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CHAPTER II THE FANTOM COACH

By Amelia B. Edwards

The events that I am going to tell you are true.

They happen to me, and I remember them clearly.

It all happened one night, twenty years ago.

Since then, I have told the story to only one person.

I ask you to keep your opinions to yourself.

I have my own opinion about what happened that night.

It was December, the end of hunting season.

I had been out hunting by myself all day, and had caught nothing.

There was a strong wind from the east.

I was in the open country in the north of England.

I lost my way.

It was late in the evening, and it started snowing.

I looked anxiously into the darkness in search of a house or

a cottage, but there was none.

I kept walking.

I was hoping to find a shelter.

I was tired because I had been on foot since the early morning, and had

not eaten anything since breakfast.

The snow was now coming down strongly.

It was getting colder and colder, and night time was coming fast.

As the sky darkened, I grew more anxious.

I thought about my young wife who was waiting for me.

We had been married for four months, and were traveling in this part of the

country.

We were staying at a hotel in a little village.

We were in love, and very happy.

When I left in the morning, I had promised her to come back before sunset.

I was not going to keep my promise.

The snow continued to fall, and it grew dark.

I stopped and shouted, but it was useless.

I was nervous.

I remembered stories of travelers who had walked in the falling snow.

They got so tired that they lay down, fell asleep, and died.

I was afraid that the same would happen to me.

I could not die.

I had a long life to live.

I shouted again, louder and longer, and then listened.

Then I heard a cry from far away.

I shouted again and again I heard a cry.

Then suddenly, out of the darkness, I saw a tiny spot of light.

It was getting nearer and brighter.

I ran to it and came face to face with an old man with a lantern.

I was very happy.

Thank God I shouted.

I was afraid I would be lost in the snow.

He frowned, lifted his lantern, and looked into my face.

How far am I from wilding, I asked?

About twenty miles.

And the nearest village?

The nearest village is white, and that's twelve miles on the other side.

Where do you live then?

Out there, he said, and pointed with his lantern.

You're going home?

Maybe I am.

Then I'm going with you.

The old man shook his head.

It's no use, he said.

He won't let you in.

We'll see about that, I said.

Who is he?

The master.

Who is the master?

That's none of your business was the answer.

All right, you show me the way, and I'll talk to the master about giving me shelter and a

supper tonight.

You can try, he said.

He shook his head and walked away through the falling snow.

Soon, we reached a house, and a huge dog came out and barked angrily.

Is this the house, I asked?

Yes, it's the house, he said.

Down boy, he shouted at the dog, and he took out the key.

I stayed close behind him.

I did not want him to leave me outside.

The door of the house was like the door of a prison.

He turned the key, and I pushed past him into the house.

I looked around the house with curiosity.

I was in a big hall.

On one side, there was a big pile of corn that went up to the ceiling.

On the other side, there were big bags of flour, some agricultural tools, some containers,

and wood.

There were rows of meat and dried herbs that were hanging from the ceiling.

In the center of the room, there was a huge object under a sheet.

I lifted a corner of the sheet and saw that it was a very big telescope.

As I was looking at the instrument, a bell rang.

That's for you, said the old man with an evil smile.

That's his room.

He pointed to a black door at the other end of the hall.

I went over, knocked on the door, and went in.

A huge, white -haired old man stood up.

He was in front of a table that was covered with books and papers.

He looked at me seriously.

Who are you, he said?

How did you come here?

What do you want?

My name is James Murray.

I'm a lawyer.

I was walking across the moor.

I need meat, drink, and sleep.

He frowned at me.

This is not a hotel, he said.

Jacob, why did you let this stranger in?

I didn't let him in, said the old man.

He followed me and went in before me.

I couldn't stop him.

Look at his size.

And tell me, sir, why have you entered my house without permission, he asked me.

I was lost in the country, I said.

There's a lot of snow on the ground, and it will be much deeper before the morning.

He went to the window, pulled aside the heavy black curtain, and looked out.

It is true, he said.

You can stay here until the morning.

Jacob served the supper.

He showed me to a seat, went back to his table, and started reading.

I sat down by the fireplace.

I looked around the room, it was small and strange.

There was no carpet on the floor.

There were strange diagrams on the white walls, and many scientific tools on the shelves.

There was a bookcase filled with yellow sheets of paper.

There were rocks, medicine bottles, containers, and jars of chemicals in an open cupboard.

On the fireplace there was a model of the solar system, a battery, a microscope, and many small objects.

The room was full of objects.

There were books, maps, and papers everywhere.

I looked around in amazement.

It was the strangest room I had ever seen, and it was in a farmhouse in the countryside.

I looked at my host and asked myself who he could be.

Then the door opened, and Jacob brought in the supper.

His master closed his book, got up, and politely invited me to the table.

We ate in silence.

When we were finished, Jacob took away the tray.

I pulled my chair back to the fire -side.

My host did the same.

He turned to me.

Sir, I have lived here by myself for 23 years.

In that time I did not meet many people, and did not read a newspaper.

You are the first stranger who has been in my home for more than four years.

Will you tell me a little about the world?

Of course I said, ask me anything.

He put his elbows on his knees and looked into the fire.

He began asking me questions.

His questions were about scientific subjects.

I did not have a lot of knowledge about science, so I had difficulty in answering his questions.

But I did my best.

Then he stopped asking questions, and began talking about his own opinions.

He talked, and I listened in an interested way.

He had a deep knowledge of many subjects, philosophy, science, psychology, music.

Later he talked about the soul, ghosts, and supernatural beings.

Then he stopped speaking.

After a few minutes he looked at me and said,

I studied and examined, and I spoke about my beliefs bravely.

I was called a dreamer and was chased away from my field of science 23 years ago.

Since then I have lived here by myself.

The world has forgotten me, and I have forgotten the world.

He got up and went to the window.

It has stopped snowing, he said, and came back to the fireside.

Stopped, I exclaimed.

Oh, I wish I could go back tonight, but no.

It is impossible.

I can't walk twenty miles.

Walk twenty miles, said my host.

What are you thinking of?

I'm thinking of my wife, I said.

She must be very worried.

Where is she?

At welding twenty miles away.

At welding, he repeated.

Do you really want to go back tonight?

You can't wait until the morning.

I really want to go.

I wish I had a guide and a horse.

While he said smiling, the night mail coach stops at welding.

It passes from a crossroads in about an hour.

The crossroads is five miles away from here.

Jacob can take you to the old road, and you can find the crossroads yourself.

Easily I said.

He smiled, rang the bell, and gave the old servant his instructions.

You should leave now, he said to me, good night.

I thanked him for his hospitality, and wanted to shake his hand, but he turned away.

Jacob showed me out and locked the door behind me.

The wind had stopped, but it was still very cold.

The sky was dark.

There was no sound, only the sound of the snow under our feet.

Jacob walked in front of me with his lantern in his hand.

I followed with my gun over my shoulder.

We did not talk.

I was thinking about my host and his words.

After about a few minutes, Jacob stopped.

That's your road.

Have the stone fence on your right and keep walking.

How far do I go to reach the crossroads?

Three miles.

The road's all right for people on foot, but it is too steep and narrow for horse garages.

You'll come to a signpost.

Then you'll see the spot where the parapet is broken.

It was broken in the accident.

What accident?

Nine years ago, the nightmail coach fell over into the valley below.

Horrible.

Did anyone die?

All.

Three were found dead, and the other two died next morning.

Near the signpost, thank you.

Good night.

Good night, sir, said Jacob.

He turned around and began walking.

I started walking.

It was completely dark, but I could still see the stone fence on my right.

It was very silent now.

I had a strange, unpleasant feeling.

I felt lonely.

I walked faster.

I sang a song.

I did mathematical calculations in my head.

I tried to forget the frightening things that my host had told me.

It was getting colder and colder.

I walked fast, but it was impossible to keep warm.

My feet and hands were like ice.

I breathed with difficulty.

I stopped for a few minutes to rest.

I looked back towards the road and saw a tiny light.

At first, I thought that Jacob had followed me.

But then I realized a second tiny light.

It was a carriage.

It was strange to find any vehicle on this old and dangerous road.

The lights grew larger and brighter.

Soon, I saw the dark form of the carriage.

It was approaching fast and quite noiselessly.

Then I saw the vehicle.

It was big.

Perhaps I had missed a signpost and passed across roads.

Could this be the nightmail coach that I wanted to catch?

Then I saw the guard and the driver in the soft fog.

I knew it was the nightmail coach.

I jumped forward, waved my hat and shouted.

The coach came and passed me.

Then it stopped.

The guard and the driver did not say a word.

I climbed up and opened the door myself.

There were three passengers inside.

I went in, shut the door and sat down in the empty corner.

The inside of the coach was colder than outside and there was a very bad smell.

I looked at the other passengers.

They were all men and they were all silent.

They were not asleep.

They were sitting quietly.

It is very cold tonight, I said to the man who sat opposite me.

He lifted his head, looked at me, but did not answer.

I was too cold and too tired to be annoyed.

There was a strange smell inside.

It was making me sick.

I turned to the man who was sitting next to me.

Do you mind if I open the window, I asked?

He did not speak or move.

I repeated the question more loudly but got no answer.

Then I lost patience and tried to open the window.

The leather strap broke and I saw that the glass was covered with mold.

I looked more carefully at the coach.

It was very old and falling into pieces.

The wooden parts cracked when I touched them.

There was mold on the leather parts.

The floor was breaking away under my feet.

The whole vehicle was breaking down.

I turned to the third passenger.

This coach is falling apart, I said.

He moved his head slowly and looked at me without speaking a word.

I will never forget that look.

My heart turned cold.

I still go cold when I remember it.

His eyes had an unnatural brightness.

His face was like the face of a dead man.

His teeth were shining behind his colorless lips.

I could not speak because I was filled with a strange horror.

My eyes could now see better in the weak light of the coach.

I looked at the three men and saw their eyes.

Then I realized they were not living men.

They were dead men.

Their faces, hands and clothes had soil on them.

Only their eyes, their terrible eyes were living.

And those eyes were now looking at me.

I gave out a wild cry for help.

I tried to open the door.

In one moment in the moonlight I saw the signpost,

the broken parapet, the flying horses, and the black hole below.

The coach was in the air and then a big crash.

And darkness.

I woke up one morning from a deep sleep.

My wife was by my bedside.

She told me what had happened.

I had fallen over a cliff near the crossroads in the old road.

I did not die because I had fallen on a rock that was covered in deep snow.

I was found there early in the morning by two shepherds.

They carried me to a shelter and brought a doctor.

I had a high fever, a broken arm, and a crack in the skull.

They found my name and address in the letters in my pocket and called my wife.

Luckily I survived.

I had fallen at the same place where the accident had happened nine years ago.

I never told my wife this terrible story.

I only told the doctor who took care of me.

He said I had had a bad dream because of the injury in my brain.

Other people may have other opinions about it, but I know that twenty years ago,

I was the fourth passenger in that phantom coach.