The Treasure of Abbot Thomas

"Verum usquein praesentem diem multa garriunt inter se Canonici deabsconditoquodam istius Abbatis Thomae thesauro, quem saepe, quanquamadhucincassum, quaesiverunt Steinfeldenses. Ipsum enim Thomamadhuc florida inaetate existentem ingentem auri massam circamonasterium defodisseperhibent; de quo multoties interrogatus ubiesset, cum risu responderesolitus erat: "Job, Johannes, etZacharias vel vobis vel posterisindicabunt"; idemquealiquando adiicere se inventuris minime invisurum.Inter aliahuius Abbatis opera, hoc memoria praecipue dignum iudicoquodfenestram magnam in orientali parte alae australis inecclesia suaimaginibus optime in vitro depictis impleverit: idquod et ipsius effigieset insignia ibidem posita demonstrant.Domum quoque Abbatialem fere totamrestauravit: puteo in atrioipsius effosso et lapidibus marmoreis pulchrecaelatis exornato.Decessit autem, morte aliquantulum subitanea perculsus,aetatissuae anno lxxiido, incarnationis vero Dominicae mdxxixo.""I suppose I shall have to translate this," said theantiquary tohimself, as he finished copying the above lines fromthat rather rare andexceedingly diffuse book, the SertumSteinfeldense Norbertinum."Well, it mayas well be done firstas last," and accordingly the following rendering wasveryquickly produced: "Up to the present day there is muchgossip among the Canons about acertain hidden treasure of thisAbbot Thomas, for which those of Steinfeldhave often made search,though hitherto in vain. The story is that Thomas,while yet inthe vigour of life, concealed a very large quantity ofgoldsomewhere in the monastery. He was often asked where it was,and alwaysanswered, with a laugh: 'Job, John, and Zechariah willtell either you oryour successors.' He sometimes added that heshould feel no grudge againstthose who might find it. Among otherworks carried out by this Abbot I mayspecially mention hisfilling the great window at the east end of the southaisle of thechurch with figures admirably painted on glass, as his effigyandarms in the window attest. He also restored almost the whole oftheAbbot's lodging, and dug a well in the court of it, which headorned withbeautiful carvings in marble. He died rather suddenlyin the seventy-secondyear of his age, AD 1529." The objectwhich the antiquary had before him at the moment was thatoftracing the whereabouts of the painted windows of the AbbeyChurch ofSteinfeld. Shortly after the Revolution, a very largequantity of paintedglass made its way from the dissolved abbeysof Germany and Belgium to thiscountry, and may now be seenadorning various of our parish churches,cathedrals, and privatechapels. Steinfeld Abbey was among the mostconsiderable of theseinvoluntary contributors to our artistic possessions(I am quotingthe somewhat ponderous preamble of the book which theantiquarywrote), and the greater part of the glass from thatinstitutioncan be identified without much difficulty by the help,either of thenumerous inscriptions in which the place ismentioned, or of the subjects ofthe windows, in which severalwell-defined cycles or narratives wererepresented. The passagewith which I began my story had set the antiquary on thetrack ofanother identification. In a private chapel - no matter where -hehad seen three large figures, each occupying a whole light in awindow, andevidently the work of one artist. Their style made itplain that the artisthad been a German of the sixteenth century;but hitherto the more exactlocalizing of them had been a puzzle.They represented (will you besurprised to hear it?) JOBPATRIARCHA, JOHANNES EVANGELISTA, ZACHARIASPROPHETA, and each ofthem held a book or scroll, inscribed with a sentencefrom hiswritings. These, as a matter of course, the antiquary hadnoted,and had been struck by the curious way in which theydiffered from any textof the Vulgate that he had been able toexamine. Thus the scroll in Job'shand was inscribed: "Auroest locus in quo absconditur" (for "conflatur");onthe book of John was: "Habent in vestimentis suis scripturamquam nemonovit" (for "in vestimento scriptum", thefollowing words being taken fromanother verse); and Zacharias had:"Super lapidem unum septem oculi sunt"(which alone ofthe three presents an unaltered text). A sad perplexity it hadbeen to our investigator to think why these threepersonagesshould have been placed together in one window. There was nobondof connection between them, either historic, symbolic, ordoctrinal, and hecould only suppose that they must have formedpart of a very large series ofProphets and Apostles, which mighthave filled, say, all the clerestorywindows of some capaciouschurch. But the passage from the Sertum hadaltered the situationby showing that the names of the actual personagesrepresented inthe glass now in Lord D_____'s chapel had been constantly onthelips of Abbot Thomas von Eschenhausen of Steinfeld, and that thisAbbothad put up a painted window, probably about the year 1520,in the southaisle of his abbey church. It was no very wildconjecture that the threefigures might have formed part of AbbotThomas's offering; it was one which,moreover, could probably beconfirmed or set aside by another carefulexamination of the glass.And, as Mr Somerton was a man of leisure, he setout on pilgrimageto the private chapel with very little delay. Hisconjecture wasconfirmed to the full. Not only did the style and techniqueof theglass suit perfectly with the date and place required, but inanotherwindow of the chapel he found some glass, known to havebeen bought alongwith the figures, which contained the arms ofAbbot Thomas von Eschenhausen. At intervals during his researchesMr Somerton had been haunted by therecollection of the gossipabout the hidden treasure, and, as he thought thematter over, itbecame more and more obvious to him that if the Abbotmeantanything by the enigmatical answer which he gave to hisquestioners, he musthave meant that the secret was to be foundsomewhere in the window he hadplaced in the abbey church. It wasundeniable, furthermore, that the firstof the curiously-selectedtexts on the scrolls in the window might be takento have areference to hidden treasure. Every feature, therefore, or markwhich could possibly assist inelucidating the riddle which, hefelt sure, the Abbot had set to posterityhe noted with scrupulouscare, and, returning to his Berkshire manor-house,consumed many apint of the midnight oil over his tracings and sketches.After twoor three weeks, a day came when Mr Somerton announced to hismanthat he must pack his own and his master's things for a shortjourneyabroad, whither for the moment we will not follow him. IIMr Gregory, the Rector of Parsbury, had strolled out beforebreakfast, itbeing a fine autumn morning, as far as the gate ofhis carriage-drive, withintent to meet the postman and sniff thecool air. Nor was he disappointedof either purpose. Before he hadhad time to answer more than ten or elevenof the miscellaneousquestions propounded to him in the lightness of theirhearts byhis young offspring, who had accompanied him, the postman wasseenapproaching; and among the morning's budget was one letterbearing a foreignpostmark and stamp (which became at once theobjects of an eager competitionamong the youthful Gregorys), andwas addressed in an uneducated, butplainly an English hand. Whenthe Rector opened it, and turned to the signature, he realizedthatit came from the confidential valet of his friend and squire,Mr Somerton.Thus it ran: HONOURD SIR, Has I am in a great anxeityabout Master I write at is Wish to Beg you Sir if you could be sogood as Step over. Master Has add a Nastey Shock and keeps HisBedd. I never Have known Him like this but No wonder and Nothingwill serve but you Sir. Master says would I mintion the Short WayHere is Drive to Cobblince and take a Trap. Hopeing I Have maidall Plain, but am much Confused in Myself what with Anxiatey andWeakfulness at Night. If I might be so Bold Sir it will be aPleasure to see a Honnest Brish Face among all These Forig ones.I am Sir Your obedt Servt WILLIAM BROWN P.S. - The Villiage forTown I will not Turm It is name Steenfeld. The reader must beleft to picture to himself in detail the surprise,confusion, andhurry of preparation into which the receipt of such a letterwouldbe likely to plunge a quiet Berkshire parsonage in the year ofgrace1859. It is enough for me to say that a train to town wascaught in thecourse of the day, and that Mr Gregory was able tosecure a cabin in theAntwerp boat and a place in the Coblentztrain. Nor was it difficult tomanage the transit from that centreto Steinfeld. I labour under a grave disadvantage as narrator ofthis story in that Ihave never visited Steinfeld myself, and thatneither of the principalactors in the episode (from whom I derivemy information) was able to giveme anything but a vague andrather dismal idea of its appearance. I gatherthat it is a smallplace, with a large church despoiled of its ancientfittings; anumber of rather ruinous great buildings, mostly oftheseventeenth century, surround this church; for the abbey, incommon withmost of those on the Continent, was rebuilt in aluxurious fashion by itsinhabitants at that period. It has notseemed to me worth while to lavishmoney on a visit to the place,for though it is probably far more attractivethan either MrSomerton or Mr Gregory thought it, there is evidently little,ifanything, of first-rate interest to be seen - except, perhaps,one thing,which I should not care to see. The inn where theEnglish gentleman and his servant were lodged is, orwas, the only"possible" one in the village. Mr Gregory was taken toit atonce by his driver, and found Mr Brown waiting at the door.Mr Brown, amodel when in his Berkshire home of the impassivewhiskered race who areknown as confidential valets, was nowegregiously out of his element, in alight tweed suit, anxious,almost irritable, and plainly anything but masterof the situation.His relief at the sight of the "honest British face"ofhis Rector was unmeasured, but words to describe it were deniedhim. Hecould only say: "Well, I ham pleased, I'm sure, sir,to see you. And so I'm sure, sir,will master." "How isyour master, Brown?" Mr Gregory eagerly put in. "Ithink he's better, sir, thank you; but he's had a dreadful timeof it.I 'ope he's gettin' some sleep now, but - " "Whathas been the matter - I couldn't make out from your letter? Wasitan accident of any kind?" "Well, sir, I 'ardly knowwhether I'd better speak about it. Master wasvery partickler heshould be the one to tell you. But there's no bones broke- that'sone thing I'm sure we ought to be thankful - " "Whatdoes the doctor say?" asked Mr Gregory. They were by thistime outside Mr Somerton's bedroom door, and speakingin low tones.Mr Gregory, who happened to be in front, was feeling forthehandle, and chanced to run his fingers over the panels. BeforeBrown couldanswer, there was a terrible cry from within the room."In God's name, who is that?" were the first words theyheard. "Brown, isit? "Yes, sir - me, sir, and MrGregory," Brown hastened to answer, and therewas an audiblegroan of relief in reply. They entered the room, which wasdarkened against the afternoon sun, andMr Gregory saw, with ashock of pity, how drawn, how damp with drops offear, was theusually calm face of his friend, who, sitting up in thecurtainedbed, stretched out a shaking hand to welcome him. "Betterfor seeing you, my dear Gregory," was the reply to theRector'sfirst question, and it was palpably true. After fiveminutes of conversation Mr Somerton was more his own man,Brownafterwards reported, than he had been for days. He was able toeat amore than respectable dinner, and talked confidently ofbeing fit to stand ajourney to Coblentz within twenty-four hours."But there's one thing," he said, with a return ofagitation which MrGregory did not like to see, "which I mustbeg you to do for me, my dearGregory. Don't," he went on,laying his hand on Gregory's to forestall anyinterruption -"don't ask me what it is, or why I want it done. I"mnot upto explaining it yet; it would throw me back - undo all thegood you havedone me by coming. The only word I will say about itis that you run no riskwhatever by doing it, and that Brown canand will show you tomorrow what itis. It's merely to put back -to keep - something - No; I can't speak of ityet. Do you mindcalling Brown?" "Well, Somerton," said Mr Gregory,as he crossed the room to the door, "Iwon't ask for anyexplanations till you see fit to give them. And if thisbit ofbusiness is as easy as you represent it to be, I will verygladlyundertake it for you the first thing in the morning.""Ah, I was sure you would, my dear Gregory; I was certain Icould rely onyou. I shall owe you more thanks than I can tell.Now, here is Brown. Brown,one word with you." 'shall I go?"interjected Mr Gregory. "Not at all. Dear me, no. Brown, thefirst thing tomorrow morning - (youdon't mind early hours, Iknow, Gregory) you must take the Rector to -there, you know"(a nod from Brown, who looked grave and anxious), "and heandyou will put that back. You needn't be in the least alarmed;it'sperfectly safe in the daytime. You know what I mean. It lieson the step,you know, where - where we put it." (Brownswallowed dryly once or twice,and, failing to speak, bowed.)"And - yes, that's all. Only this one otherword, my dearGregory. If you can manage to keep from questioning Brownaboutthis matter, I shall be still more bound to you. Tomorrowevening, atlatest, if all goes well, I shall be able, I believe,to tell you the wholestory from start to finish. And now I"llwish you good night. Brown will bewith me - he sleeps here - andif I were you, I should lock my door. Yes, beparticular to dothat. They - they like it, the people here, and it'sbetter. Goodnight, good night." They parted upon this, and if Mr Gregorywoke once or twice in the smallhours and fancied he heard afumbling about the lower part of his lockeddoor, it was, perhaps,no more than what a quiet man, suddenly plunged intoa strange bedand the heart of a mystery, might reasonably expect. Certainlyhethought, to the end of his days, that he had heard such a soundtwice orthree times between midnight and dawn. He was up with thesun, and out in company with Brown soon after.Perplexing as wasthe service he had been asked to perform for Mr Somerton,it wasnot a difficult or an alarming one, and within half an hour fromhisleaving the inn it was over. What it was I shall not as yetdivulge. Later in the morning Mr Somerton, now almost himselfagain, was able tomake a start from Steinfeld; and that sameevening, whether at Coblentz orat some intermediate stage on thejourney I am not certain, he settled downto the promisedexplanation. Brown was present, but how much of the matterwasever really made plain to his comprehension he would never say,and I amunable to conjecture. III This was Mr Somerton's story:"You know roughly, both of you, that this expedition of minewasundertaken with the object of tracing something in connectionwith some oldpainted glass in Lord D_____'s private chapel. Well,the starting-point ofthe whole matter lies in this passage froman old printed book, to which Iwill ask your attention." Andat this point Mr Somerton went carefully over some ground withwhichwe are already familiar. "On my second visit to thechapel," he went on, "my purpose was to takeevery noteI could of figures, lettering, diamond-scratchings on theglass,and even apparently accidental markings. The first pointwhich I tackled wasthat of the inscribed scrolls. I could notdoubt that the first of these,that of Job - 'There is a place forthe gold where it is hidden' - with itsintentional alteration,must refer to the treasure; so I applied myself withsomeconfidence to the next, that of St John - 'They have on theirvesturesa writing which no man knoweth.' The natural questionwill have occurred toyou: Was there an inscription on the robesof the figures? I could see none;each of the three had a broadblack border to his mantle, which made aconspicuous and ratherugly feature in the window. I was nonplussed, I willown, and butfor a curious bit of luck I think I should have left thesearchwhere the Canons of Steinfeld had left it before me. But itso happened thatthere was a good deal of dust on the surface ofthe glass, and Lord D_____,happening to come in, noticed myblackened hands, and kindly insisted onsending for a Turk's-headbroom to clean down the window. There must, Isuppose, have been arough piece in the broom; anyhow, as it passed over theborder ofone of the mantles, I noticed that it left a long scratch,andthat some yellow stain instantly showed up. I asked the man tostop his workfor a moment, and ran up the ladder to examine theplace. The yellow stainwas there, sure enough, and what had comeaway was a thick black pigment,which had evidently been laid onwith the brush after the glass had beenburnt, and could thereforebe easily scraped off without doing any harm. Iscraped,accordingly, and you will hardly believe - no, I do youaninjustice; you will have guessed already - that I found underthis blackpigment two or three clearly-formed capital letters inyellow stain on aclear ground. Of course, I could hardly containmy delight. "I told Lord D_____ that I had detected aninscription which I thoughtmight be very interesting, and beggedto be allowed to uncover the whole ofit. He made no difficultyabout it whatever, told me to do exactly as Ipleased, and then,having an engagement, was obliged - rather to my relief,I mustsay - to leave me. I set to work at once, and found the task afairlyeasy one. The pigment, disintegrated, of course, by time,came off almost ata touch, and I don't think that it took me acouple of hours, all told, toclean the whole of the black bordersin all three lights. Each of thefigures had, as the inscriptionsaid, 'a writing on their vestures whichnobody knew'. "Thisdiscovery, of course, made it absolutely certain to my mind thatIwas on the right track. And, now, what was the inscription?While I wascleaning the glass I almost took pains not to read thelettering, saving upthe treat until I had got the whole thingclear. And when that was done, mydear Gregory, I assure you Icould almost have cried from sheerdisappointment. What I read wasonly the most hopeless jumble of lettersthat was ever shaken upin a hat. Here it is:Job DREVICIOPEDMOOMSMVIVLISLCAVIBASBATAOVTStJohn RDIIEAMRLESIPVSPODSEEIRSETTAAESGIAVNNRZechariahFTEEAILNQDPVAIVMTLEEATTOHIOONVMCAAT.H.Q.E "Blank as I feltand must have looked for the first few minutes, mydisappointmentdidn't last long. I realized almost at once that I wasdealingwith a cipher or cryptogram; and I reflected that it was likelytobe of a pretty simple kind, considering its early date. So Icopied theletters with the most anxious care. Another littlepoint, I may tell you,turned up in the process which confirmed mybelief in the cipher. Aftercopying the letters on Job's robe Icounted them, to make sure that I hadthem right. There werethirty-eight; and, just as I finished going throughthem, my eyefell on a scratching made with a sharp point on the edge oftheborder. It was simply the number xxxviii in Roman numerals. Tocut thematter short, there was a similar note, as I may call it,in each of theother lights; and that made it plain to me that theglass-painter had hadvery strict orders from Abbot Thomas aboutthe inscription, and had takenpains to get it correct. "Well,after that discovery you may imagine how minutely I went overthewhole surface of the glass in search of further light. Ofcourse, I did notneglect the inscription on the scroll ofZechariah ('Upon one stone areseven eyes'), but I very quicklyconcluded that this must refer to some markon a stone which couldonly be found in situ, where the treasure wasconcealed. To beshort, I made all possible notes and sketches and tracings,andthen came back to Parsbury to work out the cipher at leisure. Oh,theagonies I went through! I thought myself very clever at first,for I madesure that the key would be found in some of the oldbooks on secret writing.The Steganographia of Joachim Trithemius,who was an earlier contemporary ofAbbot Thomas, seemedparticularly promising; so I got that, andSelenius'sCryptographia and Bacon's De Augmentis Scientiarum, andsome more. But Icould hit upon nothing. Then I tried theprinciple of the 'most frequentletter', taking first Latin andthen German as a basis. That didn't help,either; whether it oughtto have done so, I am not clear. And then I cameback to thewindow itself, and read over my notes, hoping almost againsthopethat the Abbot might himself have somewhat supplied the key Iwanted. Icould make nothing out of the colour or pattern of therobes. There were nolandscape backgrounds with subsidiaryobjects; there was nothing in thecanopies. The only resourcepossible seemed to be in the attitudes of thefigures. "Job,"I read: 'scroll in left hand, forefinger of right handextendedupwards. John: holds inscribed book in left hand; with righthandblesses, with two fingers. Zechariah: scroll in left hand;right handextended upwards, as Job, but with three fingerspointing up." In otherwords, I reflected, Job has one fingerextended, John has two, Zechariah hasthree. May not there be anumeral key concealed in that? My dear Gregory,"said MrSomerton, laying his hand on his friend's knee, "that wasthe key. Ididn't get it to fit at first, but after two or threetrials I saw what wasmeant. After the first letter of theinscription you skip one letter, afterthe next you skip two, andafter that skip three. Now look at the result Igot. I'veunderlined the letters which form words:DREICIOPEDMOOMSMVIVLISLCAVIBASBATAOVTRDIIEAMRLESIPVSPODSEEIRSETTAAESGIAVNNRFTEEAILNQDPVAIVMTLEEATTOHIOONVMCAAT.H.Q.E. "Do you see it?Decem millia auri reposita sunt in puteo in at... (Tenthousand [pieces]of gold are laid up in a well in...), followed by anincompleteword beginning at. So far so good. I tried the same plan withtheremaining letters; but it wouldn't work, and I fancied thatperhaps theplacing of dots after the three last letters mightindicate some differenceof procedure. Then I thought to myself,"Wasn't there some allusion to awell in the account of AbbotThomas in that book the Sertum? Yes, there was:he built a puteusin atrio (a well in the court). There, of course, was mywordatrio. The next step was to copy out the remaining letters oftheinscription, omitting those I had already used. That gave whatyou will seeon this slip:RVIIOPDOOSMVVISCAVBSBTAOTDIEAMLSIVSPDEERSETAEGIANRFEEALQDVAIMLEATTHOOVMCA.H.Q.E."Now, I knew what the first three letters I wanted werenamely, RIO - tocomplete the word atrio; and, as you will see,these are all to be found inthe first five letters. I was alittle confused at first by the occurrenceof two i's, but verysoon I saw that every alternate letter must be taken intheremainder of the inscription. You can work it out for yourself;theresult, continuing where the first 'round' left off, is this:"rio domus abbatialis de Steinfeld a me, Thoma, qui posuicustodem super ea. Gare ˆ qui la touche. 'so the wholesecret was out: "Ten thousand pieces of gold are laid up inthe well in the court of the Abbot's house of Steinfeld by me,Thomas, who have set a guardian over them. Gare ˆ qui latouche. "The last words, I ought to say, are a device whichAbbot Thomas hadadopted. I found it with his arms in anotherpiece of glass at LordD_____'s, and he drafted it bodily into hiscipher, though it doesn't quitefit in point of grammar. "Well,what would any human being have been tempted to do, mydearGregory, in my place? Could he have helped setting off, as Idid, toSteinfeld, and tracing the secret literally to thefountain-head? I don'tbelieve he could. Anyhow, I couldn't, and,as I needn't tell you, I foundmyself at Steinfeld as soon as theresources of civilization could put methere, and installed myselfin the inn you saw. I must tell you that I wasnot altogether freefrom forebodings - on one hand of disappointment, on theother ofdanger. There was always the possibility that Abbot Thomas'swellmight have been wholly obliterated, or else that someone,ignorant ofcryptograms, and guided only by luck, might havestumbled on the treasurebefore me. And then" - there was avery perceptible shaking of the voicehere - "I was notentirely easy, I need not mind confessing, as to themeaning ofthe words about the guardian of the treasure. But, if youdon'tmind, I"ll say no more about that until - until itbecomes necessary. "At the first possible opportunity Brownand I began exploring the place.I had naturally representedmyself as being interested in the remains of theabbey, and wecould not avoid paying a visit to the church, impatient as Iwasto be elsewhere. Still, it did interest me to see the windowswhere theglass had been, and especially that at the east end ofthe south aisle. Inthe tracery lights of that I was startled tosee some fragments andcoats-of-arms remaining - Abbot Thomas'sshield was there, and a smallfigure with a scroll inscribedOculos habent, et non videbunt (They haveeyes, and shall not see),which, I take it, was a hit of the Abbot at hisCanons. "But,of course, the principal object was to find the Abbot's house.Thereis no prescribed place for this, so far as I know, in the plan ofamonastery; you can't predict of it, as you can of the chapter-house,that itwill be on the eastern side of the cloister, or, as of thedormitory, thatit will communicate with a transept of the church.I felt that if I askedmany questions I might awaken lingeringmemories of the treasure, and Ithought it best to try first todiscover it for myself. It was not a verylong or difficult search.That three-sided court south-east of the church,with desertedpiles of building round it, and grass-grown pavement, whichyousaw this morning, was the place. And glad enough I was to seethat itwas put to no use, and was neither very far from our innnor overlooked byany inhabited building; there were only orchardsand paddocks on the slopeseast of the church. I can tell you thatfine stone glowed wonderfully in therather watery yellow sunsetthat we had on the Tuesday afternoon. "Next, what about thewell? There was not much doubt about that, as youcan testify. Itis really a very remarkable thing. That curb is, I think,ofItalian marble, and the carving I thought must be Italian also.There werereliefs, you will perhaps remember, of Eliezer andRebekah, and of Jacobopening the well for Rachel, and similarsubjects; but, by way of disarmingsuspicion, I suppose, the Abbothad carefully abstained from any of hiscynical and allusiveinscriptions. "I examined the whole structure with thekeenest interest, of course - asquare well-head with an openingin one side; an arch over it, with a wheelfor the rope to passover, evidently in very good condition still, for ithad been usedwithin sixty years, or perhaps even later, though notquiterecently. Then there was the question of depth and access tothe interior. Isuppose the depth was about sixty to seventy feet;and as to the otherpoint, it really seemed as if the Abbot hadwished to lead searchers up tothe very door of his treasure-house,for, as you tested for yourself, therewere big blocks of stonebonded into the masonry, and leading down in aregular staircaseround and round the inside of the well. "It seemed almosttoo good to be true. I wondered if there was a trap -if thestones were so contrived as to tip over when a weight was placedonthem; but I tried a good many with my own weight and with mystick, and allseemed, and actually were, perfectly firm. Ofcourse, I resolved that Brownand I would make an experiment thatvery night. "I was well prepared. Knowing the sort of placeI should have to explore,I had brought a sufficiency of good ropeand bands of webbing to surround mybody, and crossbars to holdto, as well as lanterns and candles andcrowbars, all of whichwould go into a single carpet-bag and excite nosuspicion. Isatisfied myself that my rope would be long enough, and thatthewheel for the bucket was in good working order, and then we wenthome todinner. "I had a little cautious conversation withthe landlord, and made outthat he would not be overmuch surprisedif I went out for a stroll with myman about nine o'clock, to make(Heaven forgive me!) a sketch of the abbeyby moonlight. I askedno questions about the well, and am not likely to doso now. Ifancy I know as much about it as anyone in Steinfeld: at least"-with a strong shudder - "I don't want to know any more."Now we come to the crisis, and, though I hate to think ofit, I feelsure, Gregory, that it will be better for me in allways to recall it justas it happened. We started, Brown and I, atabout nine with our bag, andattracted no attention; for wemanaged to slip out at the hinder end of theinn-yard into analley which brought us quite to the edge of the village. Infiveminutes we were at the well, and for some little time we sat ontheedge of the well-head to make sure that no one was stirring orspying on us.All we heard was some horses cropping grass out ofsight farther down theeastern slope. We were perfectlyunobserved, and had plenty of light fromthe gorgeous full moon toallow us to get the rope properly fitted over thewheel. Then Isecured the band round my body beneath the arms. We attachedtheend of the rope very securely to a ring in the stonework. Browntook thelighted lantern and followed me; I had a crowbar. And sowe began to descendcautiously, feeling every step before we setfoot on it, and scanning thewalls in search of any marked stone."Half aloud I counted the steps as we went down, and we gotas far as thethirty-eighth before I noted anything at allirregular in the surface of themasonry. Even here there was nomark, and I began to feel very blank, and towonder if the Abbot'scryptogram could possibly be an elaborate hoax. At theforty-ninthstep the staircase ceased. It was with a very sinking heart thatIbegan retracing my steps, and when I was back on the thirty-eighth-Brown, with the lantern, being a step or two above me - Iscrutinized thelittle bit of irregularity in the stonework withall my might; but there wasno vestige of a mark. "Then itstruck me that the texture of the surface looked just alittlesmoother than the rest, or, at least, in some way different.It mightpossibly be cement and not stone. I gave it a good blowwith my iron bar.There was a decidedly hollow sound, though thatmight be the result of ourbeing in a well. But there was more. Agreat flake of cement dropped on tomy feet, and I saw marks onthe stone underneath. I had tracked the Abbotdown, my dearGregory; even now I think of it with a certain pride. It tookbuta very few more taps to clear the whole of the cement away, and Isaw aslab of stone about two feet square, upon which was engravena cross.Disappointment again, but only for a moment. It was you,Brown, whoreassured me by a casual remark. You said, if Iremember right: ""It's a funny cross; looks like a lotof eyes." "I snatched the lantern out of your hand, andsaw with inexpressiblepleasure that the cross was composed ofseven eyes, four in a vertical line,three horizontal. The last ofthe scrolls in the window was explained in theway I hadanticipated. Here was my 'stone with the seven eyes". So fartheAbbot's data had been exact, and, as I thought of this, theanxiety aboutthe "guardian" returned upon me withincreased force. Still, I wasn't goingto retreat now. "Withoutgiving myself time to think, I knocked away the cement allroundthe marked stone, and then gave it a prise on the right sidewith mycrowbar. It moved at once, and I saw that it was but athin light slab, suchas I could easily lift out myself, and thatit stopped the entrance to acavity. I did lift it out unbroken,and set it on the step, for it might bevery important to us to beable to replace it. Then I waited for severalminutes on the stepjust above. I don't know why, but I think to see if anydreadfulthing would rush out. Nothing happened. Next I lit a candle,andvery cautiously I placed it inside the cavity, with some ideaof seeingwhether there were foul air, and of getting a glimpse ofwhat was inside.There was some foulness of air which nearlyextinguished the flame, but inno long time it burned quitesteadily. The hole went some little way back,and also on theright and left of the entrance, and I could see some roundedlight-colouredobjects within which might be bags. There was no use inwaiting. Ifaced the cavity, and looked in. There was nothing immediatelyinthe front of the hole. I put my arm in and felt to the right,very gingerly- "Just give me a glass of cognac, Brown. I"llgo on in a moment,Gregory... "Well, I felt to the right, andmy fingers touched something curved, thatfelt - yes - more orless like leather; dampish it was, and evidently partof a heavy,full thing. There was nothing, I must say, to alarm one. Igrewbolder, and putting both hands in as well as I could, Ipulled it to me, andit came. It was heavy, but moved more easilythan I expected. As I pulled ittowards the entrance, my leftelbow knocked over and extinguished thecandle. I got the thingfairly in front of the mouth and began drawing itout. Just thenBrown gave a sharp ejaculation and ran quickly up the stepswiththe lantern. He will tell you why in a moment. Startled as I was,Ilooked round after him, and saw him stand for a minute at thetop and thenwalk away a few yards. Then I heard him call softly,"All right, sir," andwent on pulling out the great bag,in complete darkness. It hung for aninstant on the edge of thehole, then slipped forward on to my chest, andput its arms roundmy neck. "My dear Gregory, I am telling you the exact truth.I believe I am nowacquainted with the extremity of terror andrepulsion which a man can endurewithout losing his mind. I canonly just manage to tell you now the bareoutline of theexperience. I was conscious of a most horrible smell ofmould, andof a cold kind of face pressed against my own, and movingslowlyover it, and of several - I don't know how many - legs orarms or tentaclesor something clinging to my body. I screamedout, Brown says, like a beast,and fell away backward from thestep on which I stood, and the creatureslipped downwards, Isuppose, on to that same step. Providentially the bandround meheld firm. Brown did not lose his head, and was strong enoughtopull me up to the top and get me over the edge quite promptly.How hemanaged it exactly I don't know, and I think he would findit hard to tellyou. I believe he contrived to hide our implementsin the deserted buildingnear by, and with very great difficultyhe got me back to the inn. I was inno state to make explanations,and Brown knows no German; but next morning Itold the people sometale of having had a bad fall in the abbey ruins,which, Isuppose, they believed. And now, before I go further, I shouldjustlike you to hear what Brown's experiences during those fewminutes were.Tell the Rector, Brown, what you told me.""Well, sir," said Brown, speaking low and nervously,"it was just thisway. Master was busy down in front of the'ole, and I was 'olding thelantern and looking on, when I 'eardsomethink drop in the water from thetop, as I thought. So Ilooked up, and I see someone's 'ead lookin' over atus. I s'pose Imust ha' said somethink, and I 'eld the light up and run upthesteps, and my light shone right on the face. That was a bad un,sir, ifever I see one! A holdish man, and the face very much fellin, and larfin,as I thought. And I got up the steps as quickpretty nigh as I'm tellin'you, and when I was out on the groundthere warn't a sign of any person.There 'adn't been the time foranyone to get away, let alone a hold chap,and I made sure hewarn't crouching down by the well, nor nothink. Nextthing I hearmaster cry out somethink 'orrible, and hall I see was himhangingout by the rope, and, as master says, 'owever I got him upIcouldn't tell you." "You hear that, Gregory?"said Mr Somerton. "Now, does any explanation ofthat incidentstrike you?" "The whole thing is so ghastly andabnormal that I must own it puts mequite off my balance; but thethought did occur to me that possibly the -well, the person whoset the trap might have come to see the success of hisplan.""Just so, Gregory, just so. I can think of nothing else so -likely, Ishould say, if such a word had a place anywhere in mystory. I think it musthave been the Abbot... Well, I haven't muchmore to tell you. I spent amiserable night, Brown sitting up withme. Next day I was no better; unableto get up; no doctor to behad; and, if one had been available, I doubt ifhe could have donemuch for me. I made Brown write off to you, and spent asecondterrible night. And, Gregory, of this I am sure, and I thinkitaffected me more than the first shock, for it lasted longer:there wassomeone or something on the watch outside my door thewhole night. I almostfancy there were two. It wasn't only thefaint noises I heard from time totime all through the dark hours,but there was the smell - the hideous smellof mould. Every rag Ihad had on me on that first evening I had stripped offand madeBrown take it away. I believe he stuffed the things into thestovein his room; and yet the smell was there, as intense as ithad been in thewell; and, what is more, it came from outside thedoor. But with the firstglimmer of dawn it faded out, and thesounds ceased, too; and that convincedme that the thing or thingswere creatures of darkness, and could not standthe daylight; andso I was sure that if anyone could put back the stone, itor theywould be powerless until someone else took it away again. I hadtowait until you came to get that done. Of course, I couldn'tsend Brown to doit by himself, and still less could I tell anyonewho belonged to the place. "Well, there is my story; and ifyou don't believe it, I can't help it.But I think you do.""Indeed," said Mr Gregory, "I can find noalternative. I must believe it!I saw the well and the stonemyself, and had a glimpse, I thought, of thebags or somethingelse in the hole. And, to be plain with you, Somerton, Ibelievemy door was watched last night, too." "I dare say itwas, Gregory; but, thank goodness, that is over. Have you,by theway, anything to tell about your visit to that dreadful place?""Very little," was the answer. "Brown and Imanaged easily enough to getthe slab into its place, and he fixedit very firmly with the irons andwedges you had desired him toget, and we contrived to smear the surfacewith mud so that itlooks just like the rest of the wall. One thing I didnotice inthe carving on the well-head, which I think must have escaped you.Itwas a horrid, grotesque shape perhaps more like a toad thananythingelse, and there was a label by it inscribed with the twowords, "Depositumcustodi"1 1.Keep that which iscommitted to thee.