Familiar Spirits by Leonard Tourney Read Free Book Online

said. “She must rest.”
    When the women were gone, the three men moved the body to an adjacent room, a small office that during the days of Malcolm Waite’s prosperity, he had used daily. There was a table there, cluttered with papers, which, when cleared, provided a place for the body. Waite was very tall. His legs hung over the table end. John Waite found a coverlet; a candle was placed at the dead man’s head. Then the three men went out, shutting the door behind them.
    John Waite now begged to be excused to go to bed, leaving Matthew and Thomas Crispin to wait the return of the tanner’s wife.
    When they were alone, Matthew asked Crispin his opinion of Margaret’s story. The tanner stroked his beard thoughtfully. “It’s a very strange story, I’ll say that for it. That something was observed at yonder window I make no doubt— Margaret Waite is an honest woman, for all her faults. But that it was Ursula Tusser come for revenge I wonder at, allowing of course that ghosts are and have as much ground in true religion as do angels and other heavenly spirits. Sometimes, however, the conscience works upon the imagination in curious ways and—”
    Matthew interrupted to ask whether the tanner’s wonder was at the reality of the apparition or its motive for appearing in the window. Crispin pondered this, rubbing his hands together as though in a moment he would separate the palms and from between them the answer to the constable’s question would appear. “If Ursula’s spirit has risen from the grave, I suppose it could be with cause. Malcolm and Margaret testified against her at the trial, but then so did others in the town.”
    “I understand from what I have heard that you spoke well of her at her trial.”
    “Spoke justly of her, you mean,” replied Crispin somewhat uneasily. “I extenuated in no way her mischief, nor did I
    magnify it by falsehood or exaggeration. Do not misunderstand, sir, I imply no criticism of Malcolm or Margaret. Their testimony was theirs. I said what I knew. Ursula was a good servant but given to silly fancies as young girls often are. I don’t believe there was any malice in her. Stories about her consorting with demons in the shape of cats and toads were just that—stories. We never saw her with any creature more terrible than a homeless cat or stray dog she would feed kitchen scraps to. I tell you, Mr. Stock, she was unjustly hanged, and if her spirit has visited this house it will not be the last house in Chelmsford she visits.”
    This ominous prediction caused Matthew a certain uneasiness. He looked toward the window where the ghost’s form had been seen. For a moment he thought something moved there, but to his relief he saw no pale, vengeful face, only his own reflection.
    Jane Crispin now returned from upstairs. The signs of strain were beginning to show in her smooth features. “She’s asleep, poor dear,” Jane said, speaking of her sister. She cast an eye on the empty chair at the window and seemed relieved to find the body gone. Then she went over to stand by her husband, who was staring moodily into the fire.
    “How will my brother-in-law’s death be interpreted—officially, I mean?” she asked, regarding Matthew intently.
    “I found no marks upon him to indicate the death was anything other than a natural one. For death by specter the law makes no provision, nor could it do much to bring such ghostly forms to justice if it did.”
    “I have advised my sister to say nothing more of the apparition—at least outside the house,” Jane said. “It will only cause more alarm in the town and a deal of new gossip as well. Cousin John believes the ghost is a figment of my sister’s imagination. I am inclined to agree. The less she says about it, the better.”
    Crispin nodded his head in agreement. Matthew considered Jane’s advice and then said, “As far as I am concerned, the death, though strange, was God’s will. I don’t