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韩国大胃王，吃一大碗蓝色的冰块，听听咀嚼声，很带劲
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这首《最浪漫的事》声音太好听，熟悉的旋律送给爱人
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合金弹头3 顶级高手你是不是知道后边还有载具所以不要鸵鸟了
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王者荣耀四杀娜可露露 极限反杀
拳皇97 这场比赛辉辉用自己的实力证明了自己的宇宙第一千鹤
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开始探索美美星球吧！牛津书虫系列之三四级——不平静的坟墓
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牛津书虫系列之三四级——不平静的坟墓
　　死去的人并非总是安静地躺在坟墓里。有时他们在这个世界上还有没做完的事情或者想为自己所受的委屈报仇雪恨；或许生活中他们自己也作过恶，即使死了也不得安宁，所以他们一定要回来给活着的人带来麻烦和恐惧。
　　在这5个故事中，死者可能随时随地以最奇怪的方式到来——到牛津某一学院，威廉斯先生正在那儿饶有兴趣地看着一幅古旧的画作；或者光天化日之下来到年轻的汤姆森先生度假住的一家小旅馆。爱德华·邓宁先生的房间里灯灭了，他伸手去找火柴，黑暗中他的手触到的是什么？乡绅鲍尔斯的妻子和继子要问个问题，可只有鲍尔斯知道答案，你怎么去问一个躺在坟墓里的死人问题呢？当帕金斯教授吹起他拾到的一个很旧的口哨时，是只有风作答，还是有别的东西？一种你见不着、听不见却又难以想像有多么可怕的东西…
　　蒙塔古·罗兹·詹姆斯（1862——1936）生于肯特郡，先后担任过剑桥大学的国王学院及伊顿公学院长，以其鬼怪故事闻名，这些故事问世后便深受欢迎。
　　　The Picture
　　For several years Mr Williams worked for the museum at the University of Oxford，enlarging its already famous collection of drawings and pictures of English country houses and churches．It is hard to imagine anything less alarming than collecting pictures of houses and churches，but Mr Williams found that even this peaceful work had its unexpected dark corners．
　　He bought many pictures for the museum from the London shop of Mr J．W．Britnell．Twice a year Mr Britnell sent a list of pictures to all his regular customers，who could then choose which pictures they wanted to look at before deciding whether to buy．
　　In February 1895 Mr Williams received a list from Mr Britnell with the following letter：
　　Dear Sir，
　　I think you might be interested in Picture Number 978 in our list，which I will be happy to send to you if you wish．
　　J．W．Britnell
　　Mr Williams turned to Number 978 in the list and found the following note：
　　Number 978．Artist unknown．Picture of an English country house，early nineteenth century．25 centimetres by 40 centimetres．￡20．
　　It did not sound very interesting and the price seemed high． However，Mr Williams added it to the pictures that he asked Mr Britnell to send to him．
　　The pictures arrived at the museum one Saturday afternoon， just after Mr Williams had left．They were brought round to his rooms in college so that he could look at them over the weekend．Mr Williams found them on his table when he and his friend，Mr Binks，came in to have tea．
　　Picture Number978 showed the front of quite a large country house．It had three rows of windows with the door in the middle of the bottom row．There were trees on both sides of the house and a large lawn in front of it．The letters A．W．F． were written in the corner of the picture．Mr Williams thought that it was not very well done，probably the work of an amateur artist，and he could not understand why Mr Britnell thought it was worth twenty pounds．He turned it over and saw that there was a piece of paper on the back with part of a name on it．All he could read were the ends of two lines of Writing The first said，'—ngly Hall'；the second，'—ssex'．
　　Mr Williams thought that it would be interesting to see if he could find the name of the house in one of his guidebooks be－ fore sending the picture back on Monday morning． Meanwhile，he put the picture on the table，lit the lamp because it was now getting dark，and made the tea．
　　While they were having tea，his friend picked up the picture，looked at it and said，Where's this house， Williams？'
　　'That's just what I was going to find out，'said Williams， taking a book from the shelf．'If you look at the back，you'll see it's Something Hall in either Essex or Sussex．Half the name's missing，you see．I don't suppose you recognize the house，do you？'
　　'No，I don't，'said Mr Binks．'It's from Britnell，'I suppose，isn't it？Is it for the museum？'
　　'Well，I would buy it if the price was two pounds，'replied Mr Williams，'but for some reason he wants twenty pounds for it．I can't think why．It's not a very good picture and there aren't even any figures in it to make it more interesting．'
　　'I agree it's not worth twenty pounds，'said Binks，'but I don't think it's too bad．The light seems rather good to me and I think there is a figure here，just at the edge，in the front．'
　　'Let me see，'said Williams．'Well，it's true the light is quite well done．Where's the figure？Oh，yes！Just the head， in the very front of the picture．'
　　And indeed there was——right on the edge of the picture— just the head of a man or a woman，who was looking towards the house．Williams had not noticed it before．
　　'Still，'he said，'though it's better than I thought at first， I can't spend twenty pounds of the museum's money on a picture of a house I don't even know．'
　　Mr Binks，who had some work to finish，soon left and Mr Williams spent the time before dinner trying to find the name of the house in his guidebooks．
　　'If I knew the letter before the“—ngly”，'he said to himself，'it would be easy enough．But there are many more names ending in“—ngly”than I thought．'
　　Dinner in Mr Williams'college was at seven o'clock and afterwards a few of his friends came back to his rooms to play cards．During a pause in the game Mr Williams picked up the picture from the table without looking at it and passed it to a man named Garwood，who was interested in pictures．Garwood looked at it and said：
　　'This is really a very fine picture，you know，Williams． The light is very well done，in my opinion，and though the figure is rather unpleasant，it is quite interesting．'
　　'Yes，isn't it？'said Williams，who was too busy giving drinks to his guests to look at the picture again．
　　When his visitors had gone，Williams had to finish writing a letter，so it was after midnight before he was ready to go to bed．The picture lay face upwards on the table where Garwood had left it and，as Williams was putting out the lamp，he saw it．For a moment he was too surprised to move，then he slowly picked up the picture and stared at it in horror．In the middle of the lawn，in front of the unknown house，there was a figure where there had been no figure earlier．It was crawling on hands and knees towards the house，and it was covered in a strange black garment with a white cross on the back．
　　After a second or two Mr Williams took the picture by one corner and carried it to an empty room．There，he locked it， face downwards，in a cupboard，then closed and locked the door of the empty room．He went back to his own room and locked the door behind him．Before going to bed，he sat down and wrote a note describing in detail the extraordinary change in the picture since he had received it．
　　He was glad to remember that Mr Garwood，who had looked at the picture earlier in the evening，had also seen a 'rather unpleasant'figure．He decided that in the morning he must ask someone to look carefully at the picture with him， and he must try very hard to discover the name of the house． He would ask his neighbour，Mr Nisbet，to have breakfast with him．Then he would spend the morning looking for the house in his guidebooks．
　　Mr Nisbet arrived at nine o'clock and the two men sat down to breakfast．When they had finished，Mr Williams，feeling both nervous and excited，hurried to the empty room．He unlocked the cupboard，took out the picture，still face down- wards，and，without looking at it，went back to his own room and put it into Nisbet's hands．
　　'Now，Nisbet，'he said，'I want you to tell me what you see in that picture．Describe it，please，in detail．I'll tell you why afterwards．'
　　'Well，'said Nisbet，'I have here a picture of an English country house by moonlight．'
　　'Moonligh？Are you sure？'
　　'Oh，yes．The moon is shown quite clearly and there are clouds in the sky．'
　　'All right．Go on．But I'm sure，'added Williams quietly， 'that there was no moon when I first saw it．'
　　'Well，there's not much more I can say，'Nisbet continued． 'The house has three rows of windows，five in each row，except at the bottom，where there's a door instead of the middle one and…'
　　'But what about figures？'said Williams with great interest．
　　'Figures？'replied Nisbet．'There aren't any．'
　　'What？No figure on the grass in front？'
　　'No．Not a thing．'
　　'Are you sure？'
　　'Of course I am．But there's one other thing．'
　　'What's that？'
　　'One of me windows on the ground floor，on the left of the door，is open．'
　　'Is it really？Oh dear！I suppose he's got into the house，' said Williams，with great excitement．
　　He hurried across to where Nisbet was sitting and，taking the picture from him，saw for himself．It was quite true． There was no figure on the lawn，and there was the open win- dow．
　　For a moment williams was too surprised to speak，then he sat down at his desk and wrote for a few minutes．When he had finished，he brought two papers across to Nisbet．He asked him to sign the first one，which was Nisbet's own de－ scription of the picture，then to read the other one，which was the note Williams had written the night before．
　　'What can it all mean？'asked Nisbet．
　　'That's what I must find out，'said Williams．'Now，there are three things I must do．First，I must ask Garwood exactly what he saw when he looked at the picture last night，then I must have the picture photographed before it goes any further and，thirdly，I must find out where this house is．'
　　'I can take the photograph for you myself，'said Nisbet． 'But，you know，I think we are seeing something terrible happening here．The question is，has it already happened or is it going to happen？You really must find out where this house is．'He looked at the picture again and shook his head．'I think you are right，you know．He has got in．I'm sure there will be some trouble in that house．'
　　'I'll tell you what I'll do，'said Williams．'I'll show the picture to old Doctor Green．He grew up in Essex and he often goes to Sussex to see his brother who lives there．He's been going there for years．He must know both places quite well．'
　　'That's a very good idea，'agreed Nisbet．'But I think I heard Green say that he was going away this weekend．'
　　'You're right，said Williams．'I remember now—he's gone to Brighton for the weekend．I'll leave a note asking him to see me as soon as he returns．Meanwhile，you take the picture and photograph it and I'll see Garwood and ask him what he saw when he looked at it last night．'He paused．'You know，'he added，'I don't think twenty pounds is too much to ask for this picture，after all．'
　　In a short time Williams returned to his room，bringing Mr Garwood with him．Mr Garwood said that when he had looked at the picture the figure was just starting to crawl across the lawn．He remembered that it was wearing a black garment with something white on the back—he was not sure if it was a cross．While he was writing this down，Mr Nisbet returned and said that he had photographed the picture．
　　'What are you going to do now，Williams？'asked Mr Gar－ wood．'Are you going to sit and watch the picture all day？'
　　'No，I don't think we need to do that，'replied Williams．
　　'You see，there has been plenty of time since I looked at it last night for the creature in the picture to finish what he wants to do，but he has only gone into the house．The window is open and he must still be in there．I think he wants us to see what happens next．Anyway，I don't think the picture will change much during the day．I suggest that we all go for a walk after lunch and come back here for tea．I'll leave the picture on my table and lock the door．My servant has a key and can get in if he wants to，but nobody else can．'
　　The others agreed that this was a good plan．They also wanted to avoid talking to anyone about this extraordinary picture，knowing what excitement and argument it would cause．
　　At about five o'clock they came back to Mr Williams' rooms for tea．When they entered the room，they were surprised to find Mr Filcher，the servant，sitting in Mr Williams' armchair and staring in horror at the picture on the table．Mr Filcher had worked in the college for many years and had never before behaved in so unusual a way．He seemed to feel this himself，and tried to jump to his feet when the three men came in．
　　'I'm sorry，sir，'he said．'I didn't mean to sit down．'
　　'That's all right，Robert，'said Mr Williams．'I was going to ask you some time what you thought of that picture．'
　　'Well，sir，'replied the servant，'of course，I don't really understand pictures，but I wouldn't like my little girl to see it．I'm sure it would give her bad dreams．It doesn't seem the right kind of picture to leave lying around．It could frighten anybody—seeing that awful thing carrying off the poor baby． That's what I think，sir．Will you need me any more today， sir？Thank you，sir．'
　　Filcher left the room and the three men went at once to look at the picture．There was the house as before，under the moon and the clouds．But the window that had been open was now shut，and the figure was once more on the lawn；but not crawling this time．Now it was walking，with long steps，to－ wards the front of the picture．The moon was behind it and the black material of its garment nearly covered its face．The three men were deeply thankful that they could see no more of the face than a high，white forehead and a few long，thin hairs．Its legs beneath the garment were borribly thin，and its arms held something which seemed to be a child，whether dead or living it was not possible to say．
　　The three friends watched the picture until it was time for dinner but it did not change at all．They hurried back to Williams'rooms as soon as dinner was finished．The picture was where they had left it，but the figure had gone，and the house was quiet under the moon and the clouds．
　　'Well，'said Mr Williams，'now we really must try to find where this house is．'They got out the guidebooks and began to work．
　　It was nearly two hours later when Williams suddenly cried， 'Ha！This looks like it！'
　　He read aloud from the Cuide to Essex that he was holding：
　　'Anningly．Interesting twelfth－century church containing the tombs of the Francis family，whose home，Anningly Hall， stands just behind the church．The family is now extinct．The last member of the family disappeared very mysteriously in 1802 while still a child．His father，Sir Arthur Francis，a well－known amateur artist，lived quite alone after that until he was found dead in his house three years later，after he had just completed a picture of the Hall．'
　　As Mr Williams finished reading，there was a knock on the door and Doctor Green came in．He had just returned from Brighton and had found Williams'note．He agreed at once that the picture was of Anningly Hall，which was not far from where he had grown up．
　　'Have you any explanation of the figure，Green？'asked Williams．
　　'I don't know，I'm sure，Williams，'Doctor Green replied．
　　'When I was a boy，some of the old people in Anningly still used to talk about the disappearance of the Francis child．They said that Sir Arthur had a lot of trouble with some of the local people coming onto his land to steal his fish and his birds． He decided to catch them all and have them punished，and，one by one he did，until there was only one left．This was a man called Gawdy whose family had once been rich and important in that part of Essex．In fact，some of them had their tombs in the village church too．However，the family had lost all their land and their money over the years and Gawdy felt rather bitter about it all．For a long time Sir Arthur could not catch him doing anything wrong until one night his men found Gawdy with some dead birds in Sir Arthur's woods．There was a fight and one of the men was shot．This was just what Sir Arthur needed；the judge was all on his side，of course，and poor Gawdy was hanged a few days later．People thought that some friend of Gawdy's stole Sir Arthur's little boy in revenge， to put an end to the Francis family as well．But I should say now，that it looks more as if old Gawdy managed the job him－ self．Brrrr．I don't like to think about it．Let's have a drink， shall we？'
　　The story of the picture was told to a few people；some believed it and some did not．Mr Britnell knew nothing about it except that the picture was unusual in some way．It is now in the museum and，although it has been carefully watched，no one has ever seen it change again．
　　几年来，威廉斯先生一直在牛津大学博物馆工作，为该馆不断地增加其本已出名的有关英国乡村住房和教堂方面绘画作品的收藏。收集有关住房和教堂的绘画作品本无任何惊人之处，可威廉斯先生却发现即使是这样一项很平静的工作也有其意想不到之处。
　　他从伦敦J．W．布里耐尔先生的商店为博物馆买入大量绘画作品。布里耐尔先生一年两次为其所有的老主顾们寄上一份作品目录。这样，这些老主顾们便能够选择一下他们想看看哪些作品，然后决定是否购买。
　　1895年2月威廉斯先生接到了布里耐尔先生寄来的目录和下面这封信：
　　亲爱的先生：
　　我想您可能对我们目录中的第978号作品感兴趣，如果您希望，我很乐意给您寄上。
J．W．布里耐尔
　　威廉斯先生翻到目录中的第978号，发现了下面的说明：
　　第978号，作者不详，画面为一座19世纪早期英国乡村住房，长40厘米，宽25厘米，售价20英镑。
　　这幅画似乎没多大意思，而且价格似乎也偏高。可威廉斯先生还是在要求市里耐尔先生寄给他的画里加上了它。
　　一个周六的下午这些作品被送到了博物馆，这时威廉斯先生刚离开。于是这些画又被转到他在学院的住所，以便周末就能让他看到。威廉斯先生和朋友宾克斯先生进屋喝茶时发现了桌子上的那些画。
　　第978号作品画的是一座乡村大住房的正面。房子有三排窗户，门在底部那排的中间。住房的两侧是树，前面有一大块草地，画的一角写着A．W．F．几个字母。威廉斯先生觉得这幅画画得不怎么样，可能出自业余画家之手，他不明白为什么布里耐尔先生觉得它值20英镑。他把画翻过来发现后面有张纸，上面写着个不完整的名字。他能看到的只有两行字的结尾，第一行为“——宁利府”，第二行为“——塞克斯”。
　　威廉斯先生想看看周一上午把画寄回之前能不能在自己的某本旅行指南中找到这座房子的名字，他觉得这样做挺有意思的。他把画放在桌子上，这时天渐渐黑了，于是他点上灯，沏上了茶。
　　他们喝着茶，他的朋友拿起那幅画看着问道：“威廉斯，这座房子在哪儿？”
　　“我正想查找一下呢，”威廉斯先生说着从书架上取下一本书。“你看一下背面，上面写着是埃塞克斯或苏塞克斯的什么府。名字少了一半，我想你大概也不认识这座房子吧？”
　　“不认识，”宾克斯先生说，“我想是布里耐尔寄来的吧？是不是要卖给博物馆？”
　　“是呀，如果售价是两英镑，我会买的，”威廉斯先生说，“可不知什么原因他要20英镑。我真不知这是为什么。这张画画得并不好，而且画面上连个人影都没有，没有什么看头儿。”
　　“我也觉得这画不值20英镑，”宾克斯说，“不过我并不觉得它有多糟糕。我认为画中明亮部分似乎还很不错，而且我看这儿有个人，就在前部边上。”
　　“我看看，”威廉斯先生说，“哦，明亮部分确实处理得不错。人在哪儿？噢，看到了！只有头部，在画面的最前部。”
　　确实如此——就在画面边缘——只有一个男人或女人的头部，在看这房子。威廉斯此前并没注意到这一点。
　　“不过，”他说，“虽然它比我刚开始认为的好一点儿，我还是不能把博物馆的20镑花在我居然都不知道的一所房子的画上。”
　　由于手头还有事要做，宾克斯先生过了会儿就走了。吃饭前威廉斯先生试图在旅行指南中找到这幢房子的名字。
　　“如果我知道'——ngly'前面的字母，”他自言自语道，“就容易多了。不过以'——ngly'结尾的名字比我想像的多得多。”
　　威廉斯先生所在的学院7点钟开饭，吃完饭他的几位朋友回到他的房间打牌。中间停下来时，威廉斯先生从桌子上拿起那幅画，连看都没看就递给一位名叫加伍德的，这人对绘画很感兴趣。加伍德看了看说：
　　“您看，威廉斯先生，这幅画确实很不错。我觉得画面的明亮部分处理得很好。虽然人物不那么让人愉快，不过还是挺有意思的。”
　　“噢，是吗？”威廉斯先生答道，当时他正忙着给客人们倒饮料，顾不上再看那画儿一眼。
　　客人们走后，威廉斯先生还得写完一封信，所以他准备上床休息时已经是后半夜了。加伍德当时是把那张画画面朝上放在桌子上的。威廉斯先生要关灯时看了它一眼。这时他惊讶得简直不能动了，接着他慢慢把它拿起来，惊恐地盯着看起来。在草坪中间，那座不知名房子的前面原来没有人的地方出现了一个人。它正朝那房子爬着，身上罩着件样子古怪、后背上带着个白十字架的黑外衣。
　　一两秒钟后，威廉斯先生拎起画的一角把它拿进了一间空屋子。他把画面朝下锁在橱子里，然后把那间空屋子的门关上锁好。回到自己的房间他也随手锁上了门。上床前，他坐下来写了张条，详细描述了他收到那幅画后画面出现的奇特变化。
　　想起加伍德先生傍晚看这幅画时也发现有个“不那么让人愉快”的人影，他很高兴，于是决定上午一定要再找人一起好好看看这幅画，而且他必须尽力找到这幢房子的名字。他要请邻居尼斯比特先生来和他共进早餐。然后上午的时间还是用来在旅行指南中查找这套房子。
　　9点钟，尼斯比特先生来了，于是俩人坐下来吃早餐。吃完后，威廉斯先生心情紧张而激动地快步走进那间空屋子，打开橱子拿出那幅画面仍然朝下的画，连看都没看便回到他的房间，把画放进尼斯比特先生手里。
　　“哎，尼斯比特，”他说，“我想让你告诉我你在这幅画里看到了什么，请详细描述一下。过会儿我会告诉你为什么要这样做。”
　　“好吧，”尼斯比特说，“画面上是月光下的一座英国乡村住房。”
　　“月光？你有把握吗？”
　　“噢，有哇。月亮画得很清晰，天空中还有云。”
　　“好吧，接着说。可我敢肯定，”威廉斯先生平静地加了一句，“我第一次看时，根本没有月亮。”
　　“哦，没有什么太多可说的了，”尼斯比特接着说，“这座房子有三排窗户，每排五扇，只有底部那排例外，中间是扇门……”
　　“人呢？”威廉斯先生带着十分浓厚的兴趣问道。
　　“人？”尼斯比特答道，“没有任何人呀。”
　　“什么？前面草地上没有人吗？”
　　“没有，什么也没有。”
　　“肯定是这样吗？”
　　“当然，不过还有一件事。”
　　“什么事？”
　　“底层的一扇窗户，门左边那扇，是开着的。”
　　“真的？天呀！我想他是进了那间屋子了。”威廉斯很兴奋地说。
　　他快步走到尼斯比特坐的地方，从他手中拿过画亲自看起来。草地上确实没有人，那扇窗户确实开着。
　　威廉斯一时惊得说不出话来了，他坐在桌旁写了几分钟，写完后递给尼斯比特两份材料，让他在第一份上签字，这份是尼斯比特本人对这幅画的描述，然后又让他看另一份，那是威廉斯前一天晚上的记录。
　　“这是怎么回事？”尼斯比特问道。
　　“我也正想弄个明白，”威廉斯先生说，“现在我必须做三件事：首先，我必须问问加伍德昨天晚上他看这幅画时到底看到了什么；然后我必须在它进一步发生变化前把这幅画拍摄下来；第三，我必须弄清楚这座房子到底在哪儿。”
　　“我可以帮你把这幅画拍摄下来，”尼斯比特说，“可是你知道，我觉得我们看到这里出了什么可怕的事。问题是已经出了事还是就要出事呢？你一定得弄清楚这座房子到底在哪儿。”他又看看那幅画摇了摇头，接着说：“我觉得你说得对，你看他已经进去了。我敢肯定这座房子要出什么麻烦事。”
　　“告诉你我要干什么吧，”威廉斯说，“我要让格林医生看看这幅画。他在埃塞克斯长大而且经常到苏塞克斯看望住在那里的哥哥。多年来他一直去那儿，一定对这两个地方都很熟悉。”
　　“这主意很好，”尼斯比特赞同道，“不过我听格林说他这个周末不在。”
　　“你说得对，”威廉斯先生说，“我想起来了，他去布赖顿过周末了。我要给他留张条，让他一回来就来找我。现在你把画拿去拍照，我去找加伍德问问昨天晚上他在这幅画里看到了什么？”他停了一下，又加了一句：“你知道，不管怎么说，我觉得这幅画要价20英镑并不高。”
　　威廉斯很快便带着加伍德回到了自己的房间。加伍德先生说他看那画时，那人影刚刚开始向草地爬行。他记得它穿的是件背上有个什么白色东西的黑外衣，他不清楚那东西是不是个十字架。他正写着这些情况时，尼斯比特先生回来了，他说他已经把画拍照下来了。
　　“威廉斯，下一步你要怎么做呢？”加伍德先生问，“你是不是要整天坐在这儿看这幅画呀？”
　　“不，我觉得我们没有必要这么做。”威廉斯回答说，“你们看，从昨天晚上我看这画到现在，里面那人满有时间做完他要做的事情，可他只是进了那座房子。窗户开着，他一定还在里面。我觉得他想让我们看看下面会发生什么事情。不管怎么说，我觉得这幅画白天不会有什么太大变化。我提议咱们吃完午饭都去散散步，然后回这儿喝茶。我把这画放在桌子上锁上门。我的仆人有钥匙，如果想进来可以进来，别人谁也进不来。”
　　另外俩人觉得这个主意不错。他们也不想再谈论这幅十分奇异的画了，因为他们知道这样做会使大家很兴奋且会引起争论。
　　大约5点钟，他们回到威廉斯先生的房间喝茶，一进屋便惊讶地发现仆人菲尔彻先生正坐在威廉斯先生的扶手椅里，恐惧地盯着桌子上的画看。菲尔彻先生在这所学院里干了多年，还从未如此失态过。他自己似乎也感觉到了这一点，所以3个人进屋时他试图一跃而起。
　　“对不起，先生，”他说，“我本没想坐下的。”
　　“没关系，罗伯特，”威廉斯先生说，“我还想什么时候问问你觉得这幅画怎么样呢。”
　　“哎，先生，”仆人回答道，“当然我不懂什么绘画作品，可我不会让我的小女孩看这幅画的，这画肯定会使她做恶梦。这似乎不是那种可以随便放的画，它会吓坏人的，假如看到这可怕的东西抱走那可怜的小孩子。先生，我是这么想的。今天还有什么事吗？谢谢您了，先生。”
　　菲尔彻离开了房间，3个人立即上前看那幅画。还是那座笼罩在月光和云雾下的房子，只是以前开着的窗户现在关上了，那人影又出现在草地上，可现在它不是在爬，而是在大步朝着画面的前方走。月亮在它身后，它的黑色外衣几乎把脸都盖上了。3个人很庆幸他们能看见的脸部不过是个高高的白色额头和几根长而稀疏的头发。它那外衣下面露出的腿细得吓人，臂弯里抱着什么东西，好像是个孩子，根本看不出来是死是活。
　　3位朋友一直到吃饭时间还在看这幅画，可它没发生任何变化。一吃完饭，他们又赶忙回到威廉斯的房间。画还放在原来的位置，可人影不见了，月光和云雾笼罩下的那座房子显得十分平静。
　　“哎，”威廉斯先生说，“现在我们必须找到这座房子的位置。”他们拿出那些旅行指南开始查找起来。
　　差不多两个小时以后威廉斯先生突然叫道：“哈！好像就是这个！”
　　他手中拿着《埃塞克斯指南》一书大声念道：
　　“安宁利：有趣的12世纪教堂，内有弗朗西斯家族的坟墓，这一家族的住宅安宁利府就位于该教堂后面，这一家族现已灭绝。其最后一名成员于1802年还很小时便神秘失踪。他父亲亚瑟·弗朗西斯爵士，一位很出名的业余画家，后来一直深居简出，直到3年后被人发现死于家中，这时他刚刚完成了一幅描述安宁利府的画作。”
　　威廉斯先生刚念完这段话，就听到有人敲门，格林医生进来了。他刚从布赖顿回来，看到了威廉斯先生的条子。他当即附和说画上就是安宁利府，这地方离他长大的地方不远。
　　“格林，你能说说那人影是怎么回事吗？”威廉斯问道。
　　“我肯定说不清楚，威廉斯，”格林医生回答。“我小时候，安宁利的一些老人还在谈论弗朗西斯家孩子失踪的事儿。他们说亚瑟爵士与一些到他地盘上偷他的鱼和鸟的当地人闹了不少别扭。他决定把他们都抓起来进行惩罚，于是他就—一对他们这么做了，最后只剩下一个人。这个人叫高迪，他的家族一度在埃塞克斯的那一地区很富裕和显赫，而且他们家族中的一些人在村里的教堂里也有坟墓。可过了若干年该家族失去了他们的土地和钱财，高迪对此感到十分痛苦。很长时间以来亚瑟爵士一直抓不住他做坏事，直到一天晚上爵士手下的人在爵士的林子里发现了高迪和一些死鸟。于是他们便打起来，其中一人被射中。亚瑟爵士正需要如此，法官当然完全站在他一边，可怜的高迪几天后便被绞死了。人们认为是高迪的某位朋友为报仇而偷走了亚瑟爵士的小男孩，这样就使弗朗西斯家族也绝了后。可依我看，这事更像老高迪自己干的。嗯，我不想再琢磨这事了。咱们喝一杯吧，好吗？”
　　这幅画的故事讲给了几个人听，有人信，有人不信。布里耐尔先生除了觉得这画有点不同寻常外，对这个故事一无所知。这幅画现在就放在博物馆里，虽然人们对它观察得十分细致，可没人看到它再有什么变化。
　　　Rats
　　'And if you walked through the bedrooms now，you'd see the dirty grey bedsheets rising and falling like the waves of the sea．'
　　'Rising and falling with what？'
　　'Why，with the rats crawling underneath them．'
　　But was it rats？I ask，because in another story it was not．I cannot put a date to the story，but I was young when I heard it，and the teller was old．
　　It happened in Suffolk，at a place where the coast road climbs a little hill as it travels northwards．At the top of the hill，on the left，stands a tall narrow house built about 1770． Behind it are the gardens and other buildings，and in front lies open heath with a view of the distant sea．The house was once a well-known inn，though I believe few people stay there now．
　　To this inn came Mr Thomson，a young man from the University of Cambridge，in search of peace and pleasant surroundings in which to study．He found both；the innkeeper and his wife kept a comfortable house，and Mr Thomson was the only guest．
　　It was fine spring weather and Mr Thomson's days passed very happily．His plan was to stay a month：studying all morning，walking on the heath in the afternoon，and talking with the local people in the bar in the evening．
　　On one of his walks over the heath he came upon a large white stone with a square hole in the top．No doubt it had once held a post of some kind．He looked around him at the wide，open heath and beyond that，the sea shining in the bright sunlight and decided that the stone had probably once held a sign to guide the local sailors back to their homes．
　　In the bar that evening he spoke of the stone and his idea that it had，perhaps，once held a sign to guide sailors．
　　'Yes，'said Mr Betts，the innkeeper，'I've heard they could see it from out at sea，but whatever was there fell down long before our time．'
　　'A good thing it did，too，'said one of the villagers．'It wasn't a lucky sign-that's what the old men used to say． Not lucky for the fishing，I mean．'
　　'Why ever not？'said Thomson．
　　'Well，I never saw it myself，'answered the other．'But those old fishermen had some strange ideas，and I wouldn't be surprised if they pulled it down themselves．'
　　It was impossible to get anything clearer than this，and people soon began to talk about something else．
　　One day Mr Thomson decided not to have a walk in the afternoon，but to continue studying．He returned to his room after an early lunch and read on until about three o'clock．Then he put down his book，rose and went out into the passage， thinking that he would have a rest for five minutes．The house was completely silent．He remembered that it was market day and everyone had gone into the local town．
　　As he stood there，the idea came to him to look at the four other rooms along the passage．He was sure that the Bettses would not mind．The room opposite his was big but had no view of the sea．The next two were both smaller than his with only one window each——his had two．He walked down the passage to the door at the end and found that it was locked． Thomson decided that he must see inside that room；perhaps the key of his room would unlock the door．It did not，so he fetched the keys from the other three rooms and tried them． One of them fitted the lock and he opened the door．
　　The room had two windows looking south and west，and hot bright sunshine filled the room．Here there was no carpet， only wooden floorboards；no pictures，no furniture，except a bed in the farther corner—a metal bed covered with a bluishgrey blanket．You could not imagine a more ordinary room， but there was something that made Thomson close the door very quickly and very quietly behind him，and then lean against the wall in the passage，trembling all over．
　　Under the blanket someone lay，and not only lay，but moved．It was certainly some one and not some thing，be－ cause the shape of the head and body was clear under the blanket．However，it was all covered，and no one lies with covered head except a dead person；and this was not dead，not truly dead，because it was moving and shaking．
　　Thomson tried to tell himself that he was imagining things， but on this bright sunny day that was impossible．What should he do？First，lock the door again．With a trembling hand he turned the key in the lock，but as he did so，it made a little noise，and at once soft footsteps were heard coming towards the door．Thomson ran to his room and locked himself in，although he knew it was useless．How could doors and locks stop what he suspected？He stood listening for several minutes，but no sound came from the passage．
　　Now he could not think what to do．He wanted to pack his bags and leave the inn at once，but only that morning he had told Mr and Mrs Betts that he would stay for another week．If he left suddenly，they would surely guess the reason．Then he thought，either the Bettses knew about the creature in that room but still stayed in the house，or they knew nothing about it．Perhaps they knew just enough to make them keep the room locked，but not enough to make them leave the house． In any case，they did not seem to be afraid of whatever was in that room，so why should he be afraid of it？He decided to stay another week as he had arranged．
　　As the days passed，Thomson listened hard for sounds from the room at the end of the passage，but he heard nothing．Of course he could not ask Mr or Mrs Betts about it，and he did not think he could ask anyone else．However，he wanted very much to find some kind of explanation，so he decided that he would try to see inside the locked room once again before he left the inn．
　　He made a simple plan．He would arrange to leave by an afternoon train and would have his luggage put on the cart for the station．Then，just before leaving，he would go back upstairs to make sure that he had not left anything behind．But， instead of going to his own room，he would go to the other． He put oil on the key to make it easier to open the door quietly．
　　His last day arrived．After lunch his luggage was taken downstairs and put on the cart for the station．Mr and Mrs Betts came to the front door to say goodbye．Thomson thanked them for making him so comfortable and they thanked him for staying with them．Then，as he had planned，Thomson said：
　　'I'll just check that I haven't left a book or anything in my room．No，please don't worry，I can do it myself．'
　　He hurried up the stairs to the locked room，turned the key quietly and opened the door．He almost laughed aloud．Leaning，or perhaps sitting，on the edge of the bed was—nothing more than an ordinary scarecrow！A scarecrow out of the garden，of course，just put away in the empty room…
　　Yes；but suddenly amusement stopped．Do scarecrows have bony feet？Do their heads roll from side to side on their shoulders？Have they got heavy metal chains around their necks？ Can they get up and move across the floor，with rolling head and arms close at their sides… and shake with the cold？
　　Thomson shut the door with a bang，jumped down the stairs and fell in a faint at the door of the inn．When he became con- scious again，Mr Betts was standing over him with a glass of whisky and a serious face．
　　'You shouldn't do it，sir，'said Betts．'You shouldn't go looking into people's secrets，especially when they've done their best to make you comfortable．'
　　Thomson said that he was very sorry but the innkeeper and his wife found it hard to accept his apologies．
　　'Who knows what damage it will do to the good name of the inn？'said Mr Betts，and his wife agreed．
　　At last Thomson managed to make Mr and Mrs Betts believe that he would not say anything about what he had seen．By that time he had missed his train but he decided to go into town and spend the night at the Station Hotel．
　　Before he went，Mr Betts told him what little he knew．
　　'They say he used to be the innkeeper here many years ago， and he worked with the thieves who robbed and murdered travellers on the heath．That's why he was hanged——in chains，they say，up at the gallows on that white stone you saw．Yes，the fishermen pulled the gallows down，I bleieve， because they saw it out at sea，and they said it kept the fish away．We heard all this from the peple who sold us the inn． “You keep that room shut up，”they said，“but don't move the bed out，and you'll find there won't be any trouble．”And we haven't had any trouble．He hasn't once come out into the house，though who knows what he might do now？I've never seen him myself，and I don't want to．But I do hope you'll keep it a secret，sir．If word gets out，people won't want to come and stay here，will they？'
　　The promise of silence was kept for many years．I heard the story when Mr Thomson，now an old man，came to stay with my father．I was told to take him up to his room，but when we got there，Mr Thomson stepped forward and threw the door open himself．He stood there in the doorway for some moments，looking carefully into every corner of the room．
　　Then he turned to me．'I beg your pardon，'he said．'A strange way to behave，I know．But there is a very good reason for it．'
　　A few days later I heard what the reason was，and you have heard it now．
　　“假如你现在走过卧室，就会看到那脏兮兮的灰床单像海浪一样起伏着。”
　　“随着什么起伏？”
　　“噢，随着下面爬行的老鼠。”
　　是老鼠吗？我问道，因为在另一个故事中并不是老鼠。我也说不出这故事讲的是什么时候的事，只是听这个故事时我还年轻，讲故事的人已经老了。
　　故事发生在萨福克郡，一条沿海岸向北延伸的路翻过一座小山的地方。山顶上左侧矗立着一幢大约建于1770年的高高的窄房子。房子后面是些花园和其他建筑物，前面是一片能够看到远处大海的开阔荒地。这房子曾是一家很有名的旅店，尽管我知道现在已经很少有人住了。
　　汤姆森先生，一位剑桥大学的年轻人来到这家旅店，想寻找一份宁静和一种读书的愉悦环境。两者他都找到了。旅店老板和妻子把房子收拾得很舒适，而汤姆森先生又是唯一的客人。
　　当时正值天气晴好的春天，汤姆森先生过得很愉快。他计划呆一个月：整个上午读书，下午去荒地里散散步，晚上和酒吧里的当地人聊聊天。
　　一次他在荒地里散步，发现了一块顶部有个方形洞的白色大石头。这肯定曾安插过什么标杆。他看看四周宽敞而开阔的荒地和远处明亮的阳光下闪着波光的大海，判定这块石头可能曾安插用于指引当地海员回家的标志。
　　晚上在酒吧里，他谈到那块石头和他觉得那石头可能曾安插用于指引海员的标志的想法。
　　“是的，”旅店老板贝茨说，“我听说他们在海上就能看到它，可插在那里的东西很久以前就倒了。”
　　“那倒是件好事，”其中一位村民说，“那不是什么吉祥的标志，老人们过去经常这么说。我是说对捕鱼来说不吉祥。”
　　“为什么呢？”汤姆森问进。
　　“噢，我从来没有亲眼见过那东西，”那村民回答，“可那些老渔夫们的想法很怪，如果是他们亲手毁掉了它，我也不会感到奇怪我不可能找到比这更明确的答案了，人们很快就开始谈起别的事儿了。
　　一天，汤姆森先生决定下午接着看书，不去散步。他早早吃完午饭回到房间里，继续看书看到大约3点。然后他放下书站起身，走出房间进了走廊，想休息5分钟。整座房子安静至极。他想起今天是赶集的日于，人们都到镇上去了。
　　他站在那里，突然想到要看看走廊两边的其他4个房间。他觉得贝茨夫妇肯定不会介意。他对面的那间屋子很大，但是看不到海。相邻的两间都比他的房间小，而且都只有一个窗户——他的房间有两个窗户。他走到走廊尽头的那个房门前，发现门锁着。他决意一定要看看这间屋子里面是什么样的；也许自己房间的钥匙能打开这个门。试了试打不开。于是他又从另外3个房间拿来钥匙试，其中一把打开了锁，他开了门。
　　这房间有两面窗户分别朝南朝西，明亮而炙热的阳光洒满了房间。屋里没有地毯，只有木头地板；没有画，没有家具，只在远处墙角有一张床，一张上面盖着条带点儿蓝色的灰毯子的金属床。这间屋子再平常不过了，却有某种情况使汤姆森非常迅速而又轻轻地关上门，然后倚在走廊的墙上浑身发起抖来。
　　原来毯子下面躺着个人，不仅是躺着，而且还在动。肯定是人而不是东西，因为毯子下面头部和身体的轮廓很清晰。然而却从头到脚都盖着，除非死人才盖着头躺着，而这人没有死，没有真死，因为它还在动并且在发抖。
　　汤姆森试图告诉自己他在胡思乱想，可在这光天化日之下这又是不可能的。他该怎么办呢？首先再锁上门。他的手颤抖着用钥匙在锁眼里转动着，这时出了点儿声音，他马上便听到有轻轻朝门口走来的脚步声。虽然他知道这么做无济于事，汤姆森还是跑回自己的房间把自己锁在了里面。关上门上了锁又怎么能挡住他怀疑的东西呢？他站在那里听了几分钟，走廊里没有任何声音。
　　他现在想不出来该怎么做。他想收拾起东西马上离开这家旅店，可就在那天早上他才告诉贝茨夫妇他要再呆上一周。如果他突然走了，他们肯定会猜测其中的原因。这时他想或许贝茨夫妇知道那房间里的东西却仍住在这套房子里，或许他们对此一无所知。可能他们知道的情况仅使他们将那间屋子锁起来，却不至于使他们离开这座房子。无论如何，不管那屋子里有什么东西，他们似乎并不害怕，他为什么要怕呢？于是他决定按原来自己的安排再呆上一周。
　　时间一天天过去，汤姆森仔细听着走廊尽头那间屋子有什么声音，可什么也没听到。他当然不能去问贝茨先生或夫人，而且觉得这事也不能去问别人。可是他却极想弄清此事，于是便决定离开这家旅馆前再找机会去看看那锁着的屋子里面的情况。
　　他简单地计划了一下：他安排坐下午的火车走并且把行李放在送站的马车上，然后就在临走前再回楼上看看是不是忘了什么东西，这时他不回自己的房间而是到那间屋子里去。他在钥匙上抹了点儿油，这样开起门来声音会小一点儿。
　　最后一天到了。吃完午饭，他的行李被拿下楼放在了送站的马车上。贝茨夫妇来到前门和他道别。汤姆森感谢他们让他住得很舒服，夫妇俩也对他住在他们这儿表示感谢。接着，汤姆森照计划说：
　　“我再去看看有没有把书或什么东西忘在房间里。不过没事，我自己去看看就行了。”
　　他快步上楼来到那间锁着的屋门前，轻轻转动钥匙打开了门。他几乎要大声笑出来。斜靠在或者说坐在床边的——只不过是个普普通通的稻草人！一个从花园里搬出来的稻草人，只不过被放在了这间空屋子里……
　　可突然他不再觉得这事情好玩了。稻草人有瘦骨嶙峋的双脚吗？头能在肩膀上晃动吗？脖子上会有沉重的金属链子吗？能从床上起来，摇晃着头、胳膊紧贴着身体两侧在地上走动……而且冻得发抖吗？
　　汤姆森砰地一声关上门，从楼梯上跳下来，随即昏倒在旅店门口。他醒过来时，贝茨先生正端着杯威士忌严肃地站在他身边。
　　“先生，你可不该这么做，”贝茨说，“你不应该窥探别人的秘密，尤其是尽力使你舒服的人家。”
　　汤姆森说他很抱歉，可旅店老板和妻子觉得难以接受他的道歉。
　　“谁知道这件事会对我们旅店的声誉造成什么损害呢？”贝茨先生说，他妻子也在附和着。
　　最后汤姆森还是让贝茨夫妇相信了他不会把自己见到的一切说出去。这时他已经错过了那趟火车，可他决定去镇上，在火车站旅馆过夜。
　　他临走前，贝茨先生给他讲了自己知道的一点儿情况。
　　“人们说多年前他是这家旅店的老板，和那些在荒原上抢夺和谋杀旅行者的小偷们同谋一起干坏事，所以被人——据说用链子——吊死在你看见的那块白石头上的绞架上。是啊，我想后来那些渔夫们把绞架拆了下来，因为他们在海上就能看见，他们说鱼一见到它就跑。这些都是从卖给我们旅店的人们那里听来的。'你们把那间屋子的门窗关好，'他们说，'别把床搬出来，就不会有什么麻烦。'我们确实也没遇到什么麻烦。虽然谁也不知道现在他会干什么，但是此前他从来没出来过。我从来没看见过他，而且也不想看见。不过，先生，我确实希望你能保守这个秘密。如果传出去，人们就不会想到这儿来住了，对吧？”
　　多年来汤姆森先生一直信守诺言，没有将此事说出来。如今他已经年迈，来看望我的父亲我才听到了这个故事。我奉命带他上楼到他的房间去。一到那儿，他便走上前去自己用力推开了门。他在门口站了会儿，仔细看了看房间的每一个角落。
　　接着他转向我。“对不起，”他说，“这么做很怪，却是很有理由的。”
　　几天后我听说了其中的理由，您现在也听说了。
　　　Casting the Runes
　　15th April 1902
　　Dear Mr Karswell
　　I am turning your paper on'The Truth of Alchemy'， which you have kindly offered to read at our next club meeting．Unfortunately，we do not feel able to accept your offer．
　　W．Gayton，Secretary
　　18th April 1902
　　Dear Mr Karswell
　　I am afraid that I am not able to arrange a meeting with you to discuss your offer to read a paper on alchemy．However， the club considered your offer most carefully，and we did not refuse it until we had asked for the opinion of an expert in these matters．
　　W．Gayton，Secretary
　　20th April 1902
　　The Secretary writes to inform Mr Karswell that it is impossible for him to give the name of any person or persons who were asked for an opinion on Mr Karswell's paper on alchemy．The Secretary also wishes to say that he cannot reply to any further letters on this matter．
　　'And who is Mr Karswell？'asked the Secretary's wife．She had called at his office and had just picked up and read the last of these letters．
　　'Well，my dear，'replied her husband，'just at present Mr Karswell is a very angry man．All I know abut him is that he's rich，lives at Lufford Abbey in Warwickshire，and considers himself to be an alchemist．And I don't want to meet him for the next week or two．Now，shall we go？'
　　'What have you been doing to make him angry？'asked the Secretary's wife．
　　'The usual thing，my dear．He sent us a paper which he wanted to read at our next meeting．We showed it to Edward Dunning—almost the only man in England who knows about these things—and he said it was no good，so we refused it． Now Karswell wants to see me about it and to find out whose opinion we asked for．Well，you've seen my reply to that．Of course，you mustn't say anything about it to anyone．'
　　'You know very well that I would never do a thing like that．Indeed，I hope he doesn't discover that it was poor Mr Dunning．'
　　'Why do you say“poor”Mr Dunning？'said the Secretary． 'He's a very happy man and quite rich，I believe．He has a comfortable home and plenty of time to spend on his hobbies．'
　　'I only meant that I would be sorry for him if Mr Karswell discovered his name and made trouble for him．'
　　'Oh yes！He would be poor Mr Dunning then，'agreed her husband．The Secretary and his wife were lunching with friends that day，a Mr and Mrs Bennett，who came from Warwickshire． Mrs Gayton decided to ask them if they knew Mr Karswell． However，before she could do so，Mrs Bennett said to her hus－ band：
　　'I saw Mr Karswell this morning．He was coming out of the British Museum as I was driving past．'
　　'Did you really？'said her husband．'I wonder what brings him up to London．'
　　'Is he a friend of yours？'asked the Secretary，smiling at his wife．
　　'Oh no！'said Mr and Mrs Bennett together．
　　'He's one of our neighbours in Warwickshire，'explained Mrs Bennett，'but he's not at all popular．Nobody knows what he does with his time and they say he believes in all kinds of strange and unpleasant things．If he thinks you have been impolite to him，he never forgets it，and he never does anything kind for his neighbours．'
　　'But，my dear，'said her husband，'you're forgetting the Christmas party he gave for the children．'
　　'Oh no，I'm not，'replied his wife．'That's a good exam－ ple of what I mean．'She turned to the Secretary and his wife．
　　'The first winter he was at Lufford this horrible man invited all the village children to a Christmas party at his house．He said that he had some of these new moving pictures to show them．Everyone was rather surprised because they thought hat he didn't like children；he used to be very angry if any of the village children came on to his land．However，the chil－ dren all went and a friend of ours，Mr Farrer，went with them to see that everything was all right．'
　　'And was it？'asked the Secretary．
　　'Indeed it was not！'replied Mrs Bennett．'Our friend said it was obvious that Mr Karswell wanted to frighten the children to death，and he very nearly did so．The first film was “Red Riding Hood”，and the wolf was so terrible that several of the smaller children had to leave the room．The other films were more and more frightening．At the end Mr Karswell showed a film of a little boy in the park surrounding Lufford Abbey—every child in the room could recognize the place． There was a horrible creature in white following the little boy． At first you could see it hiding in the trees，then it became clearer and clearer and at last it caught the little boy and pulled him to pieces．Our friend said that it gave him some very bad dreams，so you can imagine how the children felt．Of course， this was too much and Mr Farrer told Karswell that he must stop it．All Mr Karswell said was：“Oh！The dear children want to go home to bed，do they？Very well，just one last picture． ”
　　'And then he showed a short film of horrible creatures with wings and lots of legs．They seemed to be crawling out of the picture to get among the children．Of course，the children were terribly frightened and they all started screaming and running out of the room．Some of them were quite badly hurt because they were all trying to get out of the room at the same time．There was the most awful trouble in the village after- wards．Several of the fathers wanted to go to Lufford Abbey and break all the windows，but the gates were locked when they got there．So you see why Mr Karswell is not one of our friends．'
　　'Yes，'agreed her husband．'I think Karswell is a very dangerous man．I feel sorry for anyone who makes an enemy of him．'
　　'Is he the man，'asked the Secretary，'who wrote a History of Witchcraft about ten years ago？'
　　'Yes，that's the man，'replied Mr Bennett．'Do you re- member what the newspaers said about it？'
　　'Yes，I do，'said the Secretary．'They all said that it was a really bad book．In fact，I knew the man who wrote the sharpest report of them all．So did you，of course．You re- member John Harrington？He was at Cambridge with us．'
　　'Oh，very well indeed．But I had heard nothing of him between the time we left university and the day I read about his accident in the newspaper．'
　　'What happened to him？'asked one of the ladies．
　　'It was very strange，'said Mr Bennett．'He fell out of a tree and broke his neck．The mystery was why he had climbed the tree in the first place．There he was，an ordinary man walking home along a country road late one evening，and suddenly he began to run as fast as he could．Finally he climbed up a tree beside the road；a dead branch broke，he fell and was killed．When they found him the next morning，he had a terrible expression of fear on his face．It was quite clear that he had been chased by something and people talked about mad dogs and so on，but no one ever found the answer．That was in 1889 and ever since then his brother，Henry，who was also at Cambridge with us，has been trying to find out the truth of what happened．He thinks that someone wanted to harm his brother but，of course，he has never been able to prove anything．'
　　After a pause Mr Bennett asked the Secretary，'Did you ever read Karswell's History of Witchcraft？'
　　'Yes，I did，'said the Secretary．
　　'And was it as bad as Harrington said？'
　　'Oh yes．It was badly written but what it said was very bad too，although Karswell seemed to believe every word of what he was saying．'
　　'I didn't read the book but I remember what Harrington wrote about it，'said Mr Bennett．'If anyone wrote like that about one of my books，I would never write another，I'm sure．'
　　'I don't think Karswell feels the same way，'replied the Secretary．'But it's half past three；we must go．Thank you for an excellent lunch．'
　　On the way home Mrs Gayton said，'I hope that horrible man Karswell doesn't discover that it was Mr Dunning who said his paper was no good．'
　　'I don't think he's likely to do that，'replied her husband．'Dunning won't tell him and neither shall I．The only way Karswell might find out is by asking the people at the British Museum Library for the name of anyone who studies all their old books about alchemy．Let's hope he won't think of that．'
　　But Mr Karswell was a very clever man．
　　One evening，later in the same week，Mr Edward Dunning was returning from the British Museum Library，where he had been working all day，to his comfortable home．He lived alone there，except for the two women who cooked and cleaned for him．A train took him most of the way home，then he caught a bus for the last mile or two．He had finished reading his newspaper by the time he got on the bus so he amused himself by reading the different notices on the windows opposite him． He already knew most of them quite well，but there seemed to be a new one in the corner that he had not seen before．It was yellow with blue letters，and all he could read was the name 'John Harrington'．Soon the bus was nearly empty and he changed his seat so that he could read the rest of it．It said：
　　REMEMBER JOHN HARRINGTON OF THE LAURELS，ASHBROOKE， WARWICKSHIRE，WHO DIED 18TH SEPTEMBER 1889．HE WAS AL- LOWED THREE MONTHS．
　　Mr Dunning stared at this notice for a long time．He was the only passenger on the bus when it reached his stop，and as he was getting off，he said to the driver，'I was looking at that new notice on the window，the blue and yellow one．It's rather strange，isn't it？'
　　'Which one is that，sir？asked the driver．'I don't think I know it．'
　　'why，this one here，'said Mr Dunning，turning to point to it．Then he suddenly stopped—the window was now quite clear．The blue and yellow notice，with its strange message， had completely disappeared．
　　'But I'm sure…'Mr Dunning began，staring at the window．Then he turned back to the driver．'I'm sorry．Perhaps I imagined it，'he said．
　　He hurried off the bus and walked home，feeling rather worried．The notice had been there on the window；he was sure of it．But what possible explanation could there be for its disappearing like that？
　　The following afternoon Mr Dunning was walking from the British Museum to the station when he saw，some way ahead of him，a man holding some leaflets，ready to give to people as they passed．However，Mr Dunning did not see him give any- one a leaflet until he himself reached the place．One was pushed into his hand as he passed．The man's hand touched his，and gave Mr Dunning an unpleasant surprise．The hand seemed unnaturally rough and hot．As Mr Dunning walked on，he looked quickly at the leaflet and noticed the name Harrington．He stopped in alarm，and felt in his pocket for his glasses，but in that second someone took the leaflet out of his hand．He turned quickly—but whoever it was had disappeared，and so had the man with the leaflets．
　　The next day in the British Museum he was arranging his papers on the desk when he thought he heard his own name whispered behind him．He turned round hurriedly，knocking some of his papers on to the floor，but saw no one he recognized．He picked up his papers and was beginning to work when a large man at the table behind him，who was just getting up to leave，touched him on the shoulder．
　　'May I give you these？'he said，holding out a number of papers．'I think they must be yours．'
　　'Yes，they are mine．Thank you，'said Mr Dunning．A moment later the man had left the room．
　　Later，Mr Dunning asked the librarian if he knew the large man's name．
　　'Oh yes．that's Mr Karswell，'said the librarian．'In fact， he asked me the other day who were the experts on alchemy， so I told him that you were the only one in the country．I'll introduce you if you like；I'm sure he'd like to meet you．'
　　'No，no，please don't，'said Dunning．'He is someone I would very much prefer to avoid．'
　　On the way home from the museum Mr Dunning felt strangely unwell．Usually he looked forward to an evening spent alone with his books，but now he wanted to be with other people．Unfortunately，the train and the bus were unusually empty．When he reached his house，he was surprised to find the doctor waiting for him．
　　'I'm sorry，Dunning，'said the doctor．'I'm afraid I've had to send both your servants to hospital．'
　　'Oh dear！'said Mr Dunning．'What's the matter with them？'
　　'They told me they'd bought some fish for their lunch from a man who came to the door，and it has made them quite ill．'
　　'I'm very sorry to hear that，'said Mr Dunning．
　　'It's strange，'said the doctor．'I've spoken to the neighbours and no one else has seen anyone selling fish．Now，don't worry．They're not seriously ill，but I'm afraid they won't be home for two or three days．Why don't you come and have dinner with me this evening？Eight o'clock．You know where I live．'
　　Mr Dunning enjoyed his evening with the doctor and re- turned to his lonely house at half past eleven．He had got into bed and was almost asleep when he heard quite clearly the sound of his study door opening downstairs．Alarmed，he got out of bed，went to the top of the stairs，and listened．There were no sounds of movements or footsteps，but he suddenly felt warm，even hot，air round his legs．He went back and decided to lock himself into his room，and then suddenly，the electric lights all went out．He put out his hand to find the matches on the table beside the bed—and touched a mouth， with teeth and with hair around it，and not，he said later，the mouth of a human being．In less than a second he was in an- other room and had locked the door．And there he spent a miserable night，in the dark，expecting every moment to hear something trying to open the door．But nothing came．
　　When it grew light，he went nervously back into his bed- room and searched it．Everything was in its usual place．He searched the whole house，but found nothing．
　　It was a miserable day for Mr Dunning．He did not want to go to the British Museum in case he met Karswell，and he did not feel comfortable in the empty house．He spent half an hour at the hospital where he found that the two women were feeling much better．Then he decided to go to the Club for lunch． There，he was very glad to find his friend the Secretary and they had lunch together．He told Gayton that his servants were in hospital，but he was unwilling to speak of his other problems．
　　'You poor man，'said the Secretary．'We can't leave you alone with no one to cook your meals．You must come and stay with us．My wife and I will be delighted to have you．Go home after lunch and bring your things to my house this after- noon．No，I won't let you refuse．'
　　In fact，Mr Dunning was very happy to accept his friend's invitation．The idea of spending another night alone in his house was alarming him more and more．
　　At dinner that evening Mr Dunning looked so unwell that the Gaytons felt sorry for him and tried to make him forget his troubles．But later，when the two men were alone，Dunning became very quiet again．Suddenly he said：
　　'Gayton，I think that man Karswell knows that I was the person who advised you to refuse his paper．'
　　Gayton looked surprised．'What makes you think that？'he asked．
　　So Dunning explained．'I don't really mind，'he continued， 'but I believe that he's not a very nice person and it could be difficult if we met．'
　　After this Dunning sat in silence，looking more and more miserable．At last Gayton asked him if some serious trouble was worrying him．
　　'Oh！I'm so glad you asked，'said Dunning．'I feel I really must talk to someone about it．Do you know anything about a man named John Harrington？'
　　Very surprised，Gayton could only ask why he wanted to know．Then Dunning told him the whole story of the notice in the bus，the man with the leaflets，and what had happened in his own house．He ended by asking again if Gayton knew any- thing about John Harrington．
　　Now it was the Secretary who was worried and did not quite know how to answer．His friend was clearly in a very nervous condition，and the story of Harrington's death was alarming for anyone to hear．Was it possible that Karswell was involved with both men？In the end Gayton said only that he had known Harrington at Cambridge and believed that he had died suddenly in 1889．He added a few details about the man and his books．
　　Later，when they were alone，the Secretary discussed the matter with his wife．Mrs Gayton said immediately that Karswell must be the link between the two men，and she won- dered if Harrington's brother，Henry，could perhaps help Mr Dunning．She would ask the Bennetts where Henry Harrington lived，and then bring the two men together．
　　When they met，the first thing Dunning told Henry Harrington was of the strange ways in which he had learnt his brother's name．He described his other recent experiences and asked Harrington what he remembered about his brother be- fore he died．
　　John was in a very strange condition for some time before his death，it's true，replied Henry Harrington．Among other things，he felt that someone was following him all the time． I'm sure that someone was trying to harm him，and your story reminds me very much of the things he experienced．Could there be any link between you and my brother，do you think？'
　　'Well，'replied Dunning，there is just one thing．I'm told that your brother wrote some very hard things about a book not long before he died and，as it happens，I too have done something to annoy the man who wrote that book．'
　　'Don't tell me his name is Karswell，'said Harrington．
　　'Why yes，it is，'replied Dunning．
　　Henry Harrington looked very serious．
　　'Well，that is the final proof I needed，'he said．'Let me explain．I believe that my brother John was sure that this man Karswell was trying to harm him．Now，John was very fond of music．He often went to concerts in London，and always kept the concert programmes afterwards．About three months before he died，he came back from a concert and showed me the programme．
　　'“I nearly missed this one，”he said．“I couldn't find mine at the end of the concert and was looking everywhere for it. Then my neighbour offered me his，saying that he didn't need it any more．I don't know who he was—he was a very large man．”
　　'Soon after this my brother told me that he felt very uncomfortable at night．Then，one evening，he was looking through all his concert programmes when he found something strange in the programme that his large neighbour had given him．It was a thin piece of paper with some writing on it—not normal writing．It looked to me more like Runic letters in red and black．Well，we were looking at this and wondering how to give it back to its owner when the door opened and the wind blew the paper into the fire．It was burnt in a moment．'
　　Mr Dunning sat silent as Harrington paused．
　　'Now，'he continued，'I don't know if you ever read that book of Karswell's，The History of Witchcraft，which my brother said was so badly written．'
　　Dunning shook his head．
　　'Well，'Harrington went on，'after my brother died I read some of it．The book was indeed badly written and a lot of it was rubbish，but one bit caught my eye．It was about “Casting the Runes”on people in order to harm them，and I'm sure that Karswell was writing from personal experience．I won't tell you all the details，but I'm certain that the large man at the concert was Karswell，and that the paper he gave my brother caused his death．Now，I must ask you if anything similar has happened to you．'
　　Dunning told him what had happened in the British Museum．
　　'So Karswell did actually pass you some papers？'said Harrington．'Have you checked them？ No？Well，I think we should do so at once，if you agree．'
　　They went round to Dunning's empty house where his papers were lying on the table．As he picked them up，a thin piece of paper fell to the ground．A sudden wind blew it to- wards the open window，but Harrington closed the window just in time to stop the paper escaping．He caught the paper in his hand．
　　'I thought so，'he said．'It looks just like the one my brother was given．I think you're in great danger，Dunning．'
　　The two men discussed the problem for a long time．The paper was covered in Runic letters which they could not under- stand，but both men felt certain that the message，whatever it was，could bring unknown horrors to its owner．They agreed that the paper must be returned to Karswell，and that the only safe and sure way was to give it to him in person and see that he accepted it．This would be difficult since Karswell knew what Dunning looked like．
　　'I can grow a beard，'said Dunning，'so that he won't recognize me．But who knows when the end will come？'
　　'I think I know，'said Harrington．'The concert where my brother was given the paper was on June 18th，and he died on September 18th，three months later．'
　　'Perhaps it will be the same for me，'Dunning said miserably．He looked in his diary．'Yes，April 23rd was the day in the Museum—that brings me to July 23rd．Now，Harrington， I would very much like to know anything you can tell me about your brother's trouble．'
　　'The thing that worried him most，'said Harrington，'was the feeling that whenever he was alone，someone was watching him．After a time I began to sleep in his room，and he felt better because of that． But he talked a lot in his sleep．'
　　'What about？'asked Dunning．
　　'I think it would be better not to go into details about that，'replied Harrington But I remember that he received a packet by post，which contained a little diary．My brother didn't look at it，but after his death I did，and found that all the pages after September 18th had been cut out．Perhaps you wonder why he went out alone on the evening he died？The strange thing is that during the last week of his life all his worries seemed to disappear，and he no longer felt that someone was