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

was in this garden, and at other times about several of the cottages.

But lately there has been very little: I think it will die out. There is

nothing in our registers except the entry of the burial, and what I for a

long time took to be the family motto: but last time I looked at it I

noticed that it was added in a later hand and had the initials of one of

our rectors quite late in the seventeenth century, A. C.—Augustine

Crompton. Here it is, you see—_quieta non movere_. I suppose— Well, it

is rather hard to say exactly what I do suppose.’

THE TRACTATE MIDDOTH

Towards the end of an autumn afternoon an elderly man with a thin face

and grey Piccadilly weepers pushed open the swing-door leading into the

vestibule of a certain famous library, and addressing himself to an

attendant, 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 of

those to whom that privilege was given. He produced his card—Mr John

Eldred—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 I

do 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 title

of the book I want: is there anyone at liberty who could go and find it

for me?’ After a moment’s thought the doorkeeper beckoned to a young man

who was passing. ‘Mr Garrett,’ he said, ‘have you a minute to assist this

gentleman?’ ‘With pleasure,’ was Mr Garrett’s answer. The slip with the

title was handed to him. ‘I think I can put my hand on this; it happens

to be in the class I inspected last quarter, but I’ll just look it up in

the catalogue to make sure. I suppose it is that particular edition that

you require, sir?’ ‘Yes, if you please; that, and no other,’ said Mr

Eldred; ‘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 the

pages of the catalogue, stopped at a particular entry. ‘Talmud: Tractate

Middoth, 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 anxiously

the return of his messenger—and his disappointment at seeing an

empty-handed Mr Garrett running down the staircase was very evident. ‘I’m

sorry 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 no

mistake?’ ‘I don’t think there is much chance of it, sir: but it’s

possible, if you like to wait a minute, that you might meet the very

gentleman 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 or

one of the students?’ ‘I don’t think so: certainly not a professor. I

should have known him; but the light isn’t very good in that part of the

library at this time of day, and I didn’t see his face. I should have

said he was a shortish old gentleman, perhaps a clergyman, in a cloak. If

you could wait, I can easily find out whether he wants the book very

particularly.’

 

‘No, no,’ said Mr Eldred, ‘I won’t—I can’t wait now, thank you—no. I

must be off. But I’ll call again tomorrow if I may, and perhaps you

could find out who has it.’

 

‘Certainly, sir, and I’ll have the book ready for you if we—’ But Mr

Eldred was already off, and hurrying more than one would have thought

wholesome for him.

 

Garrett had a few moments to spare; and, thought he, ‘I’ll go back to

that case and see if I can find the old man. Most likely he could put off

using the book for a few days. I dare say the other one doesn’t want to

keep it for long.’ So off with him to the Hebrew class. But when he got

there it was unoccupied, and the volume marked 11.3.34 was in its place

on the shelf. It was vexatious to Garrett’s self-respect to have

disappointed an inquirer with so little reason: and he would have liked,

had it not been against library rules, to take the book down to the

vestibule then and there, so that it might be ready for Mr Eldred when he

called. However, next morning he would be on the look out for him, and he

begged the doorkeeper to send and let him know when the moment came. As a

matter of fact, he was himself in the vestibule when Mr Eldred arrived,

very soon after the library opened and when hardly anyone besides the

staff were in the building.

 

‘I’m very sorry,’ he said; ‘it’s not often that I make such a stupid

mistake, but I did feel sure that the old gentleman I saw took out that

very 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 not

merely refer to it. But, however, I’ll run up now at once and get it for

you this time.’

 

And here intervened a pause. Mr Eldred paced the entry, read all the

notices, consulted his watch, sat and gazed up the staircase, did all

that 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 a

very 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, but

to be sure he might have been sent for by the librarian, but even so I

think he’d have mentioned to him that you was waiting. I’ll just speak

him up on the toob and see.’ And to the tube he addressed himself. As he

absorbed the reply to his question his face changed, and he made one or

two supplementary inquiries which were shortly answered. Then he came

forward 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 Garrett

has been took poorly, it appears, and the librarian sent him ‘ome in a

cab 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 might

term it, of illness. Not a strong constitootion, Mr Garrett. But as to

your book, sir, perhaps you might be able to find it for yourself. It’s

too bad you should be disappointed this way twice over—’ ‘Er—well, but

I’m so sorry that Mr Garrett should have been taken ill in this way while

he was obliging me. I think I must leave the book, and call and inquire

after 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. ‘And

one other question. Did you happen to notice if an old gentleman, perhaps

a clergyman, in a—yes—in a black cloak, left the library after I did

yesterday. I think he may have been a—I think, that is, that he may be

staying—or rather that I may have known him.’

 

‘Not in a black cloak, sir; no. There were only two gentlemen left later

than what you done, sir, both of them youngish men. There was Mr Carter

took 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 Mr

Garrett’s address, but the young man was not yet in a condition to

receive visitors. He was better, but his landlady considered that he must

have had a severe shock. She thought most likely from what the doctor

said that he would be able to see Mr Eldred tomorrow. Mr Eldred returned

to 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 Garrett

was a cheerful and pleasant-looking young man. Now he was a very white

and shaky being, propped up in an arm-chair by the fire, and inclined to

shiver and keep an eye on the door. If however, there were visitors whom

he was not prepared to welcome, Mr Eldred was not among them. ‘It really

is I who owe you an apology, and I was despairing of being able to pay

it, for I didn’t know your address. But I am very glad you have called. I

do dislike and regret giving all this trouble, but you know I could not

have foreseen this—this attack which I had.’

 

‘Of course not; but now, I am something of a doctor. You’ll excuse my

asking; 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, a

shock.’

 

‘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 I

saw. 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—it

will 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: you

might be able to explain it away. It was just when I was going into the

class where your book is—’

 

‘Indeed, Mr Garrett, I insist; besides, my watch tells me I have but very

little time left in which to get my things together and take the train.

No—not another word—it would be more distressing to you than you

imagine, perhaps. Now there is just one thing I want to say. I feel that

I am really indirectly responsible for this illness of yours, and I think

I 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 upon

his taking a note of the class-mark of the Tractate Middoth, which, as he

said, Mr Eldred could at leisure get for himself. But Mr Eldred did not

reappear at the library.

 

*

 

William Garrett had another visitor that day in the person of a

contemporary and colleague from the library, one George Earle. Earle had

been one of those who found Garrett lying insensible on the floor just

inside the ‘class’ or cubicle (opening upon the central alley of a

spacious gallery) in which the Hebrew books were placed, and Earle had

naturally been very anxious about his friend’s condition. So as soon as

library hours were over he appeared at the lodgings. ‘Well,’ he said

(after other conversation), ‘I’ve no notion what it was that put