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.
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.
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 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.
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 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.
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.
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, 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.
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 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.
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.
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 a few
minutes, Mr. Batchel went home to his customary occupation.
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.
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.
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.
Mr. Batchel thought little more of the 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.
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.
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.
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. 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.
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.
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 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.
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.
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, 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.
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.
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.
Mr. Batchel had a pipe in his pocket, and he 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.
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.
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 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.
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.
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 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.
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.
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 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.
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, St. Matt. v. 26."
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.
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--
"Thou shalt by no means come out thence till thou hast paid the
uttermost farthing."
V.
LUBRIETTA.
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.
Lubrietta Rodria is described by her Lady Principal as an attractive
and high-spirited girl of seventeen, belonging to the Purple of 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.
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.
Her _fiancé_ who by this time had been declared, was in despair, not
only from natural affection for Lubrietta, but from remorse. It
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.
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.
* * * * *
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.