HOW MR. DALROYD SAW A GHOST AND THE SERGEANT AN APPARITION
Mr. Dalroyd stepped out into a summer night radiant with moonbeams and
full of the heady perfume of ripening hay. Far as eye could see the
wide road stretched away very silent and deserted, not a light gleamed
anywhere, the village had been deep-plunged in slumber hours ago.
Mr. Dalroyd sauntered on, past silent cottages, across a trim green and
so to the churchyard gate, beyond which the tombstones rose,
phantom-like beneath the moon. For a while he stood to contemplate
this quiet scene, then started and glanced up at the church tower as a
deep-toned bell began to chime the hour of midnight. One by one he
counted the deliberate strokes, waited until the last had boomed and
died away, then, opening the gate, stepped into the churchyard and
strolled on among the graves, his cane airily a-swing, following the
paved walk that led round the church. Thus he presently passed from
light into shadow, a gloom all the deeper by contrast with the moon's
bright splendour, a gloom in which carved headstone and sarcophagus
took on strange and unexpected shapes. Suddenly Mr. Dalroyd's cane
faltered in its airy swing, stopped, and he stood motionless, his body
rigid, his breath in check, his eyes wide and staring. Before him
loomed a great mausoleum, its pallid outline vague in the half-light,
but on this side the weatherworn marble was cracked and split and from
this yawning fissure a ghastly radiance streamed; then this unholy
light vanished and upon the stillness came a ghostly rustling, a soft
thud and the sound of heavy breathing. Mr. Dalroyd shrank cowering
into the deeper shadow of a buttress and dropping his cane upon the
grass groped for the hilt of his small-sword. Then, as he stared
unwinking, forth from the tomb a dim form wriggled, crouched awhile
fumbling, stood upright, and Mr. Dalroyd saw a vague head, awful and
shapeless and crowned with curving horns. This dreadful thing stood
awhile as if listening for distant sounds then took a stride forward,
floundered over a grave and cursed fluently. Mr. Dalroyd loosed rigid
fingers from his sword-hilt, picked up his cane and, keeping well in
the shadow, began to follow this strange figure; ghost-like it flitted
on among the tombs until, reaching the wall, it leapt nimbly over,
stood to listen and glance furtively about, then set off down the road
at a smart pace. Mr. Dalroyd, treading with infinite caution for the
night was very still, followed whither it led, viewing the shapeless
thing with gaze that never wavered. Thus, in a while, they reached a
grassy bye-lane flanked on the one side by a thick hedge and on the
other by a high wall. Here the figure paused and Mr. Dalroyd,
shrinking into the shadow of the hedge, saw it glance up and down the
lane, saw it lift long arms and heard a faint scuffling as, mounting
this wall it paused awhile athwart the coping ere it vanished on the
other side. Looping his cane on his wrist Mr. Dalroyd crossed the lane
and drawing himself up peered over the wall in time to see this
mysterious figure flit among the trees of an orchard, mount yet another
wall and vanish again. Without more ado Mr. Dalroyd in turn clambered
up and over the wall and dropping on soft, new-turned earth, continued
the pursuit, that is to say he had crossed a smooth stretch of lawn and
was in the very act of mounting the other wall when strong hands seized
him from behind and a gruff voice said in his ear:
"You ain't no ghost, I'll swear! Right about turn and show us your
face!" And Mr. Dalroyd was swung round so violently that his hat fell
off. "Zounds!" exclaimed the Sergeant, "'tis nought but one o' these
fine London sparks arter all!" Mr. Dalroyd swore. "Sir," said the
Sergeant imperturbably, "why and wherefore d'ye trespass, and so late
too? Sir, what's the evolution, or shall we say, manoover?"
"Rogue," said Mr. Dalroyd, "pick up my hat!"
"Rogue, is it?" mused the Sergeant.
"Animal, my hat!"
"Animal, now?"
"D'ye hear, vermin?" Mr. Dalroyd stood, his head viciously out-thrust
so that the long curls of his peruke falling back from brow and cheek
discovered more fully his haughty features, delicately pale in the
bright moonlight; and beholding this face--its fine black brows,
aquiline nose, fierce eyes and thin-lipped mouth the Sergeant fell
back, staring:
"Zounds!" he exclaimed, and gaped.
Something in the Sergeant's attitude seemed to strike Mr. Dalroyd who,
returning this searching look, lounged back against the wall, one hand
toying with the curls of his wig, and when next he spoke his voice was
as languidly soft as usual.
"What now, ass?" The Sergeant drew a deep breath:
"Talking o' ghosts and apparations," said he, "I aren't so sure as you
ain't one, arter all."
"Why, worm?"
"Because if you happened to be wearing an officer's coat--red and blue
facings, say, and your legs in a pair o' jack-boots, I should know--ah,
I'd be sure you was a ghost."
"What d'ye mean?" Mr. Dalroyd's slender brows scowled suddenly, and
before the malevolence of his eyes the Sergeant gave back another step.
"What d'ye mean, toad?"
"I mean as you'd be dead! But your coat ain't red, is it, sir? And
your jack-boots is buckle-shoes, and you're very much alive, ain't you,
sir--so I'll ax you to pick up your property and to get back over the
wall yonder and to do it--prompt, sir."
The Sergeant was a powerful fellow, at his hip swung a heavy hanger and
in hairy fist he gripped a very ugly, knobby bludgeon, observing which
facts, Mr. Dalroyd did as was suggested; but, ere he dropped back into
the lane he turned and smiled down at the stalwart Sergeant.
"My very good clod," said he, "one of these fine, sunny days you shall
be drubbed for this--soundly, yes, soundly!"
The Sergeant nodded:
"Sir," said he, "same will be welcome, for, though life in the country
agrees wi' me on the whole better than expected, things is apt to grow
over quiet now and then and any little bit o' roughsome as you can
offer will be dooly welcome and do me a power o' good!"
"Be it so!" nodded Mr. Dalroyd and, smiling, he dropped from view.
Then the Sergeant, whistling softly, strode bedwards quite unaware of
the shapeless, horned head that watched him as he went.