The Treasure of Abbot Thomas

# book_id: ed1374cc6c644edc9b162110cf8c124a
# book_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# chapter_id: 1-the-treasure-of-abbot-thomas
# chapter_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# book_page: 1 / 22
# chapter_page: 1
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose

I To this day, the canons still argue among themselves about a certain hidden treasure belonging to this Abbot Thomas, which the people of Steinfeld often searched for, though it remained locked away. They say that Thomas himself, while still in the prime of life, dug up a vast quantity of gold somewhere around the monastery; when asked repeatedly where it was, he would reply with a laugh: “Job, Johannes, and Zacharias will reveal it to you or to your descendants”; and he would sometimes add that he himself would not even see it found. Among this Abbot’s works, I consider the following particularly worthy of remembrance: he filled a large window in the eastern part of the south wing of his church with images beautifully depicted in glass; this is shown by both his own effigy and the insignia placed there. He also restored almost the entire Abbot’s house: a well was dug in its courtyard and adorned with beautifully carved marble stones.

He died, struck down by a rather sudden death, at the age of 61, in the year 1529 of the Lord’s incarnation.

“I suppose I shall have to translate this,” said the antiquary to himself, as he finished copying the above lines from that rather rare and exceedingly diffuse book, the _Sertum Steinfeldense Norbertinum._[5] “Well, it may as well be done first as last,” and accordingly the following rendering was very quickly produced: [5] An account of the Premonstratensian abbey of Steinfeld, in the Eiffel, with lives of the Abbots, published at Cologne in 1712 by Christian Albert Erhard, a resident in the district. The epithet _Norbertinum_ is due to the fact that St Norbert was the founder of the Premonstratensian Order.

# book_id: ed1374cc6c644edc9b162110cf8c124a
# book_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# chapter_id: 1-the-treasure-of-abbot-thomas
# chapter_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# book_page: 2 / 22
# chapter_page: 2
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose

To this day, there is much gossip among the Canons about a certain hidden treasure belonging to Abbot Thomas, which the Canons of Steinfeld have often searched for, though so far in vain. The story goes that Thomas, while still in the prime of life, concealed a very large quantity of gold somewhere in the monastery. He was often asked where it was, and always answered with a laugh: “Job, John, and Zechariah will tell either you or your successors.” He sometimes added that he would bear no grudge against those who might find it. Among other works carried out by this Abbot, I may mention in particular his filling the great window at the east end of the south aisle of the church with figures admirably painted on glass, as his effigy and arms in the window attest. He also restored almost the entire Abbot’s lodging and dug a well in its courtyard, which he adorned with beautiful carvings in marble.

He died rather suddenly in the seventy-second year of his age, A.D. 1529.

The object that the antiquary had before him at that moment was tracing the whereabouts of the painted windows of the Abbey Church of Steinfeld. Shortly after the Revolution, a very large quantity of painted glass made its way from the dissolved abbeys of Germany and Belgium to this country, and may now be seen adorning various of our parish churches, cathedrals, and private chapels. Steinfeld Abbey was among the most considerable of these involuntary contributors to our artistic possessions (I am quoting the somewhat ponderous preamble of the book that the antiquary wrote), and the greater part of the glass from that institution can be identified without much difficulty with the help either of the numerous inscriptions in which the place is mentioned or of the subjects of the windows, in which several well-defined cycles or narratives were represented.

The passage with which I began my story had set the antiquary on the track of another identification.

# book_id: ed1374cc6c644edc9b162110cf8c124a
# book_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# chapter_id: 1-the-treasure-of-abbot-thomas
# chapter_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# book_page: 3 / 22
# chapter_page: 3
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose

In a private chapel—no matter where—he had seen three large figures, each occupying a whole light in a window, and evidently the work of one artist. Their style made it plain that the artist had been a sixteenth-century German; but until then, pinning them down more precisely had been a puzzle. They represented—will you be surprised to hear it?—JOB PATRIARCHA, JOHANNES EVANGELISTA, ZACHARIAS PROPHETA, and each of them held a book or scroll inscribed with a sentence from his writings. These, as a matter of course, the antiquary had noted, and had been struck by the curious way in which they differed from any text of the Vulgate he had been able to examine.

Thus the scroll in Job’s hand was inscribed: _Auro est locus in quo absconditur_ (for _conflatur_);[6] on the book of John was: _Habent in vestimentis suis scripturam quam nemo novit_[7] (for in _vestimento scriptum_, the following words being taken from another verse); and Zacharias had: _Super lapidem unum septem oculi sunt_[8] (which alone of the three presents an unaltered text). [6] There is a place for gold where it is hidden. [7]They have on their garments a writing which no man knows. [8]Upon one stone are seven eyes.

It had been a source of perplexity to our investigator to think why these three personages should have been placed together in one window. There was no bond of connexion between them, whether historic, symbolic, or doctrinal, and he could only suppose that they must have formed part of a very large series of Prophets and Apostles, which might have filled, say, all the clerestory windows of some capacious church. But the passage from the _Sertum_ altered the situation by showing that the names of the actual personages represented in the glass now in Lord D——’s chapel had been constantly on the lips of Abbot Thomas von Eschenhausen of Steinfeld, and that this Abbot had commissioned a painted window, probably around the year 1520, in the south aisle of his abbey church.

# book_id: ed1374cc6c644edc9b162110cf8c124a
# book_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# chapter_id: 1-the-treasure-of-abbot-thomas
# chapter_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# book_page: 4 / 22
# chapter_page: 4
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose

It was no wild conjecture that the three figures might have formed part of Abbot Thomas’s offering; moreover, this could probably be confirmed or disproved by another careful examination of the glass. And, as Mr. Somerton was a man of leisure, he set out on a pilgrimage to the private chapel without much delay. His conjecture was fully confirmed. Not only did the style and technique of the glass perfectly match the required date and place, but in another window of the chapel he found some glass, known to have been bought along with the figures, which bore the coat of arms of Abbot Thomas von Eschenhausen.

During his research, Mr. Somerton had been haunted by the memory of the gossip about the hidden treasure, and as he thought the matter over, it became increasingly obvious to him that if the Abbot had meant anything by the enigmatic answer he gave to his questioners, he must have meant that the secret was to be found somewhere in the window he had placed in the abbey church. It was undeniable, moreover, that the first of the curiously selected texts on the scrolls in the window could be interpreted as referring to hidden treasure.

Every feature, therefore, or mark that could possibly help elucidate the riddle which, he felt sure, the Abbot had set for posterity, he noted with scrupulous care, and, returning to his manor-house in Berkshire, spent many a pint of the midnight oil over his tracings and sketches. After two or three weeks, a day came when Mr. Somerton announced to his man that he must pack his own and his master’s things for a short journey abroad, whither for the moment we will not follow him.

# book_id: ed1374cc6c644edc9b162110cf8c124a
# book_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# chapter_id: 1-the-treasure-of-abbot-thomas
# chapter_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# book_page: 5 / 22
# chapter_page: 5
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose

II Mr. Gregory, the Rector of Parsbury, had strolled out before breakfast, it being a fine autumn morning, as far as the gate of his carriage-drive, intending to meet the postman and sniff the cool air. Nor was he disappointed in either purpose. Before he had had time to answer more than ten or eleven of the miscellaneous questions propounded to him in the lightness of their hearts by his young offspring, who had accompanied him, the postman was seen approaching; and among the morning’s mail was one letter bearing a foreign postmark and stamp (which at once became the objects of an eager competition among the youthful Gregorys), and was addressed in an uneducated, but plainly English, hand.

Master says would I mention the Short Way? Here it is: Drive to Cobblince and take a Trap. Hoping I have made everything plain, but am much confused in myself what with anxiety and weakness at night. If I might be so bold, Sir, it will be a pleasure to see an honest British face among all these foreigners.

I am, Sir, your obedient servant, William Brown.

P.S.—I will not misspell the name of the town. It is Steenfeld.

The reader must picture for himself in detail the surprise, confusion, and hurried preparations into which the receipt of such a letter would be likely to plunge a quiet Berkshire parsonage in the year of grace 1859. Suffice it to say that a train to town was caught during the day, and that Mr Gregory was able to secure a cabin on the Antwerp boat and a place on the Coblentz train. Nor was it difficult to manage the journey from that point to Steinfeld.

# book_id: ed1374cc6c644edc9b162110cf8c124a
# book_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# chapter_id: 1-the-treasure-of-abbot-thomas
# chapter_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# book_page: 6 / 22
# chapter_page: 6
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose

As the narrator of this story, I labour under a grave disadvantage in that I have never visited Steinfeld myself, and that neither of the principal actors in the episode (from whom I derive my information) was able to give me anything but a vague and rather dismal idea of its appearance. I gather that it is a small place with a large church stripped of its ancient fittings; a number of rather ruinous great buildings, mostly from the seventeenth century, surround this church, for the abbey, in common with most of those on the Continent, was rebuilt in luxurious fashion by its inhabitants at that period. It did not seem to me worth while to spend money on a visit to the place, for though it is probably far more attractive than either Mr Somerton or Mr Gregory thought it, there is evidently little, if anything, of first-rate interest to be seen—except, perhaps, one thing, which I should not care to see.

The inn where the English gentleman and his servant were lodged is, or was, the only “possible” one in the village. Mr Gregory was taken to it at once by his driver and found Mr Brown waiting at the door. Mr Brown, a model of the impassive, whiskered race known as confidential valets when in his Berkshire home, was now egregiously out of his element, in a light tweed suit, anxious, almost irritable, and plainly anything but master of the situation. His relief at the sight of the “honest British face” of his Rector was immeasurable, but words to describe it were denied him. He could only say: “Well, I’m pleased, I’m sure, sir, to see you. And so I’m sure, sir, will master.”

“How _is_ your master, Brown?” Mr Gregory eagerly put in.

“I think he’s better, sir, thank you; but he’s had a dreadful time of it. I hope he’s getting some sleep now, but—” “What has been the matter—I couldn’t make it out from your letter? Was it an accident of any kind?”

“Well, sir, I hardly know whether I ought to speak of it. Master was very particular that he should be the one to tell you. But no bones are broken—that’s one thing I’m sure we ought to be thankful for—” “What does the doctor say?” asked Mr Gregory.

# book_id: ed1374cc6c644edc9b162110cf8c124a
# book_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# chapter_id: 1-the-treasure-of-abbot-thomas
# chapter_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# book_page: 7 / 22
# chapter_page: 7
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose

By this time they were outside Mr Somerton’s bedroom door, speaking in low tones. Mr Gregory, who happened to be in front, was feeling for the handle and chanced to run his fingers over the panels. Before Brown could answer, there was a terrible cry from within the room.

“In God’s name, who is that?” were the first words they heard. “Brown, is it?”

“Yes, sir—me, sir, and Mr Gregory,” Brown hastened to answer, and there was an audible groan of relief in reply.

They entered the room, which was darkened against the afternoon sun, and Mr Gregory saw, with a shock of pity, how drawn, how damp with drops of fear, was the usually calm face of his friend, who, sitting up in the curtained bed, stretched out a shaking hand to welcome him.

“Better for seeing you, my dear Gregory,” was the reply to the Rector’s first question, and it was palpably true.

After five minutes of conversation, Mr Somerton was more his own man, Brown reported afterwards, than he had been for days. He was able to eat a more than respectable dinner and talked confidently of being fit to stand a journey to Coblentz within twenty-four hours.

“But there’s one thing,” he said, with a return of agitation that Mr Gregory did not like to see, “which I must beg you to do for me, my dear Gregory. Don’t,” he went on, laying his hand on Gregory’s to forestall any interruption—“don’t ask me what it is, or why I want it done. I’m not up to explaining it yet; it would throw me back—undo all the good you have done me by coming. The only thing I will say about it is that you run no risk whatever by doing it, and that Brown can and will show you tomorrow what it is. It’s merely to put back—to keep—something—No; I can’t speak of it yet. Do you mind calling Brown?”

“Well, Somerton,” said Mr Gregory, as he crossed the room to the door, “I won’t ask for any explanations until you see fit to give them. And if this matter is as easy as you represent it to be, I will very gladly undertake it for you first thing in the morning.”

“Ah, I was sure you would, my dear Gregory; I was certain I could rely on you. I shall owe you more thanks than I can tell. Now, here is Brown. Brown, a word with you.”

“Shall I go?” interjected Mr Gregory.

# book_id: ed1374cc6c644edc9b162110cf8c124a
# book_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# chapter_id: 1-the-treasure-of-abbot-thomas
# chapter_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# book_page: 8 / 22
# chapter_page: 8
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose

“Not at all. Dear me, no. Brown, first thing tomorrow morning—(you don’t mind early hours, I know, Gregory)—you must take the Rector to—_there_, you know” (a nod from Brown, who looked grave and anxious), “and he and you will put that back. You needn’t be in the least alarmed; it’s _perfectly_ safe in the daytime. You know what I mean. It lies on the step, you know, where—where we put it.” (Brown swallowed dryly once or twice, and, failing to speak, bowed.) “And—yes, that’s all. Only this one other word, my dear Gregory. If you _can_ manage to refrain from questioning Brown about this matter, I shall be even more bound to you. Tomorrow evening, at the latest, if all goes well, I believe I will be able to tell you the whole story from start to finish. And now I’ll wish you good night. Brown will be with me—he sleeps here—and if I were you, I should lock my door. Yes, be particular to do that.

They—they like it, the people here, and it’s better. Good night, good night.”

They parted on this matter, and if Mr Gregory woke once or twice in the small hours and fancied he heard a fumbling at the lower part of his locked door, it was, perhaps, no more than what a quiet man, suddenly plunged into a strange bed and the heart of a mystery, might reasonably expect. Certainly, to the end of his days, he thought he had heard such a sound two or three times between midnight and dawn.

He was up with the sun and out with Brown soon after. Puzzling as the service he had been asked to perform for Mr Somerton was, it was neither difficult nor alarming, and within half an hour of his leaving the inn it was over. What it was I shall not yet divulge.

Later that morning Mr Somerton, now almost himself again, was able to set out from Steinfeld; and that same evening, whether at Coblenz or at some intermediate stage of the journey—I am not certain—he settled down to the promised explanation. Brown was present, but how much of the matter was ever really made plain to his comprehension he would never say, and I am unable to conjecture.

# book_id: ed1374cc6c644edc9b162110cf8c124a
# book_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# chapter_id: 1-the-treasure-of-abbot-thomas
# chapter_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# book_page: 9 / 22
# chapter_page: 9
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose

III This was Mr Somerton’s story: “You both know roughly that this expedition of mine was undertaken with the object of tracing something in connexion with some old painted glass in Lord D——’s private chapel. Well, the starting-point of the whole matter lies in this passage from an old printed book, to which I will ask your attention.”

And at this point Mr Somerton went carefully over some ground with which we are already familiar.

“On my second visit to the chapel,” he went on, “my purpose was to take down every possible note of the figures, the lettering, the diamond scratches on the glass, and even the apparently accidental marks. The first thing I tackled was the inscribed scrolls. I had no doubt that the first of them, Job’s—‘There is a place for the gold where it is hidden’—with its deliberate alteration, must refer to the treasure; so I applied myself with some confidence to the next, St John’s—‘They have on their vestments a writing which no man knows.’ The natural question will have occurred to you: was there an inscription on the robes of the figures? I could see none; each of the three had a broad black border on his mantle, which made a conspicuous and rather ugly feature in the window. I was nonplussed, I admit, and but for a curious bit of luck I think I should have left the search where the Canons of Steinfeld had left it before me.

But it so happened that there was a good deal of dust on the surface of the glass, and Lord D——, happening to come in, noticed my blackened hands and kindly insisted on sending for a Turk’s-head broom to clean the window. There must, I suppose, have been a rough piece in the broom; at any rate, as it passed over the border of one of the mantles, I noticed that it left a long scratch, and that a yellow stain instantly showed up. I asked the man to stop his work for a moment and ran up the ladder to examine the place.” The yellow stain was there, sure enough, and what had come away was a thick black pigment, which had evidently been laid on with a brush after the glass had been fired and could therefore easily be scraped off without doing any harm.

# book_id: ed1374cc6c644edc9b162110cf8c124a
# book_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# chapter_id: 1-the-treasure-of-abbot-thomas
# chapter_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# book_page: 10 / 22
# chapter_page: 10
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose

I scraped it off accordingly, and you will hardly believe—no, I do you an injustice; you will have guessed already—that under this black pigment I found two or three clearly formed capital letters in yellow stain on a clear ground. Of course, I could hardly contain my delight.

“I told Lord D—— that I had detected an inscription which I thought might be very interesting, and begged to be allowed to uncover the whole of it. He made no difficulty about it whatsoever, told me to do exactly as I pleased, and then, having an engagement, was obliged—rather to my relief, I must say—to leave me. I set to work at once, and found the task a fairly easy one. The pigment, disintegrated, of course, by time, came off almost at a touch, and I don’t think it took me a couple of hours, all told, to clean the whole of the black borders in all three lights. Each of the figures had, as the inscription said, ‘a writing on their vestures which nobody knew.’

“This discovery, of course, made it absolutely certain to my mind that I was on the right track. And now, what was the inscription? While I was cleaning the glass I almost took pains not to read the lettering, saving up the treat until I had got the whole thing clear. And when that was done, my dear Gregory, I assure you I could almost have cried from sheer disappointment. What I read was only the most hopeless jumble of letters that had ever been shaken up in a hat. Here it is: _Job_. DREVICIOPEDMOOMSMVIVLISLCAVIBASBATAOVT _St John_. RDIIEAMRLESIPVSPODSEEIRSETTAAESGIAVNNR _Zechariah_. DREVICIOPEDMOOMSMVIVLISLCAVIBASBATAOVT “Blank as I felt and must have looked for the first few minutes, my disappointment did not last long. I realized almost at once that I was dealing with a cipher or cryptogram; and I reflected that it was likely to be of a pretty simple kind, considering its early date.

# book_id: ed1374cc6c644edc9b162110cf8c124a
# book_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# chapter_id: 1-the-treasure-of-abbot-thomas
# chapter_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# book_page: 11 / 22
# chapter_page: 11
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose

So I copied the letters with the most anxious care. Another little point, I may tell you, turned up in the process which confirmed my belief in the cipher. After copying the letters on Job’s robe I counted them, to make sure that I had them right. There were thirty-eight; and, just as I finished going through them, my eye fell on a scratch made with a sharp point on the edge of the border. It was simply the number xxxviii in Roman numerals. To cut the matter short, there was a similar note, as I may call it, in each of the other lights; and that made it plain to me that the glass-painter had had very strict orders from Abbot Thomas about the inscription, and had taken pains to get it correct.”

“Well, after that discovery you can imagine how minutely I examined the entire surface of the glass in search of further clues. Of course, I did not overlook the inscription on Zechariah’s scroll—‘Upon one stone are seven eyes’—but I quickly concluded that this must refer to some mark on a stone that could only be found _in situ_, where the treasure was hidden.” In short, I made all possible notes, sketches, and tracings, and then returned to Parsbury to work out the cipher at leisure. Oh, the agonies I went through! At first I thought myself very clever, for I was sure the key would be found in one of the old books on secret writing. The _Steganographia_ of Joachim Trithemius, an earlier contemporary of Abbot Thomas, seemed particularly promising; so I obtained that, along with Selenius’s _Cryptographia_, Bacon’s _de Augmentis Scientiarum_, and several others. But I could hit upon nothing.

# book_id: ed1374cc6c644edc9b162110cf8c124a
# book_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# chapter_id: 1-the-treasure-of-abbot-thomas
# chapter_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# book_page: 12 / 22
# chapter_page: 12
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose

Then I tried the principle of the ‘most frequent letter’, using first Latin and then German as a basis. That didn’t help either; whether it ought to have done so, I am not clear. And then I came back to the window itself and read over my notes, hoping almost against hope that the Abbot might himself have supplied the key I wanted somewhere. I could make nothing out of the colour or pattern of the robes. There were no landscape backgrounds with subsidiary objects; there was nothing in the canopies. The only possible resource seemed to lie in the attitudes of the figures. ‘Job,’ I read: ‘scroll in left hand, forefinger of right hand extended upwards. John: holds inscribed book in left hand; with right hand blesses, with two fingers. Zechariah: scroll in left hand; right hand extended upwards, as Job, but with three fingers pointing up.’ In other words, I reflected, Job has _one_ finger extended, John has _two_, Zechariah has _three_.

Might there not be a numeral key concealed in that? My dear Gregory,” said Mr Somerton, laying his hand on his friend’s knee, “that _was_ the key.” I couldn’t make it fit at first, but after two or three tries I saw what was meant.

After the first letter of the inscription you skip one letter, after the next you skip two, and after that you skip three. Now look at the result I got. I’ve underlined the letters that form words: [D]R[E]VI[C]IOP[E]D[M]OO[M]SMV[I]V[L]IS[L]CAV[I]B[A]SB[A]TAO[V]T [R]DI[I]EAM[R]L[E]SI[P]VSP[O]D[S]EE[I]RSE[T]T[A]AE[S]GIA[V]N[N]R F[T]EEA[I]L[N]QD[P]VAI[V]M[T]LE[E]ATT[O]H[I]OO[N]VMC[A]A[T].H.Q.E. “Do you see it? ‘_Decem millia auri reposita sunt in puteo in at_. . .’ (Ten thousand [pieces] of gold are laid up in a well in …), followed by an incomplete word beginning with _at_. So far so good. I tried the same plan with the remaining letters; but it wouldn’t work, and I fancied that perhaps the placing of dots after the last three letters might indicate some difference in procedure. Then I thought to myself, ‘Wasn’t there some allusion to a well in the account of Abbot Thomas in that book, the “_Sertum_”?’

# book_id: ed1374cc6c644edc9b162110cf8c124a
# book_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# chapter_id: 1-the-treasure-of-abbot-thomas
# chapter_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# book_page: 13 / 22
# chapter_page: 13
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose

Yes, there was: he built a _puteus in atrio_ (a well in the courtyard). There, of course, was my word _atrio_. The next step was to copy out the remaining letters of the inscription, omitting those I had already used. That gave what you will see on this slip: RVIIOPDOOSMVVISCAVBSBTAOTDIEAMRLESIPVSPODSEERSETTAEGIANNRFEEALQDVAIMLEATTHOOVM CA.H.Q.E. “Now, I knew what the three first letters I wanted were—namely, _rio_—to complete the word _atrio_; and, as you will see, these are all to be found in the first five letters. I was a little confused at first by the occurrence of two _i’s_, but very soon I saw that every alternate letter must be taken in the remainder of the inscription. You can work it out for yourself; the result, continuing where the first ‘round’ left off, is this: ‘_rio domus abbatialis de Steinfeld a me, Thoma, qui posui custodem super ea._’ “Beware who touches it_’.

“So the whole secret was out: ‘Ten thousand pieces of gold are laid up in the well in the court of the Abbot’s house of Steinfeld by me, Thomas, who have set a guardian over them. _Beware who touches it_.’

“The last words, I ought to say, are a device which Abbot Thomas had adopted. I found it with his arms in another piece of glass at Lord D——’s, and he drafted it bodily into his cipher, though it doesn’t quite fit in point of grammar.

# book_id: ed1374cc6c644edc9b162110cf8c124a
# book_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# chapter_id: 1-the-treasure-of-abbot-thomas
# chapter_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# book_page: 14 / 22
# chapter_page: 14
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose

“Well, what would any human being have been tempted to do in my place, my dear Gregory? Could he have helped setting off, as I did, to Steinfeld and tracing the secret literally to its source? I don’t believe he could. In any case, I couldn’t, and, as I needn’t tell you, I found myself at Steinfeld as soon as the resources of civilization could get me there, and installed myself in the inn you saw. I must tell you that I was not altogether free from forebodings—on the one hand of disappointment, on the other of danger. There was always the possibility that Abbot Thomas’s well might have been completely obliterated, or else that someone ignorant of cryptograms, guided only by luck, might have stumbled on the treasure before me. And then’—there was a very perceptible shaking of the voice here—‘I was not entirely easy, I need not mind confessing, about the meaning of the words concerning the guardian of the treasure.

But, if you don’t mind, I’ll say no more about that until—until it becomes necessary.’

“At the first possible opportunity Brown and I began exploring the place.” I had naturally presented myself as being interested in the remains of the abbey, and we could not avoid paying a visit to the church, impatient as I was to be elsewhere. Still, it did interest me to see the windows where the glass had been, and especially that at the east end of the south aisle. In the tracery lights of that window I was startled to see some fragments and coats of arms remaining—Abbot Thomas’s shield was there, and a small figure with a scroll inscribed _Oculos habent, et non videbunt_ (They have eyes, and shall not see), which, I take it, was a dig at the Abbot by his canons.

# book_id: ed1374cc6c644edc9b162110cf8c124a
# book_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# chapter_id: 1-the-treasure-of-abbot-thomas
# chapter_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# book_page: 15 / 22
# chapter_page: 15
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose

“But, of course, the main object was to find the Abbot’s house. As far as I know, there is no prescribed place for it in the plan of a monastery; you cannot predict that it will be on the eastern side of the cloister, as you can with the chapter-house, or that it will communicate with a transept of the church, as you can with the dormitory. I felt that if I asked many questions I might awaken lingering memories of the treasure, and I thought it best to try first to discover it for myself. It was not a very long or difficult search. That three-sided court south-east of the church, with deserted piles of building round it and grass-grown pavement, which you saw this morning, was the place. And I was glad enough to see that it was put to no use, and was neither very far from our inn nor overlooked by any inhabited building; there were only orchards and paddocks on the slopes east of the church.”

I can tell you that the fine stone glowed wonderfully in the rather watery yellow sunset that we had on Tuesday afternoon.

“Next, what about the well? There was not much doubt about that, as you can testify. It is really a very remarkable thing. That curb is, I think, of Italian marble, and I thought the carving must be Italian as well. There were reliefs, you will perhaps remember, of Eliezer and Rebekah, and of Jacob opening the well for Rachel, and similar subjects; but, by way of disarming suspicion, I suppose, the Abbot had carefully refrained from any of his cynical and allusive inscriptions.

# book_id: ed1374cc6c644edc9b162110cf8c124a
# book_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# chapter_id: 1-the-treasure-of-abbot-thomas
# chapter_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# book_page: 16 / 22
# chapter_page: 16
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose

“I examined the whole structure with the keenest interest, of course—a square well-head with an opening in one side; an arch over it, with a wheel for the rope to pass over, evidently still in very good condition, for it had been used within sixty years, or perhaps even later, though not quite recently. Then there was the question of depth and access to the interior. I suppose the depth was about sixty to seventy feet; and as to the other point, it really seemed as if the Abbot had wished to lead searchers up to the very door of his treasure-house, for, as you tested for yourself, there were big blocks of stone bonded into the masonry, and leading down in a regular staircase round and round the inside of the well.

“It seemed almost too good to be true. I wondered if there was a trap—whether the stones had been so contrived as to tip over when weight was placed on them; but I tried a good many with my own weight and with my stick, and all seemed, and actually were, perfectly firm.” Naturally, I decided that Brown and I would carry out the experiment that very night.

“I was well prepared. Knowing the kind of place I would have to explore, I brought along a sufficient amount of good-quality rope and canvas straps to wrap around my body, as well as crossbars to which I could cling, in addition to lanterns, candles, and pickaxes, all enclosed in a single travel bag that would not arouse any suspicion. I made sure my rope would be long enough and that the bucket’s wheel was in good working order, after which we returned home for dinner.”

“I had a brief, cautious conversation with the owner and assured him that he wouldn’t be too surprised if I went out for a walk with my man around nine o’clock, to make (may Heaven forgive me!) a sketch of the abbey by moonlight. I didn’t ask any questions about the well, and I probably won’t do so now either. I imagine I know as much as anyone else in Steinfeld: at least—with a strong shudder—I don’t want to know any more.”

# book_id: ed1374cc6c644edc9b162110cf8c124a
# book_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# chapter_id: 1-the-treasure-of-abbot-thomas
# chapter_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# book_page: 17 / 22
# chapter_page: 17
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose

“Now we come to the crucial point, and though I hate to think of it, I am certain, Gregory, that it will be better for me in every respect to remember it exactly as it happened. Brown and I set off around nine with our bag, without attracting any attention; in fact, we managed to slip out through the back of the hotel courtyard into an alley that brought us right to the edge of the village. In five minutes we were at the well, and for a while we sat on the edge of the well’s mouth to make sure that no one was moving about or spying on us. All we heard was the sound of some horses cropping grass out of sight farther down the eastern slope. We were perfectly unnoticed, and had plenty of light from the gorgeous full moon to allow us to get the rope properly fitted over the wheel. Then I secured the band around my body beneath the arms. We attached the end of the rope very securely to a ring in the stonework.

Brown took the lighted lantern and followed me; I had a crowbar. And so we began to descend cautiously, feeling every step before we set foot on it, and scanning the walls in search of any marked stone.

“Half aloud I counted the steps as we went down, and we had reached the thirty-eighth before I noticed anything at all irregular in the surface of the masonry. Even here there was no mark, and I began to feel very puzzled, wondering whether the Abbot’s cryptogram could possibly be an elaborate hoax. At the forty-ninth step the staircase ended. With a very sinking heart I began retracing my steps, and when I was back on the thirty-eighth—Brown, with the lantern, being a step or two above me—I scrutinized the little irregularity in the stonework with all my might; but there was no trace of a mark.

“Then it struck me that the texture of the surface looked just a little smoother than the rest, or at least in some way different. It might possibly be cement and not stone. I gave it a good blow with my iron bar. There was a decidedly hollow sound, though that might have been because we were in a well. But there was more. A large flake of cement fell onto my feet, and I saw marks on the stone underneath.

# book_id: ed1374cc6c644edc9b162110cf8c124a
# book_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# chapter_id: 1-the-treasure-of-abbot-thomas
# chapter_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# book_page: 18 / 22
# chapter_page: 18
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose

I had tracked the Abbot down, my dear Gregory; even now I think of it with a certain pride. It took only a few more taps to clear away all the cement, and I saw a slab of stone about two feet square, upon which was engraved a cross. Disappointment again, but only for a moment. It was you, Brown, who reassured me with a casual remark. You said, if I remember right: “It’s a funny cross: it looks like a lot of eyes.”

I snatched the lantern out of your hand and saw with inexpressible pleasure that the cross _was_ composed of seven eyes, four in a vertical line and three horizontal. The last of the scrolls in the window was explained in the way I had anticipated. Here was my ‘stone with the seven eyes.’ So far the Abbot’s data had been exact, and as I thought of this, the anxiety about the ‘guardian’ returned to me with increased force. Still, I wasn’t going to retreat now.

Without giving myself time to think, I knocked away the cement around the marked stone, then pried up its right side with my crowbar. It moved at once, and I saw that it was only a thin, light slab that I could easily lift out myself, and that it covered the entrance to a cavity. I lifted it out unbroken and set it on the step, since it might be very important for us to be able to put it back. Then I waited for several minutes on the step just above. I don’t know why, but I think it was to see if any dreadful thing would rush out. Nothing happened. Next I lit a candle and very cautiously placed it inside the cavity, with some idea of seeing whether there was foul air and of getting a glimpse of what was inside. There _was_ some foulness in the air that nearly extinguished the flame, but before long it burned quite steadily.

The hole went a little way back and also to the right and left of the entrance, and I could see some rounded, light-coloured objects inside that might be bags. There was no use in waiting. I faced the cavity and looked in. There was nothing directly in front of the hole. I put my arm in and felt to the right, very gingerly….

“Just give me a glass of cognac, Brown. I’ll go on in a moment, Gregory….

# book_id: ed1374cc6c644edc9b162110cf8c124a
# book_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# chapter_id: 1-the-treasure-of-abbot-thomas
# chapter_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# book_page: 19 / 22
# chapter_page: 19
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose

“Well, I felt to the right, and my fingers touched something curved that felt—yes—more or less like leather; it was dampish, and evidently part of a heavy, full thing. There was nothing, I must say, to alarm anyone. I grew bolder, and putting both hands in as well as I could, I pulled it towards me, and it came. It was heavy, but moved more easily than I had expected. As I pulled it towards the entrance, my left elbow knocked over and extinguished the candle. I got the thing fairly in front of the opening and began drawing it out. Just then Brown gave a sharp exclamation and ran quickly up the steps with the lantern. He will tell you why in a moment. Surprised as I was, I looked round after him and saw him stand for a minute at the top and then walk a few yards away. Then I heard him call softly, ‘All right, sir,’ and I went on pulling out the great bag in complete darkness.

It hung for an instant on the edge of the hole, then slipped forward onto my chest, and _put its arms round my neck_.

“My dear Gregory, I am telling you the exact truth. I believe I am now acquainted with the extremity of terror and repulsion which a man can endure without losing his mind. I can only just manage to tell you now the bare outline of the experience.

I was conscious of a most horrible smell of mould, and of a cold kind of face pressed against my own and moving slowly over it, and of several—I don’t know how many—legs or arms or tentacles or something clinging to my body. I screamed out, Brown says, like a beast, and fell backward off the step on which I stood, and the creature slipped down, I suppose, onto that same step. Providentially, the band around me held firm. Brown did not lose his head and was strong enough to pull me up to the top and get me over the edge quite promptly. How exactly he managed it I don’t know, and I think he would find it hard to tell you. I believe he contrived to hide our implements in the deserted building nearby, and with very great difficulty he got me back to the inn.

# book_id: ed1374cc6c644edc9b162110cf8c124a
# book_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# chapter_id: 1-the-treasure-of-abbot-thomas
# chapter_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# book_page: 20 / 22
# chapter_page: 20
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose

I was in no state to explain, and Brown doesn’t know any German; but the next morning I told the people some tale about having had a bad fall in the abbey ruins, which, I suppose, they believed. And now, before I go any further, I would just like you to hear what Brown’s experiences during those few minutes were. Tell the Rector, Brown, what you told me.”

“Well, sir,” said Brown, speaking low and nervously, “it was just like this. Master was busy down in front of the ’ole, and I was ’olding the lantern and watching, when I heard something drop into the water from above, as I thought. So I looked up, and I saw someone’s head looking down at us. I suppose I must have said something, and I held the light up and ran up the steps, and my light shone right on the face. That was a bad one, sir, if ever I saw one! A hulking man, and the face was very sunken, and laughing, as I thought. And I got up the steps pretty nigh as quick as I’m telling you, and when I was out on the ground there wasn’t a sign of any person. There hadn’t been time for anyone to get away, let alone a hulking chap, and I made sure he wasn’t crouching down by the well, nor nothing.

Next thing I hear Master cry out something horrible, and all I saw was him hanging by the rope, and, as Master says, however I got him up I couldn’t tell you.”

“You hear that, Gregory?” said Mr Somerton. “Now, does any explanation of that incident strike you?”

“The whole thing is so ghastly and abnormal that I must admit it quite threw me off balance; but the thought did occur to me that possibly the—well, the person who set the trap might have come to see the success of his plan.”

# book_id: ed1374cc6c644edc9b162110cf8c124a
# book_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# chapter_id: 1-the-treasure-of-abbot-thomas
# chapter_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# book_page: 21 / 22
# chapter_page: 21
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose

“Exactly so, Gregory, exactly so. I can think of nothing else that is so—_likely_, I should say, if such a word has any place in my story. I think it must have been the Abbot…. Well, I haven’t much more to tell you. I spent a miserable night, with Brown sitting up with me. The next day I was no better—unable to get up, no doctor to be had—and even if one had been available, I doubt he could have done much for me. I made Brown write to you, and spent a second terrible night. And, Gregory, of this I am sure—and I think it affected me more than the first shock, because it lasted longer—there was someone or something on watch outside my door the whole night. I almost think there were two. It wasn’t only the faint noises I heard from time to time throughout the dark hours; there was also the smell—the hideous smell of mould. I had stripped off every rag I had worn on me that first evening and made Brown take it away.

I believe he stuffed the things into the stove in his room; and yet the smell was there, as intense as it had been in the well; and what is more, it came from outside the door.” But with the first glimmer of dawn it faded away, and the sounds ceased too; and that convinced me that the thing or things were creatures of darkness and could not stand the daylight; and so I was sure that if anyone could put the stone back, it or they would be powerless until someone else took it away again. I had to wait until you came to get that done. Of course, I couldn’t send Brown to do it by himself, and still less could I tell anyone who belonged to the place.

“Well, there is my story; and, if you don’t believe it, I can’t help it. But I think you do.”

“Indeed,” said Mr Gregory, “I can find no alternative. I _must_ believe it! I saw the well and the stone myself, and I thought I caught a glimpse of the bags or something else in the hole. And, to be plain with you, Somerton, I believe my door was watched last night, too.”

“I dare say it was, Gregory; but, thank goodness, that is over. Have you, by the way, anything to tell about your visit to that dreadful place?”

# book_id: ed1374cc6c644edc9b162110cf8c124a
# book_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# chapter_id: 1-the-treasure-of-abbot-thomas
# chapter_title: The Treasure of Abbot Thomas
# book_page: 22 / 22
# chapter_page: 22
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose

“Very little,” was the answer. “Brown and I managed easily enough to get the slab into place, and he fixed it very firmly with the irons and wedges you had told him to get, and we managed to smear the surface with mud so that it looks just like the rest of the wall. One thing I did notice in the carving on the well-head, which I think must have escaped you.

It was a horrid, grotesque shape—perhaps more like a toad than anything else, and there was a label beside it inscribed with the two words, ‘Depositum custodi’.”[9] [9] “Keep that which is committed to thee.”