J. S. Fletcher

“ And presently I went to bed, and found it difficult to sleep—as soon as I had blown out my candle, I saw that awful sight again; the black gibbet-post, the rat of a man tied to it by his throat, his protruding tongue, his bulging eyes. I did sleep at last, and then I dreamt—horrible things. Dead men—Uncle Joseph—Veller—boats slipping away into darkness—lanterns dancing in yellow fog—all sorts of perplexing and terrifying matters. And at last somebody was shaking my shoulder, and I started up, and there was Keziah at my bedside, and the sun streaming in at the windows. ”

“ And, Ben, he’s gone!”
I sat up in bed—no doubt with my mouth as wide open as my eyes.
“Uncle Joseph?” I exclaimed. “Left?”
“Gone when I got up, at six o’clock,” answered Keziah. “Bag and all! He’s as soft-footed as a cat, when he likes—always was, as I remember him, and that’s another bad sign in man or woman. Never you trust anybody, Ben, that walks about as if they wore velvet-soled slippers! ”

“ Veller promised to do what he could to keep us from molestation, and went away. I thought hard when he had gone and while I was finishing my breakfast. Having been destined, at my own wish, for the legal profession ever since I was twelve years of age, and sent by Keziah to Kingshaven Grammar School with that aim in view, I knew rather more than my sister did about the things we had just discussed, and I foresaw trouble and annoyance—over Uncle Joseph Krevin.
“Keziah!” I said. “I’m afraid it’s not much good asking Veller to keep people away. People will come who won’t be kept away!” ”