +stake to-morrow, he said, in the new place, and +make the pump so secure that not even the +boys could shake it. He also spoke of some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +designs he had upon the chain, should it prove +to be of any considerable length. He was an +ingenious man, and his skill in converting +discarded articles to new uses was embarrassing +to his master. Mr. Batchel, as has been +said, was a prim gardener, and he had no liking +for makeshift devices. He had that day seen +his runner beans trained upon a length of old +gas-piping, and had no intention of leaving the +gardener in possession of such a treasure as a +rusty chain. What he said, however, and said +with truth, was that he wanted the chain for +himself. He had no practical use for it, and +hardly expected it to yield him any interest. +But a chain buried in 1702 must be examined—nothing +ancient comes amiss to a man of +antiquarian tastes.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel had noticed, whilst the gardener +had been carrying away the stake, that the chain +lay very loosely in the earth. The pick had +worked well round it. He said, therefore, that +the chain must be lifted out and brought to +him upon the morrow, bade his gardener good +night, and went in to his fireside.</p> + +<p>This will appear to the reader to be a record +of the merest trifles, but all readers will accept +the reminder that there is no such thing as a +trifle, and that what appears to be trivial has +that appearance only so long as it stands alone.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +Regarded in the light of their consequences, +those matters which have seemed to be least +in importance, turn out, often enough, to be +the greatest. And these trifling occupations, +as we may call them for the last time, of Mr. +Batchel and the gardener, had consequences +which shall now be set down as Mr. +Batchel himself narrated them. But we must +take events in their order. At present Mr. +Batchel is at his fireside, and his gardener at +home with his family. The stake is removed, +and the hole, in which lies some sort of an +iron chain, is exposed.</p> + +<p>Upon this particular evening Mr. Batchel +was dining out. He was a good natured man, +with certain mild powers of entertainment, +and his presence as an occasional guest was +not unacceptable at some of the more considerable +houses of the neighbourhood. And let us +hasten to observe that he was not a guest who +made any great impression upon the larders +or the cellars of his hosts. He liked port, but +he liked it only of good quality, and in small +quantity. When he returned from a dinner +party, therefore, he was never either in a +surfeited condition of body, or in any confusion +of mind. Not uncommonly after his return +upon such occasions did he perform accurate +work. Unfinished contributions to sundry local<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +journals were seldom absent from his desk. +They were his means of recreation. There they +awaited convenient intervals of leisure, and +Mr. Batchel was accustomed to say that of +these intervals he found none so productive +as a late hour, or hour and a half, after a +dinner party.</p> + +<p>Upon the evening in question he returned, +about an hour before midnight, from dining +at the house of a retired officer residing in the +neighbourhood, and the evening had been somewhat +less enjoyable than usual. He had taken +in to dinner a young lady who had too persistently +assailed him with antiquarian questions. +Now Mr. Batchel did not like talking what he +regarded as “shop,” and was not much at home +with young ladies, to whom he knew that, in +the nature of things, he could be but imperfectly +acceptable. With infinite good will towards +them, and a genuine liking for their presence, +he felt that he had but little to offer them in +exchange. There was so little in common +between his life and theirs. He felt distinctly +at his worst when he found himself treated +as a mere scrap-book of information. It made +him seem, as he would express it, de-humanised.</p> + +<p>Upon this particular evening the young +lady allotted to him, perhaps at her own request, +had made a scrap-book of him, and he had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +returned home somewhat discontented, if also +somewhat amused. His discontent arose from +having been deprived of the general conversation +he so greatly, but so rarely, enjoyed. +His amusement was caused by the incongruity +between a very light-hearted young lady and +the subject upon which she had made him talk, +for she had talked of nothing else but modes +of burial.</p> + +<p>He began to recall the conversation as he +lit his pipe and dropped into his armchair. She +had either been reflecting deeply upon the +matter, or, as seemed to Mr. Batchel, more +probable, had read something and half forgotten +it. He recalled her questions, and the answers +by which he had vainly tried to lead her to +a more attractive topic. For example:</p> + +<div class="blockquo4"> +<p>She: Will you tell me why people were buried +at cross roads?</p> + +<p>He: Well, consecrated ground was so jealously +guarded that a criminal would be held to +have forfeited the right to be buried +amongst Christian folk. His friends +would therefore choose cross roads where +there was set a wayside cross, and make +his grave at the foot of it. In some of my +journeys in Scotland I have seen crosses....</p></div> + +<p>But the young lady had refused to be led +into Scotland. She had stuck to her subject.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquo4"> +<p>She: Why have coffins come back into use? +There is nothing in our Burial Service +about a coffin.</p> + +<p>He: True, and the use of the coffin is due, in +part, to an ignorant notion of confining +the corpse, lest, like Hamlet’s father, he +should walk the earth. You will have +noticed that the corpse is always carried +out of the house feet foremost, to suggest +a final exit, and that the grave is often +covered with a heavy slab. Very curious +epitaphs are to be found on these slabs....</p> +</div> + +<p>But she was not to be drawn into the +subject of epitaphs. She had made him tell of +other devices for confining spirits to their +prison, and securing the peace of the living, +especially of those adopted in the case of violent +and mischievous men. Altogether an unusual +sort of young lady.</p> + +<p>The conversation, however, had revived his +memories of what was, after all, a matter of +some interest, and he determined to look +through his parish registers for records of +exceptional burials. He was surprised at himself +for never having done it. He dismissed the +matter from his mind for the time being, +and as it was a bright moonlight night +he thought he would finish his pipe in the +garden.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p> + +<p>Therefore, although midnight was close at +hand, he strolled complacently round his garden, +enjoying the light of the moon no less than in +the daytime he would have enjoyed the sun; +and thus it was that he arrived at the scene of +his labours upon the old rockery. There was +more light than there had been at the end of +the afternoon, and when he had walked up the +bank, and stood over the hole we have already +described, he could distinctly see the few +exposed links of the iron chain. Should he +remove it at once to a place of safety, out of the +way of the gardener? It was about time for +bed. The city clocks were then striking +midnight. He would let the chain decide. If it +came out easily he would remove it; otherwise, +it should remain until morning.</p> + +<p>The chain came out more than easily. It +seemed to have a force within itself. He gave +but a slight tug at the free end with a view +of ascertaining what resistance he had to +encounter, and immediately found himself lying +upon his back with the chain in his hand. His +back had fortunately turned towards an elm +three feet away which broke his fall, but there +had been violence enough to cause him no little +surprise.</p> + +<p>The effort he had made was so slight that +he could not account for having lost his feet;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +and being a careful man, he was a little anxious +about his evening coat, which he was still +wearing. The chain, however, was in his hand, +and he made haste to coil it into a portable +shape, and to return to the house.</p> + +<p>Some fifty yards from the spot was the +northern boundary of the garden, a long wall +with a narrow lane beyond. It was not unusual, +even at this hour of the night, to hear footsteps +there. The lane was used by railway men, who +passed to and from their work at all hours, as +also by some who returned late from entertainments +in the neighbouring city.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Batchel, as he turned back to the +house, with his chain over one arm, heard more +than footsteps. He heard for a few moments +the unmistakable sound of a scuffle, and then a +piercing cry, loud and sharp, and a noise of +running. It was such a cry as could only have +come from one in urgent need of help.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel dropped his chain. The garden +wall was some ten feet high and he had no +means of scaling it. But he ran quickly into +the house, passed out by the hall door into the +street, and so towards the lane without a +moment’s loss of time.</p> + +<p>Before he has gone many yards he sees a +man running from the lane with his clothing +in great disorder, and this man, at the sight of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +Mr. Batchel, darts across the road, runs along in +the shadow of an opposite wall and attempts to +escape.</p> + +<p>The man is known well enough to Mr. +Batchel. It is one Stephen Medd, a respectable +and sensible man, by occupation a shunter, and +Mr. Batchel at once calls out to ask what has +happened. Stephen, however, makes no reply +but continues to run along the shadow of the +wall, whereupon Mr. Batchel crosses over and +intercepts him, and again asks what is amiss. +Stephen answers wildly and breathlessly, “I’m +not going to stop here, let me go home.”</p> + +<p>As Mr. Batchel lays his hand upon the +man’s arm and draws him into the light of the +moon, it is seen that his face is streaming with +blood from a wound near the eye.</p> + +<p>He is somewhat calmed by the familiar voice +of Mr. Batchel, and is about to speak, when +another scream is heard from the lane. The +voice is that of a boy or woman, and no sooner +does Stephen hear it than he frees himself +violently from Mr. Batchel and makes away +towards his home. With no less speed does Mr. +Batchel make for the lane, and finds about half +way down a boy lying on the ground wounded +and terrified.</p> + +<p>At first the boy clings to the ground, but he, +too, is soon reassured by Mr. Batchel’s voice, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +allows himself to be lifted on to his feet. His +wound is also in the face, and Mr. Batchel takes +the boy into his house, bathes and plasters his +wound, and soon restores him to something like +calm. He is what is termed a call-boy, employed +by the Railway Company to awaken drivers at +all hours, and give them their instructions.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel is naturally impatient for the +moment he can question the boy about his +assailant, who is presumably also the assailant +of Stephen Medd. No one had been visible in +the lane, though the moon shone upon it from +end to end. At the first available moment, +therefore, he asks the boy, “Who did this?”</p> + +<p>The answer came, without any hesitation, +“Nobody.” “There was nobody there,” he said, +“and all of a sudden somebody hit me with an +iron thing.”</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Batchel asked, “Did you see +Stephen Medd?” He was becoming greatly +puzzled.</p> + +<p>The boy replied that he had seen Mr. Medd +“a good bit in front,” with nobody near him, +and that all of a sudden someone knocked him +down.</p> + +<p>Further questioning seemed useless. Mr. +Batchel saw the boy to his home, left him at +the door, and returned to bed, but not to +sleep. He could not cease from thinking,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +and he could think of nothing but assaults +from invisible hands. Morning seemed long +in coming, but came at last.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel was up betimes and made a +very poor breakfast. Dallying with the morning +paper, rather than reading it, his eye was +arrested by a headline about “Mysterious +assaults in Elmham.” He felt that he had +mysteries of his own to occupy him and was +in no mood to be interested in more assaults. +But he had some knowledge of Elmham, a small +town ten miles distant from Stoneground, and +he read the brief paragraph, which contained no +more than the substance of a telegram. It said, +however, that three persons had been victims +of unaccountable assaults. Two of them had +escaped with slight injuries, but the third, +a young woman, was dangerously wounded, +though still alive and conscious. She declared +that she was quite alone in her house and +had been suddenly struck with great violence +by what felt like a piece of iron, and that +she must have bled to death but for a neighbour +who heard her cries. The neighbour had +at once looked out and seen nobody, but had +bravely gone to her friend’s assistance.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel laid down his newspaper +considerably impressed, as was natural, by the +resemblance of these tragedies to what he had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +witnessed himself. He was in no condition, +after his excitement and his sleepless night, +to do his usual work. His mind reverted +to the conversation at the dinner party and +the trifle of antiquarian research it had suggested. +Such occupation had often served +him when he found himself suffering from a +cold, or otherwise indisposed for more serious +work. He would get the registers and collect +what entries there might be of irregular burial.</p> + +<p>He found only one such entry, but that +one was enough. There was a note dated All +Hallows, 1702, to this effect:</p> + +<div class="blockquo1"> + +<p>“This day did a vagrant from Elmham +beat cruelly to death two poor men who +had refused him alms, and upon a hue and +cry being raised, took his own life. He was +buried in one Parson’s Close with a stake +through his body and his arms confined +in chains, and stoutly covered in.”</p> +</div> + +<p>No further news came from Elmham. +Either the effort had been exhausted, or its +purpose achieved. But what could have led +the young lady, a stranger to Mr. Batchel and +to his garden, to hit upon so appropriate a +topic? Mr. Batchel could not answer the +question as he put it to himself again and +again during the day. He only knew that she +had given him a warning, by which, to his shame +and regret, he had been too obtuse to profit.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a><br /><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p> + + +<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII.<br /> + +<span class="stl">THE INDIAN LAMP-SHADE.</span></h2> + + +<p>What has been already said of Mr. Batchel +will have sufficed to inform the reader that he +is a man of very settled habits. The conveniences +of life, which have multiplied so fast +of late, have never attracted him, even when he +has heard of them. Inconveniences to which +he is accustomed have always seemed to him +preferable to conveniences with which he is +unfamiliar. To this day, therefore, he writes +with a quill, winds up his watch with a key, and +will drink no soda-water but from a tumbling +bottle with the cork wired to its neck.</p> + +<p>The reader accordingly will learn without +surprise that Mr. Batchel continues to use the +reading-lamp he acquired 30 years ago as a +Freshman in College. He still carries it from +room to room as occasion requires, and ignores +all other means of illumination. It is an +inexpensive lamp of very poor appearance, and +dates from a time when labour-saving was not +yet a fine art. It cannot be lighted without +the removal of several of its parts, and it +is extinguished by the primitive device of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +blowing down the chimney. What has always +shocked the womenfolk of the Batchel family, +however, is the lamp’s unworthiness of its +surroundings. Mr. Batchel’s house is furnished +in dignified and comfortable style, but the +handsome lamp, surmounting a fluted brazen +column, which his relatives bestowed upon him +at his institution, is still unpacked.</p> + +<p>One of his younger and subtler relatives +succeeded in damaging the old lamp, as she +thought, irretrievably, by a well-planned accident, +but found it still in use a year later, most +atrociously repaired. The whole family, and +some outsiders, had conspired to attack the +offending lamp, and it had withstood them all.</p> + +<p>The single victory achieved over Mr. Batchel +in this matter is quite recent, and was generally +unexpected. A cousin who had gone out to +India as a bride, and that of Mr. Batchel’s +making, had sent him an Indian lamp-shade. +The association was pleasing. The shade was +decorated with Buddhist figures which excited +Mr. Batchel’s curiosity, and to the surprise of +all his friends he set it on the lamp and there +allowed it to remain. It was not, however, the +figures which had reconciled him to this novel +and somewhat incongruous addition to the old +lamp. The singular colour of the material had +really attracted him. It was a bright orange-red,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +like no colour he had ever seen, and the +remarks of visitors whose experience of such +things was greater than his own soon justified +him in regarding it as unique. No one had seen +the colour elsewhere; and of all the tints which +have acquired distinctive names, none of the +names could be applied without some further +qualification. Mr. Batchel himself did not +trouble about a name, but was quite certain +that it was a colour that he liked; and more +than that, a colour which had about it some +indescribable fascination. When the lamp had +been brought in, and the curtains drawn, he +used to regard with singular pleasure the +interiors of rooms with whose appearance he +was unaccustomed to concern himself. The +books in his study, and the old-fashioned solid +furniture of his dining room, as reflected in the +new light, seemed to assume a more friendly +aspect, as if they had previously been rigidly +frozen, and had now thawed into life. The +lamp-shade seemed to bestow upon the light +some active property, and gave to the rooms, as +Mr. Batchel said, the appearance of being wide-awake.</p> + +<p>These optical effects, as he called them, +were especially noticeable in the dining room, +where the convenience of a large table often +induced him to spend the evening. Standing in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> +a favourite attitude, with his elbow on the +chimney-piece, Mr. Batchel found increasing +pleasure in contemplating the interior of the +room as he saw it reflected in a large old mirror +above the fireplace. The great mahogany sideboard +across the room, seemed, as he gazed upon +it, to be penetrated by the light, and to acquire +a softness of outline, and a sort of vivacity, +which operated pleasantly upon its owner’s +imagination. He found himself playfully regretting, +for example, that the mirror had no +power of recording and reproducing the scenes +enacted before it since the close of the 18th +century, when it had become one of the fixtures +of the house. The ruddy light of the lamp-shade +had always a stimulating effect upon his fancy, +and some of the verses which describe his +visions before the mirror would delight the +reader, but that the author’s modesty forbids +their reproduction. Had he been less firm in +this matter we should have inserted here a +poem in which Mr. Batchel audaciously ventured +into the domain of Physics. He endowed his +mirror with the power of retaining indefinitely +the light which fell upon it, and of reflecting it +only when excited by the appropriate stimulus. +The passage beginning</p> + +<div class="centered"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The mirror, whilst men pass upon their way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Treasures their image for a later day,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p class="noi">might be derided by students of optics. Mr. +Batchel has often read it in after days, with +amazement, for, when his idle fancies came to +be so gravely substantiated, he found that in +writing the verses he had stumbled upon a new +fact—a fact based as soundly, as will soon +appear, upon experiment, as those which the +text-books use in arriving at the better-known +properties of reflection.</p> + +<p>He was seated in his dining room one frosty +evening in January. His chair was drawn up +to the fire, and the upper part of the space +behind him was visible in the mirror. The +brighter and clearer light thrown down by the +shade was shining upon his book. It is the +fate of most of us to receive visits when we +should best like to be alone, and Mr. Batchel +allowed an impatient exclamation to escape +him, when, at nine o’clock on this evening, he +heard the door-bell. A minute later, the boy +announced “Mr. Mutcher,” and Mr. Batchel, +with such affability as he could hastily assume, +rose to receive the caller. Mr. Mutcher was the +Deputy Provincial Grand Master of the Ancient +Order of Gleaners, and the formality of his +manner accorded with the gravity of his title. +Mr. Batchel soon became aware that the rest +of the evening was doomed. The Deputy Provincial +Grand Master had come to discuss the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +probable effect of the Insurance Act upon +Friendly Societies, of which Mr. Batchel was an +ardent supporter. He attended their meetings, +in some cases kept their accounts, and was +always apt to be consulted in their affairs. He +seated Mr. Mutcher, therefore, in a chair on the +opposite side of the fireplace, and gave him his +somewhat reluctant attention.</p> + +<p>“This,” said Mr. Mutcher, as he looked +round the room, “is a cosy nook on a cold night. +I cordially appreciate your kindness, Reverend +Sir, in affording me this interview, and the comfort +of your apartment leads me to wish that it +might be more protracted.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel did his best not to dissent, and +as he settled himself for a long half-hour, began +to watch the rise and fall, between two lines +upon the distant wall-paper of the shadow of +Mr. Mutcher’s side-whisker, as it seemed to beat +time to his measured speech.</p> + +<p>The D.P.G.M. (for these functionaries are +usually designated by initials) was not a man to +be hurried into brevity. His style had been +studiously acquired at Lodge meetings, and Mr. +Batchel knew it well enough to be prepared for +a lengthy preamble.</p> + +<p>“I have presumed,” said Mr. Mutcher, as he +looked straight before him into the mirror, “to +trespass upon your Reverence’s forbearance,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +because there are one or two points upon this +new Insurance Act which seem calculated to +damage our long-continued prosperity—I say +long-continued prosperity,” repeated Mr. +Mutcher, as though Mr. Batchel had missed +the phrase. “I had the favour of an interview +yesterday,” he went on, “with the Sub-Superintendent +of the Perseverance Accident and +General (these were household words in circles +which Mr. Batchel frequented, so that he was at +no loss to understand them), and he was unanimous +with me in agreeing that the matter +called for careful consideration. There are one +or two of our rules which we know to be +essential to the welfare of our Order, and yet +which will have to go by the board—I say by the +board—as from July next. Now we are not +Medes, nor yet Persians”—Mr. Mutcher was +about to repeat “Persians” when he was +observed to look hastily round the room and +then to turn deadly pale. Mr. Batchel rose and +hastened to his support; he was obviously +unwell. The visitor, however, made a strong +effort, rose from his chair at once, saying “Pray +allow me to take leave,” and hurried to the door +even as he said the words. Mr. Batchel, with +real concern, followed him with the offer of +brandy, or whatever might afford relief. Mr. +Mutcher did not so much as pause to reply.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +Before Mr. Batchel could reach him he had +crossed the hall, and the door-knob was in his +hand. He thereupon opened the door and +passed into the street without another word. +More unaccountably still, he went away at a +run, such as ill became his somewhat majestic +figure, and Mr. Batchel closed the door and +returned to the dining-room in a state of +bewilderment. He took up his book, and sat +down again in his chair. He did not immediately +begin to read, but set himself to review +Mr. Mutcher’s unaccountable behaviour, and +as he raised his eyes to the mirror he saw +an elderly man standing at the sideboard.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel quickly turned round, and as he +did so, recalled the similar movement of his late +visitor. The room was empty. He turned again +to the mirror, and the man was still there—evidently +a servant—one would say without +much hesitation, the butler. The cut-away +coat, and white stock, the clean-shaven chin, +and close-trimmed side-whiskers, the deftness +and decorum of his movements were all +characteristic of a respectable family servant, +and he stood at the sideboard like a man who +was at home there.</p> + +<p>Another object, just visible above the frame +of the mirror, caused Mr. Batchel to look round +again, and again to see nothing unusual. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> +what he saw in the mirror was a square oaken +box some few inches deep, which the butler was +proceeding to unlock. And at this point Mr. +Batchel had the presence of mind to make an +experiment of extraordinary value. He removed, +for a moment, the Indian shade from the lamp, +and laid it upon the table, and thereupon the +mirror showed nothing but empty space and the +frigid lines of the furniture. The butler had +disappeared, as also had the box, to re-appear +the moment the shade was restored to its place.</p> + +<p>As soon as the box was opened, the butler +produced a bundled handkerchief which his left +hand had been concealing under the tails of his +coat. With his right hand he removed the +contents of the handkerchief, hurriedly placed +them in the box, closed the lid, and having +done this, left the room at once. His later +movements had been those of a man in fear of +being disturbed. He did not even wait to lock +the box. He seemed to have heard someone +coming.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel’s interest in the box will subsequently +be explained. As soon as the butler +had left, he stood before the mirror and examined +it carefully. More than once, as he felt the +desire for a closer scrutiny, he turned to the +sideboard itself, where of course no box was to +be seen, and returned to the mirror unreasonably<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +disappointed. At length, with the image of the +box firmly impressed upon his memory, he sat +down again in his chair, and reviewed the +butler’s conduct, or as he doubted he would have +to call it, misconduct. Unfortunately for Mr. +Batchel, the contents of the handkerchief had +been indistinguishable. But for the butler’s +alarm, which caused him to be moving away +from the box even whilst he was placing the +thing within it, the mirror could not have shewn +as much as it did. All that had been made +evident was that the man had something to +conceal, and that it was surreptitiously done.</p> + +<p>“Is this all?” said Mr. Batchel to himself +as he sat looking into the mirror, “or is it only +the end of the first Act?” The question was, in +a measure, answered by the presence of the box. +That, at all events would have to disappear +before the room could resume its ordinary aspect; +and whether it was to fade out of sight or to be +removed by the butler, Mr. Batchel did not +intend to be looking another way at the time. +He had not seen, although perhaps Mr. Mutcher +had, whether the butler had brought it in, but +he was determined to see whether he took it out.</p> + +<p>He had not gazed into the mirror for many +minutes before he learned that there was to be a +second Act. Quite suddenly, a woman was at +the sideboard. She had darted to it, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +time taken in passing over half the length of the +mirror had been altogether too brief to show +what she was like. She now stood with her +face to the sideboard, entirely concealing the +box from view, and all Mr. Batchel could +determine was that she was tall of stature, and +that her hair was raven-black, and not in very +good order. In his anxiety to see her face, he +called aloud, “Turn round.” Of course, he +understood, when he saw that his cry had been +absolutely without effect, that it had been a +ridiculous thing to do. He turned his head +again for a moment to assure himself that the +room was empty, and to remind himself that +the curtain had fallen, perhaps a century before, +upon the drama—he began to think of it as a +tragedy—that he was witnessing. The opportunity, +however, of seeing the woman’s features +was not denied him. She turned her face full +upon the mirror—this is to speak as if we +described the object rather than the image—so +that Mr. Batchel saw it plainly before him; it +was a handsome, cruel-looking face, of waxen +paleness, with fine, distended, lustrous, eyes. +The woman looked hurriedly round the room, +looked twice towards the door, and then opened +the box.</p> + +<p>“Our respectable friend was evidently +observed,” said Mr. Batchel. “If he has annexed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +anything belonging to this magnificent female, +he is in for a bad quarter of an hour.” He +would have given a great deal, for once, to have +had a sideboard backed by a looking glass, and +lamented that the taste of the day had been too +good to tolerate such a thing. He would have +then been able to see what was going on at the +oaken box. As it was, the operations were +concealed by the figure of the woman. She was +evidently busy with her fingers; her elbows, +which shewed plainly enough, were vibrating +with activity. In a few minutes there was a +final movement of the elbows simultaneously +away from her sides, and it shewed, as plainly +as if the hands had been visible, that something +had been plucked asunder. It was just such a +movement as accompanies the removal, after a +struggle, of the close-fitting lid of a canister.</p> + +<p>“What next?” said Mr. Batchel, as he +observed the movement, and interpreted it as +the end of the operation at the box. “Is this +the end of the second Act?”</p> + +<p>He was soon to learn that it was not the +end, and that the drama of the mirror was +indeed assuming the nature of tragedy. The +woman closed the box and looked towards the +door, as she had done before; then she made as +if she would dart out of the room, and found +her movement suddenly arrested. She stopped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +dead, and, in a moment, fell loosely to the +ground. Obviously she had swooned away.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel could then see nothing, except +that the box remained in its place on the sideboard, +so that he arose and stood close up to the +mirror in order to obtain a view of the whole +stage, as he called it. It showed him, in the +wider view he now obtained, the woman lying +in a heap upon the carpet, and a grey-wigged +clergyman standing in the doorway of the +room.</p> + +<p>“The Vicar of Stoneground, without a +doubt,” said Mr. Batchel. “The household of +my reverend predecessor is not doing well by +him; to judge from the effect of his appearance +upon this female, there’s something serious +afoot. Poor old man,” he added, as the clergyman +walked into the room.</p> + +<p>This expression of pity was evoked by the +Vicar’s face. The marks of tears were upon his +cheeks, and he looked weary and ill. He stood +for a while looking down upon the woman who +had swooned away, and then stooped down, and +gently opened her hand.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel would have given a great deal +to know what the Vicar found there. He took +something from her, stood erect for a moment +with an expression of consternation upon his +face; then his chin dropped, his eyes showed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +that he had lost consciousness, and he fell to the +ground, very much as the woman had fallen.</p> + +<p>The two lay, side by side, just visible in the +space between the table and the sideboard. It +was a curious and pathetic situation. As the +clergyman was about to fall, Mr. Batchel had +turned to save him, and felt a real distress of +helplessness at being reminded again that it +was but an image that he had looked upon. The +two persons now lying upon the carpet had +been for some hundred years beyond human +aid. He could no more help them than he +could help the wounded at Waterloo. He was +tempted to relieve his distress by removing the +shade of the lamp; he had even laid his hand +upon it, but the feeling of curiosity was now +become too strong, and he knew that he must +see the matter to its end.</p> + +<p>The woman first began to revive. It was to +be expected, as she had been the first to go. Had +not Mr. Batchel seen her face in the mirror, her +first act of consciousness would have astounded +him. Now it only revolted him. Before she +had sufficiently recovered to raise herself upon +her feet, she forced open the lifeless hands beside +her and snatched away the contents of that +which was not empty; and as she did this, Mr. +Batchel saw the glitter of precious stones. The +woman was soon upon her feet and making<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +feebly for the door, at which she paused to leer +at the prostrate figure of the clergyman before +she disappeared into the hall. She appeared +no more, and Mr. Batchel felt glad to be rid +of her presence.</p> + +<p>The old Vicar was long in coming to his +senses; as he began to move, there stood in the +doorway the welcome figure of the butler. With +infinite gentleness he raised his master to his +feet, and with a strong arm supported him out +of the room, which at last, stood empty.</p> + +<p>“That, at least,” said Mr. Batchel, “is the +end of the second Act. I doubt whether I could +have borne much more. If that awful woman +comes back I shall remove the shade and have +done with it all. Otherwise, I shall hope to +learn what becomes of the box, and whether my +respectable friend who has just taken out his +master is, or is not, a rascal.” He had been +genuinely moved by what he had seen, and was +conscious of feeling something like exhaustion. +He dare not, however, sit down, lest he should +lose anything important of what remained. +Neither the door nor the lower part of the room +was visible from his chair, so that he remained +standing at the chimney-piece, and there +awaited the disappearance of the oaken box.</p> + +<p>So intently were his eyes fixed upon the +box, in which he was especially interested, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +he all but missed the next incident. A velvet +curtain which he could see through the half-closed +door had suggested nothing of interest +to him. He connected it indefinitely, as it was +excusable to do, with the furniture of the house, +and only by inadvertence looked at it a second +time. When, however, it began to travel slowly +along the hall, his curiosity was awakened in a +new direction. The butler, helping his master +out of the room ten minutes since, had left the +door half open, but as the opening was not +towards the mirror, only a strip of the hall +beyond could be seen. Mr. Batchel went to +open the door more widely, only to find, of +course, that the vividness of the images had +again betrayed him. The door of his dining-room +was closed, as he had closed it after Mr. +Mutcher, whose perturbation was now so much +easier to understand.</p> + +<p>The curtain continued to move across the +narrow opening, and explained itself in doing +so. It was a pall. The remains it so amply +covered were being carried out of the house to +their resting-place, and were followed by a long +procession of mourners in long cloaks. The +hats they held in their black-gloved hands were +heavily banded with crêpe whose ends descended +to the ground, and foremost among them was +the old clergyman, refusing the support which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> +two of the chief mourners were in the act of +proffering. Mr. Batchel, full of sympathy, +watched the whole procession pass the door, and +not until it was evident that the funeral had +left the house did he turn once more to the +box. He felt sure that the closing scene of the +tragedy was at hand, and it proved to be very +near. It was brief and uneventful. The butler +very deliberately entered the room, threw aside +the window-curtains and drew up the blinds, +and then went away at once, taking the box +with him. Mr. Batchel thereupon blew out his +lamp and went to bed, with a purpose of his +own to be fulfilled upon the next day.</p> + +<p>His purpose may be stated at once. He had +recognised the oaken box, and knew that it was +still in the house. Three large cupboards in the +old library of Vicar Whitehead were filled with +the papers of a great law-suit about tithe, +dating from the close of the 18th century. +Amongst these, in the last of the three +cupboards, was the box of which so much has +been said. It was filled, so far as Mr. Batchel +remembered, with the assessments for poor’s-rate +of a large number of landholders concerned +in the suit, and these Mr. Batchel had never +thought it worth his while to disturb. He had +gone to rest, however, on this night with the +full intention of going carefully through the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +contents of the box. He scarcely hoped, after so +long an interval, to discover any clue to the +scenes he had witnessed, but he was determined +at least to make the attempt. If he found +nothing, he intended that the box should +enshrine a faithful record of the transactions in +the dining-room.</p> + +<p>It was inevitable that a man who had so +much of the material of a story should spend +a wakeful hour in trying to piece it together. +Mr. Batchel spent considerably more than an +hour in connecting, in this way and that, the +butler and his master, the gypsy-looking +woman, the funeral, but could arrive at no +connexion that satisfied him. Once asleep, he +found the problem easier, and dreamed a +solution so obvious as to make him wonder +that the matter had ever puzzled him. When +he awoke in the morning, also, the defects of +the solution were so obvious as to make him +wonder that he had accepted it; so easily are +we satisfied when reason is not there to +criticise. But there was still the box, and +this Mr. Batchel lifted down from the third +cupboard, dusted with his towel, and when +he was dressed, carried downstairs with him. +His breakfast occupied but a small part of a +large table, and upon the vacant area he was +soon laying, as he examined them, one by one,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +the documents which the box contained. His +recollection of them proved to be right. They +were overseers’ lists of parochial assessments, +of which he soon had a score or more laid upon +the table. They were of no interest in themselves, +and did nothing to further the matter +in hand. They would appear to have been +thrust into the box by someone desiring to +find a receptacle for them.</p> + +<p>In a little while, however, the character of +the papers changed. Mr. Batchel found himself +reading something of another kind, written +upon paper of another form and colour.</p> + +<p>“Irish bacon to be had of Mr. Broadley, +hop merchant in Southwark.”</p> + +<p>“Rasin wine is kept at the Wine and +Brandy vaults in Catherine Street.”</p> + +<p>“The best hones at Mr. Forsters in Little +Britain.”</p> + +<p>There followed a recipe for a “rhumatic +mixture,” a way of making a polish for +mahogany, and other such matters. They +were evidently the papers of the butler.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel removed them one by one, as +he had removed the others; household accounts +followed, one or two private letters, and the +advertisement of a lottery, and then he reached +a closed compartment at the bottom of the +box, occupying about half its area. The lid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +of the compartment was provided with a bone +stud, and Mr. Batchel lifted it off and laid it +upon the table amongst the papers. He saw +at once what the butler had taken from his +handkerchief. There was an open pocket-knife, +with woeful-looking deposits upon its now rusty +blade. There was a delicate human finger, now +dry and yellow, and on the finger a gold ring.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel took up this latter pitiful object +and removed the ring, even now, not quite +easily. He allowed the finger to drop back into +the box, which he carried away at once into +another room. His appetite for breakfast had +left him, and he rang the bell to have the things +cleared away, whilst he set himself, with the +aid of a lens, to examine the ring.</p> + +<p>There had been three large stones, all of +which had been violently removed. The claws +of their settings were, without exception, either +bent outwards, or broken off. Within the ring +was engraved, in graceful italic characters, the +name <strong class="smcap">Amey Lee</strong>, and on the broader part, +behind the place of the stones</p> + +<div class="centered"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She doth joy double,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And halveth trouble.<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>This pathetic little love token Mr. Batchel +continued to hold in his hand as he rehearsed +the whole story to which it afforded the clue. +He knew that the ring had been set with such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +stones as there was no mistaking: he remembered +only too well how their discovery had +affected the aged vicar. But never would he +deny himself the satisfaction of hoping that +the old man had been spared the distress of +learning how the ring had been removed.</p> + +<p>The name of Amey Lee was as familiar +to Mr. Batchel as his own. Twice at least +every Sunday during the past seven years had +he read it at his feet, as he sat in the chancel, +as well as the name of Robert Lee upon an +adjacent slab, and he had wondered during the +leisurely course of many a meandering hymn +whether there was good precedent for the +spelling of the name. He made another use +now of his knowledge of the pavement. There +was a row of tiles along the head of the slabs, +and Mr. Batchel hastened to fulfil without +delay, what he conceived to be his duty. He +replaced the ring upon Amey Lee’s finger and +carried it into the church, and there, having +raised one of the tiles with a chisel, gave it +decent burial.</p> + +<p>Whether the butler ever learned that he +had been robbed in his turn, who shall say? +His immediate dismissal, after the funeral, +seemed inevitable, and his oaken box was +evidently placed by him, or by another, where +no man heeded it. It still occupies a place<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +amongst the law papers and may lie undisturbed +for another century; and when Mr. +Batchel put it there, without the promised +record of events, he returned to the dining +room, removed the Indian shade from the lamp, +and, having put a lighted match to the edge, +watched it slowly burn away.</p> + +<p>Only one thing remained. Mr. Batchel +felt that it would give him some satisfaction +to visit Mr. Mutcher. His address, as obtained +from the District Miscellany of the Order of +Gleaners, was 13, Albert Villas, Williamson +Street, not a mile away from Stoneground.</p> + +<p>Mr. Mutcher, fortunately, was at home when +Mr. Batchel called, and indeed opened the door +with a copious apology for being without his coat.</p> + +<p>“I hope,” said Mr. Batchel, “that you have +overcome your indisposition of last Tuesday +evening.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t mention it, your Reverence,” said +Mr. Mutcher, “my wife gave me such a talking +to when I came ’ome that I was quite ashamed +of myself—I say ashamed of myself.”</p> + +<p>“She observed that you were unwell,” said +Mr. Batchel, “I am sure; but she could hardly +blame you for that.”</p> + +<p>By this time the visitor had been shewn +into the parlour, and Mrs. Mutcher had appeared +to answer for herself.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I really was ashamed, Sir,” she said, “to +think of the way Mutcher was talking, and a +clergyman’s ’ouse too. Mutcher is not a man, +Sir, that takes anything, not so much as a drop; +but he is wonderful partial to cold pork, which +never does agree with him, and never did, at +night in partic’lar.”</p> + +<p>“It was the cold pork, then, that made you +unwell?” asked Mr. Batchel.</p> + +<p>“It was, your Reverence, and it was not,” +Mr. Mutcher replied, “for internal discomfort +there was none—I say none. But a little light-’eaded +it did make me, and I could ’ave +swore, your Reverence, saving your presence, +that I saw an elderly gentleman carry a +box into your room and put it down on the +sheffoneer.”</p> + +<p>“There was no one there, of course,” observed +Mr. Batchel.</p> + +<p>“No!” replied the D.P.G.M., “there was not; +and the discrepancy was too much for me. I +hope you will pardon the abruptness of my +departure.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly,” said Mr. Batchel, “discrepancies +are always embarrassing.”</p> + +<p>“And you will allow me one day to resume +our discourse upon the subject of National +Insurance,” he added, when he shewed his +visitor to the door.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I shall not have much leisure,” said Mr. +Batchel, audaciously, taking all risks, “until the +Greek Kalends.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t mind waiting till it does end,” +said Mr. Mutcher, “there is no immediate ’urry.”</p> + +<p>“It’s rather a long time,” remarked Mr. +Batchel.</p> + +<p>“Pray don’t mention it,” answered the +Deputy Provincial Grand Master, in his best +manner. “But when the time comes, perhaps +you’ll drop me a line.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p> + + +<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII.<br /> + +<span class="stl">THE PLACE OF SAFETY.</span></h2> + + +<p>“I thank my governors, teachers, spiritual +pastors, and masters,” said Wardle, as he lit a +cigar after breakfast, “that I never acquired a +taste for that sort of thing.”</p> + +<p>Wardle was a pragmatical and candid friend +who paid Mr. Batchel occasional visits at +Stoneground. He regarded antiquarian tastes +as a form of insanity, and it annoyed him to see +his host poring over registers, churchwardens’ +accounts, and documents which he contemptuously +alluded to as “dirty papers.” “If +you would throw those things away, Batchel,” +he used to say, “and read the <cite>Daily Mail</cite>, you’d +be a better man for it.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel replied only with a tolerant +smile, and, as his friend went out of doors with +his cigar, continued to read the document before +him, although it was one he had read twenty +times before. It was an inventory of church +goods, dated the 6th year of Edward <abbr title="6">VI.</abbr>—to be +exact, the 15th May, 1552. By a royal order +of that year, all Church goods, saving only +what sufficed for the barest necessities of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +Divine Service, were collected and deposited +in safe hands, there to await further instructions. +The instructions, which had not +been long delayed, had consisted in a curt order +for seizure. Everyone who cares for such +matters, knows and laments the grievous spoliation +of those times.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel’s document, however, proved +that the Churchwardens of the day were not +incapable of self-defence. They were less +dumb than sheep before the shearers. For, +on the copy of the inventory of which he +had become possessed, was written the Commissioners’ +Report that “at Stoneground did +John Spayn and John Gounthropp, Churchwardens, +declare upon their othes that two +gilded senseres with candellstickes, old paynted +clothes, and other implements, were contayned +in a chest which was robbed on St. Peter’s +Eve before the first inventorye made.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel had a shrewd suspicion, which +the reader will not improbably share, that John +Spayne and his colleague knew more about +the robbery than they chose to admit. He said +to himself again and again, that the contents of +the chest had been carefully concealed until +times should mend. But from the point of +view of the Churchwardens, times had not +mended. There was evidence that Stoneground<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +had been in no mood to tolerate censers in the +reign of Mary, and it seemed unlikely that any +later time could have re-admitted the ancient +ritual. On this account, Mr. Batchel had never +ceased to believe that the contents of the chest +lay somewhere near at hand, nor to hope that +it might be his lot to discover it.</p> + +<p>Whenever there was any work of the nature +of excavation or demolition within a hundred +yards of the Church, Mr. Batchel was sure to +be there. His presence was very distasteful in +most cases, to the workmen engaged, whom +it deprived of many intervals of leisure to which +they were accustomed when left alone. During +a long course of operations connected with +the restoration of the Church, Mr. Batchel’s +vigilance had been of great advantage to the +work, both in raising the standard of industry +and in securing attention to details which the +builders were quite prepared to overlook. It +had, however, brought him no nearer to the +censers and other contents of the chest, and +when the work was completed, his hopes of +discovery had become pitifully slender.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wardle, notwithstanding his general +contempt for antiquarian pursuits, was polite +enough to give Mr. Batchel’s hobbies an +occasional place in their conversation, and +in this way was informed of the “stolen” goods.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +The information, however, gave him no more +than a very languid interest.</p> + +<p>“Why can’t you let the things alone?” he +said, “what’s the use of them?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel felt it all but impossible to +answer a man who could say this; yet he made +the attempt.</p> + +<p>“The historic interest,” he said seriously, +“of censers that were used down to the days +of Edward <abbr title="6">VI.</abbr> is in itself sufficient to justify——”</p> + +<p>“Etcetera,” said his friend, interrupting the +sentence which even Mr. Batchel was not sure +of finishing to his satisfaction, “but it takes +so little to justify you antiquarians, with your +axes and hammers. What can you do with it +when you get it, if you ever do get it?”</p> + +<p>“There are two censers,” Mr. Batchel +mildly observed in correction, “and other +things.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Wardle; “tell me about +one of them, and leave me to do the multiplication.”</p> + +<p>With this permission, Mr. Batchel entered +upon a general description of such ancient +thuribles as he knew of, and Wardle heard him +with growing impatience.</p> + +<p>“It seems to me,” he burst in at length, +“that what you are making all this pother +about is a sort of silver cruet-stand, which was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> +thin metal to begin with, and cleaned down +to the thickness of egg-shell before the Commissioners +heard of it. At this moment, if it +exists, it is a handful of black scrap. If +you found it, I wouldn’t give a shilling for it; +and if I would, it isn’t yours to sell. Why can’t +you let the things alone?”</p> + +<p>“But the interest of it,” said Mr. Batchel, +“is what attracts me.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a pity you can’t take an interest in +something less uninteresting,” said Wardle, +petulantly; “but let me tell you what I think +about your censers and all the rest of it. Your +Churchwardens lied about them, but that’s all +right; I’d have done the same myself. If their +things couldn’t be used, they were not going to +have them abused, so they put them safely out +of the way, your’s and everybody’s else.”</p> + +<p>“I was not proposing to abuse them,” interrupted +Mr. Batchel.</p> + +<p>“Were you proposing to use them?” +rejoined Wardle. “It’s one thing or the other, +to my mind. There are people who dig out +Bishops and steal their rings to put in glass +cases, but I don’t know how they square the +police; and it’s the same sort of thing you seem +to be up to. Let the things alone. You’re a +Prayer Book man, and just the sort the Churchwardens +couldn’t stomach. You talk fast<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +enough at the Dissenters because they want to +collar your property now. Why can’t you do as +you would be done by?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel thought it useless to say any +more to a man in so unsympathetic an attitude, +or to enter upon any defence of the antiquarian +researches to which his friend had so crudely +referred. He did not much like, however, to be +anticipated in a theory of the “robbery” which +he felt to be reasonable and probable. He had +hoped to propound the same theory himself, and +to receive a suitable compliment upon his +penetration. He began, therefore, somewhat +irritably, to make the most of conjectures +which, at various times, had occurred to him. +“Men of that sort,” he said, “would have disposed +of the censers to some one who could go on +using them, and in that case they are not here +at all.”</p> + +<p>“Men of that sort,” answered Wardle, “are +as careful of their skins as men of any other +sort, and besides that, your Stoneground men +have a very good notion of sticking to what they +have got. The things are here, I daresay, if +they are anywhere; but they are not yours, and +you have no business to meddle with them. If +you would spend your time in something else +than poking about after other people’s things, +you’d get better value for it.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p> + +<p>This brief conversation, in which Mr. +Batchel had scarcely been allowed the part to +which he felt entitled, was in one respect +satisfactory. It supported his belief that the +censers lay somewhere within reach. In other +respects, however, the attitude of Wardle was +intolerable. He was evidently out of all +sympathy with the quest upon which Mr. +Batchel was set, and, for their different reasons, +each was glad to drop the subject.</p> + +<p>During the next two or three days, the +matter of the censers was not referred to, if only +for lack of opportunity. Wardle was a kind of +visitor for whom there was always a welcome at +Stoneground, and the welcome was in his case +no less cordial on account of his brutal frankness +of expression, which, on the whole, his host +enjoyed. His pungent criticisms of other men +were vastly entertaining to Mr. Batchel, who +was not so unreasonable as to feel aggrieved at +an occasional attack upon himself.</p> + +<p>A guest of this unceremonious sort makes +but small demands upon his host. Mr. Wardle +used to occupy himself contentedly and unobtrusively +in the house or in the garden whilst his +host followed his usual avocations. The two men +met at meals, and liked each other none the less +because they were apart at most other times. A +great part of Mr. Wardle’s day was passed in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +company of the gardener, to whose talk his own +master was but an indifferent listener. The +visitor and the gardener were both lovers of the +soil, and taught each other a great deal as they +worked side by side. Mr. Wardle found that +sort of exercise wholesome, and, as the gardener +expressed it, “was not frit to take his coat off.”</p> + +<p>The gardening operations at this time of +year were such as Mr. Wardle liked. The +over-crowded shrubberies were being thinned, +and a score or so of young shrubs had to be +moved into better quarters. Upon a certain +morning, when Mr. Batchel was occupied in his +study, some aucubas were being transplanted +into a strip of ground in front of the house, and +Wardle had undertaken the task of digging +holes to receive them. It was this task that he +suddenly interrupted in order to burst in upon +his host in what seemed to the latter a repulsive +state of dirt and perspiration.</p> + +<p>“Talk of discoveries,” he cried, “come and +see what I’ve found.”</p> + +<p>“Not the censers, I suppose,” said Mr. +Batchel.</p> + +<p>“Censers be hanged,” said Wardle, “come +and look.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel laid down his pen, with a sigh, +and followed Wardle to the front of the house. +His guest had made three large holes, each<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +about two feet square, and drawing Mr. Batchel +to the nearest of them, said “Look there.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel looked. He saw nothing, and +said so.</p> + +<p>“Nothing?” exclaimed Wardle with impatience. +“You see the bottom of the hole, I +suppose?”</p> + +<p>This Mr. Batchel admitted.</p> + +<p>“Then,” said Wardle, “kindly look and see +whether you cannot see something else.”</p> + +<p>“There is apparently a cylindrical object +lying across the angle of your excavation,” said +Mr. Batchel.</p> + +<p>“That,” replied his guest, “is what you are +pleased to call nothing. Let me inform you +that the cylindrical object is a piece of thick +lead pipe, and that the pipe runs along the +whole front of your house.”</p> + +<p>“Gas-pipe, no doubt,” said Mr. Batchel.</p> + +<p>“Is there any gas within a mile of this +place?” asked Wardle.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel admitted that there was not, +and felt that he had made a needlessly foolish +suggestion. He felt safer in the amended +suggestion that the object was a water-pipe.</p> + +<p>An ironical cross-examination by Mr. +Wardle disposed of the amended suggestion as +completely as he had disposed of the other, and +his host began to grow restive. “If this sort of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +discovery pleases you,” he said testily, “I will +not grudge you your pleasure, but, to quote +your own words, why can’t you let it alone?”</p> + +<p>“Have you any idea,” said Mr. Wardle, “of +the value of this length of piping, at the present +price of lead?”</p> + +<p>Even Mr. Wardle could hardly have suspected +his host of knowing anything so preposterous +as the price of lead, but he felt himself +ill-used when Mr. Batchel disclaimed any +interest in the matter, and returned to his +study.</p> + +<p>Wardle had a commercial mind, which +elsewhere was the means of securing him a +very satisfactory income, and on this account, +his host, as he resumed his work indoors, excused +what he regarded as a needless interruption.</p> + +<p>He little suspected that his friend’s commercial +mind was to do him the great service of +putting him in possession of the censers, and +then to do him a disservice even greater.</p> + +<p>Had any such connexion so much as +suggested itself, Mr. Batchel would more +willingly have answered to the summons which +came an hour later, when the gardener appeared +at the window of the study, evidently bursting +with information. When he had succeeded in +attracting his master’s attention, and drawn +him away from his desk, it was to say that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +whole length of pipe had been uncovered, and +found to issue from a well on the south side +of the house.</p> + +<p>The discovery was at least unexpected, and +Mr. Batchel went out, even if somewhat grudgingly, +to look at the place. He came upon the +well, close by the window of his dining-room. +It had been covered by a stone slab, now partially +removed. The narrow trench which Wardle +and the gardener had made in order to expose +the pipe, extended eastwards to the corner of +the house, and thence along the whole length of +the front, probably to serve a pump on the +north side, where lay the yard and stables. The +pipe itself, Mr. Wardle’s prize, had been withdrawn, +and there remained only a rusted chain +which passed from some anchorage beneath the +soil, over the lip of the well. Mr. Batchel +inferred that it had carried, and perhaps carried +still, the bucket of former times, and stooped +down to see whether he could draw it up. He +heard, far below, the light splash of the soil +disturbed by his hands; but before he could +grasp the chain, he felt himself seized by the +waist and held back.</p> + +<p>The exaggerated attentions of his gardener +had often annoyed Mr. Batchel. He was not +allowed even to climb a short ladder without +having to submit to absurd precautions for his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> +safety, and he would have been much better +pleased to have more respect paid to his intelligence, +and less to his person. In the present +instance, the precaution seemed so unnecessary +that he turned about angrily to protest, both +against the interference with his movements, +and the unseemly force used.</p> + +<p>It was at this point that he made a disquieting +discovery. He was standing quite alone. +The gardener and Mr. Wardle were both on +the north side of the house, dealing with the +only thing they cared about—the lead pipe. +Mr. Batchel made no further attempt to move +the chain; he was, in fact, in some bodily +fear, and he returned to his study by the +way he had come, in a disordered condition of +mind.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later, when the gong sounded +for luncheon, he was slowly making his +way into the dining-room, when he encountered +his guest running downstairs from his room, +in great spirits. “A trifle over two hundredweight!” +he exclaimed, as he reached the +foot of the staircase, and seemed disappointed +that Mr. Batchel did not immediately shake +hands with him upon so fine a result of the +morning’s work. Mr. Batchel, needless to say, +was occupied with other recollections.</p> + +<p>“I suppose it is unnecessary to ask,” said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +he to his guest as he proceeded to carve a +chicken, “whether you believe in ghosts?”</p> + +<p>“I do not,” said Wardle promptly, “why +should I?”</p> + +<p>“Why not?” asked Mr. Batchel.</p> + +<p>“Because I’ve had the advantage of a +commercial education,” was the reply, “instead +of learning dead languages and soaking my mind +in heathen fables.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel winced at this disrespectful +allusion to the University education of which +he was justly proud. He wanted an opinion, +however, and the conversation had to go on.</p> + +<p>“Your commercial education,” he continued, +“allows you, I daresay, to know what is meant +by a hypothetical case.”</p> + +<p>“Make it one,” said Wardle.</p> + +<p>“Assuming a ghost, then, would it be +capable of exerting force upon a material body?”</p> + +<p>“Whose?” asked Wardle.</p> + +<p>“If you insist upon making it a personal +matter,” replied Mr. Batchel, “let us say mine.”</p> + +<p>“Let me have the particulars.”</p> + +<p>In reply to this, Mr. Batchel related his +experience at the well.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wardle merely said “Pass the salt, I +need it.”</p> + +<p>Undeterred by the scepticism of his friend, +Mr. Batchel pressed the point, and upon that,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +Mr. Wardle closed the conversation by observing +that since, by hypothesis, ghosts could clank +chains, and ring bells, he was bound to suppose +them capable of doing any silly thing they chose. +“A month in the City, Batchel,” he gravely +added, “would do you a world of good.”</p> + +<p>As soon as the meal was over, Mr. Wardle +went back to his gardening, whilst his host +betook himself to occupations more suited to +his tranquil habits. The two did not meet again +until dinner; and during that meal, and after it, +the conversation turned wholly upon politics, +Mr. Wardle being congenially occupied until +bed-time in demonstrating that the politics of +his host had been obsolete for three-quarters of a +century. His outdoor exercise, followed by an +excellent dinner, had disposed him to retire +early; he rose from his chair soon after ten. +“There is one thing,” he pleasantly remarked to +his host, “that I am bound to say in favour of +a University education; it has given you a fine +taste in victuals.” With this compliment, he +said “good-night,” and went up to bed.</p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel himself, as the reader knows, +kept later hours. There were few nights upon +which he omitted to take his walk round the +garden when the world had grown quiet, even +in unfavourable weather. It was far from +favourable upon the present occasion; there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> +was but little moon, and a light rain was falling. +He determined, however, to take at least one +turn round, and calling his terrier Punch from +the kitchen, where he lay in his basket, Mr. +Batchel went out, with the dog at his heel. +He carried, as his custom was, a little electric +lamp, by whose aid he liked to peep into birds’ +nests, and make raids upon slugs and other pests.</p> + +<p>They had hardly set out upon their walk +when Punch began to show signs of uneasiness. +Instead of running to and fro, with his nose to +the ground, as he ordinarily did, the terrier +remained whining in the rear. Shortly, they +came upon a hedgehog lying coiled up in the +path; it was a find which the dog was wont to +regard as a rare piece of luck, and to assail with +delirious enjoyment. Now, for some reason, +Punch refused to notice it, and, when it was +illuminated for his especial benefit, turned his +back upon it and looked up, in a dejected +attitude, at his master. The behaviour of the +dog was altogether unnatural, and Mr. Batchel +occupied himself, as they passed on, in trying to +account for it, with the animal still whining at +his heel. They soon reached the head of the +little path which descended to the Lode, and +there Mr. Batchel found a much harder problem +awaiting him, for at the other end of the path +he distinctly saw the outline of a boat.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p> + +<p>There had been no boat on the Lode for +twenty years. Just so long ago the drainage +of the district had required that the main +sewer should cross the stream at a point some +hundred yards below the Vicar’s boundary fence. +There, ever since, a great pipe three feet in +diameter had obstructed the passage. It lay +just at the level of the water, and effectually +closed it to all traffic. Mr. Batchel knew that +no boat could pass the place, and that none +survived in the parts above it. Yet here was a +boat drawn up at the edge of his garden. He +looked at it intently for a minute or so, and had +no difficulty in making out the form of such +a boat as was in common use all over the Fen +country—a wide flat-bottomed boat, lying low +in the water. The “sprit” used for punting it +along lay projecting over the stern. There was +no accounting for such a boat being there: Mr. +Batchel did not understand how it possibly +could be there, and for a while was disposed to +doubt whether it actually was. The great +drain-pipe was so perfect a defence against +intrusion of the kind that no boat had ever +passed it. The Lode, when its water was low +enough to let a boat go under the pipe, was not +deep enough to float it, or wide enough to +contain it. Upon this occasion the water was +high, and the pipe half submerged, forming an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> +insuperable obstacle. Yet there lay, unmistakeably, +a boat, within ten yards of the place +where Mr. Batchel stood trying to account +for it.</p> + +<p>These ten yards, unfortunately, were impassable. +The slope down to the water’s edge +had to be warily trodden even in dry weather. +It was steep and treacherous. After rain it +afforded no foothold whatever, and to attempt +a descent in the darkness would have been to +court disaster. After examining the boat again, +therefore, by the light of his little lamp, Mr. +Batchel proceeded upon his walk, leaving the +matter to be investigated by daylight.</p> + +<p>The events of this memorable night, however, +were but beginning. As he turned from +the boat his eye was caught by a white streak +upon the ground before him, which extended +itself into the darkness and disappeared. It +was Punch, in veritable panic, making for home, +across flower-beds and other places he well +knew to be out of bounds. The whistle he had +been trained to obey had no effect upon his +flight; he made a lightning dash for the house. +Mr. Batchel could not help regretting that +Wardle was not there to see. His friend held +the coursing powers of Punch in great contempt, +and was wont to criticise the dog in sporting +jargon, whose terms lay beyond the limits of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> +Mr. Batchel’s vocabulary, but whose general +drift was as obvious as it was irritating. The +present performance, nevertheless, was so exceptional +that it soon began to connect itself +in Mr. Batchel’s mind with the unnatural +conduct to which we have already alluded. It +was somehow proving to be an uncomfortable +night, and as Mr. Batchel felt the rain increasing +to a steady drizzle he decided to abandon +his walk and to return to the house by the way +he had come.</p> + +<p>He had already passed some little distance +beyond the little path which descended to the +Lode. The main path by which he had come +was of course behind him, until he turned +about to retrace his steps.</p> + +<p>It was at the moment of turning that he had +ocular demonstration of the fact that the boat +had brought passengers. Not twenty yards in +front of him, making their way to the water, +were two men carrying some kind of burden. +They had reached an open space in the path, +and their forms were quite distinct: they were +unusually tall men; one of them was gigantic. +Mr. Batchel had little doubt of their being +garden thieves. Burglars, if there had been +anything in the house to attract them, +could have found much easier ways of removing +it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p> + +<p>No man, even if deficient in physical +courage, can see his property carried away +before his eyes and make no effort to detain +it. Mr. Batchel was annoyed at the desertion +of his terrier, who might at least have +embarrassed the thieves’ retreat; meanwhile +he called loudly upon the men to stand, and +turned upon them the feeble light of his lamp. +In so doing he threw a new light not only +upon the trespassers, but upon the whole +transaction. No response was made to his +challenge, but the men turned away their faces +as if to avoid recognition, and Mr. Batchel saw +that the nearest of them, a burly, square-headed +man in a cassock, was wearing the +tonsure. He described it as looking, in the dim, +steely light of the lamp, like a crown-piece on +a door-mat. Both the men, when they found +themselves intercepted, hastened to deposit +their burden upon the ground, and made for +the boat. The burden fell upon the ground +with a thud, but the bearers made no sound. +They skimmed down to the Lode without seeming +to tread, entered the boat in perfect silence, +and shoved it off without sound or splash. It +has already been explained that Mr. Batchel +was unable to descend to the water’s edge. He +ran, however, to a point of the garden which +the boat must inevitably pass, and reached it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +just in time. The boat was moving swiftly +away, and still in perfect silence. The beams +of the pocket-lamp just sufficed to reach it, and +afforded a parting glimpse of the tonsured +giant as he gave a long shove with the sprit, +and carried the boat out of sight. It shot +towards the drain-pipe, then not forty yards +ahead, but the men were travelling as men +who knew their way to be clear.</p> + +<p>It was by this time evident, of course, that +these were no garden-thieves. The aspect of +the men, and the manner of their disappearance, +had given a new complexion to the adventure. +Mr. Batchel’s heart was in his mouth, but his +mind was back in the 16th century; and having +stood still for some minutes in order to regain +his composure, he returned to the path, with a +view of finding out what the men had left +behind.</p> + +<p>The burden lay in the middle of the path, +and the lamp was once more brought into +requisition. It revealed a wooden box, covered +in most parts with moss, and all glistening with +moisture. The wood was so far decayed that +Mr. Batchel had hopes of forcing open the box +with his hands; so wet and slimy was it, +however, that he could obtain no hold, and he +hastened to the house to procure some kind of +tool. Near to the cupboard in which such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> +things were kept was the sleeping-basket of the +dog, who was closely curled inside it, and +shivering violently. His master made an +attempt to take him back into the garden; it +would be useful, he thought, to have warning in +case the boat should return. The prospect of +being surprised by these large, noiseless men +was not one to be regarded with comfort. +Punch, however, who was usually so eager for +an excursion, was now in such distress at being +summoned that his master felt it cruel to +persist. Having found a chisel, therefore, he +returned to the garden alone. The box lay +undisturbed where he had left it, and in two +minutes was standing open.</p> + +<p>The reader will hardly need to be told what +it contained. At the bottom lay some heavy +articles which Mr. Batchel did not disturb. He +saw the bases of two candlesticks. He had tried +to lift the box, as it lay, by means of a chain +passing through two handles in the sides, but +had found it too heavy. It was by this chain +that the men had been carrying it. The heavier +articles, therefore, he determined to leave where +they were until morning. His interest in them +was small compared with that which the other +contents of the box had excited, for on the top +of these articles was folded “a paynted cloth,” +and upon this lay the two gilded censers.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was the discovery Mr. Batchel had +dreamed of for years. His excitement hardly +allowed him to think of the strange manner in +which it had been made. He glanced nervously +around him to see whether there might be any +sign of the occupants of the boat, and, seeing +nothing, he placed his broad-brimmed hat upon +the ground, carefully laid in it the two censers, +closed the box again, and carried his treasure +delicately into the house. The occurrences of +the last hour have not occupied long in the +telling; they occupied much longer in the +happening. It was now past midnight, and Mr. +Batchel, after making fast the house, went at +once upstairs, carrying with him the hat and its +precious contents, just as he had brought it +from the garden. The censers were not exactly +“black-scrap,” as Mr. Wardle had anticipated, or +pretended to anticipate, but they were much +discoloured, and very fragile. He spread a clean +handkerchief upon the chest of drawers in his +bedroom, and, removing the vessels with the +utmost care, laid them upon it. Then after +spending some minutes in admiration of their +singularly beautiful form and workmanship, he +could not deny himself the pleasure of calling +Wardle to look.</p> + +<p>The guest-room was close at hand. Mr. +Wardle, having been already disturbed by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> +locking up of the house, was fully awakened by +the entrance of his host into the room with a +candle in his hand. The look of excitement on +Mr. Batchel’s face could not escape the observation +even of a man still yawning, and Mr. +Wardle at once exclaimed “What’s up?”</p> + +<p>“I have got them,” said Mr. Batchel, in a +hushed voice.</p> + +<p>His guest, who had forgotten all about the +censers, began by interpreting “them” to mean +a nervous disorder that is plural by nature, and +so was full of sympathy and counsel. When, +however, his host had made him understand the +facts, he became merely impatient.</p> + +<p>“Won’t you come and look?” said Mr. +Batchel.</p> + +<p>“Not I,” said Wardle, “I shall do where I +am.”</p> + +<p>“They are in excellent preservation,” said +Mr. Batchel.</p> + +<p>“Then they will keep till morning,” was the +answer.</p> + +<p>“But just come and tell me what you think +of them,” said Mr. Batchel, making a last +attempt.</p> + +<p>“I could tell you what I think of them,” +answered Wardle, “without leaving my bed, +which I have no intention of leaving; but I have +to leave Stoneground to-morrow, and I don’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> +want to hurt your feelings, so ‘Good-night.’” +Upon this, he turned over in bed and gave a +loud snore, which Mr. Batchel accepted as a +manifesto. He has never ceased to regret that +he did not compel his guest to see the censers, +but he did not then foresee the sore need he +would have of a witness. He answered his +friend’s good-night, and returned to his own +room. Once more he admired the two censers +as their graceful outlines stood out, sharp and +clear, against the white handkerchief, and having +done this, he was soon in bed and asleep. +To the men in the boat he had not given +another thought, since he became possessed of +the box they had left behind; of the other +contents of the box he had thought as little, +since he had secured the chief treasures of +which he had been so long in search.</p> + +<p>Now, Mr. Wardle, when he arose in the +morning, felt somewhat ashamed of his surliness +of the preceding night. His repudiation of all +interest in the censers had not been quite +sincere, for beneath his affectation of unconcern +there lay a genuine curiosity about his friend’s +discovery. Before he had finished dressing, +therefore, he crossed over into Mr. Batchel’s +room. The censers, to his surprise, were nowhere +to be seen. His host, less to his surprise, +was still fast asleep. Mr. Wardle opened the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> +drawers, one by one, in search of the censers, +but the drawers proved to be all quite full +of clothing. He looked with no more success +into every other place where they might have +been bestowed. His mind was always ready +with a grotesque idea, “Blest if he hasn’t +taken them to bed with him,” he said aloud, +and at the sound of his voice Mr. Batchel +awoke.</p> + +<p>His eyes, as soon as they were open, turned +to the chest of drawers; and what he saw there, +or rather, what he failed to see, caused him, +without more ado, to leap out of bed.</p> + +<p>“What have you done with them?” he cried +out.</p> + +<p>The serious alarm of Mr. Batchel was so +evident as to check the facetious reply which +Wardle was about to frame. He contented +himself with saying that he had not touched or +seen the things.</p> + +<p>“Where are they?” again cried Mr. Batchel, +ignoring the disclaimer. “You ought not to +have touched them, they will not bear handling. +Where are they?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wardle turned away in disgust. “I +expect,” he said, “they’re where they’ve been +this three hundred and fifty years.” Upon that +he returned to his room, and went on with his +dressing.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Batchel immediately followed him, and +looked eagerly round the room. He proceeded +to open drawers, and to search, in a frenzied +manner, in every possible, and in many an +impossible, place of concealment. His distress +was so patent that his friend soon ceased to +trifle with it. By a few minutes serious conversation +he made it clear that there had been +no practical joking, and Mr. Batchel returned to +his room in tears. “Look here, Batchel,” said +Mr. Wardle as he left, “you want a holiday.”</p> + +<p>Within a few minutes Mr. Batchel returned +fully dressed. “You seem to think, Wardle,” he +said, “that I have been dreaming about these +censers. Come out into the garden and let me +shew you the box and the other things.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wardle was quite willing to assent to +anything, if only out of pity, and the two went +together into the garden, Mr. Batchel leading +the way. Going at a great pace, they soon came +to the path upon which the box had lain. The +marks it had left upon the soft gravel were +plain enough, and Mr. Batchel eagerly appealed +to his friend to notice them. Of the box and +its contents, however, there was no other trace. +The whole adventure was described—the strange +behaviour and subsequent flight of the terrier—the +men with averted faces—the boat—and +the opening of the box. Mr. Batchel tried to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> +shake the obvious incredulity of his guest by +pointing to the chisel which still lay beside +the path. Mr. Wardle only replied, “You want +a holiday, Batchel! Let’s go in to breakfast.”</p> + +<p>Breakfast on that morning was not the +cheerful meal it was wont to be. During the few +minutes of waiting for it Mr. Batchel stood +at the window of his dining-room looking out +upon the site of the well which the gardener +had now covered in. He rehearsed the whole +of the adventure from first to last, wondering +whether the new place of safety would ever +be discovered. But he said no more to his +guest; his heart was too full.</p> + +<p>The two breakfasted almost in silence, +and the meal was scarcely over when the cab +arrived to take Mr. Wardle to his train. Mr. +Batchel bade him farewell, and saw him depart +with genuine regret; he was returning sadly +into the house when he heard his name called. +It was Wardle, leaning out of the window of his +cab as it drove away, and waving his hand, +“Batchel,” he cried again, “mind you take a +holiday.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a><br /><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p> + + +<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX.<br /> + +<span class="stl">THE KIRK SPOOK.</span></h2> + + +<p>Before many years have passed it will be +hard to find a person who has ever seen a Parish +Clerk. The Parish Clerk is all but extinct. Our +grandfathers knew him well—an oldish, clean-shaven +man, who looked as if he had never been +young, who dressed in rusty black, bestowed +upon him, as often as not, by the Rector, and +who usually wore a white tie on Sundays, out of +respect for the seriousness of his office. He it +was who laid out the Rector’s robes, and helped +him to put them on; who found the places in +the large Bible and Prayer Book, and indicated +them by means of decorous silken bookmarkers; +who lighted and snuffed the candles +in the pulpit and desk, and attended to the little +stove in the squire’s pew; who ran busily about, +in short, during the quarter-hour which preceded +Divine Service, doing a hundred little things, +with all the activity, and much of the appearance, +of a beetle.</p> + +<p>Just such a one was Caleb Dean, who was +Clerk of Stoneground in the days of William IV. +Small in stature, he possessed a voice which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> +Nature seemed to have meant for a giant, and in +the discharge of his duties he had a dignity of +manner disproportionate even to his voice. No +one was afraid to sing when he led the Psalm, so +certain was it that no other voice could be +noticed, and the gracious condescension with +which he received his meagre fees would have been +ample acknowledgment of double their amount.</p> + +<p>Man, however, cannot live by dignity alone, +and Caleb was glad enough to be sexton as well +as clerk, and to undertake any other duties by +which he might add to his modest income. He +kept the Churchyard tidy, trimmed the lamps, +chimed the bells, taught the choir their simple +tunes, turned the barrel of the organ, and +managed the stoves.</p> + +<p>It was this last duty in particular, which +took him into Church “last thing,” as he used +to call it, on Saturday night. There were people +in those days, and may be some in these, whom +nothing would induce to enter a Church at midnight; +Caleb, however, was so much at home +there that all hours were alike to him. He was +never an early man on Saturdays. His wife, +who insisted upon sitting up for him, would +often knit her way into Sunday before he +appeared, and even then would find it hard to +get him to bed. Caleb, in fact, when off duty, +was a genial little fellow; he had many friends,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> +and on Saturday evenings he knew where to +find them.</p> + +<p>It was not, therefore, until the evening was +spent that he went to make up his fires; and his +voice, which served for other singing than that +of Psalms, could usually be heard, within a little +of midnight, beguiling the way to Church with +snatches of convivial songs. Many a belated +traveller, homeward bound, would envy him his +spirits, but no one envied him his duties. Even +such as walked with him to the neighbourhood +of the Churchyard would bid him “Good night” +whilst still a long way from the gate. They +would see him disappear into the gloom +amongst the graves, and shudder as they +turned homewards.</p> + +<p>Caleb, meanwhile, was perfectly content. +He knew every stone in the path; long practice +enabled him, even on the darkest night, to +thrust his huge key into the lock at the first +attempt, and on the night we are about to +describe—it had come to Mr. Batchel from an +old man who heard it from Caleb’s lips—he +did it with a feeling of unusual cheerfulness +and contentment.</p> + +<p>Caleb always locked himself in. A prank +had once been played upon him, which had +greatly wounded his dignity; and though it had +been no midnight prank, he had taken care, ever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> +since, to have the Church to himself. He locked +the door, therefore, as usual, on the night we +speak of, and made his way to the stove. He +used no candle. He opened the little iron door +of the stove, and obtained sufficient light to +shew him the fuel he had laid in readiness; then, +when he had made up his fire, he closed this +door again, and left the Church in darkness. He +never could say what induced him upon this +occasion to remain there after his task was +done. He knew that his wife was sitting up, as +usual, and that, as usual, he would have to hear +what she had to say. Yet, instead of making +his way home, he sat down in the corner of the +nearest seat. He supposed that he must have +felt tired, but had no distinct recollection of it.</p> + +<p>The Church was not absolutely dark. Caleb +remembered that he could make out the outlines +of the windows, and that through the window +nearest to him he saw a few stars. After his +eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom he +could see the lines of the seats taking shape in +the darkness, and he had not long sat there +before he could dimly see everything there was. +At last he began to distinguish where books lay +upon the shelf in front of him. And then he +closed his eyes. He does not admit having +fallen asleep, even for a moment. But the seat +was restful, the neighbouring stove was growing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> +warm, he had been through a long and joyous +evening, and it was natural that he should at +least close his eyes.</p> + +<p>He insisted that it was only for a moment. +Something, he could not say what, caused him +to open his eyes again immediately. The +closing of them seemed to have improved what +may be called his dark sight. He saw everything +in the Church quite distinctly, in a sort +of grey light. The pulpit stood out, large and +bulky, in front. Beyond that, he passed his eyes +along the four windows on the north side of the +Church. He looked again at the stars, still +visible through the nearest window on his left +hand as he was sitting. From that, his eyes fell +to the further end of the seat in front of him, +where he could even see a faint gleam of +polished wood. He traced this gleam to the +middle of the seat, until it disappeared in black +shadow, and upon that his eye passed on to the +seat he was in, and there he saw a man sitting +beside him.</p> + +<p>Caleb described the man very clearly. He +was, he said, a pale, old-fashioned looking man, +with something very churchy about him. +Reasoning also with great clearness, he said +that the stranger had not come into the Church +either with him or after him, and that therefore +he must have been there before him. And in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +that case, seeing that the Church had been +locked since two in the afternoon, the +stranger must have been there for a considerable +time.</p> + +<p>Caleb was puzzled; turning therefore, to +the stranger, he asked, “How long have you +been here?”</p> + +<p>The stranger answered at once, “Six hundred +years.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! come!” said Caleb.</p> + +<p>“Come where?” said the stranger.</p> + +<p>“Well, if you come to that, come out,” said +Caleb.</p> + +<p>“I wish I could,” said the stranger, and +heaved a great sigh.</p> + +<p>“What’s to prevent you?” said Caleb. +“There’s the door, and here’s the key.”</p> + +<p>“That’s it,” said the other.</p> + +<p>“Of course it is,” said Caleb. “Come +along.”</p> + +<p>With that he proceeded to take the +stranger by the sleeve, and then it was that +he says you might have knocked him down +with a feather. His hand went right into the +place where the sleeve seemed to be, and Caleb +distinctly saw two of the stranger’s buttons +on the top of his own knuckles.</p> + +<p>He hastily withdrew his hand, which began +to feel icy cold, and sat still, not knowing what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +to say next. He found that the stranger was +gently chuckling with laughter, and this +annoyed him.</p> + +<p>“What are you laughing at?” he enquired +peevishly.</p> + +<p>“It’s not funny enough for two,” answered +the other.</p> + +<p>“Who are you, anyhow?” said Caleb.</p> + +<p>“I am the kirk spook,” was the reply.</p> + +<p>Now Caleb had not the least notion what +a “kirk spook” was. He was not willing to +admit his ignorance, but his curiosity was too +much for his pride, and he asked for information.</p> + +<p>“Every Church has a spook,” said the +stranger, “and I am the spook of this one.”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” said Caleb, “I’ve been about this +Church a many years, but I’ve never seen you +before.”</p> + +<p>“That,” said the spook, “is because you’ve +always been moving about. I’m very flimsy—very +flimsy indeed—and I can only keep myself +together when everything is quite still.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Caleb, “you’ve got your +chance now. What are you going to do with +it?”</p> + +<p>“I want to go out,” said the spook, “I’m +tired of this Church, and I’ve been alone for six +hundred years. It’s a long time.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p> + +<p>“It does seem rather a long time,” said +Caleb, “but why don’t you go if you want to? +There’s three doors.”</p> + +<p>“That’s just it,” said the spook, “They keep +me in.”</p> + +<p>“What?” said Caleb, “when they’re open.”</p> + +<p>“Open or shut,” said the spook, “it’s all +one.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then,” said Caleb, “what about the +windows?”</p> + +<p>“Every bit as bad,” said the spook, “They’re +all pointed.”</p> + +<p>Caleb felt out of his depth. Open doors and +windows that kept a person in—if it was a +person—seemed to want a little understanding. +And the flimsier the person, too, the easier it +ought to be for him to go where he wanted. +Also, what could it matter whether they were +pointed or not?</p> + +<p>The latter question was the one which Caleb +asked first.</p> + +<p>“Six hundred years ago,” said the spook, +“all arches were made round, and when these +pointed things came in I cursed them. I hate +new-fangled things.”</p> + +<p>“That wouldn’t hurt them much,” said +Caleb.</p> + +<p>“I said I would never go under one of +them,” said the spook.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p> + +<p>“That would matter more to you than to +them,” said Caleb.</p> + +<p>“It does,” said the spook, with another great +sigh.</p> + +<p>“But you could easily change your mind,” +said Caleb.</p> + +<p>“I was tied to it,” said the spook, “I was +told that I never more should go under one +of them, whether I would or not.”</p> + +<p>“Some people will tell you anything,” +answered Caleb.</p> + +<p>“It was a Bishop,” explained the spook.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” said Caleb, “that’s different, of +course.”</p> + +<p>The spook told Caleb how often he had tried +to go under the pointed arches, sometimes of +the doors, sometimes of the windows, and how +a stream of wind always struck him from the +point of the arch, and drifted him back into +the Church. He had long given up trying.</p> + +<p>“You should have been outside,” said Caleb, +“before they built the last door.”</p> + +<p>“It was my Church,” said the spook, “and +I was too proud to leave.”</p> + +<p>Caleb began to sympathise with the spook. +He had a pride in the Church himself, and disliked +even to hear another person say Amen +before him. He also began to be a little jealous +of this stranger who had been six hundred years<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> +in possession of the Church in which Caleb had +believed himself, under the Vicar, to be master. +And he began to plot.</p> + +<p>“Why do you want to get out?” he +asked.</p> + +<p>“I’m no use here,” was the reply, “I don’t +get enough to do to keep myself warm. And I +know there are scores of Churches now without +any kirk-spooks at all. I can hear their cheap +little bells dinging every Sunday.”</p> + +<p>“There’s very few bells hereabouts,” said +Caleb.</p> + +<p>“There’s no hereabouts for spooks,” said the +other. “We can hear any distance you like.”</p> + +<p>“But what good are you at all?” said Caleb.</p> + +<p>“Good!” said the spook. “Don’t we secure +proper respect for Churches, especially after +dark? A Church would be like any other place +if it wasn’t for us. You must know that.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then,” said Caleb, “you’re no good +here. This Church is all right. What will you +give me to let you out?”</p> + +<p>“Can you do it?” asked the spook.</p> + +<p>“What will you give me?” said Caleb.</p> + +<p>“I’ll say a good word for you amongst the +spooks,” said the other.</p> + +<p>“What good will that do me?” said Caleb.</p> + +<p>“A good word never did anybody any harm +yet,” answered the spook.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Very well then, come along,” said Caleb.</p> + +<p>“Gently then,” said the spook; “don’t make +a draught.”</p> + +<p>“Not yet,” said Caleb, and he drew the spook +very carefully (as one takes a vessel quite full of +water) from the seat.</p> + +<p>“I can’t go under pointed arches,” cried the +spook, as Caleb moved off.</p> + +<p>“Nobody wants you to,” said Caleb. “Keep +close to me.”</p> + +<p>He led the spook down the aisle to the angle +of the wall where a small iron shutter covered +an opening into the flue. It was used by the +chimney sweep alone, but Caleb had another use +for it now. Calling to the spook to keep close, +he suddenly removed the shutter.</p> + +<p>The fires were by this time burning briskly. +There was a strong up-draught as the shutter +was removed. Caleb felt something rush across +his face, and heard a cheerful laugh away up in +the chimney. Then he knew that he was alone. +He replaced the shutter, gave another look at +his stoves, took the keys, and made his way +home.</p> + +<p>He found his wife asleep in her chair, sat +down and took off his boots, and awakened her +by throwing them across the kitchen.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been wondering when you’d wake,” he +said.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p> + +<p>“What?” she said, “Have you been in long?”</p> + +<p>“Look at the clock,” said Caleb. “Half +after twelve.”</p> + +<p>“My gracious,” said his wife. “Let’s be off +to bed.”</p> + +<p>“Did you tell her about the spook?” he was +naturally asked.</p> + +<p>“Not I,” said Caleb. “You know what +she’d say. Same as she always does of a +Saturday night.”</p> + +<p class="tb">*<span class="ast">*</span><span class="ast">*</span><span class="ast">*</span><span class="ast">*</span><span class="ast">*</span><span class="ast">*</span></p> + +<p>This fable Mr. Batchel related with reluctance. +His attitude towards it was wholly +deprecatory. Psychic phenomena, he said, lay +outside the province of the mere humourist, +and the levity with which they had been treated +was largely responsible for the presumptuous +materialism of the age.</p> + +<p>He said more, as he warmed to the subject, +than can here be repeated. The reader of the +foregoing tales, however, will be interested to +know that Mr. Batchel’s own attitude was one +of humble curiosity. He refused even to guess +why the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">revenant</i> was sometimes invisible, and +at other times partly or wholly visible; sometimes +capable of using physical force, and at +other times powerless. He knew that they had +their periods, and that was all.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p> + +<p>There is room, he said, for the romancer in +these matters; but for the humourist, none. +Romance was the play of intelligence about +the confines of truth. The invisible world, like +the visible, must have its romancers, its +explorers, and its interpreters; but the time +of the last was not yet come.</p> + +<p>Criticism, he observed in conclusion, was +wholesome and necessary. But of the idle and +mischievous remarks which were wont to pose +as criticism, he held none in so much contempt +as the cheap and irrational <strong class="smcap">Pooh-Pooh</strong>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> + +<hr class="l1" /> + + +<p class="end"> +PRINTED BY<br /> +W. HEFFER AND SONS LTD.<br /> +104 HILLS ROAD, CAMBRIDGE.<br /> +</p> + + +<div class="tnote"> +<p class="tn">Transcriber’s note</p> + + +<p>A few punctuation errors were corrected and on page 106 “lode” was +changed to “Lode”. Otherwise the original has been preserved, including +inconsistent hyphenation.</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Stoneground Ghost Tales, by E. G. 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