Curious Warnings - The Great Ghost Stories Of M.R. James Read Online Free PDF Page A

missal,” hethought, “and not the shape of an antiphoner; perhaps it may be something good, after all.”
    The next moment the book was open, and Dennistoun felt that he had at last lit upon something better than good.
    Before him lay a large folio, bound, perhaps, late in the 17th century, with the arms of Canon Alberic de Mauléon stamped in gold on the sides. There may have been a hundred and fifty leaves of paper in the book, and on almost every one of them was fastened a leaf from an illuminated manuscript.
    Such a collection Dennistoun had hardly dreamed of in his wildest moments.
    Here were ten leaves from a copy of Genesis, illustrated with pictures, which could not be later than A.D. 700. Further on was a complete set of pictures from a Psalter, of English execution, of the very finest kind that the 13th century could produce. And, perhaps best of all, there were twenty leaves of uncial writing in Latin, which, as a few words seen here and there told him at once, must belong to some very early unknown patristic treatise. Could it possibly be a fragment of the copy of Papias “On the Words of Our Lord,” which was known to have existed as late as the 12th century at Nîmes? †
    In any case, his mind was made up; that book must return to Cambridge with him, even if he had to draw the whole of his balance from the bank and stay at St. Bertrand till the money came.
    He glanced up at the sacristan to see if his face yielded any hint that the book was for sale. The sacristan was pale, and his lips were working.
    “If
monsieur
will turn on to the end,” he said.
    So
monsieur
turned on, meeting new treasures at every rise of a leaf; and at the end of the book he came upon two sheets of paper, of much more recent date than anything he had yet seen, which puzzled him considerably.
    They must be contemporary, he decided, with the unprincipled Canon Alberic, who had doubtless plundered the Chapter library of St. Bertrand to form this priceless scrap-book.
    On the first of the paper sheets was a plan, carefully drawn and instantly recognizable by a person who knew the ground, of the south aisle and cloisters of St. Bertrand’s. There were curious signs looking like planetary symbols, and a few Hebrew words, in the corners; and in the northwest angle of the cloister was a cross drawn in gold paint. Below the plan were some lines of writing in Latin, which ran thus:
    Responsa 12mi Dec. 1694. Interrogatum est: Inveniamne?
    Responsum est: Invenies. Fiamne dives? Fies. Vivamne invidendus?
    Vives. Moriarne in lecto meo? Ita.
    (Answers of the 12th of December, 1694. It was asked: Shall I find it? Answer: Thou shalt. Shall I become rich? Thou wilt. Shall I live an object of envy? Thou wilt. Shall I die in my bed? Thou wilt.)
    “A good specimen of the treasure-hunter’s record—quite reminds one of Mr. Minor-Canon Quatremain in ‘Old St. Paul’s,’” was Dennistoun’s comment, and he turned the leaf.
    What he then saw impressed him, as he has often told me, more than he could have conceived any drawing or picture capable of impressing him. And, though the drawing he saw is no longer in existence, there is a photograph of it (which I possess) which fully bears out that statement.
    The picture in question was a sepia drawing at the end of the 17th century, representing, one would say at first sight, a Biblical scene. For the architecture (the picture represented an interior) and the figures had that semi-classical flavor about them which the artists of two hundred years ago thought appropriate to illustrations of the Bible.
    On the right was a King on his throne, the throne elevated on twelve steps, a canopy overhead, lions on either side—evidently King Solomon. He was bending forward with outstretched scepter, in attitude of command. His face expressed horror and disgust, yet there was in it also the mark of imperious will and confident power.
    The left half of the picture was the strangest, however. The interest plainly