The Judge's House by bram Stoker.

When the time for his examination drew near, Malcolm Malcolmson made up his mind to go somewhere to read by himself.

He feared the attractions of the sea side, and also he feared completely rural isolation, for of old he knew its charms, and so he determined to find some unpretentious little town where there would be nothing to distract him.

He refrained from asking suggestions from any of his friends, for he argued that each would recommend some place of which he had knowledge and where he had already acquaintances.

As Malcolmson wished to avoid friends, he had no wish to encumber himself with the attention of friends friends, and so he determined to look out for a place for himself.

He packed a portmanteau with some clothes and all the books he required, and then took ticket for the first name on the local time table, which he did not know.

When at the end of three hours journey he alighted at ben Church, he felt satisfy that he had so far obliterated his tracks as to be sure of having a peaceful opportunity of pursuing his studies.

He went straight to the one inn which the sleepy little place contained, and put up for the night.

Ben Church was a market town and once in three weeks was crowded to excess, But for the remainder of the twenty one days it was as attractive as a desert.

Malcolmson looked around the day after his arrival to try to find quarters more isolated than even so quiet an in as the good traveler afforded, there was only one place which took his fancy, and it certainly satisfied his wildest ideas regarding quiet.

In fact, quiet was not the proper word to apply to it.

Desolation was the only term conveying any suitable idea of its isolation.

It was an old, rambling, heavy built house of the Jacobean style, with heavy gables and windows unusually small and set higher than was customary in such houses, and was surrounded with a high brick wall, massively built.

Indeed, on examination it looked more like a fortified house than an ordinary dwelling.

But all these things pleased Malcolmson.

Here, he thought, is the very spot I have been looking for, and if I can get opportunity of using it, I shall be happy.

His joy was increased when he realized beyond doubt that it was not at present inhabited.

From the post office he got the name of the agent who was rarely surprised at the application to rent a part of the old house.

Mister Carnford, the local lawyer and agent, was a genial old gentleman, and frankly confessed his delight at anyone being willing to live in the house.

To tell you the truth, he said, I should be only too happy, on behalf of the owners to let anyone have the house rent free for a term of years, if only to accustom the people here to see it inhabited.

It has been so long empty that some kind of absurd prejudice has grown up about it, and this can be best put down by its occupation, if only, he added, with a sly glance at Malcolmson.

Why a scholar like yourself who wants its quiet for a time.

Malcolmson thought it needless to ask the agent about the absurd prejudice.

He knew he would get more information if he should require it on that subject from other quarters.

He paid his three months rent, got a receipt and the name of an old woman who would probably undertake to do for him, and came away with the keys in his pocket.

He then went to the land lady of the inn, who was a cheerful and most kindly person, and asked her advice as to such stores and provisions as he would be likely to require.

She threw up her hands in amazement when he told her where he was going to settle himself.

Not in the judge's house, she said, and grew pale as she spoke.

He explained the locality of the house, saying that he did not know its name.

When he had finished, she answered, aye, sure enough, sure enough, the very place it is, the judge's house.

Sure enough.

He asked her to tell him about the place why so called, and what there was against it.

She told him that it was so called locally because it had been many years before.

How long she could not say, as she herself was from another part of the country, but she thought it must have been a hundred years or more, the abode of a judge who was held in great terror on account of his harsh sentences and his hostility to prisoners at assizes.

As to what there was against the house itself, she could not tell.

She had often asked, but no one could inform her, but there was a general feeling that there was something, And for her own part, she would not take all the money in drink Water's bank and stay in the house an hour by herself.

Then she apologized to Malcolmson for her disturbing talk.

It is too bad of me, sir, and you and a young gentleman too, if you will pardon me saying it, going to to live there all alone.

If you were my boy, and you'll excuse me for saying it, you wouldn't sleep there a night, not if I had to go there myself and pull the big alarm belvets on the roof.

The good creature was so manifestly in earnest and was so kindly in her intentions that Malcolmson, although amused, was touched.

He told her kindly how much he appreciated her interest in him, and added, but my dear missus witham indeed, you need not be concerned about me.

A man who was reading for the mathematical Tripuss has too much to think of to be disturbed by any of these mysterious somethings, And his work is of too exact and prosaic a kind to allow of his having any corner in his mind for mysteries of any kind.

Harmonical progression, permutations and combinations, and elliptical functions have sufficient mysteries for me.

Missus Witham kindly undertook to see after his commissions, and he went himself to look for the old woman who had been and recommended to him.

When he returned to the judge's house with her, after an interval of a couple of hours, he found Missus Witham herself waiting with several men and boys carrying parcels, and an upholsterer's man with a bed in a car.

For she said, though tables and chairs might be all very well, a bed that hadn't been aired for mayhap fifty years was not proper for young bones to lie on.

She was evidently curious to see the inside of the house, and though manifestly so afraid of this somethings, that at the slightest sound she clutched on to Malcolmson, whom she never left for a moment, went over the whole place.

After his examination of the house, Malcolmson decided to take up his abode in the great dining room, which was big enough to serve for all his requirements, and Missus witham.

With the aid of the charwoman, Missus Dempster, proceeded to arrange matters.

When the hampers were brought in and unpacked, Malcolmson saw that, with much kind forethought, she had sent from her own kitchen sufficient provisions to last for a few days.

Before going, she expressed all sorts of kind wishes, and at the door turned and said, and perhaps, sir, as the room is big and drafty, it might be well to have one of those big screens put round your bed at night.

Though, to tell the truth, I would die myself if I were to be so shut in with all kinds of things that put their heads round the sides or over the top and look on me.

The image which she had called up was too much for her nerves, and she fled incontinently.

Missus Dempster sniffed in a superior manner as the landlady disappeared, and remarked that for her own part, she wasn't afraid of all the bogies in the kingdom.

I'll tell you what it is, sir, she said, Bogies as all kinds and sorts of things, except bogies, rats, and mice and beetles and creaky doors and loose slates and broken panes and stiff drawer handles that stay out when you pull them and then fall down in the middle of the night.

Look at the wainscot of this room.

It is old, hundreds of years old.

Do you think there's no rats and beetles there?

And do you imagine, sir, that you won't see none of them?

Rats as bogies, I tell you, and bogies as rats.

And don't you get to think anything else, missus dempster, said Malcolmson, gravely, making her a polite bow.

You know more than a senior wrangler.

And let me say that as a mark of esteem for your indubitable soundness of head and heart, I shall, when I go, give you possession of this house and let you stay here by yourself for the last two months of my tenancy for four weeks.

Will serve my purpose.

Thank you kindly, sir, she answered.

But I couldn't sleep away from home a night.

I am in Greenhouse charity, and if I slept the night away from my rooms, I should lose all I have got to live on.

The rules is very strict, and there's too many watching for a vacancy for me to run any risks in the matter.

Only for that, sir, I'd gladly come here and attend on you altogether during your stay, my good woman, said Malcolmson hastily.

I have come here on purpose to obtain solitude.

And believe me that I am grateful to the Late greenhow for having so organized his admirable charity.

Whatever it is that I am perforce denied the opportunity of suffering from such a form of temptation.

Saint Anthony himself could not be more rigid on the point.

The old woman laughed harshly.

Ah, you young gentlemen, she said, you don't fear for nought, and belike you'll get all the solitude you want here.

She set to work with her cleaning, and by nightfall when Malcolmson returned from his walk, he always had one of his books to study.

As he walked.

He found the room swept and tidied, a fire burning in the old hearth, the lamp lit, and the tables spread for supper with Missus Whham's excellent fare.

This is comfort, indeed, he said, as he rubbed his hands.

When he had finished his supper, and lifted the tray to the other end of the great oak dining table.

He got out his books again, put fresh wood on the fire, trimmed his lamp, and set himself down to a spell of real hard work.

He went on without pause till about eleven o'clock, when he knocked off for a bit to fix his fire and lamp and to make himself a cup of tea.

He had always been a tea drinker, and during his college life had sat late at work and taken tea late.

The rest was a great luxury to him, and he enjoyed it with a sense of delicious, voluptuous ease.

The renewed fire leaped and sparkled and through quaint shadows through the great old room, and as he sipped his hot tea, he reveled in the sense of isolation from his kind.

Then it was that he began to notice for the first time what a noise the rats were making.

Surely, he thought they could not have been at it all the time I was reading.

Had they been, I must have noticed it presently.

When the noise increased, he satisfied himself that it was really new.

It was evident that at first the rats had been frightened at the presence of a stranger and the light of the fire and lamp, but that as the time went on they had grown bolder and were now disporting themselves as was their wont how busy they were, and hark to the strange noises.

Up and down behind the old wainscot, over the ceiling, and under the floor they raced and gnawed and scratched.

Malcolmson smiled to himself as he recalled to mind the saying of Missus Dempster, bogies as rats, and rats as bogies.

The tea began to have its effect of intellectual and nervous stimulus, and he saw with joy another long spell of work to be done before the night was passed.

And in the sense of security which it gave him, he lowed himself the luxury of a good look around the room.

He took his lamp in one hand and went all around, wondering that so quaint and beautiful an old house had been so long neglected.

The carving of the oak on the panels of the wainscot was fine, and on and round the doors and windows.

It was beautiful and of rare merit.

There were some old pictures on the walls, but they were coated so thick with dust and dirt that he could not distinguish any detail of them, though he held his lamp as high as he could over his head.

Here and there, as he went round he saw some crack or hole blocked for a moment by the face of a rat, with its bright eyes glittering in the light.

But in an instant it was gone, and a squeak and a scamper followed.

The thing that most struck him, however, was the rope of the great alarm bell on the roof, which hung down in a corner of the room, on the right hand side of the fireplace.

He pulled up close to the hearth a great, high backed, carved oak chair, and sat down to his last cup of tea.

When this was done, he made up the fire and went back to his work, sitting at the corner of the table, having the fire to his left.

For a little while, the rats disturbed him somewhat with their perpetual scampering, but he got accustomed to the noise, as one does to the ticking of a clock or to the roar of moving water, and he became so immersed in his work, that everything in the world except the problem which he was trying to solve, passed away from him.

He suddenly looked up.

His problem was still unsolved, and there was in the air that sense of the hour before the dawn, which is so dread to doubtful life.

The noise of the rats had ceased.

Indeed, it seemed to him that it must have ceased but lately, and that it was the sudden cessation which had disturbed him.

The fire had fallen low, but still it threw out a deep red glow.

As he looked, he started in spite of his sang freud.

There on the great, high backed, carved oak chair by the right side of the fireplace sat an enormous rat, steadily glaring at him with baleful eyes.

He made a motion to it, as though to hunt it away, but it did not stir.

Then he made the motion of throwing something.

Still it did not stir, but showed its great white teeth angrily, and its cruel eyes shone in the lamplight with an added vindictiveness.

Malcolmson felt amazed, and, seizing the poker from the hearth, ran at it to kill it.

Before, however, he could strike it.

The rat, with a squeak that sounded like the concentration of hate, jumped upon the floor, and running up the rope of the alarm bell, disappeared in the darkness beyond the range of the green shaded lamp.

Instantly strange to say, the noisy scampering of the rats in the wainscot began again.

By this time Malcolmson's mind was quite off the problem, and as a shrill cock crow outside told him of the approach of morning, he went to bed and to sleep.

He slept so sound that he was not even waked by Missus Dempster coming in to make up his room.

It was only when she had tidied up the place and got his breakfast ready, and tapped on the screen which closed in his bed, that he woke.

He was a little tired still after his night's hard work, but a strong cup of tea soon freshened him up, and taking his book, he went out for his morning walk, bringing with him a few sandwiches lest he should not care to return till dinner time.

He found a quiet walk between high elms some way outside the town, and here he spent the greater part of the day studying his laplace.

On his return, he looked in to see Missus witham and to thank her for her kindness.

When she saw him coming through the diamond paned bay window of her sanctum, she came out to meet him and asked him in.

She looked at him searchingly and shook her head as she said, you must not overdo it, sir.

You are peeler this morning than you should be.

Two late hours and too hard work on the brain isn't good for any man.

But tell me, sir, how did you pass the night?

Well?

I hope, but my heart, sir, I was glad when Missus Dempster told me this morning that you were all right and sleeping sound when she went in.

Oh, I was all right, he answered, smiling.

The somethings didn't worry me as yet, only the rats, and they had a circus.

I tell you, all over the place there was one wicked looking old devil that sat up on my own chair by the fire and wouldn't go till I took the poker to him.

And then he ran up the rope of the alarm bell and got to somewhere up the wall or the ceiling.

I couldn't see where it was so dark.

Mercy on us, said missus, witham an old devil and sitting on a chair by the fireside.

Take care, sir, take care.

There's many a true word spoken in jest.

How do you mean upon my word?

I don't understand an old devil?

The old devil?

Perhaps there, sir, you needn't laugh, for Malcolmson had broken into a hearty peal.

You young folks thinks it's easy to laugh at things that make older ones shudder.

Never mind, sir, never mind, Please God, you'll laugh all the time.

It's what I wish for you myself.

And the good lady beamed all over in sympathy with his enjoyment, her fears gone for a moment.

Oh, forgive me, said Malcolmson.

Presently, don't think me rude, But the idea was too much for me.

That the old devil himself was on the chair last night, And at the thought he laughed again.

Then he went home to dinner this evening.

The scampering of the rats began earlier, indeed, it had been going on before his arrival, and only ceased while his presence, by its freshness, disturbed them.

After dinner, he sat by the fire for a while and had a smoke, and then, having cleared his table, began to work as before to night.

The rats disturbed him more than they had done on the previous night.

How they scampered up and down, and over and under, how they squeaked and scratched and gnawed, How they, getting bolder by degrees, came to the mouths of their homes, and to the chinks and cracks and crannies in the wains cutting, till their eyes shone like tiny lamps as the firelight rose and fell.

But to him, now doubtless accustomed to them, their eyes were not wicked.

Only their playfulness touched him.

Sometimes the boldest of them made sallies out on the floor or along the moldings of the wainscot.

Now and again, as they disturbed him, Malcolmson made a sound to frighten them, smiting the table with his hand, or giving a fierce shsh so that they fled straightway to their holes.

And so the early part of the night wore on, and despite the noise, Malcolmson got more and more immersed in his work.

All at once he stopped, as on the previous night, being overcome by a sudden sense of silence.

There was not the faintest sound of gnaw or scratch or squeak.

The silence was as of the grave.

He remembered the odd occurrence of the previous night, and instinctively he looked at the chair and enclose by the fireside, and then a very odd sensation thrilled through him.

There on the great, old, high backed carved oak chair beside the fireplace sat the same enormous rat, steadily glaring at him with baleful eyes.

Instinctively, he took the nearest thing to his hand, a book of logarithms, and flung it at it.

The book was badly aimed, and the rat did not stir.

So again the poker performance of the previous night was repeated, and again the rat, being closely pursued, fled up the rope of the alarm bell.

Strangely, too, the departure of this rat was instantly followed by the renewal of the noise made by the general rat community.

On this occasion, as on the previous one, Malcolmson could not see at what part of the room the rat disappeared, for the green shade of his lamp left the upper part of the room in darkness, and the fire had burned low.

On looking at his watch, he found it was close on midnight, and not sorry for the divertisse mont, he made up his fire and made himself his nightly pot of tea.

He had got through a good spell of work and thought himself entitled to a cigarette, and so he sat on the great oak chair before the fire and enjoyed it.

Whilst smoking, he began to think that he would like to know where the rat disappeared to, for he had certain ideas for the morrow, not entirely disconnected with a rat trap.

Accordingly, he lit another lamp and placed it so that it would shine well into the right hand corner of the wall by the fireplace.

Then he got all the books he had with him and placed them handy to throw at the vermin.

Finally, he lifted the rope of the alarm bell and placed the end of it on the table, fixing the extreme end under the lamp.

As he handled it, he could not help noticing how pliable it was, especially for so strong a rope and one not in use.

You could hang a man with it, he thought to himself.

When his preparations were made, He looked around and said complacently.

There now, my friend, I think we shall learn something of you.

This time.

He began his work again, and, though as before, somewhat disturbed at first by the noise of the rats, soon lost himself in his propositions and problems.

Again he was called to his immediate surroundings suddenly.

This time it might not have been the sudden silence only which took his attention.

There was a slight movement of the rope, and the lamp moved without stirring.

He looked to see if his pile of books was within range, and then cast his eye along the rope.

As he looked, he saw the great rat drop from the rope on the oak arm chair and sit there glaring at him.

He raised the book in his right hand, and taking careful aim, flung it at the rat.

The latter, with a quick movement, sprang aside and dodged the missile.

He then took another book and a third and flung them one after another at the rat, but each time unsuccessfully.

At last, as he stood with a book poised in his hand to throw, the rat squeaked and seemed afraid.

This made Malcolmson more than ever eager to strike, and the book flew and struck the rat a resounding blow, and it gave a terrified squeak, and, turning on his pursuer a look of terrible malevolence, sprang up the chair back and made a great jump to the rope of the alarm bell, and ran up it like lightning.

The lamp rocked under the sudden strain, but it was a heavy one and did not topple over.

Malcolmson kept his eyes on the rat and saw it, by the light of the second lamp, leap to a molding of the wainscot and disappear through a hole in one of the great pictures which hung on the wall, obscured and invisible through its coating of dirt and dust.

I shall look up my friend's habitation in the morning, said the student, as he went over to collect his books.

The third picture from the fireplace, I shall not forget.

He picked up the books one by one, commenting on them as he lifted them.

Conic sections he does not mind, nor secloidal oscillations, nor the principia, nor quaternions, nor thermodynamics.

Now for the book that fetched him, Malcolmson took it up and looked at it.

As he did so, he started, and a sudden pallor overspread his face.

He looked round uneasily and shivered slightly as he murmured to himself, the Bible, my mother gave me.

What an odd coincidence.

He sat down to work again, and the rats in the wains got renewed their gambols.

They did not disturb him, however, somehow their presence gave him a sense of companionship.

But he could not attend to his work, and, after striving to master the subject on which he was engaged, gave it up in despair and went to bed.

As the first streak of dawn stole in through the eastern window.

He slept heavily but uneasily, and dreamed much.

And when Missus Dempster woke him late in the morning, he seemed ill at ease, and for a few minutes did not seem to reach realize exactly where he was.

His first request rather surprised the servant Missus Dempster.

When I am out to day, I wish you would get the steps and dust or wash those pictures, especially that one third from the fireplace.

I want to see what they are.

Late in the afternoon, Malcolmson worked at his books in the shaded walk, and the cheerfulness of the previous day came back to him as the day wore on, and he found that his reading was progressing well.

He had worked out to a satisfactory conclusion all the problems which had yet baffled him, and it was in a state of jubilation that he paid a visit to Missus Wham at the Good Traveler.

He found a stranger in the cozy sitting room with the landlady, who was introduced to him as doctor Thornhill.

She was not quite at ease, and this, combined with the doctors plunging at once into a series of questions, made Malcolmson come to the conclusion that his presence was not an accident.

So without preliminary he said, Doctor Thornhill, I shall with pleasure answer you any question you may choose to ask me, if you will answer me one question first.

The doctor seemed surprised, but he smiled and answered at once done.

What is it?

Did missus Wham ask you to come here and see me and advise me?

Doctor Thornhill for a moment was taken aback, and Missus Witham got fiery red and turned away.

But the doctor was a frank and ready man, and he answered at once and openly.

She did, but she didn't intend you to know it.

I suppose it was my clumsy haste that made you suspect.

She told me that she did not like the idea of your being in that house all by yourself, and that she thought you took too much strong tea.

In fact, she wants me to advise you, if possible, to give up the tea in the very late hours.

I was a keen student in my time, so I suppose I may take the liberty of a college man and without offense advise you, not quite as a stranger.

Malcolmson the bright smile, held out his hand shake, as they say in America.

He said, I must thank you for your kindness, and Missus Witham too, and your kindness deserves a return on my part.

I promised to take no more strong tea, no tea at all till you let me, and I shall go to bed to night at one o'clock at the latest.

Will that do, capital, said the doctor.

Now tell us all that you noticed in the old house, and so Malcolmson then and there told in minute detail all that had happened in the last two nights.

He was interrupted every now and then by some exclamation from Missus w Withdam, till finally, when he told of the episode of the Bible, the landlady's pent up emotions found vent in a shriek, and it was not till a stiff glass of brandy and water had been administered that she grew composed again.

Doctor Thornhill listened with a face of growing gravity, and when the narrative was complete and Missus Witham had been restored, he asked, the rat always went up the rope of the alarm bell always, I suppose you know, said the doctor, after a pause.

What the rope is?

No, it is, said the doctor slowly, the very rope which the hangman used for all the victims of the judge's judicial ranker.

Here he was interrupted by another scream from Missus Wham, and steps had to be taken for her recovery.

Malcolmson, having looked at his watch and found that it was close to his dinner hour, had gone home before her complete recovery.

When Missus Whitamer was herself again, she almost assailed the doctor with angry questions as to what he meant by putting such horrible ideas into the poor young man's mind.

He has quite enough there already to upset him, she added.

Doctor Thornhill replied, my dear madam, I had a distinct purpose in it.

I wanted to draw his attention to the bell rope and to fix it there.

It may be that he is in a highly overwrought state and has been studying too much, although I am bound to say that he seems as sound and healthy a young man mentally and bodily as ever I saw.

But then the rats and that suggestion of the devil.

The doctor shook his head and went on, I would have offered to go and stay the first night with him, but that I felt sure it would have been a cause of offense.

He may get in the night some strange fright or hallucination, and if he does, I want him to pull that rope all alone as he is.

It will give us warning and we may reach him in time to be of service.

I shall be sitting up pretty late tonight and shall keep my ears open.

Do not be alarmed if ben Church gets a surprise before morning.

Oh, doctor, what do you mean?

What do you mean?

I mean this that possibly, nay more probably, we shall hear the great alarm bell from the Judge's house tonight, And the doctor made about as effective an exit as could be thought of.

When Malcolmson arrived home, he found that it was a little after his usual time, and Missus Dempster had gone away.

The rules of Greenhouse charity were not to be neglected.

He was glad to see that the place was bright and tidy, with a cheerful fire and a well trimmed lamp.

The evening was colder than might have been expected in April, and a heavy wind was blowing with such rapidly increasing strength that there was every promise of a storm during the night.

For a few minutes after his entrance, the noise of the rats ceased, but so soon as they became accustomed to his presence they began again.

He was glad to hear them, for he felt once more the feeling of companionship in their noise, and his mind ran back to the strange fact that they only ceased to manifest themselves when that other, the great rat with the baleful eyes, came upon the scene.

The reading lamp only was lit, and its green shade kept the ceiling in the upper part of the room in darkness, so that the cheerful light from the hearth, spreading over the floor and shining on the white cloth laid over the end of the table, was warm and cheer Malcolmson sat down to his dinner with a good appetite and a buoyant spirit.

After his dinner and a cigarette, he sat steadily down to work, determined not to let anything disturb him, for he remembered his promise to the doctor and made up his mind to make the best of the time at his disposal.

For an hour or so he worked all right, and then his thoughts began to wander from his books the actual circumstances around him.

The calls on his physical attention and his nervous susceptibility were not to be denied.

By this time, the wind had become a gale, and the gale a storm.

The old house solid, though it was, seemed to shake to its foundations, and the storm roared and raged through its many chimneys and its queer old gables, producing strange, unearthly sounds in the empty rooms and corridors.

Even the great alarm bell on the roof must have felt the force of the wind, for the rope rose and fell slightly, as though the bell were moved a little from time to time, and the limber rope fell on the oak floor with a hard and hollow sound.

As Malcolmson listened to it, he bethought himself of the doctor's words, it is the rope which the hangman used for the victims of the judge's judicial rancor.

And he went over to the turner of the fireplace and took it in his hand to look at it.

There seemed a sort of deadly interest in it, and as he stood there, he lost himself for a moment in speculation as to who these victims were, and the grim wish of the judge to have such a ghastly relic ever under his eyes.

As he stood there, the swaying of the bell on the roof still lifted the rope now and again.

But presently there came a new sensation, a sort of tremor in the rope, as though something was moving along it.

Looking up instinctively, Malcolmson saw the great rat coming slowly down towards him, glaring at him steadily he dropped the rope and started back with a muttered curse, and the rat, turning, ran up the rope again and disappe apeared.

And at the same instant Malcolmson became conscious that the noise of the rats, which had ceased for a while, began again.

All this set him thinking, and it occurred to him that he had not investigated the lair of the rat or looked at the pictures as he had intended.

He lit the other lamp without the shade, and holding it up, went and stood opposite the third picture from the fireplace on the right hand side, where he had seen the rat disappear on the previous night.

At the first glance, he started back so suddenly that he almost dropped the lamp, and a deadly pallor overspread his face.

His knees shook, and heavy drops of sweat came on his forehead, and he trembled like an aspen.

But he was young and plucky and pulled himself together, and after the pause of a few seconds, stepped forward again, raised the lamp and examined the picture, which had been dusted and washed and now stood out clearly.

It was of a judge dressed in his robes of scarlet and ermine.

His face was strong and merciless, evil, crafty, and vindictive, with a sensual mouth, hooked nose of ruddy color, and shaped like the beak of a bird of prey.

The rest of the face was of a cadaverous color.

The eyes were of peculiar brilliance and with a terribly malignant expression.

As he looked at them, Malcolmson grew cold, for he saw there the very counterpart of the eyes of the great rat.

The lamp almost fell from his hand.

He saw the rat with its baleful eyes, peering out through the hole in the corner of the picture, and noted the sudden cessation of the noise of the other rats.

However, he pulled himself together and went on with his examination of the picture.

The judge was seated in a great, high backed, carved oak chair on the right side of a great stone fireplace, where in the corner a rope hung down from the ceiling, its end lying coiled on the floor.

With a feeling of something like horror, Malcolmson recognized the scene of the room as it stood, and gazed around him in an awe struck manner, as though he expected to find some strange presence behind him.

Then he looked over to the corner of the fireplace, and with a very loud cry, he let the lamp fall from his hand.

There in the judge's arm chair, with the rope hanging behind, sat the rat with the judge's baleful eyes, now intensified and with a fiendish leer.

Save for the howling of the storm, without there was silence.

The fallen lamp, recalled Malcolmson to himself.

Fortunately it was of metal, and so the oil was not spilt.

However, the practical need of attending to it settled at once his nervous apprehensions.

When he had turned it out, he wiped his brow and thought for a moment.

This will not do, he said to himself.

If I go on like this, I shall become a crazy fool.

This must stop, I promised the doctor I would not take tea faith.

He was pretty right.

My nerves must have been getting into a queer state.

Funny, I did not notice it.

I never felt better in my life.

However, it is all right now, and I shall not be such a fool again.

Then he mixed himself a good stiff glass of brandy and water, and resolutely sat down to his work.

It was nearly an hour when he looked up from his book, disturbed by the sudden stillness without.

The wind howled and roared louder than ever, and the rain drove in sheets against the windows, beating like hail on the glass.

But within there was no sound whatever, save the echo of the wind as it roared in the great chimney.

And now and then a hiss as a few rain drops found their way down the chimney in a lull of the storm.

The fire had fallen low and had ceased to flame, though it threw out a red glow.

Malcolmson listened attentively and presently heard a thin squeaking noise, very faint.

It came from the corner of the room, where the rope hung down, and he thought it was the creaking of the rope on the floor as the swaying of the bell raised and lowered it.

Looking up, however, he saw in the dim light the great rat clinging to the rope and gnawing it.

The rope was already nearly gnawed through.

He could see the lighter color where the strands were laid bare.

As he looked the job was completed, and the severed end of the rope fell clattering on the oaken floor, whilst for an instant the great rat remained like a knob or tassel at the end of the rope, which now began to sway to and fro.

Malcolmson felt for a moment another pang of terror, as he thought that now the possibility of calling the outer world to his assistance was cut off, But an intense anger took its place, and, seizing the book he was reading, he hurled it at the rat.

The blow was well aimed, but before the missile could reach him, the rat dropped off and struck the floor with a soft thud.

Malcolmson instantly rushed over towards him, but it darted away and disappeared in the darkness of the shadows of the room.

Malcolmson felt that his work was over for the night, and determined then and there to vary the monotony of the proceedings by a hunt for the rat, and took off the green shade of the lamp so as to ensure a wider spreading light.

As he did so, the gloom of the upper part of the room was relieved and in the new flood of light great by comparison with the previous darkness, the pictures on the wall stood out boldly.

From where he stood, Malcolmson saw right opposite to him the third picture on the wall, from the right of the fireplace.

He rubbed his eyes in surprise, and then a great fear began to come upon him.

In the center of the picture was a great irregular patch of brown canvas, as fresh as when it was stretched on the frame.

The background was as before, with chair and chimney, corner and rope, but the figure of the Judge had disappeared.

Malcolmson, almost in a chill of horror, turned slowly round, and then he began to shake and tremble, like a man in a palsy.

His strength seemed to have left him, and he was incapable of action or movement, hardly even of thought.

He could only see and hear.

There on the great, high backed, carved oak chair sat the Judge in his robes of scarlet and ermine, with his baleful eyes glaring vindictively, and a smile of triumph on the resolute cruel mouth, as he lifted with his hands a black cap.

Malcolmson felt as if the blood was running from his heart, as one does in moments of prolonged suspense.

There was a singing in his ears.

Without he could hear the roar and holl of the tempest, and through it swept on the storm.

Came the striking of midnight by the great chimes in the market place.

He stood for a space of time that seemed to him envys still as a statue with wide open horror struck eyes, breathless.

As the clock struck, so the smile of triumph on the judge's face intensified, and at the last stroke of midnight he placed the black cap on his head.

Slowly and deliberately, the judge rose from his chair and picked up the piece of the rope of the alarm bell, which lay on the floor, drew it through his hands as if he enjoyed its touch, and then deliberately began to knock one end of it, fashioning it into a noose.

This he tightened and tested with his foot, pulling hard at it till he was satisfied, and then making a running noose of it, which he held in his hand.

Then he began to move along the table on the opposite side to Malcolmson, keeping his eyes on him until he had passed him, when, with a quick movement, he stood in front of the door.

Malcolmson then began to feel that he was and tried to think of what he should do.

There was some fascination in the judge's eyes, which he never took off him, and he had perforce to look.

He saw the judge approach, still keeping between him and the door, and raise the noose and throw it towards him, as if to entangle him with a great effort.

He made a quick movement to one side and saw the rope fall beside him, and heard it strike the oaken floor.

Again, the judge raised the noose and tried to ensnare him, ever keeping his baleful eyes fixed on him, and each time, by a mighty effort, the student just managed to evade it.

So this went on for many times, the judge seeming never discouraged nor discomposed at failure, but playing as a cat does with a mouse.

At last, in despair which had reached its climax, Malcolmson cast a quick glance round him.

The lamp seemed to have blazed up, and there was a fairly good light in the room, at the many rat holes, and in the chinks and crannies of the Waine's cup, he saw the rat's eyes, and this aspect that was purely physical, gave him a gleam of comfort.

He looked around and saw that the rope of the great alarm bell was laden with rats.

Every inch of it was covered with them, and more and more were pouring through the small circular hole in the ceiling whence it emerged, so that with their weight, the bell was beginning to sway.

Hark it had swayed till the clapper had touched the bell.

The sound was but a tiny one, but the bell was only beginning to sway, and it would increase.

At the sound, the judge, who had been keeping his eyes fixed on Malcolmson, looked up, and a scowl of diabolical anger overspread his face.

His eyes fairly glowed like hot coals, and he stamped his foot with a sound that seemed to make the house shake.

A dreadful peal of thunder broke overhead as he raised the rope again, whilst the rats kept running up and down the rope as though working against time.

This time, instead of throwing it, he drew close to his victim and held open the noose as he approached.

As he came closer, there seemed something paralyzing in his very presence, and Malcolmson stood rigid as a corpse.

He felt the judge's icy fingers touch his throat as he adjusted the rope.

The noose tightened, tightened.

Then the judge, taking the rigid form of the student in his arms, carried him over and placed him standing in the oak chair, and stepped up beside him.

Put his hand up and caught the end of the swaying rope of the alarm bell.

As he raised his hand, the rats fled, squeaking and disappeared through the hole in the ceiling.

Taking the end of the noose which was round Malcolmson's neck, he tied it to the hanging bell rope, and then, descending, pulled away the chair.

When the alarm bell of the judge's house began to sound, a crowd soon assembled.

Lights and torches of various kinds appeared, and soon a silent crowd was hurrying to the spot.

They knocked loudly at the door, but there was no reply.

Then they burst in the door and poured into the great dining room, the doctor at the head.

There, at the end of the rope of the great alarm bell hung the body of the student, And on the face of the judge in the picture was a malignant smile.

End of the Judge's House by Bram Stoker.