At the end of the eighteenth century many French noblemen fled over here, to escape the terrors of the French revolution. Among them was a Seigneur de Damèque. (I have no idea whether or not whether this is the correct spelling of his name, but it represents the pronunciation of the people). He came out to St. Martin’s parish, and took a house at Le Hurel, just above Le Vallon. He was very proud and reserved, made no friends, and was always seen going for long solitary walks, or pacing down “Les Olivettes,” (the old name for what is now known as “the water lane”) or underneath “Les Rochers,” the cliffs on which the Manor House of Blanchelande now stands, and resting by the “douït” where the pond at Le Vallon now is, but which, in those days, was public property.
He was always very richly dressed, and was supposed to have hidden hoards of wealth, as well as to carry large sums of money on his person. There were two or three brothers who lived together in a house near Le Varclin, who, tempted by his supposed riches, and thinking that his isolation would prevent his disappearance being noticed or enquiries being made, decided on following him on one of his solitary rambles and on murdering him. These brothers had always borne a bad reputation; they gambled and drank, and were the “vauriens” of an otherwise respectable family.
So, one evening, they followed him, as, passing above La Petite Porte, he entered into the narrow lane, overgrown with trees and thorn bushes, which leads to Jerbourg Point. There they closed upon him, and, being two or three to one, murdered him, and, after having robbed the body of his watch, rings, etc., buried the corpse under some of the heaps of stones which lie on the waste lands at the top of the cliff.
Some wonder was caused at Le Hurel when he failed to appear, but the rumour was started that he had been seen sailing away in a little fishing boat he used to hire for the season, from Bec du Nez, and which the murderers had had the forethought to scuttle and sink. The country people thought he had returned to his native land, and all interest in the matter dropped.
Haunted Lane near Jerbourg.
But there was one man to whom M. de Damèque’s disappearance meant much. In Paris he had left a dear friend, a Dr. Le Harrier. These two men wrote to each other regularly, and when M. de Damèque’s letters suddenly ceased, letters came to Le Hurel from this doctor, asking for explanations—letters which were never answered. Among M. de Damèque’s jewellery was a beautiful and most uncommon watch, with either his coronet and monogram or his coronet and arms displayed on the case. One day, some years after his disappearance, Dr. Le Harrier, walking through the streets of Paris, saw this unmistakable watch hanging in a jeweller’s shop. He went in and asked the man how it had got into his possession, and the man told him it had been brought by some men from Guernsey, who had been trying to sell it in England, Holland, and Belgium, and finally had left it with him to dispose of. Dr. Le Harrier bought the watch, and, taking the men’s address, started at once for Guernsey. When he arrived he made enquiries, and, finding that these men bore a bad reputation, took some constables with him and went to the house. There they found them sodden with drink, and, haunted by fear and remorse when they saw the watch, they sank down on their knees and confessed everything, and were led off then and there to prison.
The next thing to be done was to disinter the bones of the murdered man and give them Christian burial. Heavily handcuffed the brothers were taken to the spot, accompanied by various members of the clergy, a doctor, who had to certify that every bone was there, (this is a point much dwelt upon by every teller of the story), Dr. Le Harrier, and all the people of St. Martin’s. Then the bones, being found, were placed in a coffin, and reverently buried in St. Martin’s churchyard.