Short Fiction M. R. James (good book recommendations TXT) đ
- Author: M. R. James
Book online «Short Fiction M. R. James (good book recommendations TXT) đ». Author M. R. James
The gentleman took it carelessly, looked at it, then said, in a tone of some interest:
âItâs really a very good piece of work, Williams; it has quite a feeling of the romantic period. The light is admirably managed, it seems to me, and the figure, though itâs rather too grotesque, is somehow very impressive.â
âYes, isnât it?â said Williams, who was just then busy giving whisky-and-soda to others of the company, and was unable to come across the room to look at the view again.
It was by this time rather late in the evening, and the visitors were on the move. After they went Williams was obliged to write a letter or two and clear up some odd bits of work. At last, some time past midnight, he was disposed to turn in, and he put out his lamp after lighting his bedroom candle. The picture lay face upwards on the table where the last man who looked at it had put it, and it caught his eye as he turned the lamp down. What he saw made him very nearly drop the candle on the floor, and he declares now that if he had been left in the dark at that moment he would have had a fit. But, as that did not happen, he was able to put down the light on the table and take a good look at the picture. It was indubitableâ ârankly impossible, no doubt, but absolutely certain. In the middle of the lawn in front of the unknown house there was a figure where no figure had been at five oâclock that afternoon. It was crawling on all fours towards the house, and it was muffled in a strange black garment with a white cross on the back.
I do not know what is the ideal course to pursue in a situation of this kind. I can only tell you what Mr. Williams did. He took the picture by one corner and carried it across the passage to a second set of rooms which he possessed. There he locked it up in a drawer, sported the doors of both sets of rooms, and retired to bed; but first he wrote out and signed an account of the extraordinary change which the picture had undergone since it had come into his possession.
Sleep visited him rather late; but it was consoling to reflect that the behaviour of the picture did not depend upon his own unsupported testimony. Evidently the man who had looked at it the night before had seen something of the same kind as he had, otherwise he might have been tempted to think that something gravely wrong was happening either to his eyes or his mind. This possibility being fortunately precluded, two matters awaited him on the morrow. He must take stock of the picture very carefully, and call in a witness for the purpose, and he must make a determined effort to ascertain what house it was that was represented. He would therefore ask his neighbour Nisbet to breakfast with him, and he would subsequently spend a morning over the gazetteer.
Nisbet was disengaged, and arrived about 9:30. His host was not quite dressed, I am sorry to say, even at this late hour. During breakfast nothing was said about the mezzotint by Williams, save that he had a picture on which he wished for Nisbetâs opinion. But those who are familiar with University life can picture for themselves the wide and delightful range of subjects over which the conversation of two Fellows of Canterbury College is likely to extend during a Sunday morning breakfast. Hardly a topic was left unchallenged, from golf to lawn-tennis. Yet I am bound to say that Williams was rather distraught; for his interest naturally centred in that very strange picture which was now reposing, face downwards, in the drawer in the room opposite.
The morning pipe was at last lighted, and the moment had arrived for which he looked. With very considerableâ âalmost tremulousâ âexcitement he ran across, unlocked the drawer, and, extracting the pictureâ âstill face downwardsâ âran back, and put it into Nisbetâs hands.
âNow,â he said, âNisbet, I want you to tell me exactly what you see in that picture. Describe it, if you donât mind, rather minutely. Iâll tell you why afterwards.â
âWell,â said Nisbet, âI have here a view of a country-houseâ âEnglish, I presumeâ âby moonlight.â
âMoonlight? Youâre sure of that?â
âCertainly. The moon appears to be on the wane, if you wish for details, and there are clouds in the sky.â
âAll right. Go on. Iâll swear,â added Williams in an aside, âthere was no moon when I saw it first.â
âWell, thereâs not much more to be said,â Nisbet continued. âThe house has oneâ âtwoâ âthree rows of windows, five in each row, except at the bottom, where thereâs a porch instead of the middle one, andâ ââ
âBut what about figures?â said Williams, with marked interest.
âThere arenât any,â said Nisbet; âbutâ ââ
âWhat! No figure on the grass in front?â
âNot a thing.â
âYouâll swear to that?â
âCertainly I will. But thereâs just one other thing.â
âWhat?â
âWhy, one of the windows on the ground-floorâ âleft of the doorâ âis open.â
âIs it really so? My goodness! he must have got in,â said Williams, with great excitement; and he hurried to the back of the sofa on which Nisbet was sitting, and, catching the picture from him, verified the matter for himself.
It was quite true. There was no figure, and there was the open window. Williams, after a moment of speechless surprise, went to the writing-table and scribbled for a short time. Then he brought two papers to
Comments (0)