The Argosy — page 276: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Mrs. Raven's Temptation. 255 to know at what point this figure got the reputation of being the persistent wraith of my great-uncle, vowing vengeance on the Court.” “T don’t know of any stranger in the village,” pondered Mr. Toynbee. ‘‘The few lodgers are all decent people with settled situations. We have had our usual summer and autumn visitation from artists—the same old faces, and the very same white umbrellas and camp stools. We have not had a gipsy for months. Nor any excursions from Standchester. Your brother discouraged them coming to the Court grounds because of your father’s recent death.” He paused as he said that. He might have added that Leonard had also observed they trampled down the grass, and made the villagers discontented. If Leonard had been well, and likely for long life, the Vicar might have roguishly narrated this characteristic trait. ‘The only stranger I can recollect who made any impression on me,” the Vicar went on presently, “‘was a young man whom I saw one day this autumn—yes, I remember it was the very day your mother returned from Coltburn. I can recollect that, because I was on my way to Sloam’s cottage, and it was the coming in of Miss Evelyn Agate and Hale while I was there that first let me know Mrs. Raven had come back so unexpectedly.” “And this young man——” said Frank anxiously, keeping the clergyman to his main discourse. ‘This young man was sitting on the suicide’s grave in our church- yard,” pursued Mr. Toynbee. ‘I think it was that which made me notice him at all. No Ravenstoke man would do that, you know. And I own it gave me a shiver to see him there. He was very dark, thin and pale, and he started up when he heard my footstep on the grass. I wondered at the time whether some law of affinity might not have drawn him to that grave. Ah, you see I have my own superstitions, young man.” ‘“‘And you never saw him again?” asked Frank, rather dreamily. For he could not see any reason for imagining a connection between a wandering pedestrian and a perpetual ghost. And, meantime, he heard footsteps going softly to and fro in the room overhead. It was his bed-room. And it occurred to him that he had left his writing-case open. “No, I never saw him again,” said the Vicar. ‘‘ Of course there must have been plenty of other strangers here in a casual way. It was only his sitting on that grave which made me remember him, for I’m afraid my memory for faces and even for facts, is beginning to fade. But I am forgetting the very thing I particularly wanted to say —something your brother told me that day when I dined with him.” The Vicar lowered his voice, as people do when they are about to make an important communication. Frank leaned forward, interested. “I did not think much of it at the time,” said the Vicar. “I thought there was probably some mistake in the matter.” ‘What was it?” asked Frank, eagerly. COMmicoooks