My friend wrote: 'I send you the
enclosed inscription with all due reserve. A shepherd who passed by the
stone a week ago swears that there was then no mark of any kind. The
characters, as I have noted, are formed by drawing some red earth over
the stone, and are of an average height of one inch. They look to me
like a kind of cuneiform character, a good deal altered, but this, of
course, is impossible. It may be either a hoax, or more probably some
scribble of the gipsies, who are plentiful enough in this wild country.
They have, as you are aware, many heiroglyphics which they use in
communicating with one another. I happened to visit the stone in
question two days ago in connection with a rather painful incident which
has occurred here.'
As it may be supposed, I wrote immediately to my friends, thanking him
for the copy of the inscription, and asking him in a casual manner the
history of the incident he mentioned. To be brief, I heard that a woman
named Cradock, who had lost her husband a day before, had set out to
communicate the sad news to a cousin who lived some five miles away. She
took a short cut which led by the Grey Hills. Mrs. Cradock, who was then
quite a young woman, never arrived at her relative's house. Late that
night a farmer, who had lost a couple of sheep, supposed to have
wandered from the flock, was walking over the Grey Hills, with a lantern
and his dog. His attention was attracted by a noise, which he described
as a kind of wailing, mournful and pitiable to hear; and, guided by the
sound, he found the unfortunate Mrs. Cradock crouched on the ground by
the limestone rock, swaying her body to and fro, and lamenting and
crying in so heart-rending a manner that the farmer was, as he says, at
first obliged to stop his ears, or he would have run away. The woman
allowed herself to be taken home, and a neighbour came to see to her
necessities. All the night she never ceased her crying, mixing her
lament with words of some unintelligible jargon, and when the doctor
arrived he pronounced her insane. She lay on her bed for a week, now
wailing, as people said, like one lost and damned for eternity, and now
sunk in a heavy coma; it was thought that grief at the loss of her
husband had unsettled her mind, and the medical man did not at one time
expect her to live. I need not say that I was deeply interested in this
story, and I made my friend write to me at intervals with all the
particulars of the case. I heard then that in the course of six weeks
the woman gradually recovered the use of her faculties, and some months
later she gave birth to a son, christened Jervase, who unhappily proved
to be of weak intellect. Such were the facts known to the village; but
to me, while I whitened at the suggested thought of the hideous
enormities that had doubtless been committed, all this was nothing short
of conviction, and I incautiously hazarded a hint of something like the
truth to some scientific friends. The moment the words had left my lips
I bitterly regretted having spoken, and thus given away the great secret
of my life, but with a good deal of relief mixed with indignation I
found my fears altogether misplaced, for my friends ridiculed me to my
face, and I was regarded as a madman; and beneath a natural anger I
chuckled to myself, feeling as secure amidst these blockheads as if I
had confided what I knew to the desert sands.
But now, knowing so much, I resolved I would know all, and I
concentrated my efforts on the task of deciphering the inscription on
the Black Seal. For many years I made this puzzle the sole object of my
leisure moments, for the greater portion of my time was, of course,
devoted to other duties, and it was only now and then that I could
snatch a week of clear research. If I were to tell the full history of
this curious investigation, this statement would be wearisome in the
extreme, for it would contain simply the account of long and tedious
failure. But what I knew already of ancient scripts I was well equipped
for the chase, as I always termed it to myself. I had correspondents
amongst all the scientific men in Europe, and, indeed, in the world, and
I could not believe that in these days any character, however ancient
and however perplexed, could long resist the search-light I should bring
to bear upon it. Yet in point of fact, it was fully fourteen years
before I succeeded. With every year my professional duties increased and
my leisure became smaller. This no doubt retarded me a good deal; and
yet, when I look back on those years, I am astonished at the vast scope
of my investigation of the Black Seal. I made my bureau a centre, and
from all the world and from all the ages I gathered transcripts of
ancient writing.
Nothing, I resolved, should pass me unawares, and the faintest hint
should be welcomed and followed up. But as one covert after another was
tried and proved empty of result, I began in the course of years to
despair, and to wonder whether the Black Seal were the sole relic of
some race that had vanished from the world, and left no other trace of
its existence—had perished, in fine, as Atlantis is said to have done,
in some great cataclysm, its secrets perhaps drowned beneath the ocean
or moulded into the heart of the hills. The thought chilled my warmth a
little, and though I still persevered, it was no longer with the same
certainty of faith.
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