Ghost Stories of an Antiquary Part 2: More Ghost Stories, Page 3

  THE TRACTATE MIDDOTH

  Towards the end of an autumn afternoon an elderly man with a thin faceand grey Piccadilly weepers pushed open the swing-door leading into thevestibule of a certain famous library, and addressing himself to anattendant, stated that he believed he was entitled to use the library,and inquired if he might take a book out. Yes, if he were on the list ofthose to whom that privilege was given. He produced his card--Mr JohnEldred--and, the register being consulted, a favourable answer was given.'Now, another point,' said he. 'It is a long time since I was here, and Ido not know my way about your building; besides, it is near closing-time,and it is bad for me to hurry up and down stairs. I have here the titleof the book I want: is there anyone at liberty who could go and find itfor me?' After a moment's thought the doorkeeper beckoned to a young manwho was passing. 'Mr Garrett,' he said, 'have you a minute to assist thisgentleman?' 'With pleasure,' was Mr Garrett's answer. The slip with thetitle was handed to him. 'I think I can put my hand on this; it happensto be in the class I inspected last quarter, but I'll just look it up inthe catalogue to make sure. I suppose it is that particular edition thatyou require, sir?' 'Yes, if you please; that, and no other,' said MrEldred; 'I am exceedingly obliged to you.' 'Don't mention it I beg, sir,'said Mr Garrett, and hurried off.

  'I thought so,' he said to himself, when his finger, travelling down thepages of the catalogue, stopped at a particular entry. 'Talmud: TractateMiddoth, with the commentary of Nachmanides, Amsterdam, 1707. 11.3.34.Hebrew class, of course. Not a very difficult job this.'

  Mr Eldred, accommodated with a chair in the vestibule, awaited anxiouslythe return of his messenger--and his disappointment at seeing anempty-handed Mr Garrett running down the staircase was very evident. 'I'msorry to disappoint you, sir,' said the young man, 'but the book is out.''Oh dear!' said Mr Eldred, 'is that so? You are sure there can be nomistake?' 'I don't think there is much chance of it, sir: but it'spossible, if you like to wait a minute, that you might meet the verygentleman that's got it. He must be leaving the library soon, and I_think_ I saw him take that particular book out of the shelf.' 'Indeed!You didn't recognize him, I suppose? Would it be one of the professors orone of the students?' 'I don't think so: certainly not a professor. Ishould have known him; but the light isn't very good in that part of thelibrary at this time of day, and I didn't see his face. I should havesaid he was a shortish old gentleman, perhaps a clergyman, in a cloak. Ifyou could wait, I can easily find out whether he wants the book veryparticularly.'

  'No, no,' said Mr Eldred, 'I won't--I can't wait now, thank you--no. Imust be off. But I'll call again to-morrow if I may, and perhaps youcould find out who has it.'

  'Certainly, sir, and I'll have the book ready for you if we--' But MrEldred was already off, and hurrying more than one would have thoughtwholesome for him.

  Garrett had a few moments to spare; and, thought he, 'I'll go back tothat case and see if I can find the old man. Most likely he could put offusing the book for a few days. I dare say the other one doesn't want tokeep it for long.' So off with him to the Hebrew class. But when he gotthere it was unoccupied, and the volume marked 11.3.34 was in its placeon the shelf. It was vexatious to Garrett's self-respect to havedisappointed an inquirer with so little reason: and he would have liked,had it not been against library rules, to take the book down to thevestibule then and there, so that it might be ready for Mr Eldred when hecalled. However, next morning he would be on the look out for him, and hebegged the doorkeeper to send and let him know when the moment came. As amatter of fact, he was himself in the vestibule when Mr Eldred arrived,very soon after the library opened and when hardly anyone besides thestaff were in the building.

  'I'm very sorry,' he said; 'it's not often that I make such a stupidmistake, but I did feel sure that the old gentleman I saw took out thatvery book and kept it in his hand without opening it, just as people do,you know, sir, when they mean to take a book out of the library and notmerely refer to it. But, however, I'll run up now at once and get it foryou this time.'

  And here intervened a pause. Mr Eldred paced the entry, read all thenotices, consulted his watch, sat and gazed up the staircase, did allthat a very impatient man could, until some twenty minutes had run out.At last he addressed himself to the doorkeeper and inquired if it was avery long way to that part of the library to which Mr Garrett had gone.

  'Well, I was thinking it was funny, sir: he's a quick man as a rule, butto be sure he might have been sent for by the librarian, but even so Ithink he'd have mentioned to him that you was waiting. I'll just speakhim up on the toob and see.' And to the tube he addressed himself. As heabsorbed the reply to his question his face changed, and he made one ortwo supplementary inquiries which were shortly answered. Then he cameforward to his counter and spoke in a lower tone. 'I'm sorry to hear,sir, that something seems to have 'appened a little awkward. Mr Garretthas been took poorly, it appears, and the librarian sent him 'ome in acab the other way. Something of an attack, by what I can hear.' 'What,really? Do you mean that someone has injured him?' 'No, sir, not violence'ere, but, as I should judge, attacked with an attack, what you mightterm it, of illness. Not a strong constitootion, Mr Garrett. But as toyour book, sir, perhaps you might be able to find it for yourself. It'stoo bad you should be disappointed this way twice over--' 'Er--well, butI'm so sorry that Mr Garrett should have been taken ill in this way whilehe was obliging me. I think I must leave the book, and call and inquireafter him. You can give me his address, I suppose.' That was easily done:Mr Garrett, it appeared, lodged in rooms not far from the station. 'Andone other question. Did you happen to notice if an old gentleman, perhapsa clergyman, in a--yes--in a black cloak, left the library after I didyesterday. I think he may have been a--I think, that is, that he may bestaying--or rather that I may have known him.'

  'Not in a black cloak, sir; no. There were only two gentlemen left laterthan what you done, sir, both of them youngish men. There was Mr Cartertook out a music-book and one of the prefessors with a couple o' novels.That's the lot, sir; and then I went off to me tea, and glad to get it.Thank you, sir, much obliged.'

  * * * * *

  Mr Eldred, still a prey to anxiety, betook himself in a cab to MrGarrett's address, but the young man was not yet in a condition toreceive visitors. He was better, but his landlady considered that he musthave had a severe shock. She thought most likely from what the doctorsaid that he would be able to see Mr Eldred to-morrow. Mr Eldred returnedto his hotel at dusk and spent, I fear, but a dull evening.

  On the next day he was able to see Mr Garrett. When in health Mr Garrettwas a cheerful and pleasant-looking young man. Now he was a very whiteand shaky being, propped up in an arm-chair by the fire, and inclined toshiver and keep an eye on the door. If however, there were visitors whomhe was not prepared to welcome, Mr Eldred was not among them. 'It reallyis I who owe you an apology, and I was despairing of being able to payit, for I didn't know your address. But I am very glad you have called. Ido dislike and regret giving all this trouble, but you know I could nothave foreseen this--this attack which I had.'

  'Of course not; but now, I am something of a doctor. You'll excuse myasking; you have had, I am sure, good advice. Was it a fall you had?'

  'No. I did fall on the floor--but not from any height. It was, really, ashock.'

  'You mean something startled you. Was it anything you thought you saw?'

  'Not much _thinking_ in the case, I'm afraid. Yes, it was something Isaw. You remember when you called the first time at the library?'

  'Yes, of course. Well, now, let me beg you not to try to describe it--itwill not be good for you to recall it, I'm sure.'

  'But indeed it would be a relief to me to tell anyone like yourself: youmight be able to explain it away. It was just when I was going into theclass where your book is--'

  'Indeed, Mr Garrett, I insist; besides, my watch tells me I have but verylittle time left in which to get my things together and take the train.No--not another wor
d--it would be more distressing to you than youimagine, perhaps. Now there is just one thing I want to say. I feel thatI am really indirectly responsible for this illness of yours, and I thinkI ought to defray the expense which it has--eh?'

  But this offer was quite distinctly declined. Mr Eldred, not pressing it,left almost at once: not, however, before Mr Garrett had insisted uponhis taking a note of the class-mark of the Tractate Middoth, which, as hesaid, Mr Eldred could at leisure get for himself. But Mr Eldred did notreappear at the library.

  * * * * *

  William Garrett had another visitor that day in the person of acontemporary and colleague from the library, one George Earle. Earle hadbeen one of those who found Garrett lying insensible on the floor justinside the 'class' or cubicle (opening upon the central alley of aspacious gallery) in which the Hebrew books were placed, and Earle hadnaturally been very anxious about his friend's condition. So as soon aslibrary hours were over he appeared at the lodgings. 'Well,' he said(after other conversation), 'I've no notion what it was that put youwrong, but I've got the idea that there's something wrong in theatmosphere of the library. I know this, that just before we found you Iwas coming along the gallery with Davis, and I said to him, "Did ever youknow such a musty smell anywhere as there is about here? It can't bewholesome." Well now, if one goes on living a long time with a smell ofthat kind (I tell you it was worse than I ever knew it) it must get intothe system and break out some time, don't you think?'

  Garrett shook his head. 'That's all very well about the smell--but itisn't always there, though I've noticed it the last day or two--a sort ofunnaturally strong smell of dust. But no--that's not what did for me. Itwas something I _saw_. And I want to tell you about it. I went into thatHebrew class to get a book for a man that was inquiring for it downbelow. Now that same book I'd made a mistake about the day before. I'dbeen for it, for the same man, and made sure that I saw an old parson ina cloak taking it out. I told my man it was out: off he went, to callagain next day. I went back to see if I could get it out of the parson:no parson there, and the book on the shelf. Well, yesterday, as I say, Iwent again. This time, if you please--ten o'clock in the morning,remember, and as much light as ever you get in those classes, and therewas my parson again, back to me, looking at the books on the shelf Iwanted. His hat was on the table, and he had a bald head. I waited asecond or two looking at him rather particularly. I tell you, he had avery nasty bald head. It looked to me dry, and it looked dusty, and thestreaks of hair across it were much less like hair than cobwebs. Well, Imade a bit of a noise on purpose, coughed and moved my feet. He turnedround and let me see his face--which I hadn't seen before. I tell youagain, I'm not mistaken. Though, for one reason or another I didn't takein the lower part of his face, I did see the upper part; and it wasperfectly dry, and the eyes were very deep-sunk; and over them, from theeyebrows to the cheek-bone, there were _cobwebs_--thick. Now that closedme up, as they say, and I can't tell you anything more.'

  * * * * *

  What explanations were furnished by Earle of this phenomenon it does notvery much concern us to inquire; at all events they did not convinceGarrett that he had not seen what he had seen.

  * * * * *

  Before William Garrett returned to work at the library, the librarianinsisted upon his taking a week's rest and change of air. Within a fewdays' time, therefore, he was at the station with his bag, looking for adesirable smoking compartment in which to travel to Burnstow-on-Sea,which he had not previously visited. One compartment and one only seemedto be suitable. But, just as he approached it, he saw, standing in frontof the door, a figure so like one bound up with recent unpleasantassociations that, with a sickening qualm, and hardly knowing what hedid, he tore open the door of the next compartment and pulled himselfinto it as quickly as if death were at his heels. The train moved off,and he must have turned quite faint, for he was next conscious of asmelling-bottle being put to his nose. His physician was a nice-lookingold lady, who, with her daughter, was the only passenger in the carriage.

  But for this incident it is not very likely that he would have made anyovertures to his fellow-travellers. As it was, thanks and inquiries andgeneral conversation supervened inevitably; and Garrett found himselfprovided before the journey's end not only with a physician, but with alandlady: for Mrs Simpson had apartments to let at Burnstow, which seemedin all ways suitable. The place was empty at that season, so that Garrettwas thrown a good deal into the society of the mother and daughter. Hefound them very acceptable company. On the third evening of his stay hewas on such terms with them as to be asked to spend the evening in theirprivate sitting-room.

  During their talk it transpired that Garrett's work lay in a library.'Ah, libraries are fine places,' said Mrs Simpson, putting down her workwith a sigh; 'but for all that, books have played me a sad turn, orrather _a_ book has.'

  'Well, books give me my living, Mrs Simpson, and I should be sorry to saya word against them: I don't like to hear that they have been bad foryou.'

  'Perhaps Mr Garrett could help us to solve our puzzle, mother,' said MissSimpson.

  'I don't want to set Mr Garrett off on a hunt that might waste alifetime, my dear, nor yet to trouble him with our private affairs.'

  'But if you think it in the least likely that I could be of use, I do begyou to tell me what the puzzle is, Mrs Simpson. If it is finding outanything about a book, you see, I am in rather a good position to do it.'

  'Yes, I do see that, but the worst of it is that we don't know the nameof the book.'

  'Nor what it is about?'

  'No, nor that either.'

  'Except that we don't think it's in English, mother--and that is not muchof a clue.'

  'Well, Mr Garrett,' said Mrs Simpson, who had not yet resumed her work,and was looking at the fire thoughtfully, 'I shall tell you the story.You will please keep it to yourself, if you don't mind? Thank you. Now itis just this. I had an old uncle, a Dr Rant. Perhaps you may have heardof him. Not that he was a distinguished man, but from the odd way hechose to be buried.'

  'I rather think I have seen the name in some guidebook.'

  'That would be it,' said Miss Simpson. 'He left directions--horrid oldman!--that he was to be put, sitting at a table in his ordinary clothes,in a brick room that he'd had made underground in a field near his house.Of course the country people say he's been seen about there in his oldblack cloak.'

  'Well, dear, I don't know much about such things,' Mrs Simpson went on,'but anyhow he is dead, these twenty years and more. He was a clergyman,though I'm sure I can't imagine how he got to be one: but he did no dutyfor the last part of his life, which I think was a good thing; and helived on his own property: a very nice estate not a great way from here.He had no wife or family; only one niece, who was myself, and one nephew,and he had no particular liking for either of us--nor for anyone else, asfar as that goes. If anything, he liked my cousin better than he didme--for John was much more like him in his temper, and, I'm afraid I mustsay, his very mean sharp ways. It might have been different if I had notmarried; but I did, and that he very much resented. Very well: here hewas with this estate and a good deal of money, as it turned out, of whichhe had the absolute disposal, and it was understood that we--my cousinand I--would share it equally at his death. In a certain winter, overtwenty years back, as I said, he was taken ill, and I was sent for tonurse him. My husband was alive then, but the old man would not hear of_his_ coming. As I drove up to the house I saw my cousin John drivingaway from it in an open fly and looking, I noticed, in very good spirits.I went up and did what I could for my uncle, but I was very soon surethat this would be his last illness; and he was convinced of it too.During the day before he died he got me to sit by him all the time, and Icould see there was something, and probably something unpleasant, that hewas saving up to tell me, and putting it off as long as he felt he couldafford the strength--I'm afraid purposely in order to keep me on th
estretch. But, at last, out it came. "Mary," he said,--"Mary, I've made mywill in John's favour: he has everything, Mary." Well, of course thatcame as a bitter shock to me, for we--my husband and I--were not richpeople, and if he could have managed to live a little easier than he wasobliged to do, I felt it might be the prolonging of his life. But I saidlittle or nothing to my uncle, except that he had a right to do what hepleased: partly because I couldn't think of anything to say, and partlybecause I was sure there was more to come: and so there was. "But, Mary,"he said, "I'm not very fond of John, and I've made another will in _your_favour. _You_ can have everything. Only you've got to find the will, yousee: and I don't mean to tell you where it is." Then he chuckled tohimself, and I waited, for again I was sure he hadn't finished. "That's agood girl," he said after a time,--"you wait, and I'll tell you as muchas I told John. But just let me remind you, you can't go into court withwhat I'm saying to you, for _you_ won't be able to produce any collateralevidence beyond your own word, and John's a man that can do a little hardswearing if necessary. Very well then, that's understood. Now, I had thefancy that I wouldn't write this will quite in the common way, so I wroteit in a book, Mary, a printed book. And there's several thousand books inthis house. But there! you needn't trouble yourself with them, for itisn't one of them. It's in safe keeping elsewhere: in a place where Johncan go and find it any day, if he only knew, and you can't. A good willit is: properly signed and witnessed, but I don't think you'll find thewitnesses in a hurry."

  'Still I said nothing: if I had moved at all I must have taken hold ofthe old wretch and shaken him. He lay there laughing to himself, and atlast he said:

  '"Well, well, you've taken it very quietly, and as I want to start youboth on equal terms, and John has a bit of a purchase in being able to gowhere the book is, I'll tell you just two other things which I didn'ttell him. The will's in English, but you won't know that if ever you seeit. That's one thing, and another is that when I'm gone you'll find anenvelope in my desk directed to you, and inside it something that wouldhelp you to find it, if only you have the wits to use it."

  'In a few hours from that he was gone, and though I made an appeal toJohn Eldred about it--'

  'John Eldred? I beg your pardon, Mrs Simpson--I think I've seen a Mr JohnEldred. What is he like to look at?'

  'It must be ten years since I saw him: he would be a thin elderly mannow, and unless he has shaved them off, he has that sort of whiskerswhich people used to call Dundreary or Piccadilly something.'

  '--weepers. Yes, that _is_ the man.'

  'Where did you come across him, Mr Garrett?'

  'I don't know if I could tell you,' said Garrett mendaciously, 'in somepublic place. But you hadn't finished.'

  'Really I had nothing much to add, only that John Eldred, of course, paidno attention whatever to my letters, and has enjoyed the estate eversince, while my daughter and I have had to take to the lodging-housebusiness here, which I must say has not turned out by any means sounpleasant as I feared it might.'

  'But about the envelope.'

  'To be sure! Why, the puzzle turns on that. Give Mr Garrett the paper outof my desk.'

  It was a small slip, with nothing whatever on it but five numerals, notdivided or punctuated in any way: 11334.

  Mr Garrett pondered, but there was a light in his eye. Suddenly he 'madea face', and then asked, 'Do you suppose that Mr Eldred can have any moreclue than you have to the title of the book?'

  'I have sometimes thought he must,' said Mrs Simpson, 'and in this way:that my uncle must have made the will not very long before he died (that,I think, he said himself), and got rid of the book immediatelyafterwards. But all his books were very carefully catalogued: and Johnhas the catalogue: and John was most particular that no books whatevershould be sold out of the house. And I'm told that he is alwaysjourneying about to booksellers and libraries; so I fancy that he musthave found out just which books are missing from my uncle's library ofthose which are entered in the catalogue, and must be hunting for them.'

  'Just so, just so,' said Mr Garrett, and relapsed into thought.

  * * * * *

  No later than next day he received a letter which, as he told Mrs Simpsonwith great regret, made it absolutely necessary for him to cut short hisstay at Burnstow.

  Sorry as he was to leave them (and they were at least as sorry to partwith him), he had begun to feel that a crisis, all-important to Mrs (andshall we add, Miss?) Simpson, was very possibly supervening.

  In the train Garrett was uneasy and excited. He racked his brains tothink whether the press mark of the book which Mr Eldred had beeninquiring after was one in any way corresponding to the numbers on MrsSimpson's little bit of paper. But he found to his dismay that the shockof the previous week had really so upset him that he could neitherremember any vestige of the title or nature of the book, or even of thelocality to which he had gone to seek it. And yet all other parts oflibrary topography and work were clear as ever in his mind.

  And another thing--he stamped with annoyance as he thought of it--he hadat first hesitated, and then had forgotten, to ask Mrs Simpson for thename of the place where Eldred lived. That, however, he could writeabout.

  At least he had his clue in the figures on the paper. If they referred toa press mark in his library, they were only susceptible of a limitednumber of interpretations. They might be divided into 1.13.34, 11.33.4,or 11.3.34. He could try all these in the space of a few minutes, and ifany one were missing he had every means of tracing it. He got veryquickly to work, though a few minutes had to be spent in explaining hisearly return to his landlady and his colleagues. 1.13.34. was in placeand contained no extraneous writing. As he drew near to Class 11 in thesame gallery, its association struck him like a chill. But he _must_ goon. After a cursory glance at 11.33.4 (which first confronted him, andwas a perfectly new book) he ran his eye along the line of quartos whichfills 11.3. The gap he feared was there: 34 was out. A moment was spentin making sure that it had not been misplaced, and then he was off to thevestibule.

  'Has 11.3.34 gone out? Do you recollect noticing that number?'

  'Notice the number? What do you take me for, Mr Garrett? There, take andlook over the tickets for yourself, if you've got a free day before you.'

  'Well then, has a Mr Eldred called again?--the old gentleman who came theday I was taken ill. Come! you'd remember him.'

  'What do you suppose? Of course I recollect of him: no, he haven't beenin again, not since you went off for your 'oliday. And yet I seemto--there now. Roberts'll know. Roberts, do you recollect of the name ofHeldred?'

  'Not arf,' said Roberts. 'You mean the man that sent a bob over the pricefor the parcel, and I wish they all did.'

  'Do you mean to say you've been sending books to Mr Eldred? Come, dospeak up! Have you?'

  'Well now, Mr Garrett, if a gentleman sends the ticket all wrote correctand the secketry says this book may go and the box ready addressed sentwith the note, and a sum of money sufficient to deefray the railwaycharges, what would be _your_ action in the matter, Mr Garrett, if I maytake the liberty to ask such a question? Would you or would you not havetaken the trouble to oblige, or would you have chucked the 'ole thingunder the counter and--'

  'You were perfectly right, of course, Hodgson--perfectly right: only,would you kindly oblige me by showing me the ticket Mr Eldred sent, andletting me know his address?'

  'To be sure, Mr Garrett; so long as I'm not 'ectored about and informedthat I don't know my duty, I'm willing to oblige in every way feasible tomy power. There is the ticket on the file. J. Eldred, 11.3.34. Title ofwork: T-a-l-m--well, there, you can make what you like of it--not anovel, I should 'azard the guess. And here is Mr Heldred's note applyingfor the book in question, which I see he terms it a track.'

  'Thanks, thanks: but the address? There's none on the note.'

  'Ah, indeed; well, now ... stay now, Mr Garrett, I 'ave it. Why, thatnote come inside of the parcel, which was directed very thoughtful tosav
e all trouble, ready to be sent back with the book inside; and if I_have_ made any mistake in this 'ole transaction, it lays just in the onepoint that I neglected to enter the address in my little book here what Ikeep. Not but what I dare say there was good reasons for me not enteringof it: but there, I haven't the time, neither have you, I dare say, to gointo 'em just now. And--no, Mr Garrett, I do _not_ carry it in my 'ed,else what would be the use of me keeping this little book here--just aordinary common notebook, you see, which I make a practice of enteringall such names and addresses in it as I see fit to do?'

  'Admirable arrangement, to be sure--but--all right, thank you. When didthe parcel go off?'

  'Half-past ten, this morning.'

  'Oh, good; and it's just one now.'

  Garrett went upstairs in deep thought. How was he to get the address? Atelegram to Mrs Simpson: he might miss a train by waiting for the answer.Yes, there was one other way. She had said that Eldred lived on hisuncle's estate. If this were so, he might find that place entered in thedonation-book. That he could run through quickly, now that he knew thetitle of the book. The register was soon before him, and, knowing thatthe old man had died more than twenty years ago, he gave him a goodmargin, and turned back to 1870. There was but one entry possible. 1875,August 14th. _Talmud: Tractatus Middoth cum comm. R. Nachmanidae._Amstelod. 1707. Given by J. Rant, D.D., of Bretfield Manor.

  A gazetteer showed Bretfield to be three miles from a small station onthe main line. Now to ask the doorkeeper whether he recollected if thename on the parcel had been anything like Bretfield.

  'No, nothing like. It was, now you mention it, Mr Garrett, eitherBredfield or Britfield, but nothing like that other name what youcoated.'

  So far well. Next, a time-table. A train could be got in twentyminutes--taking two hours over the journey. The only chance, but one notto be missed; and the train was taken.

  If he had been fidgety on the journey up, he was almost distracted on thejourney down. If he found Eldred, what could he say? That it had beendiscovered that the book was a rarity and must be recalled? An obviousuntruth. Or that it was believed to contain important manuscript notes?Eldred would of course show him the book, from which the leaf wouldalready have been removed. He might, perhaps, find traces of theremoval--a torn edge of a fly-leaf probably--and who could disprove, whatEldred was certain to say, that he too had noticed and regretted themutilation? Altogether the chase seemed very hopeless. The one chance wasthis. The book had left the library at 10.30: it might not have been putinto the first possible train, at 11.20. Granted that, then he might belucky enough to arrive simultaneously with it and patch up some storywhich would induce Eldred to give it up.

  It was drawing towards evening when he got out upon the platform of hisstation, and, like most country stations, this one seemed unnaturallyquiet. He waited about till the one or two passengers who got out withhim had drifted off, and then inquired of the station-master whether MrEldred was in the neighbourhood.

  'Yes, and pretty near too, I believe. I fancy he means calling here for aparcel he expects. Called for it once to-day already, didn't he, Bob?'(to the porter).

  'Yes, sir, he did; and appeared to think it was all along of me that itdidn't come by the two o'clock. Anyhow, I've got it for him now,' and theporter flourished a square parcel, which--a glance assured Garrett--contained all that was of any importance to him at that particularmoment.

  'Bretfield, sir? Yes--three miles just about. Short cut across thesethree fields brings it down by half a mile. There: there's Mr Eldred'strap.'

  A dog-cart drove up with two men in it, of whom Garrett, gazing back ashe crossed the little station yard, easily recognized one. The fact thatEldred was driving was slightly in his favour--for most likely he wouldnot open the parcel in the presence of his servant. On the other hand, hewould get home quickly, and unless Garrett were there within a very fewminutes of his arrival, all would be over. He must hurry; and that hedid. His short cut took him along one side of a triangle, while the carthad two sides to traverse; and it was delayed a little at the station, sothat Garrett was in the third of the three fields when he heard thewheels fairly near. He had made the best progress possible, but the paceat which the cart was coming made him despair. At this rate it _must_reach home ten minutes before him, and ten minutes would more thansuffice for the fulfilment of Mr Eldred's project.

  It was just at this time that the luck fairly turned. The evening wasstill, and sounds came clearly. Seldom has any sound given greater reliefthan that which he now heard: that of the cart pulling up. A few wordswere exchanged, and it drove on. Garrett, halting in the utmost anxiety,was able to see as it drove past the stile (near which he now stood) thatit contained only the servant and not Eldred; further, he made out thatEldred was following on foot. From behind the tall hedge by the stileleading into the road he watched the thin wiry figure pass quickly bywith the parcel beneath its arm, and feeling in its pockets. Just as hepassed the stile something fell out of a pocket upon the grass, but withso little sound that Eldred was not conscious of it. In a moment more itwas safe for Garrett to cross the stile into the road and pick up--a boxof matches. Eldred went on, and, as he went, his arms made hastymovements, difficult to interpret in the shadow of the trees thatoverhung the road. But, as Garrett followed cautiously, he found atvarious points the key to them--a piece of string, and then the wrapperof the parcel--meant to be thrown over the hedge, but sticking in it.

  Now Eldred was walking slower, and it could just be made out that he hadopened the book and was turning over the leaves. He stopped, evidentlytroubled by the failing light. Garrett slipped into a gate-opening, butstill watched. Eldred, hastily looking around, sat down on a felledtree-trunk by the roadside and held the open book up close to his eyes.Suddenly he laid it, still open, on his knee, and felt in all hispockets: clearly in vain, and clearly to his annoyance. 'You would beglad of your matches now,' thought Garrett. Then he took hold of a leaf,and was carefully tearing it out, when two things happened. First,something black seemed to drop upon the white leaf and run down it, andthen as Eldred started and was turning to look behind him, a little darkform appeared to rise out of the shadow behind the tree-trunk and from ittwo arms enclosing a mass of blackness came before Eldred's face andcovered his head and neck. His legs and arms were wildly flourished, butno sound came. Then, there was no more movement. Eldred was alone. He hadfallen back into the grass behind the tree-trunk. The book was cast intothe roadway. Garrett, his anger and suspicion gone for the moment at thesight of this horrid struggle, rushed up with loud cries of 'Help!' andso too, to his enormous relief, did a labourer who had just emerged froma field opposite. Together they bent over and supported Eldred, but to nopurpose. The conclusion that he was dead was inevitable. 'Poorgentleman!' said Garrett to the labourer, when they had laid him down,'what happened to him, do you think?' 'I wasn't two hundred yards away,'said the man, 'when I see Squire Eldred setting reading in his book, andto my thinking he was took with one of these fits--face seemed to go allover black.' 'Just so,' said Garrett. 'You didn't see anyone near him? Itcouldn't have been an assault?' 'Not possible--no one couldn't have gotaway without you or me seeing them.' 'So I thought. Well, we must getsome help, and the doctor and the policeman; and perhaps I had bettergive them this book.'

  It was obviously a case for an inquest, and obvious also that Garrettmust stay at Bretfield and give his evidence. The medical inspectionshowed that, though some black dust was found on the face and in themouth of the deceased, the cause of death was a shock to a weak heart,and not asphyxiation. The fateful book was produced, a respectable quartoprinted wholly in Hebrew, and not of an aspect likely to excite even themost sensitive.

  'You say, Mr Garrett, that the deceased gentleman appeared at the momentbefore his attack to be tearing a leaf out of this book?'

  'Yes; I think one of the fly-leaves.'

  'There is here a fly-leaf partially torn through. It has Hebrew writingon it. Will you kindly inspect it?'

&nbs
p; 'There are three names in English, sir, also, and a date. But I am sorryto say I cannot read Hebrew writing.'

  'Thank you. The names have the appearance of being signatures. They areJohn Rant, Walter Gibson, and James Frost, and the date is 20 July, 1875.Does anyone here know any of these names?'

  The Rector, who was present, volunteered a statement that the uncle ofthe deceased, from whom he inherited, had been named Rant.

  The book being handed to him, he shook a puzzled head. 'This is not likeany Hebrew I ever learnt.'

  'You are sure that it is Hebrew?'

  'What? Yes--I suppose.... No--my dear sir, you are perfectly right--thatis, your suggestion is exactly to the point. Of course--it is not Hebrewat all. It is English, and it is a will.'

  It did not take many minutes to show that here was indeed a will of DrJohn Rant, bequeathing the whole of the property lately held by JohnEldred to Mrs Mary Simpson. Clearly the discovery of such a documentwould amply justify Mr Eldred's agitation. As to the partial tearing ofthe leaf, the coroner pointed out that no useful purpose could beattained by speculations whose correctness it would never be possible toestablish.

  * * * * *

  The Tractate Middoth was naturally taken in charge by the coroner forfurther investigation, and Mr Garrett explained privately to him thehistory of it, and the position of events so far as he knew or guessedthem.

  He returned to his work next day, and on his walk to the station passedthe scene of Mr Eldred's catastrophe. He could hardly leave it withoutanother look, though the recollection of what he had seen there made himshiver, even on that bright morning. He walked round, with somemisgivings, behind the felled tree. Something dark that still lay theremade him start back for a moment: but it hardly stirred. Looking closer,he saw that it was a thick black mass of cobwebs; and, as he stirred itgingerly with his stick, several large spiders ran out of it into thegrass.

  * * * * *

  There is no great difficulty in imagining the steps by which WilliamGarrett, from being an assistant in a great library, attained to hispresent position of prospective owner of Bretfield Manor, now in theoccupation of his mother-in-law, Mrs Mary Simpson.