Ghost Stories of an Antiquary by Montague Rhodes James (famous ebook reader txt) 📖

circle and addressing two shaggy demons who hovered

outside, was described as Hostanes magus (a character unfamiliar to

Humphreys). The scheme of the whole, indeed, seemed to be an assemblage

of the patriarchs of evil, perhaps not uninfluenced by a study of Dante.

Humphreys thought it an unusual exhibition of his great-grandfather’s

taste, but reflected that he had probably picked it up in Italy and had

never taken the trouble to examine it closely: certainly, had he set much

store by it, he would not have exposed it to wind and weather. He tapped

the metal—it seemed hollow and not very thick—and, turning from it,

addressed himself to his plan. After half an hour’s work he found it was

impossible to get on without using a clue: so he procured a roll of twine

from Clutterham, and laid it out along the alleys from the entrance to

the centre, tying the end to the ring at the top of the globe. This

expedient helped him to set out a rough plan before luncheon, and in the

afternoon he was able to draw it in more neatly. Towards tea-time Mr

Cooper joined him, and was much interested in his progress. ‘Now this—’

said Mr Cooper, laying his hand on the globe, and then drawing it away

hastily. ‘Whew! Holds the heat, doesn’t it, to a surprising degree, Mr

Humphreys. I suppose this metal—copper, isn’t it?—would be an insulator

or conductor, or whatever they call it.’

 

‘The sun has been pretty strong this afternoon,’ said Humphreys, evading

the scientific point, ‘but I didn’t notice the globe had got hot. No—it

doesn’t seem very hot to me,’ he added.

 

‘Odd!’ said Mr Cooper. ‘Now I can’t hardly bear my hand on it. Something

in the difference of temperament between us, I suppose. I dare say you’re

a chilly subject, Mr Humphreys: I’m not: and there’s where the

distinction lies. All this summer I’ve slept, if you’ll believe me,

practically in statu quo, and had my morning tub as cold as I could get

it. Day out and day in—let me assist you with that string.’

 

‘It’s all right, thanks; but if you’ll collect some of these pencils and

things that are lying about I shall be much obliged. Now I think we’ve

got everything, and we might get back to the house.’

 

They left the maze, Humphreys rolling up the clue as they went.

 

The night was rainy.

 

Most unfortunately it turned out that, whether by Cooper’s fault or not,

the plan had been the one thing forgotten the evening before. As was to

be expected, it was ruined by the wet. There was nothing for it but to

begin again (the job would not be a long one this time). The clue

therefore was put in place once more and a fresh start made. But

Humphreys had not done much before an interruption came in the shape of

Calton with a telegram. His late chief in London wanted to consult him.

Only a brief interview was wanted, but the summons was urgent. This was

annoying, yet it was not really upsetting; there was a train available in

half an hour, and, unless things went very cross, he could be back,

possibly by five o’clock, certainly by eight. He gave the plan to Calton

to take to the house, but it was not worth while to remove the clue.

 

All went as he had hoped. He spent a rather exciting evening in the

library, for he lighted tonight upon a cupboard where some of the rarer

books were kept. When he went up to bed he was glad to find that the

servant had remembered to leave his curtains undrawn and his windows

open. He put down his light, and went to the window which commanded a

view of the garden and the park. It was a brilliant moonlight night. In a

few weeks’ time the sonorous winds of autumn would break up all this

calm. But now the distant woods were in a deep stillness; the slopes of

the lawns were shining with dew; the colours of some of the flowers could

almost be guessed. The light of the moon just caught the cornice of the

temple and the curve of its leaden dome, and Humphreys had to own that,

so seen, these conceits of a past age have a real beauty. In short, the

light, the perfume of the woods, and the absolute quiet called up such

kind old associations in his mind that he went on ruminating them for a

long, long time. As he turned from the window he felt he had never seen

anything more complete of its sort. The one feature that struck him with

a sense of incongruity was a small Irish yew, thin and black, which stood

out like an outpost of the shrubbery, through which the maze was

approached. That, he thought, might as well be away: the wonder was that

anyone should have thought it would look well in that position.

 

*

 

However, next morning, in the press of answering letters and going over

books with Mr Cooper, the Irish yew was forgotten. One letter, by the

way, arrived this day which has to be mentioned. It was from that Lady

Wardrop whom Miss Cooper had mentioned, and it renewed the application

which she had addressed to Mr Wilson. She pleaded, in the first place,

that she was about to publish a Book of Mazes, and earnestly desired to

include the plan of the Wilsthorpe Maze, and also that it would be a

great kindness if Mr Humphreys could let her see it (if at all) at an

early date, since she would soon have to go abroad for the winter months.

Her house at Bentley was not far distant, so Humphreys was able to send a

note by hand to her suggesting the very next day or the day after for her

visit; it may be said at once that the messenger brought back a most

grateful answer, to the effect that the morrow would suit her admirably.

 

The only other event of the day was that the plan of the maze was

successfully finished.

 

This night again was fair and brilliant and calm, and Humphreys lingered

almost as long at his window. The Irish yew came to his mind again as he

was on the point of drawing his curtains: but either he had been misled

by a shadow the night before, or else the shrub was not really so

obtrusive as he had fancied. Anyhow, he saw no reason for interfering

with it. What he would do away with, however, was a clump of dark

growth which had usurped a place against the house wall, and was

threatening to obscure one of the lower range of windows. It did not look

as if it could possibly be worth keeping; he fancied it dank and

unhealthy, little as he could see of it.

 

Next day (it was a Friday—he had arrived at Wilsthorpe on a Monday) Lady

Wardrop came over in her car soon after luncheon. She was a stout elderly

person, very full of talk of all sorts and particularly inclined to make

herself agreeable to Humphreys, who had gratified her very much by his

ready granting of her request. They made a thorough exploration of the

place together; and Lady Wardrop’s opinion of her host obviously rose

sky-high when she found that he really knew something of gardening. She

entered enthusiastically into all his plans for improvement, but agreed

that it would be a vandalism to interfere with the characteristic

laying-out of the ground near the house. With the temple she was

particularly delighted, and, said she, ‘Do you know, Mr Humphreys, I

think your bailiff must be right about those lettered blocks of stone.

One of my mazes—I’m sorry to say the stupid people have destroyed it

now—it was at a place in Hampshire—had the track marked out in that

way. They were tiles there, but lettered just like yours, and the

letters, taken in the right order, formed an inscription—what it was I

forget—something about Theseus and Ariadne. I have a copy of it, as well

as the plan of the maze where it was. How people can do such things! I

shall never forgive you if you injure your maze. Do you know, they’re

becoming very uncommon? Almost every year I hear of one being grubbed up.

Now, do let’s get straight to it: or, if you’re too busy, I know my way

there perfectly, and I’m not afraid of getting lost in it; I know too

much about mazes for that. Though I remember missing my lunch—not so

very long ago either—through getting entangled in the one at Busbury.

Well, of course, if you can manage to come with me, that will be all

the nicer.’

 

After this confident prelude justice would seem to require that Lady

Wardrop should have been hopelessly muddled by the Wilsthorpe maze.

Nothing of that kind happened: yet it is to be doubted whether she got

all the enjoyment from her new specimen that she expected. She was

interested—keenly interested—to be sure, and pointed out to Humphreys a

series of little depressions in the ground which, she thought, marked the

places of the lettered blocks. She told him, too, what other mazes

resembled his most closely in arrangement, and explained how it was

usually possible to date a maze to within twenty years by means of its

plan. This one, she already knew, must be about as old as 1780, and its

features were just what might be expected. The globe, furthermore,

completely absorbed her. It was unique in her experience, and she pored

over it for long. ‘I should like a rubbing of that,’ she said, ‘if it

could possibly be made. Yes, I am sure you would be most kind about it,

Mr Humphreys, but I trust you won’t attempt it on my account, I do

indeed; I shouldn’t like to take any liberties here. I have the feeling

that it might be resented. Now, confess,’ she went on, turning and facing

Humphreys, ‘don’t you feel—haven’t you felt ever since you came in

here—that a watch is being kept on us, and that if we overstepped the

mark in any way there would be a—well, a pounce? No? I do; and I don’t

care how soon we are outside the gate.’

 

‘After all,’ she said, when they were once more on their way to the

house, ‘it may have been only the airlessness and the dull heat of that

place that pressed on my brain. Still, I’ll take back one thing I said.

I’m not sure that I shan’t forgive you after all, if I find next spring

that that maze has been grubbed up.’

 

‘Whether or no that’s done, you shall have the plan, Lady Wardrop. I have

made one, and no later than tonight I can trace you a copy.’

 

‘Admirable: a pencil tracing will be all I want, with an indication of

the scale. I can easily have it brought into line with the rest of my

plates. Many, many thanks.’

 

‘Very well, you shall have that tomorrow. I wish you could help me to a

solution of my block-puzzle.’

 

‘What, those stones in the summer-house? That is a puzzle; they are in

no sort of order? Of course not. But the men who put them down must have

had some directions—perhaps you’ll find a paper about it among your

uncle’s things. If not, you’ll have to call in somebody who’s an expert

in ciphers.’

 

‘Advise me about something else, please,’ said Humphreys. ‘That

bush-thing under the library window: you would have that away, wouldn’t

you?’

 

‘Which? That? Oh, I think not,’