Chapter 3: 3
"I don't remember any more that was said by either of us about this. Next
day McLeod took to his bed with a chill or something of the kind, and it was
a week or more before he was in school again. And as much as a month went by
without anything happening that was noticeable. Whether or not Mr. Sampson
was really startled, as McLeod had thought, he didn't show it. I am pretty
sure, of course, now, that there was something very curious in his past
history, but I'm not going to pretend that we boys were sharp enough to
guess any such thing.
"There was one other incident of the same kind as the last which I told
you. Several times since that day we had had to make up examples in school
to illustrate different rules, but there had never been any row except when
we did them wrong. At last there came a day when we were going through those
dismal things which people call Conditional Sentences, and we were told to
make a conditional sentence, expressing a future consequence. We did it,
right or wrong, and showed up our bits of paper, and Sampson began looking
through them. All at once he got up, made some odd sort of noise in his
throat, and rushed out by a door that was just by his desk. We sat there for
a minute or two, and then - I suppose it was incorrect - but we went up, I
and one or two others, to look at the papers on his desk. Of course I
thought someone must have put down some nonsense or other, and Sampson had
gone off to report him. All the same, I noticed that he hadn't taken any of
the papers with him when he ran out. Well, the top paper on the desk was
written in red ink - which no one used - and it wasn't in anyone's hand who
was in the class. They all looked at it - McLeod and all - and took their
dying oaths that it wasn't theirs. Then I thought of counting the bits of
paper. And of this I made quite certain: that there were seventeen bits of
paper on the desk, and sixteen boys in the form. Well, I bagged the extra
paper, and kept it, and I believe I have it now. And now you will want to
know what was written on it. It was simple enough, and harmless enough, I
should have said.
"'Si tu non veneris ad me, ego veniam ad te,' which means, I suppose, 'If
you don't come to me, I'll come to you.'"
"Could you show me the paper?" interrupted the listener.
"Yes, I could: but there's another odd thing about it. That same
afternoon I took it out of my locker - I know for certain it was the same
bit, for I made a finger-mark on it and no single trace of writing of any
kind was there on it. I kept it, as I said, and since that time I have tried
various experiments to see whether sympathetic ink had been used, but
absolutely without result.
"So much for that. After about half an hour Sampson looked in again: said
he had felt very unwell, and told us we might go. He came rather gingerly to
his desk, and gave just one look at the uppermost paper: and I suppose he
thought he must have been dreaming: anyhow, he asked no questions.
"That day was a half-holiday, and next day Sampson was in school again,
much as usual. That night the third and last incident in my story happened.
"We - McLeod and I - slept in a dormitory at right angles to the main
building. Sampson slept in the main building on the first floor. There was a
very bright full moon. At an hour which I can't tell exactly, but some time
between one and two, I was woken up by somebody shaking me. It was McLeod,
and a nice state of mind he seemed to be in. 'Come,' he said, - 'come
there's a burglar getting in through Sampson's window.' As soon as I could
speak, I said, 'Well, why not call out and wake everybody up? 'No, no,' he
said, 'I'm not sure who it is: don't make a row: come and look.' Naturally I
came and looked, and naturally there was no one there. I was cross enough,
and should have called McLeod plenty of names: only - I couldn't tell why -
it seemed to me that there was something wrong - something that made me very
glad I wasn't alone to face it. We were still at the window looking out, and
as soon as I could, I asked him what he had heard or seen. 'I didn't hear
anything at all,' he said, 'but about five minutes before I woke you, I
found myself looking out of this window here, and there was a man sitting or
kneeling on Sampson's window-sill, and looking in, and I thought he was
beckoning.' 'What sort of man?' McLeod wriggled. 'I don't know,' he said,
'but I can tell you one thing - he was beastly thin: and he looked as if he
was wet all over: and,' he said, looking round and whispering as if he
hardly liked to hear himself, 'I'm not at all sure that he was alive.'
"We went on talking in whispers some time longer, and eventually crept
back to bed. No one else in the room woke or stirred the whole time. I
believe we did sleep a bit afterwards, but we were very cheap next day.
"And next day Mr. Sampson was gone: not to be found: and I believe no
trace of him has ever come to light since. In thinking it over, one of the
oddest things about it all has seemed to me to be the fact that neither
McLeod nor I ever mentioned what we had seen to any third person whatever.
Of course no questions were asked on the subject, and if they had been, I am
inclined to believe that we could not have made any answer: we seemed unable
to speak about it.
"That is my story," said the narrator. "The only approach to a ghost
story connected with a school that I know, but still, I think, an approach
to such a thing."
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