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 it 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 portmanteau
with some clothes and all the books he required,
and then took ticket for the first name on
the local time-table which he did not know.
When at the end of three hours' journey he
alighted at Benchurch, he felt satisfied that
he had so far obliterated his tracks as to
be sure of having a peaceful opportunity of
pursuing his studies. He went straight to
the one inn which the sleepy little place
contained, and put up for the night. Benchurch
was a market town, and once in three weeks
was crowded to excess, but for the remainder
of the twenty-one days it was as attractive
as a desert. Malcolmson looked around the
day after his arrival to try to find quarters
more isolated than even so quiet an inn as
'The Good Traveller' 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, heavy-built house
of the Jacobean style, with heavy gables and
windows, unusually 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 get opportunity of using it I
shall be happy.' His joy was increased when
he realised 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. Mr. 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.'
Malcolmson 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 stores and provisions as he would
be likely to require. She threw up her hands
in amazement when he told her where 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 she was 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 prisoners at Assizes.
As to what there was against the house itself
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 Drinkwater's Bank and stay in the house
an hour by herself. Then she apologised to
Malcolmson for her disturbing talk.
'It is too bad of me, sir, and you — and
a young gentlemen, 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
a 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, although amused, was touched.
He told her kindly how much he appreciated
her interest in him, and added:
'But, my dear Mrs. Witham, 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 corner in his mind for mysteries of any
kind. Harmonical Progression, Permutations
and Combinations, and Elliptic Functions have
sufficient mysteries for me!' Mrs. Witham
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 returned
to the Judge's House with her, after an interval
of a couple of hours, he found Mrs. Witham
herself waiting with several men and boys
carrying parcels, and an upholsterer's man
with a bed in a car, for she said, though
tables and chairs might be all very well,
a bed that hadn't been aired for mayhap fifty
years was not proper for young bones to lie
on. She was evidently curious to see the inside
of the house; and though manifestly so afraid
of the 'somethings' 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 Mrs. Witham,
with the aid of the charwoman, Mrs. 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
draughty 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 so shut in with all kinds of — 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 incontinently.
Mrs. Dempster sniffed in a superior manner
as the landlady disappeared, and remarked
that for her own part she wasn't afraid of
all the bogies in the kingdom.
'I'll tell you what it is, sir,' she said;
'bogies is all kinds and sorts of things — except
bogies! Rats and mice, and beetles; and creaky
doors, and loose 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 wainscot of the
room! It is old — hundreds of years old!
Do you think there's no rats and beetles there!
And do you imagine, sir, that you won't see
none of them? Rats is bogies, I tell you,
and bogies is rats; and don't you get to think
anything else!'
'Mrs. Dempster,' said Malcolmson gravely,
making her a polite bow, 'you know more than
a Senior Wrangler! And let me say, that, as
a mark of esteem for your indubitable 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 months
of my tenancy, for four weeks will serve my
purpose.'
'Thank you kindly, sir!' she answered, 'but
I couldn't sleep away from home a night. I
am in Greenhow's 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 purpose to obtain solitude;
and believe me that I am grateful to the late
Greenhow for having so organised 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
gentlemen,' 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 nightfall, when Malcolmson returned
from his walk — he always had one of his
books to study as he walked — he found the
room swept and tidied, a fire burning in the
old hearth, the lamp lit, and the table spread
for supper with Mrs. Witham's excellent fare.
'This is comfort, indeed,' he said, as he
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 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 late at work and had taken tea late. The
rest was a great luxury to him, and he enjoyed
it with a sense of delicious, voluptuous ease.
The renewed fire leaped and sparkled, and
threw quaint shadows through the great old
room; and as he sipped his hot tea he revelled
in the sense of isolation from his kind. Then
it was that he began to notice for 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 behind the old wainscot,
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 Mrs. Dempster, 'Bogies is rats,
and rats is bogies!' The tea began to have
its effect of intellectual and nervous stimulus,
he saw with joy another long spell of work
to be done before the night was past, and
in the sense of security which it gave him,
he allowed himself the luxury of a good look
round the room. He took his lamp in one hand,
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 wainscot 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 as 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 and a scamper followed. The thing
that most struck him, however, was the rope
of the great alarm bell on the roof, which
hung down in a 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 a 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 the 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 sang froid.
There on the great high-backed carved oak
chair by the right side of the fireplace sat
an enormous rat, steadily glaring at him with
baleful eyes. He made a 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 wainscot began
again.
By this time Malcolmson's mind was quite off
the problem; and as a shrill cock-crow outside
told him of the approach of morning, he went
to bed and to sleep.
He slept so sound that he was not even waked
by Mrs. Dempster coming in to make up his
room. It 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 greater part
of the day studying his Laplace. On his return
he looked in to see Mrs. Witham and to thank
her for her kindness. When she saw him coming
through the diamond-paned bay window of her
sanctum 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. Too late
hours and too hard work on the brain 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 Mrs. 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 own 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 Mrs. Witham, '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
thinks it easy to laugh at things that makes
older ones 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 me 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 ceased 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 gnawed! How they, getting bolder by degrees,
came to the mouths of their holes and to the
chinks and cracks and crannies in the wainscoting
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 sallies out on the
floor or along the mouldings of the wainscot.
Now and again as they disturbed him Malcolmson
made a sound to frighten them, smiting the
table with his hand or giving a fierce 'Hsh,
hsh,' so that they fled straightway to their
holes.
And so the early part of the night wore on;
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 sense of
silence. There was not the faintest sound
of gnaw, or scratch, or squeak. The silence
was as of the grave. He remembered the odd
occurrence of 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 performance
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 general
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 divertissement,
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 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 the morrow not entirely
disconnected with a rat-trap. Accordingly
he lit another lamp and placed it so that
it would shine well into the right-hand 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 a man with it,' he thought
to himself. When his preparations were made
he looked around, 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 propositions and
problems.
Again he was called to his immediate surroundings
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. He then took
another book, and a third, and flung them
one after another 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 afraid. 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 leap to a moulding of the wainscot
and disappear 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 Cycloidal Oscillations,
nor the Principia, nor Quaternions, nor Thermodynamics.
Now for 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 round 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 wainscot 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 Mrs. Dempster woke him late
in the morning he seemed ill at ease, and
for a few minutes did not seem to realise
exactly where he was. His first request rather
surprised the servant.
'Mrs. Dempster, when I am out to-day I wish
you would get the steps and dust or wash those
pictures — specially 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 on, and he found that his reading
was progressing well. He had worked out 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 Mrs. Witham at 'The Good Traveller'. He
found a stranger in the cosy sitting-room
with the landlady, who was introduced to him
as Dr. Thornhill. She was not quite at ease,
and this, combined with the doctor's 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:
'Dr. 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 Mrs. Witham ask you to come here and
see me and advise me?'
Dr. Thornhill for a moment was taken aback,
and Mrs. Witham got fiery red and turned away;
but the doctor was a frank and ready man,
and 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 that 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, and without
offence, 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 Mrs. Witham too, and your kindness deserves
a return on my part. I promise 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 latest. Will that do?'
'Capital,' said the doctor. 'Now tell us 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
exclamation from Mrs. Witham, 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 till a stiff glass
of brandy and water had been administered
that she grew composed again. Dr. Thornhill
listened with a face of growing gravity, and
when the narrative was complete and Mrs. Witham
had been restored he asked:
'The rat always went up the rope of the alarm
bell?'
'Always.'
'I suppose you know,' said the Doctor after
a pause, 'what the 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 rancour!' Here he
was interrupted by another scream from Mrs.
Witham, 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
recovery.
When Mrs. Witham 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 mind. 'He
has quite enough there already to upset him,'
she added. Dr. 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 as 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 offence. 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 Benchurch 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 as effective an exit
as could be thought of.
When Malcolmson arrived home he found that
it was a little after his usual time, and
Mrs. Dempster had gone away — the rules
of Greenhow's 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 rats 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 that 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 the upper part
of the room in darkness, so that the cheerful
light from the hearth 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,
the calls on his physical attention, and his
nervous susceptibility were not to be denied.
By this time the wind had become a gale, and
the gale a storm. The old house, solid though
it was, seemed to shake to its foundations,
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 Malcolmson 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 rancour,' 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 Judge to have such
a ghastly relic ever under his eyes. As he
stood there the swaying of the bell on the
roof 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 instinctively 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 rope again and
disappeared, and at the same instant Malcolmson
became conscious that the noise of the 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 lair
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 the lamp, and examined
the picture which had been dusted and washed,
and now stood out clearly.
It was of a judge dressed in his robes of
scarlet and ermine. His face was strong and
merciless, evil, crafty, and vindictive, with
a sensual mouth, hooked nose of ruddy colour,
and shaped like the beak of a bird of prey.
The rest of the face was of a cadaverous colour.
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 oak chair, on the right-hand side of
a 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, Malcolmson recognised
the scene of the room as it stood, and gazed
around him in an awestruck manner as though
he expected to find some strange presence
behind him. Then 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 arm-chair, with the
rope hanging behind, sat the rat with the
Judge's baleful eyes, now intensified and
with a 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 such 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 great
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 the 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 colour
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 thought 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 insure 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 in surprise, and then a
great fear began to come upon him.
In the centre 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 chair and chimney-corner
and rope, but the figure of the Judge had
disappeared.
Malcolmson, almost in a chill of horror, turned
slowly round, 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 baleful 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 statue, 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 the 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
knot one 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 to 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, perforce, to look. He saw
the Judge approach — still keeping between
him and the door — and raise the noose and
throw it towards 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, ever keeping his baleful 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 crannies
of the wainscot he saw the rats' eyes; and
this aspect, that was purely physical, gave
him a gleam of comfort. He looked around and
saw that 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 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 paralysing 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 standing 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 rope,
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.
