The Judge's House by bram Stoker. When the time for his examination drew near,
Malcolm Malcolmson made up his mind to go somewhere to read by himself.
He feared the attractions of the seaside, and also he feared completely rural isolation,
for of old he knew its charms, and so he determined to find
some unpretentious little town where there would be nothing to distract him. He refrained
from asking suggestions from any of his friends, for he argued that each would
recommend some place of which he had knowledge and where he had already acquaintances.
As Malcolmson wished to avoid friends, he had no wish to encumber himself with
the attention of friends friends, and so he determined to look out for a
place for himself. He packed a portaminet with some clothes and all the books
he required, and then took ticket for the first name on the local timetable,
which he did not know. When at the end of three hours journey
he lighted ben Church, he felt satisfied that he had so far obliterated his
tracks as to be sure of having a peaceful opportunity of purursuing his studies.
He went straight to the one inn which the sleepy little place contained and put
up for the night. Ben Church was a market town, and once in
three weeks was crowded to excess. But for the reminder of the twenty one
days, it was as attractive as a Desertlson looked around the day after his
arrival to try to find quarters more isolated than even so quiet an inn.
As the good traveler afforded. There was only one place which took his fancy,
and it certainly satisfied his wildest ideas regarding quiet. In fact, quiet
was not the proper word to apply to it. Desolation was the only term
conveying any suitable idea of its isolation. It was an old, rambling,
heavily built house of the Jacobean style, with heavy gables and windows usually small
and set higher than was customary in such houses, and was surrounded with a
high brick wall massively built. Indeed, on examination it looked more like a
fortified house than an ordinary dwelling. But all these things pleased Malcolmson. Here,
he thought, is the very spot I have been looking for, and
if I can only get opportunity of using it, I shall be happy.
His joy was increased when he realized beyond doubt that it was not at present
inhabited. From the post office he got the name of the agent who was
rarely surprised at the application to rent a part of the old house. Mister
Carnford, the local lawyer and agent, was a genial old gentleman, and
frankly confessed his delight at anyone being willing to live in the house. To
tell you the truth, said he, I should be only too happy on
behalf of the owners to let anyone have the house rent free for a term
of years, if only to accustom the people here to see it inhabited.
It has been so long empty that some kind of absurd prejudice has grown up
about it, and this can be best put down by its occupation, if
only, he added, with a sly glance at Malcolmson, by a scholar
like yourself, who wants its quiet for a time. Malcolmsen thought it needless
to ask the agent about the absurd prejudice. He knew he would get more
information if he should require it on that subject from other quarters. He paid
his three months rent, got a receipt and the name of an old woman
who would probably undertake to do for him, and came away with the keys
in his pocket. He then went to the landlady of the inn, who
was a cheerful and most kindly person, and asked her advice as to such
stories and provisions as he would be likely to require. She threw up her
hands in amazement when he told her he was going to settle himself. Not
in the judge's house, she said, and grew pale as she spoke.
He explained the locality of the house, saying that he did not know its
name. When he had finished, she answered, aye, sure enough,
sure enough, the very place it is, the judge's house. Sure enough.
He asked her to tell him about the place why so called, and
what there was against it. She told him that it was so called locally
because it had been many years before. How long she could not say as
for herself from another part of the country, but she thought it must have
been a hundred years or more, the abode of a judge who was held
in great terror on account of his harsh sentences and his hostility to the prisoners
at assizes. As to what there was against the house, she could not
tell. She had often asked, but no one could inform her, but
there was a general feeling that there was something, And for her own part,
she would not take all the money in drink Waters bank and stay in
the house an hour by herself. Then she apologized to Malcolmson for her disturbing
talk. It is too bad of me, sir, and you and a
young gentleman too, if you will pardon me saying it, going to live
there all alone. If you were my boy, and you'll excuse me for
saying it, you wouldn't sleep there at night, not if I had to
go there myself and pull the big alarm bell that's on the roof. The
good creature was so manifestly in earnest, and was so kindly in her intentions
that Malcolmson, almost amused, was touched. He told her kindly how much
he appreciated her interest in him, and added, but my dear missus Whitham,
indeed, you need not be concerned about me. A man who is
reading for the mathematical tripos has too much to think of to be disturbed by
any of these mysterious somethings, And his work is of too exact and prosaic
a kind to allow of his having any order in his mind, for mysteries
of any kind. Harmonical progression, permutations and combinations of elliptic functions have sufficient
mysteries for me. Missus Whitham kindly undertook to see after his commissions, and
he went himself to look for the old woman who had been recommended to him.
When he turned to the judge's house with her, after an interview of
a couple of hours, he found Missus Whitham herself waiting with several men and
boys carrying parcels, and an upholsterer's man with a bed in a cart.
For she said, though table and chairs might be all very well, a
bed that hadn't been aired for maybe fifty years was not proper for young ones
to lie in. She was evidently curious to see the inside of the house,
and though manifestly so afraid of the some things, that at the slightest
sound she clutched on to Malcolmson, whom she never left for a moment,
went over the whole place. After his examination of the house, Malcolmson decided
to take up his abode in the great dining room, which was big enough
to serve for all his requirements, and missus Whittham, with the aid of
the charwoman Missus Dempster, proceeded to arrange matters. When the hampers were brought
in and unpacked, Malcolmson saw that, with much kind forethought, she had
sent from her own kitchen sufficient provisions to last for a few days. Before
going, she expressed all sorts of kind wishes, and at the door turned
and said, and perhaps, sir, as the room is big and drofty,
it might be well to have one of those big screens put round your
bed at night. Though truth to tell, I would die myself if I
were to be shut in with all kinds of things that put their heads round
the sides or over the top and look on me. The image which she
had called up was too much for her nerves, and she fled incontentently.
Missus Dempster sniffed in a superior manner as the landlady disappeared. I remarked that
for her own part, she wasn't afraid of all the boogies in the kingdom.
I'll tell you what it is, sir, she said. Boogies is
all kinds and sorts of things except boogies, rats and mice, beetles,
and creaky doors, and new slates and broken panes and stiff drawer handles that
stay out when you pull them and then fall down in the middle of the
night. Look at the way's coat of the room. It is old,
hundreds of years old. Do you think there's no rats and beetles there?
And do you imagine her that you won't see none of them? Rats as
boogies, I tell you, And boogies is rats. And don't you get
to think anything else, missus Dempster, said Malcolm some gravely, making her
a polite bow. You know more than signor wrangler. And let me say
that as a mark of esteem for your dubitable soundness of head and heart,
I shall, when I go, give you possession of this house and let
you stay here by yourself for the last two weeks of my tendency for four
weeks will serve my purpose. Thank you kindly, Sure, she answered,
But I couldn't sleep away from home a night. I am in green House
charity, and if I slept a night away from my rooms, I should
lose all I have got to live on. The rules is very strict,
and there's too many watching for a vacancy for me to run any risks in
the matter. Only for that, sir, I'd gladly come here and attend
on you altogether during your stay, my good woman, said Malcolmson hastily,
I have come here on a purpose to obtain solitude. And believe me that
I am grateful to the Late greenhow for having organized his admirable charity. Whatever
it is that I am perforce denied the opportunity of suffering from such a form
of temptation. Saint Anthony himself could not be more rigid on the point.
The old woman laughed harshly. Ah, you, young gentleman, she said,
you don't fear for naught, and belike you'll get all the solitude you
want here. She set to work with her cleaning, and by night when
Malcolmson returned from his walk, he always had one of his books to study.
As he walked, he found the room swept and tidy, a fire
burning on the old hearth, the lamp lit, and the table spread for
supper with Missus Whitham's excellent fare. This is comfort, indeed, he said,
and rubbed his hands. When he had finished his supper, and lifted
the tray to the other end of the great oak dining table. He got
out his books again, put fresh wood on the fire, trimmed his lamp,
and set himself down to a spell of real hard work. He went
on without a pause till about eleven o'clock, when he knocked off for a
bit to fix his fire and lamp and to make himself a cup of tea.
He had always been a tea drinker, and during his college life had
sat laid at work and had taken tea late. The rest was a great
luxury for him, and he enjoyed it with a sense of delicious, voluptuous
ease. The renewed fire leapt and sparkled and threw quaint shadows through the great
old room, and as he sipped his hot tea, he ran in the
sense of isolation from his kind. Then it was that he began to notice
the first time what a noise the rats were making. Surely, he thought,
they cannot have been at it all the time I was reading. Had
they been, I must have noticed it presently. When the noise increased,
he satisfied himself that it was really new. It was evident that at first
the rats had been frightened at the presence of a stranger and the light of
fire and lamp, but that as the time went on they had grown bolder
and were now disporting themselves as was their wont how busy they were, and
hark to the strange noises. Up and down the old waned coat, over
the ceiling, and under the floor they raced and gnawed and scratched. Malcolmson
smiled to himself as he recalled to mind the saying of Missus Dempster, boogies
is rats, and rats is boogies. The tea began to have its effect
of the intellectual and nervous stimuloss, and he saw with joy another long spell
of work to be done before the night was passed. And in the sense
of security which it gave him, he allowed himself the luxuryy of a good
look round the room. He took his lamp in one hat and went all
around, wondering that so quaint and beautiful an old house had been so long
neglected. The carving of the oak on the panels of the wain's coat was
fine, and on and round the doors and windows. It was beautiful and
of rare merit. There were some old pictures on the walls, but they
were coated so thick with dust and dirt that he could not distinguish any detail
of them, though he held his lamp as high as he could over his
head. Here and there he went round, he saw some crack or hole
blocked for a moment by the face of a rat, with its bright eyes
glittering in the light. But in an instant it was gone, and a
squeak of a scamper follower. The thing that most struck him, however,
was the rope of the great alarm bell on the roof, which hung down
in the corner of the room, on the right hand side of the fireplace.
He pulled up close to the hearth a great, high backed, carved
oak chair, and sat down to his last cup of tea. When this
was done, he made up the fire and went back to his work,
sitting at the corner of the table, having the fire to his left.
For a little while, the rats disturbed him somewhat with their perpetual scampering,
but he got accustomed to the noise, as one does to the ticking of
the clock or to the roar of moving water, and he became so immersed
in his work that everything in the world except the problem which he was trying
to solve, passed away from him. He suddenly looked up. His problem
was still unsolved, and there was in the air that sense of the hour
before dawn, which is so dread to doubtful life. The noise of the
rats had ceased. Indeed, it seemed to him that it must have ceased
but lately, and that it was the sudden cessation which had disturbed him.
The fire had fallen low, but still it threw out a deep red glow.
As he looked, he started, in spite of his saying freud.
There on the great, high backed carved oat chair by the right side of
the fireplace sat an enormous rat, steadily gallaring at him with baleful eyes.
He had to motion to it, as though to hunt it away, but
it did not stir. Then he made the motion of throwing something. Still
it did not stir, but showed its great white teeth angrily, and its
cruel eyes shone in the lamplight with an added vindictiveness. Malcolmson felt amazed,
and, seizing the poker from the hearth, ran at it to kill it.
Before, however, he could strike it, the rat with a squeak
that sounded like the concentration of hate, jumped upon the floor, and running
up the rope of the alarm bell, disappeared in the darkness beyond the range
of the green shaded lamp. Instantly strange to say, the noisy scampering of
the rats in the way his coat began again. By this time Malcolms's mind
was quite off the problem, and as a shrill cock crow outside told him
of the approaching morning, he went to bed and to sleep. He slept
so sound that he was not even waked by Missus Dempster coming to make up
his room. Was only when she had tidied up the place and got his
breakfast ready and tapped on the screen which closed in his bed, that he
woke. He was a little tired still after his night's hard work, but
a strong cup of tea soon freshened him up, and taking his book,
he went out for his morning walk, bringing with him a few sandwiches lest
he should not care to return till dinner time. He found a quiet walk
between high elms, some way outside the town, and here he spent the
grit greater part of the day studying his laplace. On his return, he
looked in to see Missus Whitham and to thank her for her kindness. When
she saw him coming through the diamond paned bay window of her sanctom, she
came out to meet him and asked him in. She looked at him searchingly
and shook her head as she said, you must not overdo it, sir.
You are paler this morning than you should be. Two late hours and
too hard work on the brains isn't good for any man. But tell me,
sir, how did you pass the night? Well? I hope,
but my heart, sir, I was glad when Missus Dempster told me this
morning that you were all right and sleeping sound when she went in. Oh,
I was all right, he answered, smiling. The somethings didn't worry
me as yet, only the rats, and they had a circus, I
tell you, all over the place. There was one wicked looking old devil
that sat up on my chair by the fire and wouldn't go till I took
the poker to him. And then he ran up the rope of the alarm
bell and got to somewhere up the wall or the ceiling. I couldn't see
where it was so dark, mercy on Us said missus, whiham an old
devil and sitting on a chair by the fireside. Take care, sir,
take care. There's many a true word spoken in jest. How do you
mean pon my word? I don't understand an old devil? The old devil?
Perhaps there, sir, you needn't laugh, for Malcolmson had broken into
a hearty peal. You young folks think it easy to laugh at things that
makes older one shudder. Never mind, sir, never mind, Please God,
you'll laugh all the time. It's what I wish you myself. And
the good lady beamed all over in sympathy with his enjoyment, her fears gone
for a moment. Oh forgive me, said Malcolmson. Presently, don't think
be rude. But the idea was too much for me. That the old
devil himself was on the chair last night. And at the thought he laughed
again. Then he went home to dinner this evening. The scampering of the
rats began earlier. Indeed, it had been going on before his arrival,
and only sees whilst his presence, by its freshness, disturbed them. After
dinner, he sat by the fire for a while and had a smoke and
then, having cleared his table, began to work as before tonight. The
rats disturbed him more than they had done on the previous night. How they
scampered up and down, and under and over, how they squeaked and scratched,
and nowed, how they, getting boulder by degrees, came to the
mouths of their holes, and to the chinks and cracks and crannies in the
wains coating, till their eyes shone like tiny lamps as the firelight rose and
fell. But to him, now doubtless accustomed to them, their eyes were
not wicked. Only their playfulness touched him. Sometimes the boldest of them made
sallyes out on the floor or along the moldings of the wains coat. Now
and again, as they disturbed him, Malcolmson made a sound to frighten them,
smiting the table with his hand, or giving a fierce sh so that
they fled straightway to their holes. And so the early part of the night
wore, and despite the noise, Malcolmson got more and more immersed in his
work. All at once he stopped, as on the previous night, being
overcome by a sudden silence. There was not the faintest sound of gnaw or
scratch or squeak. The silence was of the grave. He remembered the odd
occurrence the previous night, and instinctively he looked at the chair standing close by
the fireside, and then a very odd sensation thrilled through him. There on
the great, old, high backed carved oak chair beside the fireplace, sat
the same enormous rat, steadily glaring at him with baleful eyes. Instinctively,
he took the nearest thing to his hand, a book of logarithms, and
flung it at it. The book was badly aimed, and the rat did
not stir. So again the poker performed. Mormans of the previous night was
repeated, and again the rat, being closely pursued, fled up the rope
of the alarm bell. Strangely, too, the departure of this rat was
instantly followed by the renewal of the noise made by the generro rat community.
On this occasion, as on the previous one, Malcolmson could not see at
what part of the room the rat disappeared, for the green shade of his
lamp left the upper part of the room in darkness, and the fire had
burned low on looking at his watch, he found it was close on midnight,
and not sorry for the divertisement, he made up his fire and made
himself his nightly pot of tea. He had got through a good spell of
work and thought himself entitled to a cigarette, and so he sat on the
great carved oak chair before the fire and enjoyed it. Whilst smoking, he
began to think that he would like to know where the rat disappeared to,
for he had certain ideas for tomorrow, not entirely disconnected with a rat trap.
Accordingly, he lit another lamp and placed it so that it would shine
well into the right end corner of the wall by the fireplace. Then he
got all the books he had with him and placed them handy to throw at
the vermin. Finally, he lifted the rope of the alarm bell and placed
the end of it on the table, fixing the extreme end under the lamp.
As he handled it, he could not help noticing how pliable it was,
especially for so strong a rope and one not in use. You could
hang him man with it, he thought to himself. When his preparations were
made, he looked round and said, complacently, there now, my friend,
I think we shall learn something of you. This time he began his
work again, and, though as before, somewhat disturbed at first by the
noise of the rats, soon lost himself in his proposition and problems. Again
he was called to his immediate surrounding suddenly. This time it might not have
been the sudden silence only which took his attention. There was a slight movement
of the rope, and the lamp moved without stirring. He looked to see
if his pile of books was within range, and then cast his eye along
the rope. As he looked, he saw the great rat drop from the
rope on the oak arm chair and sit there glaring at him. He raised
a book in his right hand, and, taking careful aim, flung it
at the rat. The latter, with a quick movement, sprang aside and
dodged the missile. And then he took another book and a third and flung
them one after the other at the rat, but each time unsuccessfully. At
last, as he stood with a book poised in his hand to throw,
the rat squeaked and seemed afrayed. This made Malcolmson more than ever eager to
strike, and the book flew and struck the rat a resounding blow. It
gave a terrified squeak, and, turning on his pursuer a look of terrible
malevolence, ran up the chair back and made a great jump to the rope
of the alarm bell, and ran up it like lightning. The lamp rocked
under the sudden strain, but it was a heavy one and did not topple
over. Malcolmson kept his eyes on the rat, and saw it by the
light of the second lamp, leaped to a molding on the wainscot, and
disappeared through a hole in one of the great pictures which hung on the wall,
obscured and invisible through its coating of dirt and dust. I shall look
up my friend's habitation in the morning, said the student, as he went
over to collect his books. The third picture from the fireplace, I shall
not forget. He picked up the books one by one, commenting on them
as he lifted them. Conic sections he does not mind, nor cycloid oscillations,
nor the principia, nor quaternions, nor thermodynamics. Now for a look
at the book that fetched him. Malcolmson took it up and looked at it.
As he did so he started, and a sudden pallor overspread his face.
He looked around uneasily and shivered slightly as he murmured to himself the Bible
my mother gave me. What an odd coincidence. He sat down to work
again, and the rats in the wainscoat renewed their gambols. They did not
disturb him, however, somehow their presence gave him a sense of companionship.
But he could not attend to his work, and, after striving to master
the subject on which he was engaged, gave it up in despair and went
to bed as the first streak of dawn stole in through the eastern window.
He slept heavily but uneasily, and dreamed much. And when Missus Dempster woke
him late in the morning, he seemed ill at ease, and for a
few minutes did not seem to realize exactly where he was. His first request
rather surprised the servant, Missus Dempster. When I'm out today, I wish
you would get the steps and dust or wash those pictures, especially that one
the third from the fireplace. I want to see what they are. Late
in the afternoon, Malcolmson worked at his books in the shaded walk, and
the cheerfulness of the previous day came back to him as the day wore or
on, and he found that his reading was progressing well. He had worked
to a satisfactory conclusion all the problems which had as yet baffled him, and
it was in a state of jubilation that he paid a visit to Missus Whitham
at the Good Traveler. He found a stranger in the cozy sitting room with
the landlady, who was introduced to him as doctor Thornhill. She was not
quite at ease, and this, combined with the doctors plunging at once into
a series of questions, made Malcolmson come to the conclusion that his presence was
not an accident. So without preliminary he said, Doctor Thornhill, I shall
with pleasure answer you any question you may choose to ask me, if you
will answer me one question first. The doctor seemed surprised, but he smiled
and answered at once done, what is it? Did Missus Whitham ask you
to come here and see me and advise me? Doctor Thornhill for a moment
was taken aback, and Missus Whitham got fiery red and turned away. But
the doctor was a frank and ready man, he answered at once and openly.
She did, but she didn't intend you to know it. I suppose
it was my clumsy haste that made you suspect. She told me that she
did not like the idea of your being in the house all by yourself,
and that she thought you took too much strong tea. In fact, she
wants me to advise you, if possible, to give up the tea and
the very late hours. I was a keen student in my time, so
I suppose I may take the liberty of a college man without offense, advise
you not quite as a stranger. Malcolmson, with a bright smile, held
out his hand shake as they say in America. He said, I must
thank you for your kindness, and missus Whittham too, and your kindness deserves
a return on my part. I promised to take no more strong tea,
no tea at all till you let me, and I shall go to bed
tonight at one o'clock at the latest. Will that do, capital, said
the doctor. Now tell me all that you noticed in the old house.
And so Malcolmson, then and there told in minute detail all that had happened
in the last two nights. He was interrupted every now and then by some
explanation from Missus Whittham, till finally, when he told of the episode of
the Bible, the landlady's pent up emotions found vent in a shriek, and
it was not tilling a stiff glass of brandy and water had been administered that
she grew composed again. Doctor Thornhill listened with a face of growing gravity,
and when the narrative was complete and Missus Whittheaden had been restored, he asked,
the rat always went up the rope of the alarm bell. Oh I
suppose you know, said doctor, after a pause, What that rope is?
No, it is, said the doctor slowly, the very rope which
the hangman used for all the victims of the Judge's judicial orangcoor. Here he
was interrupted by another scream from Missus Whitham, and steps had to be taken
for her recovery. Malcolmson, having looked at his watch and found that it
was close to his dinner hour, had gone home before her complete recover him.
When Missus Woodham was herself again, she almost assailed the doctor with angry
questions as to what he meant by putting such horrible ideas into the poor young
man's head. He has quite enough they're already to upset him, she added.
Doctor Thornhill replied, my dear madam, I had a distinct purpose in
it. I wanted to draw his attention to the bell rope and to fix
it there. It may be that he is in a highly overwrought state and
has been studying too much, although I am bound to say that he seems
a sound and healthy a young man mentally and bodily as ever I saw.
But then the rats and that suggestion of the devil. The doctor shook his
head and went on, I would have offered to go and stay the first
night with him, but that I felt sure it would have been a cause
of offense. He may get in the night some strange fright or hallucination,
and if he does, I want him to pull that rope all alone as
he is. It will give us warning and we may reach him in time
to be of service. I shall be sitting up pretty late tonight and shall
keep my ears open. Do not be alarmed if ben Church gets a surprise
before morning. Oh doctor, what do you mean, what do you mean?
I mean this that possibly, nay more, probably, we shall hear
the great alarm bell from the Judge's house tonight, And the doctor made about
an effective an exit as could be thought of. When Malcolmson arrived home,
he found that it was a little after his usual time, and Missus Dempster
had gone away. The rules of Greenhouse charity were not to be neglected.
He was glad to see that the place was bright and tidy, with a
cheerful fire and a well trimmed lamp. The evening was colder than might have
been expected in April, and a heavy wind was blowing with such rapidly increasing
strength that there was every promise of a storm during the night. For a
few minutes after his entrance, the noise of the rat ceased, but so
soon as they became accustomed to his presence they began again. He was glad
to hear them, for he felt once more the feeling of companionship in their
noise, and his mind ran back to the strange fact that they only ceased
to manifest themselves when the other, the great rat with the baleful eyes,
came upon the scene. The reading lamp only was lit, and its green
shade kept the ceiling and upper part of the room in darkness, so that
the cheerful light from the hearths, spreading over the floor and shining on the
white cloth laid over the end of the table, was warm and cheery.
Malcolmson sat down to his dinner with a good appetite and a buoyant spirit.
After his dinner and a cigarette, he sat steadily down to work, determined
not to let anything disturb him, for he remembered his promise to the doctor
and made up his mind to make the best of the time at his disposal.
For an hour or so he worked all right, and then his thoughts
began to wander from his books. The actual circumstances around him, and the
calls on his physical attention and his nervous susceptibility were not to be denied.
By this time, the wind had become a gale, the gale a storm.
The old house solid, though it was, seemed to shake to its
foundation, and the storm roared and raged through its many chimneys and its queer
old gables, producing strange, unearthly sounds in the empty rooms and corridors.
Even the great alarm bell on the roof must have felt the force of the
wind, for the rope rose and fell slightly, as though the bell were
moved a little from time to time, and the limber rope fell on the
oak floor with a hard and hollow sound. As Malcolm listened to it,
he bethought himself of the doctor's words, it is the rope which the hangman
used for the victims of the judge's judicial rancor. And he went over to
the corner of the fireplace and took it in his hand to look at it.
There seemed a sort of deadly interest in it, and as he stood
there, he lost himself for a moment in speculation as to who these victims
were, and the grim wish of the giant to have such a ghastly relic
under his eyes. As he stood there, the swaying bell on the roofs
still lifted the rope now and again. But presently there came a new sensation,
a sort of tremor in the rope, as though something was moving along
it. Looking up instantly, Malcolmson saw the great rat coming slowly down towards
him, glaring at him steadily. He dropped the rope and started back with
a muttered curse, and the rat, turning, ran up the slope again
and disappeared. And at the same instant, Malcolm soon became conscious that the
noise of the other rats, which had ceased for a while, began again.
All this set him thinking, and it occurred to him that he had
not investigated the layer of the rat, or looked at the pictures as he
had intended. He lit the other lamp without the shade, and holding it
up, went and stood opposite the third picture from the fireplace on the right
hand side, where he had seen the rat disappear on the previous night.
At the first glance, he started back so suddenly that he almost dropped the
lamp, and a deadly pallor overspread his face. His knees shook, and
heavy drops of sweat came on his forehead, and he trembled like an aspen.
But he was young and plucky and pulled himself together, and, after
the pause of a few seconds, stepped forward again, raised up the lamp
and examined the picture, which had been dusted and washed and now stood out
clearly. It was a judge dressed in his robes of scarlet and ermine,
His face was strong and merciless, evil, crafty and addictive, with a
sensual mouth, hooked nose of ruddy color and shaped like the beak of a
bird of prey. The rest of his face was of a cadaverous color.
The eyes were of peculiar brilliance and with a terribly malignant expression. As he
looked at them, Malcolmson grew cold, for he saw there the very counterpart
of the eyes of the great rat. The lamp almost fell from his hand.
He saw the rat with its baleful eyes, peering out through the hole
in the corner of the picture, and noted the sudden cessation of the noise
of the other rats. However, he pulled himself together and went on with
his examination of the picture. The judge was seated in a great, high
backed carved oat chair on the right hand side of the great stone fireplace,
where in the corner a rope hung down from the ceiling, its end lying
coiled on the floor. With a feeling of something like horror, Malcolm's and
recognized the scene of the room as it stood, and gazed around him in
an awe struck manner, as though he expected to find some strange presence behind
him. He looked over to the corner of the fireplace, and with a
loud cry, he let the lamp fall from his hand. There in the
judge's armchair, with a rope hanging behind, sat the rat with the judge's
baleful eyes now intensified as with fiendish leer. Save for the howling of the
storm, without there was silence. The fallen lamp recalled Malcolmson to himself.
Fortunately it was of metal, and so the oil was not spilt. However,
the practical need of attending to it settled at once his nervous apprehensions.
When he had turned it out, he wiped his brow and thought for a
moment, this will not do, he said to himself. If I go
on like this, I shall become a crazy fool. This must stop,
I promised the doctor. I would not take tea faith. He was pretty
right. My nerves must have been getting into a queer state. Funny,
I did not notice it. I never felt better in my life. However,
it is all right now, and I shall not be a fool again.
Then he mixed himself a good stiff glass of brandy and water and resolutely
sat down to his work. It was nearly an hour when he looked up
from his book, disturbed by the sudden stillness without. The wind howled and
roared louder than ever, and the rain drove in sheets against the windows,
beating like hail on the glass. But within there was no sound whatever,
save the echo of the wind as it roared in the gray chimney. And
now and then a hiss as a few raindrops found their way down the chimney
in a lull of the storm. The fire had fallen low and had ceased
to flame, though it threw out a red glow. Malcolmson listened attentively and
presently heard a thin squeaking noise, very faint. It came from a corner
of the room where the rope hung down, and he thought it was the
creaking of the rope on the floor as the swaying of the bell raised and
lowered it. Looking up, however, he saw in the dim light the
great rat clinging to the rope and gnawing it. The rope was already nearly
gnawed through. He could see the lighter color where the strands were laid bare.
As he looked, the job was completed, and the severed end of
the rope fell, clattering on the oaken floor, whilst for an instant the
great rat remained like a knob or tassel at the end of the rope,
which now began to sway to and fro. Malcolmson felt for a moment another
pang of terror as he saw that now the possibility of calling the outer world
to his assistance was cut off, But an intense anger took its place,
and, seizing the book he was reading, he hurled it at the rat.
The blow was well aimed, but before the missile could reach him,
the rat dropped off and struck the floor with a soft thud. Malcolmson instantly
rushed over towards him, but it darted away and disappeared in the darkness of
the shadows of the room. Malcolmson felt that his work was over for the
night, and determined then and there to vary the monotony of the proceedings by
a hunt for the rat, and took off the green shade of the lamp
so as to ensure a wider spreading light. As he did so, the
gloom of the upper part of the room was relieved, and in the new
flood of light, great by comparison with the previous darkness. The pictures on
the wall stood out boldly. From where he stood, Malcolmson saw right opposite
to him the third picture on the wall, from the right of the fireplace.
He rubbed his eyes with surprise, and then a great fear began to
come upon him. In the center of the picture was a great, irregular
patch of brown canvas, as fresh as when it was stretched on the frame.
The background was as before, with the chair and chimney, corner and
rope, but the fear of the judge had disappeared. Malcolm, almost in
a chill of horror, turned slowly away, and then he began to shake
and tremble like a man in a palsy. His strength seemed to have left
him, and he was incapable of action or movement, hardly even of thought.
He could only see and hear. There on the great, high backed,
carved oak chair sat the Judge in his robes of scarlet and ermine,
with his belleful eyes glaring vindictively, and a smile of triumph on the resolute
cruel mouth, as he lifted with his hands a black cap. Malcolmson felt
as if the blood was running from his heart as one does in moments of
prolonged suspense. There was a singing in his ears. Without he could hear
the roar and howl of the tempest, and through it swept on the storm.
Came the striking of midnight by the great chimes in the market place.
He stood for a space of time that seemed to him endless, still as
a statute, and with wide open horror struck eyes breathless. As the clock
struck, so the smile of triumph on the judge's face intensified, and at
the last stroke of midnight he placed the black cap on his head. Slowly
and deliberately, the judge rose from his chair and picked up the piece of
rope of the alarm bell which lay on the floor, drew it through his
hands as if he enjoyed its touch, and then deliberately began to not when
end of it, fashioning it into a noose. This he tightened and tested
with his foot, pulling hard at it till he was satisfied, and then
making a running noose of it, which he held in his hand. Then
he began to move along the table on the opposite side of Malcolmson, keeping
his eyes on him until he had passed him, when with a quick movement
he stood in front of the door. Malcolmson then began to feel that he
was trapped and tried to think of what he should do. There was some
fascination in the judge's eyes, which he never took off him, and he
had perforced to look. He saw the judge approach, still keeping between him
and the door, and raise the noose and throw it towardwards him, as
if to entangle him with a great effort. He made a quick movement to
one side and saw the rope fall beside him, and heard it strike the
oaken floor. Again, the judge raised the noose and tried to ensnare him,
even keeping his bell full eyes fixed on him, and each time,
by a mighty effort, the student just managed to evade it. So this
went on for many times, the judge seeming never discouraged nor discomposed at failure,
but playing as a cat does with a mouse. At last, in
despair which had reached its climax, Malcolmson cast a quick glance round him.
The lamp seemed to have blazed up, and there was a fairly good light
in the room, at the many rat holes and in the chinks, and
of the wainscoat, he saw the rat's eyes, and this aspect that was
purely physical, gave him a gleam of comfort. He looked round and saw
the rope of the great alarm bell was laden with rats. Every inch of
it was covered with them, and more and more were pouring through the small
circular hole in the ceiling whence it emerged, so that with their weight,
the bell was beginning to sway. Hark it had swayed till the clapper had
touched the bell. The sound was but a tiny one, but the bell
was only beginning to sway, and it would increase. At the sound of
the judge, who had been keeping his eyes fixed on Malcolmson looked up and
a scowl of diabolical anger overspread his face. His eyes fairly glowed like hot
coals, and he stamped his foot with a sound that seemed to make the
house shake. A dreadful peal of thunder broke overhead as he raised the rope
again, whilst the rats kept running up and down the rope as though working
against time. This time, instead of throwing it, he drew close to
his victim and held open the noose as he approached. As he came closer,
there seemed something paralyzing in his very presence, and Malcolmson stood rigid as
a corpse. He felt the judge's icy fingers touch his throat as he adjusted
the rope. The noose tightened, tightened. Then the judge, taking the
rigid form of the student in his arms, carried him over and placed him
stad in the oak chair, and, stepping up beside him, put his
hand up and caught the end of the swaying rope of the alarm bell.
As he raised his hand, the rats fled, squeaking and disappeared through the
hole in the ceiling. Taking the end of the noose which was round Malcolmson's
neck, he tied it to the hanging bell, and then, descending,
pulled away the chair. When the alarm bell of the judge's house began to
sound, a crowd soon assembled. Lights and torches of various kinds appeared,
and soon a silent crowd was hurrying to the spot. They knocked loudly at
the door, but there was no reply. Then they burst in the door
and poured into the great dining room, the doctor at the head. There
at the end of the rope of the great alarm bell hung the body of
the student, and on the face of the judge in the picture was a
malignant smile. And of the judge's house