There seemed to be absolutely nothing material about it
save the bedclothes of which it had made itself a body. The Colonel,
who remembered a not very dissimilar occurrence in India, was of the
opinion that if Parkins had closed with it it could really have done
very little, and that its one power was that of frightening. The whole
thing, he said, served to confirm his opinion of the Church of Rome. There is really nothing more to tell, but, as you may imagine, the
Professor’s views on certain points are less clear cut than they used
to be. His nerves, too, have suffered: he cannot even now see a
surplice hanging on a door quite unmoved, and the spectacle of a
scarecrow in a field late on a winter afternoon has cost him more than
one sleepless night. THE TREASURE OF ABBOT THOMAS


I

Verum usque in præsentem diem multa garriunt inter se Canonici de
abscondito quodam istius Abbatis Thomæ thesauro, quem sæpe, quanquam
adhuc incassum, quæsiverunt Steinfeldenses. Ipsum enim Thomam adhuc
florida in ætate existentem ingentem auri massam circa monasterium
defodisse perhibent; de quo multoties interrogatus ubi esset, cum risu
respondere solitus erat: “Job, Johannes, et Zacharias vel vobis vel
posteris indicabunt”; idemque aliquando adiicere se inventuris minime
invisurum. Inter alia huius Abbatis opera, hoc memoria præcipue dignum
iudico quod fenestram magnam in orientali parte alæ australis in
ecclesia sua imaginibus optime in vitro depictis impleverit: id quod et
ipsius effigies et insignia ibidem posita demonstrant. Domum quoque
Abbatialem fere totam restauravit: puteo in atrio ipsius effosso et
lapidibus marmoreis pulchre cælatis exornato. Decessit autem, morte
aliquantulum subitanea perculsus, ætatis suæ anno lxxiido,
incarnationis vero Dominiæ mdxxixo. “I suppose I shall have to translate this,” said the antiquary to
himself, as he finished copying the above lines from that rather rare
and exceedingly diffuse book, the _Sertum Steinfeldense
Norbertinum._[5] “Well, it may as well be done first as last,” and
accordingly the following rendering was very quickly produced:

 [5] An account of the Premonstratensian abbey of Steinfeld, in the
 Eiffel, with lives of the Abbots, published at Cologne in 1712 by
 Christian Albert Erhard, a resident in the district. The epithet
 _Norbertinum_ is due to the fact that St Norbert was founder of the
 Premonstratensian Order. Up to the present day there is much gossip among the Canons about a
certain hidden treasure of this Abbot Thomas, for which those of
Steinfeld have often made search, though hitherto in vain. The story is
that Thomas, while yet in the vigour of life, concealed a very large
quantity of gold somewhere in the monastery. He was often asked where
it was, and always answered, with a laugh: “Job, John, and Zechariah
will tell either you or your successors.” He sometimes added that he
should feel no grudge against those who might find it. Among other
works carried out by this Abbot I may specially mention his filling the
great window at the east end of the south aisle of the church with
figures admirably painted on glass, as his effigy and arms in the
window attest. He also restored almost the whole of the Abbot’s
lodging, and dug a well in the court of it, which he adorned with
beautiful carvings in marble. He died rather suddenly in the
seventy-second year of his age, A.D. 1529. The object which the antiquary had before him at the moment was that of
tracing the whereabouts of the painted windows of the Abbey Church of
Steinfeld. Shortly after the Revolution, a very large quantity of
painted glass made its way from the dissolved abbeys of Germany and
Belgium to this country, and may now be seen adorning various of our
parish churches, cathedrals, and private chapels. Steinfeld Abbey was
among the most considerable of these involuntary contributors to our
artistic possessions (I am quoting the somewhat ponderous preamble of
the book which the antiquary wrote), and the greater part of the glass
from that institution can be identified without much difficulty by the
help, either of the numerous inscriptions in which the place is
mentioned, or of the subjects of the windows, in which several
well-defined cycles or narratives were represented. The passage with which I began my story had set the antiquary on the
track of another identification. In a private chapel—no matter where—he
had seen three large figures, each occupying a whole light in a window,
and evidently the work of one artist. Their style made it plain that
that artist had been a German of the sixteenth century; but hitherto
the more exact localizing of them had been a puzzle. They
represented—will you be surprised to hear it?—JOB PATRIARCHA, JOHANNES
EVANGELISTA, ZACHARIAS PROPHETA, and each of them held a book or
scroll, inscribed with a sentence from his writings. These, as a matter
of course, the antiquary had noted, and had been struck by the curious
way in which they differed from any text of the Vulgate that he had
been able to examine. Thus the scroll in Job’s hand was inscribed:
_Auro est locus in quo absconditur_ (for _conflatur_);[6] on the book
of John was: _Habent in vestimentis suis scripturam quam nemo novit_[7]
(for in _vestimento scriptum_, the following words being taken from
another verse); and Zacharias had: _Super lapidem unum septem oculi
sunt_[8] (which alone of the three presents an unaltered text). [6] There is a place for gold where it is hidden. [7] They have on their raiment a writing which no man knoweth. [8] Upon one stone are seven eyes. A sad perplexity it had been to our investigator to think why these
three personages should have been placed together in one window. There
was no bond of connexion between them, either historic, symbolic, or
doctrinal, and he could only suppose that they must have formed part of
a very large series of Prophets and Apostles, which might have filled,
say, all the clerestory windows of some capacious church. But the
passage from the _Sertum_ had altered the situation by showing that the
names of the actual personages represented in the glass now in Lord
D——’s chapel had been constantly on the lips of Abbot Thomas von
Eschenhausen of Steinfeld, and that this Abbot had put up a painted
window, probably about the year 1520, in the south aisle of his abbey
church. It was no very wild conjecture that the three figures might
have formed part of Abbot Thomas’s offering; it was one which,
moreover, could probably be confirmed or set aside by another careful
examination of the glass. And, as Mr. Somerton was a man of leisure, he
set out on pilgrimage to the private chapel with very little delay. His
conjecture was confirmed to the full. Not only did the style and
technique of the glass suit perfectly with the date and place required,
but in another window of the chapel he found some glass, known to have
been bought along with the figures, which contained the arms of Abbot
Thomas von Eschenhausen.