The Treasure of Abbot Thomas

"Verum usque in praesentem diem multa garriunt inter se Canonici deabscondito quodam istius Abbatis Thomae thesauro, quem saepe, quanquam adhucincassum, quaesiverunt Steinfeldenses. Ipsum enim Thomam adhuc florida inaetate existentem ingentem auri massam circa monasterium defodisseperhibent; de quo multoties interrogatus ubi esset, cum risu responderesolitus erat: "Job, Johannes, et Zacharias vel vobis vel posterisindicabunt"; idemque aliquando adiicere se inventuris minime invisurum.Inter alia huius Abbatis opera, hoc memoria praecipue dignum iudico quodfenestram magnam in orientali parte alae australis in ecclesia suaimaginibus optime in vitro depictis impleverit: id quod et ipsius effigieset insignia ibidem posita demonstrant. Domum quoque Abbatialem fere totamrestauravit: puteo in atrio ipsius effosso et lapidibus marmoreis pulchrecaelatis exornato. Decessit autem, morte aliquantulum subitanea perculsus,aetatis suae anno lxxiido, incarnationis vero Dominicae mdxxixo." "I suppose I shall have to translate this," said the antiquary tohimself, as he finished copying the above lines from that rather rare andexceedingly diffuse book, the Sertum Steinfeldense Norbertinum."Well, it mayas well be done first as last," and accordingly the following rendering wasvery quickly produced: "Up to the present day there is much gossip among the Canons about acertain hidden treasure of this Abbot Thomas, for which those of Steinfeldhave often made search, though hitherto in vain. The story is that Thomas,while yet in the vigour of life, concealed a very large quantity of goldsomewhere in the monastery. He was often asked where it was, and alwaysanswered, with a laugh: 'Job, John, and Zechariah will tell either you oryour successors.' He sometimes added that he should feel no grudge againstthose who might find it. Among other works carried out by this Abbot I mayspecially mention his filling the great window at the east end of the southaisle of the church with figures admirably painted on glass, as his effigyand arms in the window attest. He also restored almost the whole of theAbbot's lodging, and dug a well in the court of it, which he adorned withbeautiful carvings in marble. He died rather suddenly in the seventy-secondyear of his age, AD 1529." The object which the antiquary had before him at the moment was that oftracing the whereabouts of the painted windows of the Abbey Church ofSteinfeld. Shortly after the Revolution, a very large quantity of paintedglass made its way from the dissolved abbeys of Germany and Belgium to thiscountry, and may now be seen adorning various of our parish churches,cathedrals, and private chapels. Steinfeld Abbey was among the mostconsiderable of these involuntary contributors to our artistic possessions(I am quoting the somewhat ponderous preamble of the book which theantiquary wrote), and the greater part of the glass from that institutioncan be identified without much difficulty by the help, either of thenumerous inscriptions in which the place is mentioned, or of the subjects ofthe windows, in which several well-defined cycles or narratives wererepresented. The passage with which I began my story had set the antiquary on thetrack of another identification. In a private chapel - no matter where - hehad seen three large figures, each occupying a whole light in a window, andevidently the work of one artist. Their style made it plain 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?) JOB PATRIARCHA, JOHANNES EVANGELISTA, ZACHARIASPROPHETA, and each of them held a book or scroll, inscribed with a sentencefrom his writings. These, as a matter of course, the antiquary had noted,and had been struck by the curious way in which they differed from any textof the Vulgate that he had been able to examine. Thus the scroll in Job'shand was inscribed: "Auro est locus in quo absconditur" (for "conflatur");on the book of John was: "Habent in vestimentis suis scripturam quam nemonovit" (for "in vestimento scriptum", the following words being taken fromanother verse); and Zacharias had: "Super lapidem unum septem oculi sunt"(which alone of the three presents an unaltered text). A sad perplexity it had been to our investigator to think why these threepersonages should have been placed together in one window. There was no bondof connection between them, either historic, symbolic, or doctrinal, and hecould only suppose that they must have formed part of a very large series ofProphets and Apostles, which might have filled, say, all the clerestorywindows of some capacious church. But the passage from the Sertum hadaltered the situation by showing that the names of the actual personagesrepresented in the glass now in Lord D_____'s chapel had been constantly onthe lips of Abbot Thomas von Eschenhausen of Steinfeld, and that this Abbothad put up a painted window, probably about the year 1520, in the southaisle of his abbey church. It was no very wild conjecture that the threefigures might have formed part of Abbot Thomas's offering; it was one which,moreover, could probably be confirmed or set aside by another carefulexamination of the glass. And, as Mr Somerton was a man of leisure, he setout on pilgrimage to the private chapel with very little delay. Hisconjecture was confirmed to the full. Not only did the style and techniqueof the glass suit perfectly with the date and place required, but in anotherwindow of the chapel he found some glass, known to have been bought alongwith the figures, which contained the arms of Abbot Thomas von Eschenhausen. At intervals during his researches Mr Somerton had been haunted by therecollection of the gossip about the hidden treasure, and, as he thought thematter over, it became more and more obvious to him that if the Abbot meantanything by the enigmatical answer which he gave to his questioners, he musthave meant that the secret was to be found somewhere in the window he hadplaced in the abbey church. It was undeniable, furthermore, that the firstof the curiously-selected texts on the scrolls in the window might be takento have a reference to hidden treasure. Every feature, therefore, or mark which could possibly assist inelucidating the riddle which, he felt sure, the Abbot had set to posterityhe noted with scrupulous care, and, returning to his Berkshire manor-house,consumed many a pint of the midnight oil over his tracings and sketches.After two or three weeks, a day came when Mr Somerton announced to his manthat he must pack his own and his master's things for a short journeyabroad, whither for the moment we will not follow him. II Mr Gregory, the Rector of Parsbury, had strolled out before breakfast, itbeing a fine autumn morning, as far as the gate of his carriage-drive, withintent to meet the postman and sniff the cool air. Nor was he disappointedof either purpose. Before he had had time to answer more than ten or elevenof the miscellaneous questions propounded to him in the lightness of theirhearts by his young offspring, who had accompanied him, the postman was seenapproaching; and among the morning's budget was one letter bearing a foreignpostmark and stamp (which became at once the objects of an eager competitionamong the youthful Gregorys), and was addressed in an uneducated, butplainly an English hand. When the Rector opened it, and turned to the signature, he realized thatit came from the confidential valet of his friend and squire, Mr Somerton.Thus it ran: HONOURD SIR, Has I am in a great anxeity about Master I write at is Wish to Beg you Sir if you could be so good as Step over. Master Has add a Nastey Shock and keeps His Bedd. I never Have known Him like this but No wonder and Nothing will serve but you Sir. Master says would I mintion the Short Way Here is Drive to Cobblince and take a Trap. Hopeing I Have maid all Plain, but am much Confused in Myself what with Anxiatey and Weakfulness at Night. If I might be so Bold Sir it will be a Pleasure to see a Honnest Brish Face among all These Forig ones. I am Sir Your obedt Servt WILLIAM BROWN P.S. - The Villiage for Town I will not Turm It is name Steenfeld. The reader must be left to picture to himself in detail the surprise,confusion, and hurry of preparation into which the receipt of such a letterwould be likely to plunge a quiet Berkshire parsonage in the year of grace1859. It is enough for me to say that a train to town was caught in thecourse of the day, and that Mr Gregory was able to secure a cabin in theAntwerp boat and a place in the Coblentz train. Nor was it difficult tomanage the transit from that centre to Steinfeld. I labour under a grave disadvantage as narrator of this story in that Ihave never visited Steinfeld myself, and that neither of the principalactors in the episode (from whom I derive my information) was able to giveme anything but a vague and rather dismal idea of its appearance. I gatherthat it is a small place, with a large church despoiled of its ancientfittings; a number of rather ruinous great buildings, mostly of theseventeenth century, surround this church; for the abbey, in common withmost of those on the Continent, was rebuilt in a luxurious fashion by itsinhabitants at that period. It has not seemed to me worth while to lavishmoney on a visit to the place, for though it is probably far more attractivethan either Mr Somerton or Mr Gregory thought it, there is evidently little,if anything, of first-rate interest to be seen - except, perhaps, one thing,which I should not care to see. The inn where the English gentleman and his servant were lodged is, orwas, the only "possible" one in the village. Mr Gregory was taken to it atonce by his driver, and found Mr Brown waiting at the door. Mr Brown, amodel when in his Berkshire home of the impassive whiskered race who areknown as confidential valets, was now egregiously 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 denied him. Hecould only say: "Well, I ham pleased, I'm sure, sir, to see you. And so I'm sure, sir,will master." "How is your master, Brown?" Mr Gregory eagerly put in. "I think he's better, sir, thank you; but he's had a dreadful time of it.I 'ope he's gettin' some sleep now, but - " "What has been the matter - I couldn't make out from your letter? Was itan accident of any kind?" "Well, sir, I 'ardly know whether I'd better speak about it. Master wasvery partickler he should be the one to tell you. But there's no bones broke- that's one thing I'm sure we ought to be thankful - " "What does the doctor say?" asked Mr Gregory. They were by this time outside Mr Somerton's bedroom door, and speakingin low tones. Mr Gregory, who happened to be in front, was feeling for thehandle, and chanced to run his fingers over the panels. Before Brown couldanswer, there was a terrible cry from within the room. "In God's name, who is that?" were the first words they heard. "Brown, isit? "Yes, sir - me, sir, and Mr Gregory," Brown hastened to answer, and therewas an audible groan of relief in reply. They entered the room, which was darkened against the afternoon sun, andMr Gregory saw, with a shock of pity, how drawn, how damp with drops offear, was the usually calm face of his friend, who, sitting up in thecurtained bed, stretched out a shaking hand to welcome him. "Better for seeing you, my dear Gregory," was the reply to the Rector'sfirst question, and it was palpably true. After five minutes of conversation Mr Somerton was more his own man,Brown afterwards reported, than he had been for days. He was able to eat amore than respectable dinner, and talked confidently of being fit to stand ajourney to Coblentz within twenty-four hours. "But there's one thing," he said, with a return of agitation which MrGregory did not like to see, "which I must beg 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"m not upto explaining it yet; it would throw me back - undo all the good you havedone me by coming. The only word I will say about it is that you run no riskwhatever by doing it, and that Brown can and will show you tomorrow what itis. It's merely to put back - to keep - something - No; I can't speak of ityet. Do you mind calling Brown?" "Well, Somerton," said Mr Gregory, as he crossed the room to the door, "Iwon't ask for any explanations till you see fit to give them. And if thisbit of business is as easy as you represent it to be, I will very gladlyundertake it for you the first thing in the morning." "Ah, I was sure you would, my dear Gregory; I was certain I could 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, the first thing tomorrow morning - (youdon't mind early hours, I know, Gregory) you must take the Rector to -there, you know" (a nod from Brown, who looked grave and anxious), "and heand you will put that back. You needn't be in the least alarmed; it'sperfectly safe in the daytime. You know what I mean. It lies on the step,you know, where - where we put it." (Brown swallowed dryly once or twice,and, failing to speak, bowed.) "And - yes, that's all. Only this one otherword, my dear Gregory. If you can manage to keep from questioning Brownabout this matter, I shall be still more bound to you. Tomorrow evening, atlatest, if all goes well, I shall be able, I believe, to tell you the wholestory from start to finish. And now I"ll wish you good night. Brown will bewith me - he sleeps here - and if I were you, I should lock my door. Yes, beparticular to do that. They - they like it, the people here, and it'sbetter. Good night, good night." They parted upon this, and if Mr Gregory woke once or twice in the smallhours and fancied he heard a fumbling about the lower part of his lockeddoor, it was, perhaps, no more than what a quiet man, suddenly plunged intoa strange bed and the heart of a mystery, might reasonably expect. Certainlyhe thought, to the end of his days, that he had heard such a sound twice orthree times between midnight and dawn. He was up with the sun, and out in company with Brown soon after.Perplexing as was the service he had been asked to perform for Mr Somerton,it was not a difficult or an alarming one, and within half an hour from hisleaving the inn it was over. What it was I shall not as yet divulge. Later in the morning Mr Somerton, now almost himself again, was able tomake a start from Steinfeld; and that same evening, whether at Coblentz orat some intermediate stage on the journey I am not certain, he settled downto the promised explanation. Brown was present, but how much of the matterwas ever 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 mine wasundertaken with the object of tracing something in connection with some oldpainted glass in Lord D_____'s private chapel. Well, the starting-point ofthe whole matter lies in this passage from an old printed book, to which Iwill ask your attention." And at this point Mr Somerton went carefully over some ground with whichwe are already familiar. "On my second visit to the chapel," he went on, "my purpose was to takeevery note I could of figures, lettering, diamond-scratchings on the glass,and even apparently accidental markings. The first point which I tackled wasthat of the inscribed scrolls. I could not doubt that the first of these,that of Job - 'There is a place for the gold where it is hidden' - with itsintentional alteration, must refer to the treasure; so I applied myself withsome confidence to the next, that of St John - 'They have on their vesturesa writing which no man knoweth.' The natural question will have occurred toyou: Was there an inscription on the robes of the figures? I could see none;each of the three had a broad black border to his mantle, which made aconspicuous and rather ugly feature in the window. I was nonplussed, I willown, and but for a curious bit of luck I think I should have left the searchwhere the Canons of Steinfeld had left it before me. But it so happened thatthere was a good deal of dust on the surface of the glass, and Lord D_____,happening to come in, noticed my blackened hands, and kindly insisted onsending for a Turk's-head broom to clean down the window. There must, Isuppose, have been a rough piece in the broom; anyhow, as it passed over theborder of one of the mantles, I noticed that it left a long scratch, andthat some yellow stain instantly showed up. I asked the man to stop his workfor a moment, and ran up the ladder to examine the place. The yellow stainwas there, sure enough, and what had come away was a thick black pigment,which had evidently been laid on with the brush after the glass had beenburnt, and could therefore be easily scraped off without doing any harm. Iscraped, accordingly, and you will hardly believe - no, I do you aninjustice; you will have guessed already - that I found under this blackpigment two or three clearly-formed capital letters in yellow stain on aclear ground. Of course, I could hardly contain my delight. "I told Lord D_____ that I had detected an inscription which I thoughtmight be very interesting, and begged to be allowed to uncover the whole ofit. He made no difficulty about it whatever, told me to do exactly as Ipleased, and then, having an engagement, was obliged - rather to my relief,I must say - to leave me. I set to work at once, and found the task a fairlyeasy one. The pigment, disintegrated, of course, by time, came off almost ata touch, and I don't think that it took me a couple of hours, all told, toclean the whole of the black borders in all three lights. Each of thefigures had, as the inscription said, 'a writing on their vestures whichnobody knew'. "This discovery, of course, made it absolutely certain to my mind that Iwas on the right track. And, now, what was the inscription? While I wascleaning the glass I almost took pains not to read the lettering, saving upthe treat until I had got the whole thing clear. And when that was done, mydear Gregory, I assure you I could almost have cried from sheerdisappointment. What I read was only the most hopeless jumble of lettersthat was ever shaken up in a hat. Here it is:Job DREVICIOPEDMOOMSMVIVLISLCAVIBASBATAOVTSt John RDIIEAMRLESIPVSPODSEEIRSETTAAESGIAVNNRZechariah FTEEAILNQDPVAIVMTLEEATTOHIOONVMCAAT.H.Q.E "Blank as I felt and must have looked for the first few minutes, mydisappointment didn't last long. I realized almost at once that I wasdealing with a cipher or cryptogram; and I reflected that it was likely tobe of a pretty simple kind, considering its early date. So I copied theletters with the most anxious care. Another little point, I may tell you,turned up in the process which confirmed my belief in the cipher. Aftercopying the letters on Job's robe I counted them, to make sure that I hadthem right. There were thirty-eight; and, just as I finished going throughthem, my eye fell on a scratching made with a sharp point on the edge of theborder. It was simply the number xxxviii in Roman numerals. To cut 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 the glass-painter had hadvery strict orders from Abbot Thomas about the inscription, and had takenpains to get it correct. "Well, after that discovery you may imagine how minutely I went over thewhole surface of the glass in search of further light. Of course, I did notneglect the inscription on the scroll of Zechariah ('Upon one stone areseven eyes'), but I very quickly concluded that this must refer to some markon a stone which could only be found in situ, where the treasure wasconcealed. To be short, I made all possible notes and sketches and tracings,and then 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 old books on secret writing.The Steganographia of Joachim Trithemius, who was an earlier contemporary ofAbbot Thomas, seemed particularly promising; so I got that, and Selenius'sCryptographia and Bacon's De Augmentis Scientiarum, and some more. But Icould hit upon nothing. Then I tried the principle of the 'most frequentletter', taking first Latin and then German as a basis. That didn't help,either; whether it ought to have done so, I am not clear. And then I cameback to the window itself, and read over my notes, hoping almost againsthope that the Abbot might himself have somewhat supplied the key I wanted. Icould make nothing out of the colour or pattern of the robes. There were nolandscape backgrounds with subsidiary objects; there was nothing in thecanopies. The only resource possible seemed to be in the attitudes of thefigures. "Job," I read: 'scroll in left hand, forefinger of right handextended upwards. John: holds inscribed book in left hand; with right handblesses, with two fingers. Zechariah: scroll in left hand; right handextended upwards, as Job, but with three fingers pointing up." In otherwords, I reflected, Job has one finger extended, John has two, Zechariah hasthree. May not there be a numeral key concealed in that? My dear Gregory,"said Mr Somerton, laying his hand on his friend's knee, "that was the key. Ididn't get it to fit at first, but after two or three trials I saw what wasmeant. After the first letter of the inscription you skip one letter, afterthe next you skip two, and after that skip three. Now look at the result Igot. I've underlined the letters which form words: DREICIOPEDMOOMSMVIVLISLCAVIBASBATAOVT RDIIEAMRLESIPVSPODSEEIRSETTAAESGIAVNNR FTEEAILNQDPVAIVMTLEEATTOHIOONVMCAAT.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 anincomplete word beginning at. So far so good. I tried the same plan with theremaining letters; but it wouldn't work, and I fancied that perhaps theplacing of dots after the three last letters might indicate some differenceof procedure. Then I thought to myself, "Wasn't there some allusion to awell in the account of Abbot Thomas in that book the Sertum? Yes, there was:he built a puteus in atrio (a well in the court). There, of course, was myword atrio. The next step was to copy out the remaining letters of theinscription, omitting those I had already used. That gave what you will seeon this slip:RVIIOPDOOSMVVISCAVBSBTAOTDIEAMLSIVSPDEERSETAEGIANRFEEALQDVAIMLEATTHOOVMCA.H.Q.E. "Now, I knew what the first three letters I wanted were namely, RIO - tocomplete the word atrio; and, as you will see, these are all to be found inthe first five letters. I was a little confused at first by the occurrenceof two i's, but very soon I saw that every alternate letter must be taken inthe remainder 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 posui custodem super ea. Gare ˆ qui la touche. 'so the whole secret was out: "Ten thousand pieces of gold are laid up in the well in the court of the Abbot's house of Steinfeld by me, Thomas, who have set a guardian over them. Gare ˆ qui la touche. "The last words, I ought to say, are a device which Abbot Thomas hadadopted. I found it with his arms in another piece of glass at LordD_____'s, and he drafted it bodily into his cipher, though it doesn't quitefit in point of grammar. "Well, what would any human being have been tempted to do, my dearGregory, in my place? Could he have helped setting off, as I did, toSteinfeld, and tracing the secret literally to the fountain-head? I don'tbelieve he could. Anyhow, I couldn't, and, as I needn't tell you, I foundmyself at Steinfeld as soon as the resources of civilization could put methere, and installed myself in the inn you saw. I must tell you that I wasnot altogether free from forebodings - on one hand of disappointment, on theother of danger. There was always the possibility that Abbot Thomas's wellmight have been wholly obliterated, or else that someone, ignorant ofcryptograms, and guided only by luck, might have stumbled on the treasurebefore me. And then" - there was a very perceptible shaking of the voicehere - "I was not entirely easy, I need not mind confessing, as to themeaning of the words about the guardian of the treasure. But, if you don'tmind, I"ll say no more about that until - until it becomes necessary. "At the first possible opportunity Brown and I began exploring the place.I had naturally represented myself as being interested in the remains of theabbey, and we could not avoid paying a visit to the church, impatient as Iwas to be elsewhere. Still, it did interest me to see the windows where theglass had been, and especially that at the east end of the south aisle. Inthe tracery lights of that I was startled to see some fragments andcoats-of-arms remaining - Abbot Thomas's shield was there, and a smallfigure with a scroll inscribed Oculos 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.There is no prescribed place for this, so far as I know, in the plan of amonastery; 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 the dormitory, thatit will communicate with a transept of the church. I felt that if I askedmany questions I might awaken lingering memories of the treasure, and Ithought it best to try first to discover it for myself. It was not a verylong or difficult search. That three-sided court south-east of the church,with deserted piles of building round it, and grass-grown pavement, whichyou saw this morning, was the place. And glad enough I was to see that itwas put to no use, and was neither very far from our inn nor overlooked byany inhabited building; there were only orchards and paddocks on the slopeseast of the church. I can tell you that fine stone glowed wonderfully in therather watery yellow sunset that we had on the Tuesday afternoon. "Next, what about the well? There was not much doubt about that, as youcan testify. It is 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 and Rebekah, and of Jacobopening the well for Rachel, and similar subjects; but, by way of disarmingsuspicion, I suppose, the Abbot had carefully abstained from any of hiscynical and allusive inscriptions. "I examined the whole structure with the keenest interest, of course - asquare well-head with an opening in one side; an arch over it, with a wheelfor the rope to pass over, evidently in very good condition still, for ithad been used within sixty years, or perhaps even later, though not quiterecently. Then there was the question of depth and access to the interior. Isuppose the depth was about sixty to seventy feet; and as to the otherpoint, it really seemed as if the Abbot had wished to lead searchers up tothe very door of his treasure-house, for, as you tested for yourself, therewere big blocks of stone bonded into the masonry, and leading down in aregular staircase round and round the inside of the well. "It seemed almost too good to be true. I wondered if there was a trap -if the stones were so contrived as to tip over when a weight was placed onthem; but I tried a good many with my own weight and with my stick, and allseemed, and actually were, perfectly firm. Of course, I resolved that Brownand I would make an experiment that very night. "I was well prepared. Knowing the sort of place I should have to explore,I had brought a sufficiency of good rope and bands of webbing to surround mybody, and crossbars to hold to, as well as lanterns and candles andcrowbars, all of which would go into a single carpet-bag and excite nosuspicion. I satisfied myself that my rope would be long enough, and thatthe wheel for the bucket was in good working order, and then we went home todinner. "I had a little cautious conversation with the landlord, and made outthat he would not be overmuch surprised if I went out for a stroll with myman about nine o'clock, to make (Heaven forgive me!) a sketch of the abbeyby moonlight. I asked no questions about the well, and am not likely to doso now. I fancy 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 of it, I feelsure, Gregory, that it will be better for me in all ways to recall it justas it happened. We started, Brown and I, at about nine with our bag, andattracted no attention; for we managed to slip out at the hinder end of theinn-yard into an alley which brought us quite to the edge of the village. Infive minutes we were at the well, and for some little time we sat on theedge of the well-head to make sure that no one was stirring or spying on us.All we heard was some horses cropping grass out of sight farther down theeastern slope. We were perfectly unobserved, and had plenty of light fromthe gorgeous full moon to allow us to get the rope properly fitted over thewheel. Then I secured the band round my body beneath the arms. We attachedthe end of the rope very securely to a ring in the stonework. Brown took thelighted lantern and followed me; I had a crowbar. And so we began to descendcautiously, feeling every step before we set foot on it, and scanning thewalls in search of any marked stone. "Half aloud I counted the steps as we went down, and we got as far as thethirty-eighth before I noted anything at all irregular in the surface of themasonry. Even here there was no mark, and I began to feel very blank, and towonder if the Abbot's cryptogram could possibly be an elaborate hoax. At theforty-ninth step the staircase ceased. It was with a very sinking heart thatI began retracing my steps, and when I was back on the thirty-eighth -Brown, with the lantern, being a step or two above me - I scrutinized thelittle bit of irregularity in the stonework with all my might; but there wasno vestige of a mark. "Then it struck me that the texture of the surface looked just a littlesmoother than the rest, or, at least, in some way different. It mightpossibly be cement and not stone. I gave it a good blow with my iron bar.There was a decidedly hollow sound, though that might be the result of ourbeing in a well. But there was more. A great flake of cement dropped on tomy feet, and I saw marks on the stone underneath. I had tracked the Abbotdown, my dear Gregory; even now I think of it with a certain pride. It tookbut a very few more taps to clear the whole of the cement away, and I saw aslab of stone about two feet square, upon which was engraven a cross.Disappointment again, but only for a moment. It was you, Brown, whoreassured me by a casual remark. You said, if I remember right: ""It's a funny cross; looks like a lot of eyes." "I snatched the lantern out of your hand, and saw with inexpressiblepleasure that the cross was composed of seven eyes, four in a vertical line,three horizontal. The last of the scrolls in the window was explained in theway I had anticipated. Here was my 'stone with the seven eyes". So far theAbbot's data had been exact, and, as I thought of this, the anxiety aboutthe "guardian" returned upon me with increased force. Still, I wasn't goingto retreat now. "Without giving myself time to think, I knocked away the cement all roundthe marked stone, and then gave it a prise on the right side with mycrowbar. It moved at once, and I saw that it was but a thin light slab, suchas I could easily lift out myself, and that it 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 be able to replace it. Then I waited for severalminutes on the step just above. I don't know why, but I think to see if anydreadful thing would rush out. Nothing happened. Next I lit a candle, andvery cautiously I placed it inside the cavity, with some idea of seeingwhether there were foul air, and of getting a glimpse of what was inside.There was some foulness of air which nearly extinguished the flame, but inno long time it burned quite steadily. The hole went some little way back,and also on the right and left of the entrance, and I could see some roundedlight-coloured objects within which might be bags. There was no use inwaiting. I faced the cavity, and looked in. There was nothing immediately inthe 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"ll go on in a moment,Gregory... "Well, I felt to the right, and my fingers touched something curved, thatfelt - yes - more or less like leather; dampish it was, and evidently partof a heavy, full thing. There was nothing, I must say, to alarm one. I grewbolder, and putting both hands in as well as I could, I pulled it to me, andit came. It was heavy, but moved more easily than I expected. As I pulled ittowards the entrance, my left elbow knocked over and extinguished thecandle. I got the thing fairly in front of the mouth and began drawing itout. Just then Brown gave a sharp ejaculation and ran quickly up the stepswith the 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 the top 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 the hole, then slipped forward on to my chest, andput its arms round my neck. "My dear Gregory, I am telling you the exact truth. I believe I am nowacquainted with the extremity of terror and repulsion which a man can endurewithout losing his mind. I can only just manage to tell you now the bareoutline of the experience. I was conscious of a most horrible smell ofmould, and of a cold kind of face pressed against my own, and moving slowlyover it, and of several - I don't know how many - legs or arms or tentaclesor something clinging to my body. I screamed out, Brown says, like a beast,and fell away backward from the step on which I stood, and the creatureslipped downwards, I suppose, on to that same step. Providentially the bandround me held firm. Brown did not lose his head, and was strong enough topull 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 find it hard to tellyou. I believe he contrived to hide our implements in the deserted buildingnear by, and with very great difficulty he got me back to the inn. I was inno state to make explanations, and Brown knows no German; but next morning Itold the people some tale of having had a bad fall in the abbey ruins,which, I suppose, they believed. And now, before I go further, I should justlike you to hear what Brown's experiences during those few minutes 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 'eard somethink drop in the water from thetop, as I thought. So I looked up, and I see someone's 'ead lookin' over atus. I s'pose I must ha' said somethink, and I 'eld the light up and run upthe steps, 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 fell in, and larfin,as I thought. And I got up the steps as quick pretty nigh as I'm tellin'you, and when I was out on the ground there warn't a sign of any person.There 'adn't been the time for anyone to get away, let alone a hold chap,and I made sure he warn't crouching down by the well, nor nothink. Nextthing I hear master cry out somethink 'orrible, and hall I see was himhanging out by the rope, and, as master says, 'owever I got him up Icouldn't tell you." "You hear that, Gregory?" said Mr Somerton. "Now, does any explanation ofthat incident strike you?" "The whole thing is so ghastly and abnormal that I must own it puts mequite off my balance; but the thought did occur to me that possibly the -well, the person who set 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 my story. I think it musthave been the Abbot... Well, I haven't much more to tell you. I spent amiserable night, Brown sitting up with me. Next day I was no better; unableto get up; no doctor to be had; and, if one had been available, I doubt ifhe could have done much for me. I made Brown write off to you, and spent asecond terrible night. And, Gregory, of this I am sure, and I think itaffected me more than the first shock, for it lasted longer: there wassomeone or something on the watch outside my door the whole night. I almostfancy there were two. It wasn't only the faint noises I heard from time totime all through the dark hours, but there was the smell - the hideous smellof mould. Every rag I had had on me on that first evening I had stripped offand made Brown take it away. I believe he stuffed the things into the stovein his room; and yet the smell was there, as intense as it had been in thewell; and, what is more, it came from outside the door. But with the firstglimmer of dawn it faded out, and the sounds ceased, too; and that convincedme that the thing or things were creatures of darkness, and could not standthe daylight; and so I was sure that if anyone could put back the stone, itor they would be powerless until someone else took it away again. I had towait until you came to get that done. Of course, I couldn't send Brown to doit by himself, and still less could I tell anyone who belonged to the place. "Well, there is my story; and if you don't believe it, I can't help it.But I think you do." "Indeed," said Mr Gregory, "I can find no alternative. I must believe it!I saw the well and the stone myself, and had a glimpse, I thought, of thebags or something else in the hole. And, to be plain with you, Somerton, Ibelieve my door was watched last night, too." "I dare say it was, Gregory; but, thank goodness, that is over. Have you,by the way, anything to tell about your visit to that dreadful place?" "Very little," was the answer. "Brown and I managed easily enough to getthe slab into its place, and he fixed it very firmly with the irons andwedges you had desired him to get, and we contrived to smear the surfacewith mud so that it looks just like the rest of the wall. One thing I didnotice in the carving on the well-head, which I think must have escaped you.It was a horrid, grotesque shape perhaps more like a toad than anythingelse, and there was a label by it inscribed with the two words, "Depositumcustodi"1 1.Keep that which is committed to thee.