"STAR" TALES. THE SPECTRE MONKS OF CLOUDESLY DENE.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 8200, 27 December 1904, Page 4

"STAR" TALES. THE SPECTRE MONKS OF CLOUDESLY DENE.

« (By HEADON HILL.) Author of "The Sentence of the Court," "The Ocean King Mystery," "Caged," i "Spectre Gold," "The Kiss of the Enemy," etc. [All Rights Reserved.] In the early dusk of the winter evening the gaunt gables of Cloudesly Dene were dimly visible ahead. " Look, air! Lock! Surely there is a light in that fourth window in the uninhabited wing, over the old banqueting-hall. That might bear out what the rector was " telling us th-5 other d.iy, about the place feeing haunted." ' . , They ill came to an abrupt halt m the ' winding carriage drive, aud followed the direction of the speaker's finger. Tho house-party was returning from a tea to the villagers in the parish school-room, toe ' host, Mr Harcourb Lorimer, leading the prooession with bis son's tutor. It was the latter who was drawing his employer s atention to the spot named in the grey old mansion that loomed among the waving beeches. " I—l don't see anything," etammcred Mr ' Lorimer, nervously. He waa a retired merchant from Mincing Lane, of great wealth, but limited courage, who had been far from pleased to learn that h*s recent . purchase of the historic pile included a family ghos^-or rather, four ghosts, according to the legend propounded by Mr Grantham, the rector. "I—l really think that you are mistaken, r - Murison," he insisted with no great vigour, after . prolonged gaze at.the _ upper storey of the disused wing. He bad all along intended to pull down this portion of the house and rebuild it, and he was regretting that h& had not had tins work don© before he came into residence. " It is gone now, but I am positively certain that I saw a, light," saul tl« tutor It geemed to flash up, and disappear almost Jmmediaitely." With an exclamation of annoyance Mr ■ Lorimer resumed his progress along the :• drive, and the half-score of people brought to a. standstill by Mr Murison s interrup- . tion followed in his wake. ssext in order came a trio, consisting of a giil.escorted by two young men, one on either ha"i'illv humbug, all this talk oi _ ghoste - isn't it' Miss Lorimer?" drawled the taller of the two "I'll wager that that tutor chap's nonsense won't get a scare out^of -' you, any more than it will out of me. . y« I hardly know ; queer things are seen in these old houses sometime^' saad the Sri with a little shudder. " Besides, you ■ Snnot fllv call it Mr Hudson's nonsense V 8™ as vow father who first mooted the >-' fdea of the Dene being haunted, wasn't it, The dad is great on ghostlore. and folklore and every other lore." replied the other gentleman, to whom she had turned. "Heis a regular " mnmpondent of the Psychical Besearch Society." , The words were spoken with sucn a crave abstraction that the first- speaker ■ pounced on them with all the jealous spite of one who suddenly discovers a joint m ' t, rival's armour. "Why, Grantham, you /ound as if vow funked the supernatural yourself," he* exclaimed rudely. "You're in the same boat with that pasty-faced Murison, I suppose, and saw that light just now, eh?" ' "I saw nothing, but I am not prepared ' to say that Mr Murison's interlude is unworthy of attention," was the quiet rejoinder, which would probably have called I forth another sneer had'not the party at that moment reached the hall door. ]?rank Grantham, the only one who was not etay-

ing in the mansion, separated from the rest to go back to the rectory to dress before returning with his father to dine with I the hospitable Lorhners. The little breeze, resultant from the tutor's interruption of social harmony in the drive, was significant of the attitude prevailing between himself and Sir Vincent Dare, with whom he had) shared the privilege of escorting Enid Lorimer home from the parochial function at the schoolroom. Sir Vincent, who had known the Lorimers before their elevation into county magnates, was an open suitor for Enid's I hand, and, incidentally, her fortune. The young lady, however, had so far failed 1 to respond to his advances, and, during the past week, since Frank Grantham's arrival at the rectory for the Christmas vacation, had shown a marked preference for that genial but shrewd young barrister. Sir Vincent, an ex-Guardsman, with an aggravating assumption of social superiority, waa not taking the intervention of a rival kindly, nor on Frank's side was any love lost for the arrogant baronet, whose pretensions, backed by paternal influence, stood a good chance of winning the fair priza in the long run. On' his way back along the drive Frank 6topped at the spot where the tutor had uttered his alarmed exclamation, and 1 he took a leisurely survey of the dimly visible outline of the deserted wing. •"The' fourth window," he muttered, as he at length resumed his progress. " Yes, it must be at the exact point on which I happened to have my eyes fixed at the time. There was, certainly no light there. " When he reached the rectory he went straight to hi 3 father's study and re-counted what had occurred, tho old clergyman listening with an interest that quickly waned. " That has nothing to do with the legend of the four monks," was Mr Grantham senior's comment. "It does not touch that part of the building at all." "All the same, father," said Frank. "1 expect that this mistake, or whatever it is', of Murison's will be made the lever or excuse for extracting the legend: from you at> dinner to-night. I gather that you told it to Murison, b.it have not expounded it in. full to Mr Lorimer as. yet, merely mentioning to him that there was a ghost legend, eh ? I thought so. Well, you will great- | ly oblige me by responding to the request" and giving them every detail. I myself shall be an interested listener, for I have more than half forgotten the yarn. Ido not believe in ghosts, you know." " Neither do I, my son," replied the rector drily. "You have a reason for this? Good ! Then it's sure to be a. sound* one. I will let them have the legend in harrowing termsf, but I trust they won't ask me

for it till after dessert. A glass or two of Lorimer's '54 port would aid the telling." But; the Reverend George Grantham was not allowed to wait for the priming of thai choico vintage. Hardly had the Cloudesly Dene dinner-party sat down to the table than Frank, who was very watchful this evening, heard the subject of apparitions introduced — by MuriGon, the tutor. The latter was an inr-gnificant looking young man with cane-coloured hair and of an almost repulsive ugliness, who had been engaged by Lorimer, on the strength of very aristocratic recommendations, to coach his youngest boy during the Christmas holidays. " Murison again, by Jove ! I know now that I am right," was Frank's unspoken comment on the tutor's remark to the lady who sat next him. The topic proved to be infectious, and a general conversation on supernatural appearances was soon raging the length and breadth of the table. At last *Mr Lorimer himself chrystalised it into more definite interest by requesting Mr Grantham to enlighten him as to the precise kind of ghost he might be supposed to have^ taken over with the ancient mansion. The worthy gentleman, though affecting a merely facetious interest, was clearly uncomfortable. " I don't like bfcying a pig in a poke, you know, Rectoi*," he said. "Tell us what to expect — putting it at its very worst." Old Mr Grantham made a comprehensive gesture embracing the hot-house flowers, the glittering plate and the snowy napery. "You set me no light task," he replied. "The local colour for my narrative is all wrong. The legend dates back to days when princely hospitality, to say nothing of modern luxury, was unknown at Cloudesly Dene. A guest was more likely to get a sword-thrust through the ribs, or a clothshaft in his jerkin, than kindly entertainment." . " Tho old boy is warming up for liis fairy tak," Sir Vincent Dare aatdibly sneered to EniJ Lorimer, next to whom h« was sitting. But tfoo girl had turned; a rapt amd rat!b«r frightened gaze on the rector, affid ! paid no heed to the spiteful remark. " I give you the story for what it may ba worth," he sadd, "and I will preface it by saying that, as the circumston'oes to-day are co entirely different, the present owner of ! this place and his kin are not likely to suffer any inconvenience from the four spectre monks who seem to have made things co warm for tho first private occupiers. " This, you mast know, was originally a religious house, and after tihe sequestration of the monasteries by Henry the Eighth* waa given, with all its lands ami tenements, to a favourite henchman of the burly monarch — one Wilfrid- Simons, who was ennobled by tfhe title of Baron Cloudesly. Tho monksVere turned out by him on Christmas Eve, and at the main entrance, which is, I believe, architecturally the same as übe existing hall door, the Abbot turned and cursed the supplantar in tibe curious words : " ' Wilfrid Simons, thou oppressor of holy men, may all evil befall fchee, but more especially this of which I speak. Bewara of the four spectre monks who at midnight on the eve of tbe> blessed Noel shall walk iro the house Which, by pandering to an unjust monarch, thou hast made thine own. Bide, thou and thy "household, in your ohambetrs on that night in prayer and fasting, for it is decreed that if mortal eye shall rest on thy ghostly visitors, thou shalfc die within the year.' • "According to the legend," tihe rector proceeded, " thei Abbot's curse waa not long without a victim, and he was the very man to whom it was addressed. In it. spirit- of ribaldry the first lord of Cloudesly gave a great festival in the now disused banqueting ball on the ensuing Christmas Eve, keeping it up purposely till midnight. On lie ftroka of the hour, four monks, hooded and girdled, stalked between the tables, and so. passed out into the park, nor could any of those stretdhed-out detaining hands fed, honest flesh and blood. Three weeks later the baa-on was killed' by a fall from his Horse in the hunting field. "Tho same thing happened twice subsaquently, it is said — both instances occurring in the seventeenth century, though neither of these later cases was due to deliberate

bravado. On both occasions, the legend a goee, members of tihe household happened' to I be about at the forbidden hour— with the c same fatal result, however, to the head of c the bouse." , T „ For the lack of the 54 port, Mr Grantham sipped some champagne at the close s of his narrative, and glanced at his host * and from his host to the other guests. I The old gentleman chuckled inwardly. He. i had mad* a distinct impression The guests were silently contemplating Mr Lonmer, who was crumbling his bread with J tremulous fingers. "The— the apparitions have not been seen since the seventeenth centua-y, then?" th© new owner of Cloudesly Dene inquired J presently in chastened tones. "There is no record of it in the annals ( of the Cloudesly family," Mr Grantham , replied. < "Probably the Cloudesly family funked . it and took'to sroing to bed early," drawled j Sir Vincent. "I vote we all sit up and % play bridge till two o'clock on Christmas j Eve, and show our contempt for these , spectral Johnnies." I Mr Lorimer seemed to be about to pro- j test against tbis programme for the following night, hut tjfoa next moment he shot ] a grateful glance at Murison for saving him , from such an admission of fear. I " I don't think that would be fair," the , tutor said diffidently. "We have not all i got your pluck, Sir Vincent. Besides, if i the legend is still operative, it would be j ; Mr- Lorimer. who would suffer— not any of I us. I, for one, shall go to^ my room quite early to-morrow night, and stay there." "Well, you won't object to individual enterprise, eh, Mr Lorimer?" the baronet i persisted, rudely. "If we mayn't play bridge there'd be no harm in my poking my head out of the room to see if the bogies are on the rampage, I suppose? Wouldn't do anything: to hurt you for the world, don't you know, but I'll lay anyone a thousand to ten I don't see anything bearing out this silly twaddle." Reassured by the fact that there were no takers of the enormous odds, Mr Larimer murmured a half-hearted assent, but Enid turned upon Sir Vincent a glowing indignation, for which Frank Grantham blessed her. "It is only because you don't believe in ghosts that you aae so bold," she exclaimed. "If you saw one you'd) very soon shut your bedroom door." In the drawing-room after dinner Frank contrived to have a few words with Enid in the leafy shelter of an umbrageous palm. "You are worried about this gibost busin'ffs-s, Miss" Lorimer?"' he siaid quickly. Tha girl looked up at him, and with feminine intuition appraised the true value | of the massive, clean-shaven jaw and of the helpful glint hi the shrewd grey ej-es. "Yes," she said, fingering the gardenias at Oier bosom, "'but I am not 'afraid of ghosts. lam afraid because papa isafraidc I think something is going to happen, and I don't in the least know what. You fee, I am mistress of the house, and, in a way. responsible." "Quite so," r>eplie<l the young barrister gravely. " I have noticed one or two things this evening. Will you. leave it to me? I think that I can help you." " I will do anything you may suggest," Enid answered, glancing gratefully at him. And Frank Grant'ham bent and whispered a few sentences rapidly in her ear. Somehow or other ifc got to be a point of honour with Mr Lorimer's guests to respect his palpable but unspoken wish that' the conditions of the legend should be ob- . served. Probably few, if any, of those . staying in the mansion believed in the \ supernatural, aud this disbelief made it easier to deny a curiosity which they would have all" regretted if their kindly but ncr- , vous host happened to die within the year, j Mr Murison, the whey-faced tutor, was j sedulous throughout the morning of • Christmas Eve in explaining hia own in- . tentions on these lines — so sedulous, in j fact, that he was suspected of being in > mortal terror of the four monks himself. He ; i always disclaimed any such personal fear, i i

md preachod his own disinterestedness so oudly that the suspicion was but a natural consequence, but they were a good-humour-jd. party, and tolerant to such small fry as b.o. By tacit consent it came to be understood that that was to be an early night, tvith everyone in their bedrooms by halfpast eleven. There was no trouble about the servants. Thomas, the second footman, had re-painted the legend as related by the rector in 6uch lurid colours hi the servants' hall that dire dismay reigned in the kitchen regions. Every man and maid of Mr Loriiner's household would be cowering under their blankets on the top floor long before the hour for the spectral procession. In the laurel walk after lunch Enid chanced upon Sir Vincent Dare. He advanced to meet her with an impudent air of propiietorship. "I say, it's too rich about to-night, don't you know — all this fu6s," he began. "And none of 'em, by Jove, got the pluck to back their own silly fears. If they think those- four jolly monks are really going to walk why didn't they snap up my bet of a thousand pounds to ten':" "Ah, you wouldn't understand that," replied Enid, naively. "You see, however much they might believe .in the legend there would be no way of proving ifc withoufc possible danger to papa. That has no weight with you as such an out-and-out sceptic, and so you are going to look out for the ghosts alone. I'll tell you what, Sir Vincent— l'll take your bet. As you have quite made up your mind to despise the conditions of the legend it can make no difference to papa either way. If ( you see four monies to-night you pay me a thousand pounds; if you don't I pay you ten, is that it? Of course you won't mention the transaction." "You've hit ifc to a tick," responded the baronet, delighted to have tempted the girl into a -confidential bargain that seemed to promise well for his suit. "I call ; t real sporthV of you." With a clash Enid drew forward her silver chatelaine and selected the chain on which hung the ivory tablets. "We'll be quite businesslike andi book it — juet for fun, you .know." she said, pencilling a few words. " Put your initials, to that, please." :Vt dinner that night the subject was tabooed, and/ as the party on this occasion was confined to people staying in the toousa, everyone knew what was expected of them. By eleven o'clock the reception rooms were diverted, and the bedroom windows glowed from end to end of the main wing, showing that the guests had retired. Frank Grantham, standing in the ehadow t>f a shrubbery at the verge of the park, watched the windows grow dark one by wle, till only three or four shone yellc-w trough the thick atmosphere of a night that threatened fog. At half -past eleven, <fcill lurking in the shadows, he made his way to a side door in the servants' prem-ee-3 and gapped three times — very softly. The door was immediately opened, and he stepped into a dark passage. "Is that you, Mr Grantham?" came Enid Loriiner's whisper out of the gloom. " Yes," replied Frank, under hi 6 breath. " Let us go upstairs as quickly and quietly as possible to the room -youf spoke of." The girl turned and led the way up the back stains to a baize door, on the other side of which they found themselves in the main corridor of the- first floor. Running the 'length of the frontage of the old mansion, it contained the principal bedrooms, and for the purposes of the .night was at present only lit by an oil \amp at each end. Stepping on tip-toe Enid glided along the corridor till she came to a door that stood open, through which she beckoned her companion to follow. It was that of an unoccupied chamber, vacant owing to a sudden death in the family of the guest for whom it had been reserved. . At a sign from Frank. Enid left the door open. "I . feel horribly guilty in let-ting you in like this," sha whispered, facin? the young barrister irf the dim lijhfc that filtered in from the corridor. "What will Mrs Grundy saj — if nothing happens and we axe caught?" " Hush !" was the scarcely audible reply. " Something will happen, and we shall be* cauqbt, but we ; shall be fully justified and white-washed. Which is Murison's room, and which is Sir Vincent Dare's?" A veWte arm shot out from bhe cloak which Enid had thrown over her evening dress, giving the required information. Sir Vincent's room was nearly opposite; Murison's a little way along the corridor, on tin© same cide. Having taken in tine situation, Frank drew fab fair colleague back into tha shaidows. The time passied slowly, and in a silen-ca broken only by coughs an.d a few snores from tihe- adjacent rooms, till at five minutes to twelve Sir Vincent's door softly opened, and the baronet- peered out. He was in his dressing-gown, and his mean face wora its- usual cynical smile. There he stood gazing up and down, till t&e first stroke of t-h* hour from the stable clock vibrated through the frosty air. Suddenly Enid's hand closed uaxdi on Frank's coat sleeve. Faintly perceptible amid Wi© reverberations of the dock, t&a creak of a. door was heard — of Murison's door— from wfoich issued, stepping sQowly, two'feowi'.edi and girdled monks. Their hands were clasped as though in prayer as tihey turned toward the head of tha grand r ' "<ircase, which would entail their passing the room where V ' unseen watchers lay hid. and also the; doorway from which. Sir Vincent Dare was gazing at them witlh horror in his eyes. " Will he stand and show fight?" camel Enid's warm foreaith in Frank's ear. "Does it look like that?" was tine almost inaudible reply. For tlhe bayonet's face Was already disappearing behind the closing door, tine bo its of wMdh were shot long before the) silentsieipping. monks, approached. So the ghostly pair "glided ky *»<* were lost to view as they discended the stairs,' while the companions is. adventure prepare^ to follow. "Now tley have had start enough," murmured Frank. "We must be a ß*r thtan, and see wfoich way they go/; - Treating like cats on the .pile caj-pet, t-iicy stola«to the head of th* stairs, and, looking over t'foe balustrade, saw the two mojjka ■just vanishing 'from the entrance hall into ih« side passage that. l«d to the servica rooms. "It is as :I thought," whispered Frank. " They are going to admit the other two fey tha door through which you let ma in, "X ou had better remain here, Miss Lc-rimer,- and see the fun from a safe distance. Running lightly down the stairs into the haiE, ■where a single lamp tad been left burning', "ha unbolted! the front door and opened it noiselessly. Enid, from her post of vantage, saw. tibree men. m tweed suits and four uniformed constables step quickly in, and, under Frank's direction, range themselves against tfaa wall where they would be' invisible from the passage into wihich the monks had gone. ' •A minute ' later the girl sa w ™« contingent brace themselves, and then- :fhej monks, their number .increased to. the, legendary four, stalked into view. Thers was a short scuffle, a chorus of shouts, the flash of steel as handcuffs were snapped, and the spectres of Cloudesly Dene were the prisoners of the county police and a couple of London, detectives. Mi Lorimer, aroused from his slumbers and assured that there was flesh and blood to deal with, made an imposing figure in ■his dressing-gown. Sir Vincent Dare, breathing fire and slaughter, stood at his elbow as the four cowled monks were marshalled on the first stage of their journey to gaol. in the presence of the hastily assembled household. "You see, Mr Lorimer," said «Frank Grantham, in explanation, I thought I recognised your tutor Muwson as one < P ug . fcoedWilV a .notorious t k«* whom I ineffectually prosecuted at the Uld Bailey two years ago. I \, I m^ **?*, out when he began explore t] f oldW tale Isawthroufb his game-to -establish a funk, keep everyone m f*x ™ms, and loot your plate, He bad aa aMe, understudy in Thomas, yow 6econd Potman, who

was used to frighten the servants, and I guessed that to be true to the old tradition they would admit two others in like costumes to carry off the plunder. They reckoned that there was little risk of their being seen after 'Mr Murison's ' careful preparation of your mental attitude, and that if they were seen they would be given a wide berth — as the genuine spectral monk 6." " Monks be hanged !" drawled Sir Vincent. "If I'd seen 'cm there'd have been trouble for 'em long before the bobbies came." Enid was standing at the foot of the stairs, having joined the general rush that followed the noise of the capture. She broke into a ringing laugh. " But you did see them !" she cried, with fine contempt. "Mr Grantham and I saw you see them, and your face as you rushed back into your room, and shut yourself in | was the funniest thing imaginable. I'll trouble you for that thousand pounds, Sir Vincent, for you've seen four monkish, figures to-night. Hasn't he, Frank?"