“But it really wasn’t, was it, Gramps?” Ronnie asked anxiously.
“Can’t really answer that because it’s never been proven one way or the other. But maybe when you hear the rest of what happened, you’ll understand it a mite better. Now one day in June of 1889 Jacob Williams disappeared. Of course, everybody started saying Ezra had done away with him to keep him from accusing Ezra of the thefts. And I guess there was some evidence to make people believe it, too. First of all, more money and glassware were missing. Then there was this man, John Sutton, a worker at the Glassworks, who testified that he’d heard Ezra and Jacob Williams arguing and shouting at one another. Then, when he passed by the building again later, he claims he heard Jacob screaming for help. He didn’t go in, figuring it was none of his business, but later on he got to thinking about it, and went back. There was no sign of Ezra or Jacob Williams. Fact is, that was the last anybody ever heard of Jacob Williams. Old Ezra made a search for his partner—even put notice of a reward in the paper for anybody sending news of him. It was like the earth had swallowed Jacob—him and the money and the missing glassware.”
Grandfather tamped his pipe with a leathery thumb and continued. “Well, boy, people here put two and two together, and there began to be talk. When people begin to talk, they make things bigger and meaner. Old Ezra had killed Jacob to cover up his own thefts and he’d hidden the body somewhere. Search parties went over every square foot of the village, but they didn’t turn up a clue. Well, no matter, people said, Jacob Williams’ curse was on the Rorth family until Jacob’s death was avenged.”
Grandfather puffed hurriedly at his pipe to start up the dying coals. “But what happened to Great-great-grandfather Ezra?” Ronnie asked.
“The case came before the grand jury, but the jury failed to indict Ezra. There wasn’t proof of anything, really. So Ezra was freed, but people didn’t stop accusing him for a long time. Some even tried to find Jacob Williams’ son, then a man in his late twenties, to persuade him to come back and avenge his father’s death. But he wasn’t anywhere to be found.
“Then came reports of people who claimed they’d seen Jacob Williams’ ghost near the old office building, and there were those who said the ghost had cried out that he’d never stop haunting the Rorth family until his death was avenged. Funny thing was, though—no Rorth ever saw this ghost!”
“Which just proves the whole thing’s a phony!” Ronnie exclaimed. “Who believes in ghosts, anyway?”
“No one—excepting maybe those who haven’t gotten a proper education. But there’s more to this story. A few years after Williams disappeared, an epidemic of typhoid struck the village. Probably came from drinking the water out of Goose Brook. Anyway, lots of people died and the rest left like rats from a sinking ship. Soon there were only Ezra and his family left. He sent them away, too, while he stayed behind to close up. The Glassworks never opened again. When Ezra’s wife and my father returned, they had the office boarded up tight and padlocked, and I guess it was never opened until I went in there five or six years ago.”
“You were hunting for something, weren’t you, Gramps?”
“Yep.”