The crooked cross

by Charles J. Dutton

I stopped running, to walk up the slight incline which led to the church. Frankly I was puzzled. There had not been time for him to have gone very far. The street lights gave enough illumination to at least have allowed me to have seen if any running figure was ahead of me. But no one was in sight.

Puzzled, I went rather slowly across the grass and came to the dark shadow made by the wall of the church. As I stood silent a moment, I cast my eyes at the dense mass of the tower, which divided the rectory from the church proper. It was not a very high tower, and its top was only a few feet above the roof of the church. Then I went toward the street, keeping in the shadow, and when I reached the tower itself, found to my surprise that the door at the foot was open.

I peered within, only to have my eyes met by the blackness. Finding a match, I struck it. For the shortest space of time the darkness was lighted sufficiently for me to see a very narrow winding pair of stairs which were lost to sight above my head. Before the match was out I had time to see an iron railing which ran along the side of the steps. As darkness came again, I once more wondered what had happened to the man. There seemed no chance now of finding him, for by this time he must have been far away.

And then, for some unknown reason, I decided to climb the stairs in the tower and see if I could perceive anything from the roof. Thinking it over later, I saw how absurd the idea must have been, for the night was dark and even if I reached the roof, I would not have been able to see very far. But at the time the only thing I remembered was that when I had looked at the tower late in the afternoon I had noticed an iron railing which ran around its top.

I reached in my pocket for another match, and then discovered I had just struck the last one. A search of all my pockets gave no results. Hesitating a moment, I finally stepped through the open door, groping my way until my foot plunged against the stone stairs. Then finding the railing, I began slowly to climb the steps.

The darkness was intense, and the stairway was not only very narrow, but it wound around and around in a bewildering manner. I groped my way from step to step, my hand firmly grasping the rail. Just about the time I began to wonder if the steps would never end I came out in a small room at the top of the tower. Directly in front of me was an open door, and as my eyes became more accustomed to the darkness, I saw that it led to the platform.

When I went through this door, I found myself on a little balcony, which ran around the top of the tower. In my first quick glance I saw below me the lights of the town, and, turning my head, I caught the reflection of the village streets far away in the distance. I leaned over the iron railing, saw the dark shadow of the roof a few feet below me, and began to wonder why under heaven I had ever climbed the steps.

After walking completely around the balcony, I came back to my place near the open door. Though I had peered over the edge on all sides, I had seen nothing. Only the lights of the town, the street lamps and the reflections from the houses had broken the blackness. I had just about made up my mind to descend when a sudden sound behind me caused me to stiffen to attention. It was only a slight sound, and what it was I could not tell. But as I started to turn, suddenly from behind I felt something move, and the next moment two hands suddenly gripped my body.

The attack was so sudden and unexpected that, taken off my guard as I was, I did not move until the man had secured my arms with a firm grip. I tried to throw them aside, but I might just as well have tried to break a steel rope. Whoever it was had terrific strength, for they held me in such a position that I was unable to move. Throwing my body to this side and that, I tried to break the grip, but it was impossible. And silently, save only for the man's quick breathing, I was being borne to the iron rail.

The man had seized me from the rear, and as I was unable to turn I could not see him. Even if I had been able to turn, I could not have distinguished him, for the night was too dark. Silently, without a word, he pushed me against the rail. Then as its iron began to cut into my back, he tried to lift me from the platform. In horror it came over me that he was trying to throw me from the tower.