The Most Interesting Stories of All Nations

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"For mercy's sake, don't let's go too near it!" exclaimed some of
the young ladies. But the majority thought it would be great fun
to see what was hidden there. Most of the men said that they
considered it foolish not to have opened the door long ago, and
examined the room. The young bridegroom did not join in this
opinion, however. He upheld the decision of his mother-in-law not
to allow any attempt to effect an entrance into the room. He knew
that there was a clause in the title deeds to the house which made
the express stipulation that no owner should ever permit the corner
room to be opened. There was discussion among the guests as to
whether such a clause in a title deed could be binding for several
hundred years, and many doubted its validity at any time. But most
of them understood why Madame Wolff did not wish any investigation,
even should any of those present have sufficient courage to dare
the curse and break open the door.

"Nonsense! What great courage is necessary for that?" exclaimed
Lieutenant Flemming Wolff, a cousin of the bride of the evening.
This gentleman had a reputation that was not of the best. He was
known to live mostly on debt and pawn tickets, and was of a most
quarrelsome disposition. As a duelist he was feared because of his
specialty. This was the ability, and the inclination, through a
trick in the use of the foils, to disfigure his opponent's face
badly, without at all endangering his life. In this manner he had
already sadly mutilated several brave officers and students, who
had had the bad luck to stand up against him. He himself was
anything but pleasant to look upon, his natural plainness having
been rendered repellent by a life of low debauchery. He cherished
a secret grudge against the bridegroom and bitter feelings toward
the bride, because the latter had so plainly shown her aversion for
him when he had ventured to pay suit to her.

The family had not desired any open break with this disagreeable
relative, and had therefore sent him an invitation to the wedding.
They had taken it for granted that, under the circumstances, he
would prefer to stay away. But he had appeared at the ball, and,
perhaps to conceal his resentment, he had been the most
indefatigable dancer of the evening. At supper he had partaken
freely of the strongest wines, and was plainly showing the effect
of them by this time. His eyes rolled wildly, and those who knew
him took care not to contradict him, or to have anything to say to
him at all.

With a boastful laugh he repeated his assertion that it didn't take
much courage to open a sealed door, especially when there might be
a fortune concealed behind it. In his opinion it was cowardly to
let oneself be frightened by a century-old legend. HE wouldn't let
that bother him if HE had influence enough in the family to win the
daughter and induce the mother to give a ball in the haunted hall.
With this last hit he hoped to arouse the young husband's ire. But
the latter merely shrugged his shoulders and turned away with a
smile of contempt.

Lieutenant Wolff fired up at this, and demanded to know whether the
other intended to call his, the lieutenant's, courage into question
by his behavior.

"Not in the slightest, when it is a matter of obtaining a loan, or
of mutilating an adversary with a trick at fencing," answered the
bridegroom angrily, taking care, however, that neither the bride
nor any of the other ladies should hear his words. Then he
continued in a whisper: "But I don't believe you'd have the courage
to remain here alone and in darkness, before this closed door, for
a single hour. If you wish to challenge me for this doubt, I am at
your disposal as soon as you have proven me in the wrong. But I
choose the weapons."

"They must be chosen by lot, sir cousin," replied the lieutenant,
his cheek pale and his jaws set. "I will expect you to breakfast
to-morrow morning at eight o'clock."

The bridegroom nodded, and took the other's cold dry hand for an
instant. The men who had overheard the short conversation looked
upon it as a meaningless incident, the memory of which would
disappear from the lieutenant's brain with the vanishing wine
fumes.

The ball was now over. The bride left the hall with her husband
and several of the guests who were to accompany the young couple to
their new home. The lights went out in the old house. The door of
the dancing hall had been locked from the outside. Lieutenant
Flemming Wolff remained alone in the room, having hidden himself in
a dark corner where he had not been seen by the servants, who had
extinguished the lights and locked the door. The night watchman
had just called out two o'clock when the solitary guest found
himself, still giddy from the heavy wine, alone in the great dark
hall in front of the mysterious door.

The windows were at only a slight elevation from the street, and a
spring would take him to safety should his desire to remain there,
or to solve the mystery of the sealed room, vanish. But next
morning all the windows in the great hall were found closed, just
as the servants had left them the night before. The night watchman
reported that he had heard a hollow-sounding crash in that
unoccupied part of the house during the night. But that was
nothing unusual, as there was a general belief in the neighborhood
that the house was haunted.

For hollow noises were often heard there, and sounds as of money
falling on the floor, and rattling and clinking as of a factory
machine. Enlightened people, it is true, explained these sounds as
echoes of the stamping and other natural noises from a large stable
just behind the old house. But in spite of these explanations and
their eminent feasibility, the dread of the unoccupied portion of
the house was so great that not even the most reckless man servant
could be persuaded to enter it alone after nightfall.

Next morning at eight o'clock Winther appeared at his mother-in-
law's door, saying that he had forgotten something of importance in
the great hall the night before. Madame Wolff had not yet arisen,
but the maid who let in the early visitor noticed with surprise
that he had a large pistol sticking out of one of his pockets.

Winther had been to his cousin's apartment and found it locked. He
now entered the great hall, and at first glance thought it empty.
To his alarm and astonishment, however, he saw that the sealed door
had been broken open. He approached it with anxiety, and found his
wife's cousin, the doughty duelist, lying pale and lifeless on the
threshold. Beside him lay a large stone which had struck his head
in falling and must have killed him at once. Over the door was a
hole in the wall, just the size of the stone. The latter had
evidently rested on the upper edge of the door, and must certainly
have fallen on its opening. The unfortunate man lay half in the
mysterious chamber and half in the hall, just as he must have
fallen when the stone struck him.

The formal investigation of the closed room was made in the
presence of the police authorities. It contained nothing but a
small safe which was built into the wall. When the safe had been
opened by force, an inner chamber, which had to be broken open by
itself, was found to contain a number of rolls of gold pieces, many
jewels and numerous notes and I. O. U.'s. The treasure was covered
by an old document. From this latter it was learned that the owner
of the house two hundred years ago had been a silk weaver by the
name of Flemming Ambrosius Wolff. He was said to have lent money
on security for many years, but had died apparently a poor man,
because he had so carefully hidden his riches that little of it was
found after his death.

With a niggardliness that bordered on madness, he had believed that
he could hide his treasure forever by shutting it up in the sealed
room. The curse over the door was to frighten away any venturesome
mortal, and further security was given by the clause in the title
deed.

The universally disliked Lieutenant Flemming Wolff must have had
many characteristics in common with this disagreeable old ancestor,
to whose treasure he would have fallen heir had he not lost his
life in the discovering of it. The old miser had not hidden his
wealth for all eternity, as he had hoped, but had only brought
about the inheriting of it by Madame Wolff, the owner of the house,
and the next of kin. The first use to which this lady put the
money was to tear down the uncanny old building and to erect in its
stead a beautiful new home for her daughter and son-in-law.

Steen Steensen Blicher

The Rector of Veilbye

These extracts from the diary of Erik Sorensen, District Judge,
followed by two written statements by the rector of Aalso, give a
complete picture of the terrible events that took place in the
parish of Veilbye during Judge Sorensen's first year of office.
Should anyone be inclined to doubt the authenticity of these
documents let him at least have no doubt about the story, which is,
alas! only too sadly true. The memory of these events is still
fresh in the district, and the events themselves have been the
direct cause of a change in the method of criminal trials. A
suspected murderer is now tried through all the courts before his
conviction can be determined. Readers versed in the history of law
will doubtless know by this during what epoch the story is laid.

I

[From the Diary of District Judge Erik Sorensen.]

Now am I, unworthy one, by the grace of God made judge over this
district. May the Great Judge above give me wisdom and uprightness
that I may fulfill my difficult task in all humility! From the
Lord alone cometh judgment.

It is not good that man should live alone. Now that I am able to
support a wife I will look about me for a helpmeet. I hear much
good said about the daughter of the Rector of Veilbye. Since her
mother's death she has been a wise and economical keeper of her
father's house. And as she and her brother the student are the
only children, she will inherit a tidy sum when the old man dies.

Morten Bruus of Ingvorstrup was here to-day and wanted to make me a
present of a fat calf. But I answered him in the words of Moses,
"Cursed be he who taketh gifts." He is of a very quarrelsome
nature, a sharp bargainer, and a boastful talker. I do not want to
have any dealings with him, except through my office as judge.

I have prayed to God for wisdom and I have consulted with my own
heart, and I believe that Mistress Mette Quist is the only woman
with whom I could live and die. But I will watch her for a time in
secret. Beauty is deceptive and charm is a dangerous thing. But I
must say that she is the most beautiful woman I have yet seen.

I think that Morten Bruus a very disagreeable person--I scarcely
know why myself. But whenever I see him something comes over me,
something that is like the memory of an evil dream. And yet it is
so vague and so faint, that I could not say whether I had really
ever seen the man in my dreams or not. It may be a sort of
presentiment of evil; who knows?

He was here again and offered me a pair of horses--beautiful
animals--at a ridiculously low price. It looked queer to me. I
know that he paid seventy thalers for them, and he wanted to let me
have them for the same price. They are at the least worth one
hundred thalers, if not more. Was it intended for a bribe? He may
have another lawsuit pending. I do not want his horses.

I paid a visit to the Rector of Veilbye to-day. He is a fine, God-
fearing man, but somewhat quick-tempered and dictatorial. And he
is close with his money, too, as I could see. Just as I arrived a
peasant was with him trying to be let off the payment of part of
his tithe. The man is surely a rogue, for the sum is not large.
But the rector talked to him as I wouldn't have talked to a dog,
and the more, he talked the more violent he became.

Well, we all have our faults. The rector meant well in spite of
his violence, for later on he told his daughter to give the man a
sandwich and a good glass of beer. She is certainly a charming and
sensible girl. She greeted me in a modest and friendly manner, and
my heart beat so that I could scarcely say a word in reply. My
head farm hand served in the rectory three years. I will question
him,--one often hears a straight and true statement from servants.

A surprise! My farm hand Rasmus tells me that Morten Bruus came a-
wooing to the rectory at Veilbye some years back, but was sent away
with a refusal. The rector seemed to be pleased with him, for the
man is rich. But his daughter would not hear to it at all. Pastor
Soren may have tried hard to persuade her to consent at first. But
when he saw how much she disliked the man he let her do as she
would. It was not pride on her part, Rasmus said, for she is as
simple and modest as she is good and beautiful. And she knows that
her own father is peasant-born as well as Bruus.

Now I know what the Ingvorstrup horses were intended for. They
were to blind the judge and to lead him aside from the narrow path
of righteousness. The rich Morten Bruns covets poor Ole Anderson's
peat moor and pasture land. It would have been a good bargain for
Morten even at seventy thalers. But no indeed, my good fellow, you
don't know Erik Sorensen!

Rector Soren Quist of Veilbye came to see me this morning. He has
a new coachman, Niels Bruus, brother to the owner of Ingvorstrup.
Neils is lazy and impertinent. The rector wanted him arrested, but
he had no witnesses to back up his complaint. I advised him to get
rid of the man somehow, or else to get along with him the best he
could until the latter's time was up. The rector was somewhat
hasty at first, but later on he listened calmly and thanked me for
my good advice. He is inclined to be violent at times, but can
always be brought to listen to reason. We parted good friends.

I spent a charming day in Veilbye yesterday. The rector was not at
home, but Mistress Mette received me with great friendliness. She
sat by the door spinning when I arrived, and it seemed to me that
she blushed. It was hardly polite for me to wait so long before
speaking. When I sit in judgment I never lack for words, but in
the presence of this innocent maiden I am as stupid as the veriest
simpleton of a chicken thief. But I finally found my voice and the
time passed quickly until the rector's return. Then Mistress Mette
left us and did not return until she brought in our supper.

Just as she stepped through the doorway the rector was saying to
me, "Isn't it about time that you should think of entering into the
holy estate of matrimony?" (We had just been speaking of a recent
very fine wedding in the neighborhood.) Mistress Mette heard the
words and flushed a deep red. Her father laughed and said to her,
"I can see, my dear daughter, that you have been standing before
the fire."

I shall take the good man's advice and will very soon try my fate
with her. For I think I may take the rector's words to be a secret
hint that he would not object to me as a son-in-law. And the
daughter? Was her blush a favorable sign?

Poor Ole Anderson keeps his peat moor and his pasture land, but
rich Morten Bruus is angry at me because of it. When he heard the
decision he closed his eyes and set his lips tight, and his face
was as pale as a whitewashed wall. But he controlled himself and
as he went out he called back to his adversary, "Wish you joy of
the bargain, Ole Anderson. The peat bog won't beggar me, and the
cattle at Ingvorstrup have all the hay they can eat." I could hear
his loud laughter outside and the cracking of his whip. It is not
easy to have to sit in judgment. Every decision makes but one
enemy the more.

Yesterday was the happiest day of my life. We celebrated our
betrothal in the Rectory of Veilbye. My future father-in-law spoke
to the text, "I gave my handmaid into thy bosom" (Genesis xvi, 5).
His words touched my heart. I had not believed that this serious
and sometimes brusque man could talk so sweetly. When the
solemnity was over, I received the first kiss from my sweet
betrothed, and the assurance of her great love for me.

At supper and later on we were very merry. Many of the dead
mother's kin were present. The rector's family were too far away.
After supper we danced until daybreak and there was no expense
spared in the food and wine. My future father-in-law was the
strongest man present, and could easily drink all the others under
the table. The wedding is to take place in six weeks. God grant
us rich blessings.

It is not good that my future father-in-law should have this Niels
Bruus in his service. He is a defiant fellow, a worthy brother of
him of Ingvorstrup. If it were I, he should have his wages and be
turned off, the sooner the better. But the good rector is stubborn
and insists that Niels shall serve out his time. The other day he
gave the fellow a box on the ear, at which Niels cried out that he
would make him pay for it. The rector told me of this himself, for
no one else had been present. I talked to Niels, but he would
scarcely answer me. I fear he has a stubborn and evil nature. My
sweet betrothed also en-treats her father to send the fellow away,
but the rector will not listen to reason. I do not know what the
old man will do when his daughter leaves his home for mine. She
saves him much worry and knows how to make all things smooth and
easy. She will be a sweet wife for me.

As I thought, it turned out badly. But there is one good thing
about it, Niels has now run off of himself. The rector is greatly
angered, but I rejoice in secret that he is rid of that dangerous
man. Bruus will probably seek retaliation, but we have law and
justice in the land to order such matters.

This was the way of it: The rector had ordered Niels to dig up a
bit of soil in the garden. After a time when he went out himself
to look at the work, he found Niels leaning on his spade eating
nuts. He had not even begun to dig. The rector scolded him, but
the fellow answered that he had not taken service as a gardener.
He received a good box on the ear for that. At this he threw away
his spade and swore valiantly at his master. The old rector lost
his temper entirely, seized the spade and struck at the man several
times. He should not have done this, for a spade is a dangerous
weapon, especially in the hands of a man as strong as is the pastor
in spite of his years. Niels fell to the ground as if dead. But
when the pastor bent over him in alarm, he sprang up suddenly,
jumped the hedge and ran away to the woods.

This is the story of the unfortunate affair as my father-in-law
tells it to me. My beloved Mette is much worried about it. She
fears the man may do harm to the cattle, or set fire to the house,
or in some such way take his revenge. But I tell her there is
little fear of that.

Three weeks more and my beloved leaves her father's house for mine.
She has been here and has gone over the house and the farm. She is
much pleased with everything and praises our orderliness. She is
an angel, and all who know her say that I am indeed a fortunate
man. To God be the praise!

Strange, where that fellow Niels went to! Could he have left the
country altogether? It is an unpleasant affair in any case, and
there are murmurings and secret gossip among the peasants. The
talk has doubtless started in Ingvorstrup. It would not be well to
have the rector hear it. He had better have taken my advice, but
it is not my province to school a servant of God, and a man so much
older than I. The idle gossip may blow over ere long. I will go
to Veilbye to-morrow and find out if he has heard anything.

The bracelet the goldsmith has made for me is very beautiful. I am
sure it will please my sweet Mette.

My honored father-in-law is much distressed and downhearted.
Malicious tongues have repeated to him the stupid gossip that is
going about in the district. Morten Bruus is reported to have said
that "he would force the rector to bring back his brother, if he
had to dig him out of the earth." The fellow may be in hiding
somewhere, possibly at Ingvorstrup. He has certainly disappeared
completely, and no one seems to know where he is. My poor
betrothed is much grieved and worried. She is alarmed by bad
dreams and by presentiments of evil to come.

God have mercy on us all! I am so overcome by shock and horror
that I can scarcely hold the pen. It has all come in one terrible
moment, like a clap of thunder. I take no account of time, night
and morning are the same to me and the day is but a sudden flash of
lightning destroying the proud castle of my hopes and desires. A
venerable man of God--the father of my betrothed--is in prison!
And as a suspected murderer! There is still hope that he may be
innocent. But this hope is but as a straw to a drowning man. A
terrible suspicion rests upon him--And I, unhappy man that I am,
must be his judge. And his daughter is my betrothed bride! May
the Saviour have pity on us!

It was yesterday that this horrible thing came. About half an hour
before sunrise Morten Bruus came to my house and had with him the
cotter Jens Larsen of Veilbye, and the widow and daughter of the
shepherd of that parish. Morten Bruus said to me that he had the
Rector of Veilbye under suspicion of having killed his brother
Niels. I answered that I had heard some such talk but had regarded
it as idle and malicious gossip, for the rector himself had assured
me that the fellow had run away. "If that was so," said Morten,
"if Niels had really intended to run away, he would surely at first
come to me to tell me of it. But it is not so, as these good
people can prove to you, and I demand that you shall hear them as
an officer of the law."

"Think well of what you are doing," I said. "Think it over well,
Morten Bruus, and you, my good people. You are bringing a terrible
accusation against a respected and unspotted priest and man of God.
If you can prove nothing, as I strongly suspect, your accusations
may cost you dear."

"Priest or no priest," cried Bruus, "it is written, 'thou shalt not
kill!' And also is it written, that the authorities bear the sword
of justice for all men. We have law and order in the land, and the
murderer shall not escape his punishment, even if he have the
district judge for a son-in-law."

I pretended not to notice his thrust and began, "It shall be as you
say. Kirsten Mads' daughter, what is it that you know of this
matter in which Morten Bruus accuses your rector? Tell the truth,
and the truth only, as you would tell it before the judgment seat
of the Almighty. The law will demand from you that you shall later
repeat your testimony under oath."

The woman told the following story: The day on which Niels Bruus
was said to have run away from the rectory, she and her daughter
were passing along the road near the rectory garden a little after
the noon hour. She heard some one calling and saw that it was
Niels Bruus looking out through the garden hedge. He asked the
daughter if she did not want some nuts and told the women that the
rector had ordered him to dig in the garden, but that he did not
take the command very seriously and would much rather eat nuts. At
that moment they heard a door open in the house and Niels said,
"Now I'm in for a scolding." He dropped back behind the hedge and
the women heard a quarrel in the garden. They could hear the words
distinctly but they could see nothing, as the hedge was too high.
They heard the rector cry, "I'll punish you, you dog. I'll strike
you dead at my feet!" Then they heard several sounding slaps, and
they heard Niels curse back at the rector and call him evil names.
The rector did not answer this, but the women heard two dull blows
and saw the head of a spade and part of the handle rise and fall
twice over the hedge. Then it was very quiet in the garden, and
the widow and her daughter were frightened and hurried on to their
cattle in the field. The daughter gave the same testimony, word
for word. I asked them if they had not seen Niels Bruus coming out
of the garden. But they said they had not, although they had
turned back several times to look.

This accorded perfectly with what the rector had told me. It was
not strange that the women had not seen the man run out of the
garden, for he had gone toward the wood which is on the opposite
side of the garden from the highroad. I told Marten Bruus that
this testimony was no proof of the supposed murder, especially as
the rector himself had narrated the entire occurrence to me exactly
as the women had described it. But he smiled bitterly and asked me
to examine the third witness, which I proceeded to do.

Jens Larsen testified that he was returning late one evening from
Tolstrup (as he remembered, it was not the evening of Niels Bruus's
disappearance, but the evening of the following day), and was
passing the rectory garden on the easterly side by the usual
footpath. From the garden he heard a noise as of some one digging
in the earth. He was frightened at first for it was very late, but
the moon shone brightly and he thought he would see who it was that
was at work in the garden at that hour. He put off his wooden
shoes and pushed aside the twigs of the hedge until he had made a
peep hole. In the garden he saw the rector in his usual house
coat, a white woolen nightcap on his head. He was busily smoothing
down the earth with the flat of his spade. There was nothing else
to be seen. Just then the rector had started and partly turned
toward the hedge, and the witness, fearing he might be discovered,
slipped down and ran home hastily.

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