Curious Warnings - The Great Ghost Stories Of M.R. James (33 page)

It was the work of an Italian, and had been painted when old Mr. Wilson was visiting Rome as a young man. (There was, indeed, a view of the Colosseum in the background.) A pale thin face and large eyes were the characteristic features. In the hand was a partially unfolded roll of paper, on which could be distinguished the plan of a circular building, very probably the temple, and also part of that of a labyrinth.

Humphreys got up on a chair to examine it, but it was not painted with sufficient clearness to be worth copying. It suggested to him, however, that he might as well make a plan of his own maze and hang it in the hall for the use of visitors.

This determination of his was confirmed that same afternoon. For when Mrs. and Miss Cooper arrived, eager to be inducted into the maze, he found that he was wholly unable to lead them to the center.

The gardeners had removed the guide-marks they had been using, and even Clutterham, when summoned to assist, was as helpless as the rest.

“The point is, you see, Mr. Wilson—I should say ’Umphreys—these mazes is purposely constructed so much alike, with a view to mislead. Still, if you’ll foller me, I think I can put you right. I’ll just put my ’at down ’ere as a starting-point.”

He stumped off, and after five minutes brought the party safe to the hat again.

“Now that’s a very peculiar thing,” he said, with a sheepish laugh. “I made sure I’d left that ’at just over against a bramble-bush, and you can see for yourself there ain’t no bramble-bush not in this walk at all. If you’ll allow me, Mr. Humphreys—that’s the name, ain’t it, sir?—I’ll just call one of the men in to mark the place like.”

William Crack arrived, in answer to repeated shouts. He had some difficulty in making his way to the party. First he was seen or heard in an inside alley, then, almost at the same moment, in an outer one. However, he joined them at last, and was first consulted without effect and then stationed by the hat, which Clutterham still considered it necessary to leave on the ground.

In spite of this strategy, they spent the best part of three-quarters of an hour in quite fruitless wanderings, and Humphreys was obliged at last, seeing how tired Mrs. Cooper was becoming, to suggest a retreat to tea, with profuse apologies to Miss Cooper. “At any rate you’ve won your bet with Miss Foster,” he said; “you have been inside the maze. And I promise you the first thing I do shall be to make a proper plan of it with the lines marked out for you to go by.”

“That’s what’s wanted, sir,” said Clutterham, “someone to draw out a plan and keep it by them. It might be very awkward, you see, anyone getting into that place and a shower of rain come on, and them not able to find their way out again.

“It might be hours before they could be got out, without you’d permit of me makin’ a short cut to the middle: what my meanin’ is, takin’ down a couple of trees in each ’edge in a straight line so as you could git a clear view
right through. Of course that’d do away with it as a maze, but I don’t know as you’d approve of that.”

“No, I won’t have that done yet. I’ll make a plan first, and let you have a copy. Later on, if we find occasion, I’ll think of what you say.”

Humphreys was vexed and ashamed at the fiasco of the afternoon, and could not be satisfied without making another effort that evening to reach the center of the maze.

His irritation was increased by finding it without a single false step.

He had thoughts of beginning his plan at once, but the light was fading, and he felt that by the time he had gotten the necessary materials together, work would be impossible.

Next morning accordingly, carrying a drawing-board, pencils, compasses, cartridge paper, and so forth (some of which had been borrowed from the Coopers and some found in the library cupboards), he went to the middle of the maze (again without any hesitation), and set out his materials. He was, however, delayed in making a start.

The brambles and weeds that had obscured the column and globe were now all cleared away, and it was for the first time possible to see clearly what these were like.

The column was featureless, resembling those on which sundials are usually placed. Not so the globe. I have said that it was finely engraved with figures and inscriptions, and that on a first glance Humphreys had taken it for a celestial globe. But he soon found that it did not answer to his recollection of such things.

One feature seemed familiar: a winged serpent—
Draco
—encircled it about the place which, on a terrestrial globe, is occupied by the equator. But on the other hand, a good part of the upper hemisphere was covered by the outspread wings of a large figure whose head was concealed by a ring at the pole or summit of the whole.

Around the place of the head the words
princeps tenebrarum
could be deciphered. In the lower hemisphere there was a space hatched all over with cross-lines and marked as
umbra mortis
. Near it was a range of mountains, and among them a valley with flames rising from it. This was lettered (will you be surprised to learn it?)
vallis filiorum Hinnom
.

Above and below
Draco
were outlined various figures not unlike the
pictures of the ordinary constellations, but not the same. Thus, a nude man with a raised club was described, not as
Hercules
but as
Cain
. Another, plunged up to his middle in earth and stretching out despairing arms, was
Chore
, not
Ophiuchus
, and a third, hung by his hair to a snaky tree, was
Absolon
. Near the last, a man in long robes and high cap, standing in a circle and addressing two shaggy demons who hovered outside, was described as
Hostanes magus
(a character unfamiliar to Humphreys).

The scheme of the whole, indeed, seemed to be an assemblage of the patriarchs of evil, perhaps not uninfluenced by a study of Dante.

Humphreys thought it an unusual exhibition of his great-grandfather’s taste, but reflected that he had probably picked it up in Italy and had never taken the trouble to examine it closely. Certainly, had he set much store by it, he would not have exposed it to wind and weather.

He tapped the metal—it seemed hollow and not very thick—and, turning from it, addressed himself to his plan.

After half-an-hour’s work he found it was impossible to get on without using a clue. So he procured a roll of twine from Clutterham, and laid it out along the alleys from the entrance to the center, tying the end to the ring at the top of the globe.

This expedient helped him to set out a rough plan before luncheon, and in the afternoon he was able to draw it in more neatly.

Toward tea-time Mr. Cooper joined him, and was much interested in his progress. “Now this—” said Mr. Cooper, laying his hand on the globe, and then drawing it away hastily. “Whew! Holds the heat, doesn’t it, to a surprising degree, Mr. Humphreys.

“I suppose this metal—copper, isn’t it?—would be an insulator or conductor, or whatever they call it.”

“The sun has been pretty strong this afternoon,” said Humphreys, evading the scientific point, “but I didn’t notice the globe had gotten hot.

“No—it doesn’t seem very hot to me,” he added.

“Odd!” said Mr. Cooper. “Now I can’t hardly bear my hand on it. Something in the difference of temperament between us, I suppose. I dare say you’re a chilly subject, Mr. Humphreys. I’m not: and there’s where the distinction lies.

“All this summer I’ve slept, if you’ll believe me, practically
in statu quo
,
and had my morning tub as cold as I could get it. Day out and day in—let me assist you with that string.”

“It’s all right, thanks. But if you’ll collect some of these pencils and things that are lying about I shall be much obliged.

“Now I think we’ve got everything, and we might get back to the house.”

They left the maze, Humphreys rolling up the clue as they went.

The night was rainy.

Most unfortunately it turned out that, whether by Cooper’s fault or not, the plan had been the one thing forgotten the evening before. As was to be expected, it was ruined by the wet. There was nothing for it but to begin again (the job would not be a long one this time).

The clue therefore was put in place once more and a fresh start made.

But Humphreys had not done much before an interruption came in the shape of Calton with a telegram. His late chief in London wanted to consult him. Only a brief interview was wanted, but the summons was urgent. This was annoying, yet it was not really upsetting.

There was a train available in half-an-hour, and, unless things went very cross, he could be back, possibly by five o’clock, certainly by eight.

He gave the plan to Calton to take to the house, but it was not worthwhile to remove the clue.

All went as he had hoped. He spent a rather exciting evening in the library, for he lighted tonight upon a cupboard where some of the rarer books were kept.

When he went up to bed he was glad to find that the servant had remembered to leave his curtains undrawn and his windows open. He put down his light, and went to the window which commanded a view of the garden and the park.

It was a brilliant moonlight night. In a few weeks’ time the sonorous winds of autumn would break up all this calm. But now the distant woods were in a deep stillness: the slopes of the lawns were shining with dew; the colors of some of the flowers could almost be guessed.

The light of the moon just caught the cornice of the temple and the curve of its leaden dome, and Humphreys had to own that, so seen, these conceits of a past age have a real beauty.

In short, the light, the perfume of the woods, and the absolute quiet
called up such kind old associations in his mind that he went on ruminating them for a long, long time.

As he turned from the window he felt he had never seen anything more complete of its sort. The one feature that struck him with a sense of incongruity was a small Irish yew, thin and black, which stood out like an outpost of the shrubbery, through which the maze was approached. That, he thought, might as well be away: the wonder was that anyone should have thought it would look well in that position.

However, next morning, in the press of answering letters and going over books with Mr. Cooper, the Irish yew was forgotten.

One letter, by the way, arrived this day which has to be mentioned. It was from that Lady Wardrop whom Miss Cooper had mentioned, and it renewed the application which she had addressed to Mr. Wilson.

She pleaded, in the first place, that she was about to publish a
Book of Mazes
, and earnestly desired to include the plan of the Wilsthorpe Maze, and also that it would be a great kindness if Mr. Humphreys could let her see it (if at all) at an early date, since she would soon have to go abroad for the winter months.

Her house at Bentley was not far distant, so Humphreys was able to send a note by hand to her suggesting the very next day or the day after for her visit. It may be said at once that the messenger brought back a most grateful answer, to the effect that the morrow would suit her admirably.

The only other event of the day was that the plan of the maze was successfully finished.

This night again was fair and brilliant and calm, and Humphreys lingered almost as long at his window. The Irish yew came to his mind again as he was on the point of drawing his curtains, but either he had been misled by a shadow the night before, or else the shrub was not really so obtrusive as he had fancied. Anyhow, he saw no reason for interfering with it.

What he
would
do away with, however, was a clump of dark growth which had usurped a place against the house wall, and was threatening to obscure one of the lower range of windows.

It did not look as if it could possibly be worth keeping. He fancied it dank and unhealthy, little as he could see of it.

Next day (it was a Friday—he had arrived at Wilsthorpe on a Monday) Lady Wardrop came over in her car soon after luncheon. She was a stolid elderly person, very full of talk of all sorts and particularly inclined to make herself agreeable to Humphreys, who had gratified her very much by his ready granting of her request.

They made a thorough exploration of the place together, and Lady Wardrop’s opinion of her host obviously rose sky-high when she found that he really knew something of gardening. She entered enthusiastically into all his plans for improvement, but agreed that it would be a vandalism to interfere with the characteristic laying-out of the ground near the house.

With the temple she was particularly delighted, and, said she, “Do you know, Mr. Humphreys, I think your bailiff must be right about those lettered blocks of stone. One of my mazes—I’m sorry to say the stupid people have destroyed it now—it was at a place in Hampshire—had the track marked out in that way.

“They were tiles there, but lettered just like yours, and the letters, taken in the right order, formed an inscription—what it was I forget—something about Theseus and Ariadne. I have a copy of it, as well as the plan of the maze where it was. How people can do such things!

“I shall never forgive you if you injure
your
maze. Do you know, they’re becoming very uncommon? Almost every year I hear of one being grubbed up.

“Now, do let’s get straight to it. Or, if you’re too busy, I know my way there perfectly, and I’m not afraid of getting lost in it—I know too much about mazes for that. Though I remember missing my lunch—not so very long ago either—through getting entangled in the one at Busbury.

“Well, of course, if you
can
manage to come with me, that will be all the nicer.”

After this confident prelude justice would seem to require that Lady Wardrop should have been hopelessly muddled by the Wilsthorpe maze. Nothing of that kind happened: yet it is to be doubted whether she got all the enjoyment from her new specimen that she expected.

She was interested—keenly interested—to be sure, and pointed out to Humphreys a series of little depressions in the ground which, she thought, marked the places of the lettered blocks. She told him, too, what other mazes
resembled his most closely in arrangement, and explained how it was usually possible to date a maze to within twenty years by means of its plan. This one, she already knew, must be about as old as 1780, and its features were just what might be expected.