A squire from twenty years ago.

A long time ago I was once invited, by two spinsters, to visit an estate. I had never been to that area before and I found the scenery extremely beautiful and scenic.

l stopped at an inn for some food. The host was easy-going and talkative, benevolent, and willing to accommodate his guests with an endless talk on any subject.

I asked him for some information about the domain I was going to, because I had never been there before, and I wanted to have an idea of where I was going. He told me that no one had lived there for over twenty years, except for a gardener and his wife, but they might not have been completely flesh and blood, he chuckled. There were all kinds of strange stories about that estate. Laughing obliquely, he added that when houses are abandoned, there were always fools to be found spreading the most fantastic nonsense.

l paid my bill and resumed my journey, disappointed that the man would say nothing more about the domain.

I enjoyed the wooded landscape and after about a quarter of an hour, I came to the object that was

the reason for my visit: a large picturesque house, not too large, but imposing because of the noble shape of old trees, casting their shadows over the steep roofs. I turned into a grassy avenue, beneath branches whose foliage, painted in autumnal red, beautifully reflected the rays of the sun. I got out and surveyed the large, somber mansion with large old-fashioned shutters and barred windows, marked by neglect.

Nettles grew thick in the courtyard. There were some tall old trees near the house, hugging it in their

dark shadows.

A lake a little further on added to the melancholy of the whole. I rang the bell; it sounded hollow and unfriendly.

A cheerful fooking man, with a very sharp nose, opened the door. There was little light in the hall. In the semi-darkness, my new acquaintance led me down a wide corridor to a room reserved for my reception. As gloomy as the room looked, it was scrupulously clean.

Tom; the man who had welcomed me invited me for a walk around the mansion. It was a sweet

autumn evening and my guide led the way at a speed that instructed me to keep up. Among the bushes on the northern border of the domain, we lighted upon a small antique parish church. A little way down was a stile that gave access to the cemetery.

The church door opened. The sacristan was replacing his pickaxe and shovel, which he had just used

to dig a grave, under the stone steps of the tower. He was a polite, cunning little hunchbacked man, who was all too eager to show me the church.

With the parting rays of the setting sun, disappearing behind the horizon, I walked around the small

Church, and read the inscriptions under the statues in the church.

The squire, who once was the owner of the estate, died twenty years ago, Tom casually told me as we walked out of the church and back into the graveyard. At his death, the estate was passed to the spinsters. Everyone had been amazed at this because the squire hated the women passionately.

-"Was he a good squire? " I asked.

-

"Good and nice enough. He never hurt a fly in his life. "

Tom agreed, "But who's to say what's in a man's head, or where they're going? He was a little crazy, I think."

-"Out of his mind?" I asked surprised.

"He was a lazy man," Tom replied, "but he knew devilishly well what he was talking about and what he was doing. "

The story sounded puzzling, but I was tired and asked no further questions.

We came to the road that ran past the cemetery, overhung by ancient elms. The road was enclosed by two loose stony walls. Then something passed us in a wild stride in a zigzagging line. Accompanied by a sound that sounded like a scared laugh. It was a human figure, wearing a dress that was part white. I must confess I was quite startled, but it didn't seem to bother Tom in the slightest. He turned to me and said very quietly:

-"He's traveling again tonight. He's been doing it for twenty years. Don't worry, he's just an idiot. "

An idiot who might be dead for twenty years, I thought.

- "Weird stories are told about him." Tom said as he took a firm step forward. Twenty years on the road. That's as long as the squire is dead, I thought.

-

"Let's leave sleeping dogs alone. "

Tom said, trudging ahead of me.

He had lowered his voice and nodded meaningfully. We soon reached the domain again. The twilight that fell over the Jandsca pe, the huge trees, and the outline of the house exerted a gloomy influence

on me. There was no point fighting my drowsiness, so I went to my bedroom where I surrendered to a night of deep sleep.

The next day I was incessantly busy, and by nightfal1 1 settled down comfortably by one of the large windows. I sat aimlessly staring into the dark. There was no moon, and the trees that surrounded the house made the darkness supernaturally deep.

-"Tom." I called. He poked his head around the door and glared at me.

-"Tom, besides you and your wife, was there anyone else in the house last night?

-"Anyone else in the house?" he repeated indignantly. He looked at me very seriously and put his hand on his heart: "Not a living soul. "

-"Were you in my room?" I asked.

-"No!" He made a face as if I had just uttered an impossible insult. " I can take an oath on that. "

"WelI," I began, "I had put out my oil lamp, and yet there was light in my room." f paused for a moment and then continued with my report from the night before: "! saw a hand holding the edge of the door. A very strange hand. Can I see your hands?"

Tom held out his hands for inspection.

-"No," I said, "the hand I saw had a different shape. The middle finger was shorter than the rest of the fingers and the nails were like claws."

Tom turned white around his nose: "Maybe it was the old squire playing tricks." With some pressure I got Tom to explain his mysterious allusions.

Tom said that the squire had died without leaving an official will. He was loved by everyone, and he would never hurt a fly. The domain went to the spinsters who summoned me there. The ladies knew little about managing an estate, and soon things started to go wrong. Strange stories began to circulate. The people of the village said that they saw the old squire walking through the trees at night and that he occasionally touched someone who died a few days toter. Nobody liked to walk in the woods anymore.

-"Are you assuming I believe that stupid ghost story?" I asked annoyed.

Tom looked at me thoughtfully and fixed his eyes on the door that opened slowly. His face suddenly looked so dead. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

The light, wherever it came from, went out, and I couldn't see a hand in front of me. "Look there," Tom said, "Through the window."

In the dark, I staggered to the high window and looked at a small island in the middle of the lake. There was a boat moored to an old post on the water's edge.

-"Can you see it?" whispered Tom in the dark. "The devil? Can you see him?"

Silence filled the room where Tom and I were alone. I still stood by the window and stared at the awakening daylight. I thought I saw something move and I heard a noise that sounded like soft talking and swelled into a dissonant scream.

My whole being was filled with a fear I had never felt before. I looked back at Tom holding a candle in his hand. His eyes were wild, and his face was ruined. He whispered and giggled to himself He held up his hand and stood looking at it as if it were the hand of glory. He walked slowly to the window, climbed through, and disappeared into thin air...

I admit that I was very glad when a few minutes later I heard the sound of an engine in the courtyard, and even more glad when I could take my leave of that derelict house, where, except myself, indeed, not a living soul had spent the night.