The Perfume of Egypt | Page 7

we cannot see pictures well
by this light. Let us go back to the fire, and you shall tell me that old
legend of your family that was so much talked about at college; I never
heard more than the merest fragments of it."
"There is nothing worth calling a legend," said Jack, as we settled down
in the cosy little room he called his study; "nor is it very old, for it
refers only to the latter part of the eighteenth century. The interest of
the story, such as it is, centres round Sir Ralph Fernleigh, the last
baronet, who seems by all accounts to have been a somewhat
questionable character. He is said to have been a strange, reserved man
-- a man of strong passions, iron will, and indomitable pride; he spent
much of his time abroad, and was reported to have acquired enormous
wealth by means that would not bear too close examination. He was
commonly known as "wicked Sir Ralph," and the more superstitious of
his neighbours firmly believed that he had studied the black art during
his long absences in the East. Others hinted that he was owner of a
privateer, and that in those troubled times it was easy for a reckless
man to commit acts of piracy with impunity.
He was credited with a great knowledge of jewels, and was reported to

possess one of the most splendid private collections of them in the
world; but as none were found by his successor, I conclude that unless
they were stolen the story was a myth, like that which represented him
as having bars of gold and silver stacked up in his cellars. It seems
certain that he was really tolerably rich, and that during his later years,
which he spent here, he lived a remarkably retired life. He discharged
all servants but a confidential man of his own, an Italian who had
accompanied him in his wanderings; and these two lived a sort of
hermit-life here all by themselves, holding no intercourse with the outer
world. The universal report was that, though he had stored up great
hoards of ill-gotten wealth, Sir Ralph lived like a miser. The few people
who had seen him whispered darkly of a haunted look always to be
seen on his proud face, and talked beneath their breath of some terrible
secret crime; but I do not know that anything was ever really proved
against him.
One morning, however, he mysteriously disappeared; at least such was
the story of the Italian servant, who came one day to the village asking
in a frightened way in his broken English whether any one had seen his
master. He said that, two days before, Sir Ralph had in the evening
ordered his horse to be saddled early on the following morning, as he
was going on a short journey alone; but when the morning came,
though the horse was ready, he was not. He did not answer to his
servant's calls, and though the latter searched through every room in the
great old house, not a trace of his master could he find. His bed, he said,
had not been slept in that night, and the only theory he could offer was
that he had been carried away by the demons he used to raise. The
villagers suspected foul play, and there was a talk of arresting the
servant -- which, coming to the latter's ears, seems to have alarmed him
so much (in his ignorance of the customs of the country) that he also
mysteriously disappeared that night, and was never seen again.
Two days afterwards an exploring party was formed by the more
adventurous of the villagers. They went all over the house and grounds,
examined every nook and corner, and shouted themselves hoarse; "but
there was no voice, neither any that answered," and from that day to
this no sign either of master or man has ever revisited the light of the

sun. Since the explorers could find none of the rumoured hoards of
money either, it was an accepted article of faith among them that "that
there furriner" had murdered his master, hidden his body, and carried
off the treasure, and of course a story presently arose that Sir Ralph's
ghost had been seen about the place.
They whispered that his room might be known from all the rest in this
dark old house by a peculiar atmosphere of its own, caused by the
constant haunting of the unquiet spirit of the owner; but this soon
became a mere tradition, and now no one knows even in what part of
the house his room was, nor have I ever heard of the ghost's appearance
in my uncle's time, though I know be half-believed in it and never liked