A Soberside Story

Press, Volume LXXII, Issue 21974, 24 December 1936, Page 6 (Supplement)

A Soberside Story

A prickly sensation crept under ■ JohUny Dyne's scalp. He did not fcnow why. He did not believe in ghosts. But there was something eerie about the atmosphere in the lonely country house. It was Christmas Eve. The night was very hot, and not a breath of wind stirred outside, except occasionally when a sudden gust of wind sprang up to moan mournfully under the eaves and flap the blinds; then it would die down as suddenly as it came. Johnny Dyne, known at Mangahapara High School as Soberside, detective, the boy who never smiled, was spending the Christmas with Tiny Tanning at Joe Dabblin's home in a remote part of the country. The three form mates were listening to Joe's father •'. telling a ghost story. The audience also included Mrs Dabblin, Hine , Pouparae, a Maori woman who assisted with the house work, Hine's husband. Pita, the handyman of the homestead, and their small son, Hongo. A Christmas tree had been arranged for the chad's benefit. Mr Dabblin held up a small yellow disc. % "This," he said, "is the disappearing sovereign. It is so worn that you can hardly see the head on it The story is that on Christmas Eve, once in 10 years, the ghost of the original owner comes, takes the coin and returns it the next night. He has haunted this coin for more than a hundred

years, so the story goes." I Soberside blinked through his '■ black-rimmed spectacles. "How did you come into posses- • son of the coin, Mr Dabblin?" Soberside asked. "My mother," Mr Dabblin refined, "owned it. I went home to England early this year to see her, aid she gave it to me. She be- . neves the ghost story, and she's frightened of ghosts. The ghost's next visitation should be to-night, « the story is correct, and the thought of having a ghost in her Bopse was upsetting the dear old «dy. Even with Christmas so far off then, she was becoming nervous, so she made me take the sovereign in the hope that the Shost would emigrate with it." He laughed, and placed the sovereign on the small round table ™ the middle of the room. It was a polished oak table, with a tall : ***« .of red and gold flowers • standing on a white cover. Another gust of wind made eerie noises outside. Soberside's hair onatled, in spite of himself. Tiny gulped. Joe tried to smile, but «»e attempt .was a failure. Little Kongo grizzled, and complained Jnat he was sleepy. His mother tried to take him on her lap, but ne refused to stay. Pita wiped oeads of perspiration from his wow. Mrs Dabblin sighed. So you see, boys," Mrs Dabblin " we ' v e a ghost m the family." «_ " we have," Mr Dabblin added, He should walk to-night." The wind died down again, and werything was deathly quiet. The ™*mg of the clock on the mantelpiece which had passed unnoticed °wore. seemed quite loud now. everyone stiffened and "eld their breaths. ? A brilliant flash lit the windows, jpd a tremendous roar rent the Pr- It was like the pounding of fg-avy artillery immediately above W£JP- The women screamed. JWngo whimpered. The prickly ■wation becama mora pro-

IMMIGRANT GHOST

(By V. B. Murray)

nouncod under Soberside's scalp, and little cold shivers ran down his back. The electric light went out, and the company sat in complete darkness. The thunder rumbled on, trailing off in the distance to muffled thuds. A sudden gush of wind made the blind fly inward, and the cool air brushed Soberside's face; it was like the caress of a cold, clammy hand. He shivered. A sound of something falling came from the middle of the room, and water dripped on to the floor. The vase of flowers on the table had fallen over. Seconds passed. No one spoke. A spatter of rain descended on the roof, beat a tattoo, then descended in torrents, filling the room with noise.

Mr Dabblin was the first to move. He struck a match, and strange shadows flickered. All were where they were before the electric light failed. The faces of the two women were pale. The boys were wide-eyed. Only Pita and Mr Dabblin seemed unconcerned. "I'll get a candle," Mr Dabblm said - . Pita struck a match, when Mr Dabblin left the room. Candles, when brought, cast, flickering shadows. Mr Dabblin placed the candles on the mantelshelf, and turned to the table, stood the vase upright, then looked about him. "Hello!" he exclaimed. "Where's the ghost's sovereign?" He looked on the table and under it, but saw no sign of the old coin. After searching for some minutes, he stood up straight. His mouth was open slightly, and his eyes were wide. His hand trembled slightly, as he stroked his chin. "The ghost!" he breathed. "He's immigrated, sure enough." Tiny gulped. Joe caught his breath in his throat. Soberside blinked, but grew calm. "N-no fear," Soberside retorted. "I don't believe in ghosts." "Th-then, my Mr Philo Vance," Tiny put- in, shakily, "find the thief."

"Scberside is our .school detective," Joe explained. "Yes," Tiny added, mischievously, rapidly regaining his composure, "he solves our mysteries—sometimes." Mr Dabblin sniffed. "Detectives," he said, "whether professional or amateur, are no good where ghosts are concerned." Soberside sat upright, and blinked. "There are no ghosts," he replied. "I didn't believe in them before, either," Mr Dabblin said, "but I'm afraid I shall now, unless you can find the sovereign before to-mor-row night." "I'll find it for you," Soberside muttered. But he was not so sure, after he had examined the table, the floor, and in fact, the whole room, without finding any suggestion of a clue. No fingerprints could be detected anywhere. The coin had been lying on the table cover, which was not likely to show fingerprints, unless from a soiled hand. Soberside glanced round the faces.

"Perhaps someone is playing a joke," he suggested. But everyone denied the suggestion, except little Rongo, and he was fast asleet) on his mother's lap. All looked so serious, and even a little scared, that Soberside abandoned the joke theory. All present seemed slightly nervy, and Soberside had to confess that he felt a bit jumpy himself. Probably because of the tension the incident caused, no one seemed anxious to go to bed. and it was late before the company retired. The three boys and Mr and Mrs Dabblin slept late the next morning, which was bright and sunny after the storm. Soberside was the first of them to rise, and went alone in the drawing room to make an examination in the light of day. The wet cover was still on the table. In the excitement of the ghost business, it had not been removed. A few green leaves and flowers were still on the cover. Soberside turned them over, then suddenly became alert. He picked up something, put it into his pocket and left the room hurriedly. Tiny met Soberside in the hall. "Hullo!" Tiny exclaimed. "Looking for clues so early on Christmas morning?" "Yes," Soberside replied, "and I've got one."

He hurried on, leaving Tiny gaping after him. "He's dopey!" Tiny muttered to himself. "Absolutely balmy!" He said the same thing at breakfast, when Soberside declared that he had solved the mystery. "Well," Mr Dabblin smiled, "tell me where the sovereign is." _ Soberside straightened himself m his chair and looked important. "I'll produce it at dinner," he replied. The company laughed. Dinner time arrived. The company sat at a table made pretty with flowers underneath a canopy of streamers and greenery. The Dabblins stuck to the old English custom of hct dinner and plum, pudding for Christmas. "Well," Tiny asked, "where's the sovereign you wrested from the ghost?" ,_ , "Yes," the others echoed. "Where is it?" Soberside looked wise. "Have patience," he counselled. "The time is not yet ripe for me to produce it." "He'll say 'hey, presto!'" Tiny jibed, "and the ghost will drop the sovereign on the table." Soberside looked at Tiny pityingly, and sighed, but said nothing. "Perhaps," Tiny suggested, "the ghost has put the sovereign in the pudding. It was only made this morning, wasn't it?" "That is exactly what has happened," Soberside declared. "The sovereign is in the pudding." Those round the table looked at each other. Tiny guffawed, and the whole company burst out laughing. Scberside's face reddened. "All right," he retorted. "I'll prove it to you. even if 1 have to eat the whole pudding myself." "We'll help you do that," Joe said. "Of course, we will." Mr Dabblm smiled, "and even if you do not find the sovereign you may strike some of the sixpences and threepences." Evervone laughed again, but Soberside said nothing. The pudding was served. Joe poked his slice with his spoon, and brought forth a sixpence. Tiny jabbed at his pudding, and produced—a piece of sliced nut.

"I'll have to get an X-ray on this," he muttered, as be began eating. Suddenly, Mr Dabblin stopped chewing. He swallowed, then parted his lips, showing a yellow coin between his teeth. Joe was first to notice it. Mr Dabblin put the coin on his plate, and gazed at it. "You're a marvel, Johnny," he declared. "How did you know it was in the pudding? And who put it there?" Soberside blushed modestly. "I found my first clue this morning," he explained. "I picked up a little white button similar to those on Rongo's shirt. I found the little fellow in the kitchen beside the basin containing the pudding mixture. He was looking at the sovereign. When he saw me he got a fright, and dropped the sovereign into the basin. His mother came along then, and poured the mixture into the pudding cloth. So I left it at that." "How did Rongo get the coin?" Mr Dabblin asked. "He confessed to me afterwards," Soberside explained, "that when the lights were out he crept to the table, because he remembered the sovereign was there, and picked it up." Mr Dabblin laughed. "So," he said, "even if the ghost has migrated, he did not get a chance last night to show what hj» was made of."