III.
Monday evening was moonless, just the night for a reckless deed. The conspirators thought that they were especially favored. By nine both were at the meeting-place, and repaired in silence to the old house. The night was one of the kind that ghosts usually select for a promenade, and this thought may have occurred to the minds of the farmer and Hoke. Each assured himself that such an idea was nonsense, but just the same this delicate subject was not mentioned.
The window being found, Bagstock proceeded to pry out the pane. Then both, after glancing cautiously about, stole away to Simpkins's house, which was not far distant. It was fully an hour before they returned and viewed the window. All was as they had left it, and Bagstock said, in a hoarse whisper,
"Now, then, you climb in first."
Hoke drew back a little. The house, somehow, looked unusually dismal.
"What, you ain't afraid, be you?" ejaculated the farmer.
Hoke said. "Of course not," but for some unaccountable reason his voice shook slightly. He consented to be boosted up, and inserting his hand in the opening, easily undid the catch and raised the lower sash. Both of them would have been seized with consternation had they imagined that but a short time before other hands than their own had made the same use of this very window.
Now, Hoke was an awkward youth, and in climbing over the sill his foot caught, which very shortly deposited him on the floor. This mishap added to his misgivings, but he picked himself up and helped in the impatient Bagstock. They were now inside the walls which sheltered the coveted treasure. What to do next?
With the aid of their dark lanterns they groped along the hall, which ran from front to back, as in most old houses built in the colonial style. Poor Hoke found his knees beginning to shake in a distressing manner. Any corner might suddenly reveal something to strike them with terror. If he had not discarded his hat before entering it would have been at present resting on the ends of his abundant crop of hair. He was obliged to catch hold of the farmer to steady himself, which called forth a growl from that quarter, for Bagstock was having all he could do to stifle some little misgivings of his own.
"Where the dickens," he muttered, "can the things—"
He stopped suddenly. The hall was wide as well as long, and they had now nearly reached the front end. At one side stood a large heavy chest, suggestive of riches stored, perhaps, in its depths. Near it was a heap of furniture and rubbish. Bagstock had taken a step forward, and almost had his hand on the chest, when his lantern flashed on something. This "something" made his knees shake more, his hair rise higher, and his eyes bulge out further than Hoke's ever thought of doing. Seated on that very chest was an object in white, perfectly motionless, its head evidently turned toward the men. The farmer was transfixed with horror, and what Hoke was undergoing at that moment may be imagined but not described. He only gave vent to a kind of howl and dropped with a thud on the floor. Bagstock looked as though his shaky knees would oblige him to follow Hoke's example, when suddenly the figure moved. It rose slowly, slowly, to its full height, raised one long arm, and pointing to the chest, said, in low, blood-curdling tones:
"Yonder lies the treasure. Beware! Touch it not, or ye die!"
They waited to hear no more. Somehow they reached that window by a succession of bumpings and scrapings, and finally, with a particularly heavy and emphatic thump, Hoke found himself on the ground. Before he could struggle up the farmer was on top of him. After they had extricated themselves it did not take long for both to put a good half-mile between themselves and the haunted house.
A rumor that two men had attempted to burglarize the Beverley house, but had been nearly frightened out of their wits by the famous ghost, and taken themselves off in terror, caused much excitement in the village. The names of the two men no one seemed able to find out, but Bill Smythe and James Stokes had many a laugh in private over the sheepish look which the faces of Farmer Bagstock and Hoke Simpkins always wore when the subject of the burglary was mentioned.