Speaker 1: 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