I never clearly knew why I visited the old cemetery that night. Perhaps
it was to see how the work of removing the bodies was getting on, for
they were all being taken up and carted away to a more comfortable
place where land was less valuable. It was well enough; nobody had
buried himself there for years, and the skeletons that were now exposed
were old mouldy affairs for which it was difficult to feel any respect.
However, I put a few bones in my pocket as souvenirs. The night was one
of those black, gusty ones in March, with great inky clouds driving
rapidly across the sky, spilling down sudden showers of rain which as
suddenly would cease. I could barely see my way between the empty
graves, and in blundering about among the coffins I tripped and fell
headlong. A peculiar laugh at my side caused me to turn my head, and I
saw a singular old gentleman whom I had often noticed hanging about the
Coroner’s office, sitting cross-legged upon a prostrate tombstone.
“How are you, sir?” said I, rising awkwardly to my feet; “nice night.”
“Get off my tail,” answered the elderly party, without moving a muscle.
“My eccentric friend,” rejoined I, mockingly, “may I be permitted to
inquire your street and number?”
“Certainly,” he replied, “No. 1, Marle Place, Asphalt Avenue, Hades.”
“The devil!” sneered I.
“Exactly,” said he; “oblige me by getting off my tail.”
I was a little staggered, and by way of rallying my somewhat dazed
faculties, offered a cigar: “Smoke?”
“Thank you,” said the singular old gentleman, putting it under his
coat; “after dinner. Drink?”
I was not exactly prepared for this, but did not know if it would be
safe to decline, and so putting the proffered flask to my lips
pretended to swig elaborately, keeping my mouth tightly closed the
while. “Good article,” said I, returning it. He simply remarked,
“You’re a fool,” and emptied the bottle at a gulp.
“And now,” resumed he, “you will confer a favour I shall highly
appreciate by removing your feet from my tail.”
There was a slight shock of earthquake, and all the skeletons in sight
arose to their feet, stretched themselves and yawned audibly. Without
moving from his seat, the old gentleman rapped the nearest one across
the skull with his gold-headed cane, and they all curled away to sleep
again.
“Sire,” I resumed, “indulge me in the impertinence of inquiring your
business here at this hour.”
“My business is none of yours,” retorted he, calmly; “what are you up
to yourself?”
“I have been picking up some bones,” I replied, carelessly.
“Then you are—”
“I am—”
“A Ghoul!”
“My good friend, you do me injustice. You have doubtless read very
frequently in the newspapers of the Fiend in Human Shape whose actions
and way of life are so generally denounced. Sire, you see before you
that maligned party!”
There was a quick jerk under the soles of my feet, which pitched me
prone upon the ground. Scrambling up, I saw the old gentleman vanishing
behind an adjacent sandhill as if the devil were after him.