March 31, 2025 • 29 mins
Tales of Terror and Mystery is a spine-tingling collection of short stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, masterfully blending suspense, horror, and the unexplained. Divided into two parts—Tales of Terror and Tales of Mystery—the book explores eerie encounters, unsettling twists, and haunting atmospheres. From psychological thrills to scientific enigmas, Doyle steps beyond his famous detective tales to deliver chilling narratives that captivate and disturb. Perfect for fans of classic gothic fiction and supernatural suspense, this collection reveals a darker, more mysterious side of Doyle’s literary genius. For more thrilling content and engaging podcasts, visit https://www.quietperiodplease.com/.
This content was created in partnership and with the help of Artificial Intelligence AI
This content was created in partnership and with the help of Artificial Intelligence AI
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Tales of Terror and Mystery by Arthur Conan Doyle The
Japand Box. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings
are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer,
please visit LibriVox dot org. Recording by Jeremy Pavier Tales
(00:23):
of Terror and Mystery by Arthur Conan Oil The Japand Box.
It was a curious thing, said the private tutor, one
of those grotesque and whimsical incidents which occur to one
as one goes through life. I lost the best situation
which I am ever likely to have through it. But
I am glad that I went to Thorpe Place, for
(00:44):
I gained.
Speaker 2 (00:46):
Well.
Speaker 1 (00:46):
As I tell you the story, you will learn what
I gained. I don't know whether you are familiar with
that part of the Midlands, which is drained by the Avon.
It is the most English part of England. Shakespeare The
Flower of the Race was born right in the middle
of it. It is a land of rolling pastures, rising
in higher folds to the westwards until they swell into
(01:09):
the Malvern Hills. There are no towns, but numerous villages,
each with its gray Norman church.
Speaker 2 (01:17):
You have left the.
Speaker 1 (01:17):
Brick of the Southern and Eastern counties behind you, and
everything is stone, stone for the walls, and likened slabs
of stone for the roofs. It is all grim and
solid and massive as befits the heart of a great nation.
It was in the middle of this country, not very
far from Evesham, that Sir John Balmore lived in the
old ancestral home of Thorpe Place, and thither it was
(01:41):
that I came to teach his two little sons. Sir
John was a widower. His wife had died three years before,
and he had been left with these two lads, aged
eight and ten, and one dear little girl of seven.
Miss Witherton, who is now my wife, was governess to
this little girl. I was tutor to the two boys.
Could there be a more obvious prelude to an engagement?
(02:04):
She governs me now and I tutor two little boys
of our own. But there I have already revealed what
it was which I gained from thought place. It was
a very very old house, incredibly old pre Norman some
of it, and the Bolomores claimed to have lived in
that situation since long before the conquest. It struck a
(02:25):
chill to my heart when first I came there, those
enormously thick gray walls, the rude, crumbling stones, the smellers
from a sick animal which exhaled from the rotting plaster
of the aged building. But the modern wing was bright
and the garden was well kept. No house could be
dismal which had a pretty girl inside it, and such
(02:45):
a show of roses in the front. Apart from a
very complete stuff of servants, there were only four of
us in the household. These were Miss Witherton, who was
at that time four and twenty and as pretty well
as pretty as Missus Colmore is now myself, Frank Colmore,
aged thirty, Missus Stevens, the housekeeper, a dry, silent woman,
(03:09):
and mister Richards, a tall, military looking man who acted
as steward to the Balamore estates. We four always had
our meals together, but Sir John had his, usually alone
in the library. Sometimes he joined us at dinner, but
on the whole we were just as glad when he
did not, for he was a very formidable person. Imagine
(03:31):
a man six feet three inches in height, majestically built,
with a high nosed, aristocratic face, brindled hair, shaggy eyebrows,
a small pointed Mephistophelian beard, and lines upon his brow
and round his eyes as deep as if they had
been carved with a pen knife. He had gray eyes, weary,
hopeless looking eyes, proud and yet pathetic, eyes which claimed
(03:56):
your pity yet dared you to show it. His back
was rounded with study. But otherwise he was as fine
a looking man of his age five and fifty, perhaps
as any woman could wish to look upon. But his
presence was not a cheerful one. He was always courtious,
always refined, but singularly silent and retiring. I have never
(04:21):
lived so long with any man and known so little
of him. If he were indoors, he spent his time
either in his own small study in the Eastern tower
or in the library in the modern wing. So regular
was his routine that one could always say at any
hour exactly where he would be. Twice in the day
he would visit his study, once after breakfast, and once
(04:44):
about ten at night. You might set your watch by
the slam of the heavy door. For the rest of
the day he would be in his library, save that
for an hour or two in the afternoon he would
take a walk or a ride, which was solitary, like
the rest of his existence. He loved his children and
was keenly interested in the progress of their studies. But
(05:06):
they were a little awed by the silent, shaggy browed figure,
and they avoided him as much as they could. Indeed,
we all did that. It was some time before I
came to know anything about the circumstances of Sir John
Bolimore's life, for Missus Stevens, the housekeeper, and mister Richards,
the land steward, were too loyal to talk easily of
(05:26):
their employer's affairs. As to the Governess, she knew no
more than I did, and our common interest was one
of the causes which drew us together. At last. However,
an incident occurred which led to a closer acquaintance with
mister Richards and a fuller knowledge of the life of
the man whom I served. The immediate cause of this
(05:48):
was no less than the falling of Master Percy, the
youngest of my pupils, into the mill race, with imminent
danger both to his life and to mine, since I
had to risk myself in order to save him. Dripping
and exhausted, for I was far more spent than the child.
I was making for my room when Sir John, who
had heard the hubbub, opened the door of his little
(06:09):
study and asked me what was the matter. I told
him of the accident, but assured him that his child
was in no danger, while he listened with a rugged,
immobile face, which expressed in its intense eyes and tightened
lips all the emotion which he tried to conceal one moment.
Step in here, let me have the details, said he,
(06:31):
turning back to the open door. And so I found
myself within that little sanctum, inside which, as I afterwards learned,
no other foot had for three years been set save
that of the old servant who cleaned it out. It
was a round room, conforming to the shape of the
tower in which it was situated, with a low ceiling,
(06:51):
a single, narrow, ivy wreathed window, and the simplest of furniture.
An old carpet, a single chair, a deal table, and
a small shelf of books made up the whole contents.
On the table stood a full length photograph of a woman.
I took no particular notice of the features, but I
remember that a certain gracious gentleness was the prevailing impression.
(07:16):
Beside it were a large black japanned box on one
or two bundles of letters or papers, fastened together with
elastic bands. Our interview was a short one, for Sir
John Bollimore perceived that I was soaked and that I
should change without delay. The instant led, however, to an
instructive talk with Richard's, the agent who had never penetrated
(07:39):
into the chamber which chance had opened to me that
very afternoon. He came to me all curiosity, and walked
up and down the garden path with me while my
two charges played tennis upon the lawn beside us. You
hardly realize the exception which has been made in your favor,
said he. That room has been kept such a mystery.
(08:00):
Sir John's visits to have been so regular and consistent,
that an almost superstitious feeling has arisen about it in
the household. I assure you that if I were to
repeat to you the tales which are flying about, tales
of mysterious visitors there, and of voices overheard by the servants,
you might suspect that Sir John had relapsed into his
old ways.
Speaker 2 (08:20):
Why do you say.
Speaker 1 (08:21):
Relapsed, I asked, He looked at me in surprise. Is
it possible, said he, that Sir John Blimore's previous history
is unknown to you. Absolutely, you astound me. I thought
that every man in England knew something of his antecedents.
I should not mention the matter if it were not
that you are now one of ourselves, and the facts
(08:43):
might come to your ears in some harsher form if
I were silent upon them. I always took it for
granted that you knew that you were in the service
of Devil Blimont. But why devil, I asked, Ah.
Speaker 2 (08:56):
You are young, and the world moves fast.
Speaker 1 (08:59):
But twenty years ago the name of Devil Balamore was
one of the best known in London. He was the
leader of the fastest set, bruiser driver, gambler, drunkard, a
survival of the old type, and as bad as the
worst of them. I stared at him in amazement. What
I cried, that quiet, studious, sad faced man, the greatest
(09:24):
rip and debotch in England, all between ourselves, Colmoll, But
you understand now what I mean when I say that
a woman's voice in his room might even now give
rise to suspicions. But what can have changed him so
little Beryl Claire, when she took the risk of becoming
his wife. That was the turning point. He had got
(09:46):
so far that his own fast set had thrown him over.
There is a world of difference, you know, between a
man who drinks and a drunkard. They all drink, but
they taboo a drunkard. He had become a slave to it,
hopeless and helples. Then she stepped in, saw the possibilities
of a fine man in the wreck, took her chance
in marrying him, though she might have had the pick
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of a dozen, and by devoting her life to it,
brought him back to manhood and decency. You have observed
that no liquor is ever kept in the house. There
never has been any since her foot crossed its threshold.
A drop of it would be like blood to a tiger.
Even now then, her influence still holds him, that is
(10:29):
the wonder of it. When she died three years ago,
we all expected and feared that he would fall back
into his old ways.
Speaker 2 (10:38):
She feared it.
Speaker 1 (10:38):
Herself, and the thought gave a terror to death, for
she was like a guardian angel to that man, and
lived only for the one purpose.
Speaker 2 (10:46):
By the way. Did you see a black japanned box
in his room? Yes?
Speaker 1 (10:52):
I fancy it contains her letters. If ever he has
occasion to be away, if only for a single night,
he invariably takes his black jam hand box with him.
Oh well, Colmore, perhaps I have told you rather more
than I should, but I shall expect you to reciprocate
if anything of interest should come to your knowledge. I
could see that the worthy man was consumed with curiosity,
(11:15):
and just a little piqued that I, the newcomer, should
have been the first to penetrate into the untrodden chamber.
But the fact raised me in his esteem, and from
that time onwards I found myself upon more confidential terms
with him. And now the silent and majestic figure of
my employer became an object of greater interest to me.
(11:37):
I began to understand that strangely human look in his eyes,
those deep lines upon his careworn face. He was a
man who was fighting a ceaseless battle, holding at arm's
length from morning till night, a horrible adversary who was
forever trying to close with him, an adversary which would
destroy him body and soul. Could it but fix its
(11:59):
claws once more upon him. As I watched the grim,
round backed figure pacing the corridor or walking in the garden,
this imminent danger seemed to take bodily shape, and I
could almost fancy that I saw this most loathsome and
dangerous of all the fiends, crouching closely in his very shadow,
like a half cowed beast which SLINKs beside its keeper,
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ready at any unguarded moment to spring at his throat.
And the dead woman, the woman who had spent her
life in warding off this danger, took shape also to
my imagination, and I saw her as a shadowy but
beautiful presence which intervened for ever with arms uplifted to
screen the man whom she loved. In some subtle way,
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he divined the sympathy which I had for him, and
he showed in his own silent fashion that he appreciated it.
He even invited me once to share his afternoon walk,
and although no word passed between us on this occasion,
it was a mark of confidence which he had never
shown to any before. He asked me also to index
his library. It was one of the best private libraries
(13:06):
in England, and I spent many hours in the evening
in his presence, if not in his society, he reading
at his desk, and I sitting in a recess by
the window, reducing to order the chaos which existed among
his books. In spite of these close relations, I was
never again asked to enter the chamber in the turret.
And then came my revulsion of feeling. A single incident
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changed all my sympathy to loathing and made me realize
that my employer still remained all that he had ever been,
with the additional vice of hypocrisy. What happened was as follows.
One evening, Miss Witherton had gone down to Broadway, the
neighboring village, to sing at a concert for some charity,
and I, according to my promise, had walked over to
escort her back. The drive sweeps round under the eastern turret,
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and I observed as I passed that the light was
lit in the circular room. It was a summer evening,
and the window, which was a little higher than our heads,
was open. We were, as it happened, engrossed in our
own conversation at the moment, and we had paused upon
the lawn which skirts the old turret, when Suddenly something
broke in upon our talk and turned our thoughts away
(14:13):
from our own affairs. It was a voice, the voice
undoubtedly of a woman. It was low, so low that
it was only in that still night air that we
could have heard it. But hushed as it was, there
was no mistaking its feminine tom It spoke hurriedly, gaspingly,
for a few sentences, and then was silent, a piteous, breathless,
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imploring sort of voice. Miss Witherton and I stood for
an instant staring at each other. Then we walked quickly
in the direction of the hall door. It came through
the window. I said, we must not play the part
of eavesdroppers. She answered, we must forget that we have
ever heard it. There was an absence of surprise in
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her manner which suggested a new eye. Dear to me,
you have heard it before, I cried. I could not
help it. My own room is higher up on the
same turret. It has happened frequently. Who can the woman be?
I have no idea. I had rather not discuss it.
Her voice was enough to show me what she thought.
(15:19):
But granting that our employer led a double and dubious life,
who could she be this mysterious woman who kept him
company in the old tower. I knew from my own
inspection how bleak and bear a room it was. She
certainly did not live there. But in that case, where
did she come from? It could not be any one
of the household. They were all under the vigilant eyes
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of Missus Stevens. The visitor must come from without?
Speaker 2 (15:45):
But how.
Speaker 1 (15:48):
And then suddenly I remembered how ancient this building was,
and how probable that some medieval passage existed in it.
There is hardly an old castle without one.
Speaker 2 (15:58):
The mysterious room was the.
Speaker 1 (15:59):
Basement the turret, so that if there were anything of
the sort, it would open through the floor. There were
numerous cottages in the immediate vicinity. The other end of
the secret passage might lie among some tangle of bramble
in the neighboring copse. I said nothing to any one,
but I felt that the secret of my employer lay
within my power. And the more convinced I was of this,
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the more I marveled at the manner in which he
concealed his true nature. Often as I watched his austere figure,
I asked myself if it were indeed possible that such
a man should be living this double life. And I
tried to persuade myself that my suspicions might, after all
prove to be ill founded. But there was the female voice,
there was this secret, knightly rendezvous in the turret chamber.
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How could such facts admit of an innocent interpretation? I
conceived a horror of the man. I was filled with
loathing at his deep, consistent hypocrisy. Only once during all
those months did I ever see him without that sad
but impassive mask which he usually presented towards his fellow man.
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For an instant I caught a glimpse of those volcanic
fires which he had damped down so long. The occasion
was an unworthy one, for the object of his wrath
was none other than the aged charwoman, whom I have
already mentioned as being the one person who was allowed
within his mysterious chamber. I was passing the corridor which
led to the turret, for my own room lay in
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that direction, when I heard a sudden, startled scream and
merged in it the husky, growling note of a man
who is inarticulate with passion.
Speaker 2 (17:35):
It was a.
Speaker 1 (17:35):
Snarl of a furious wild beast. Then I heard his
voice thrilling with anger. You would dare, he cried, you
would dare to disobey my directions. An instant later the
charwoman passed me, flying down the passage, white faced and tremulous,
while the terrible voice thundered behind her, Go to missus
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Stevens for your money. Never set footeenth thought place again.
Consumed with curiosity, I could not help following the woman
and found her round the corner, leaning against the wall
and palpitating like a frightened rabbit. What is the matter,
missus Brown, I asked, it's master. She gasped, Oh, how
he frightened me. If you had seen his eyes, mister Colmore, sir.
Speaker 2 (18:20):
I thought it would have been the death of me.
Speaker 1 (18:23):
But what had you done done, sir, Nothing, at least
nothing to make so much of Just laid my hand
on that black box of his, hadn't even opened it
when any came, and you hurt the way, he went on,
I've lost my place, and glad I am of it,
for I would never trust myself within reach of him again.
So it was the japanned box which was the cause
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of this outburst, the box from which he would never
permit himself to be separated. What was the connection, or
was there any connection between this and the secret visits
of the lady whose voice I had overheard, Sir John
Bolimore's wrath enduring as well as fiery. For from that
day Missus Brown, the charwoman, vanished from our ken and
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Thorpe place.
Speaker 2 (19:07):
Knew her no more.
Speaker 1 (19:10):
And now I wish to tell you the singular chance
which solved all these strange questions and put my employer's
secret in my possession. The story may leave you with
some lingering doubts as to whether my curiosity did not
get the better of my honor, and whether I did
not condescend to play the spy. If you choose to
(19:31):
think so, I cannot help it, but can only assure
you that, improbable as it may appear, the matter came
about exactly as I describe it. The first stage in
this denouement was that the small room in the turret
became uninhabitable. This occurred through the fall of the worm
eaten oaken beam which supported the ceiling. Rotten with age.
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It snapped in the middle one morning and brought down
a quantity of plaster with it. Fortunately, Sir John was
not in the room at the time. His precious box
was rescued from amongst the debris and brought into the library, where,
henceforward it was locked within his bureau. Sir John took
no steps to repair the damage, and I never had
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an opportunity of searching for that secret passage, the existence
of which I had surmised as to the lady. I
had thought that this would have brought her visits to
an end, had I not one evening heard mister Richards
asking Missus Stevens who the woman was whom he had
overheard talking to Sir John in the library. I could
not catch her reply, but I saw from her manner
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that it was not the first time that she had
had to answer or avoid the same question. You've heard
the voice, Colmond, said the agent.
Speaker 2 (20:45):
I confessed that I had, And what do you think
of it?
Speaker 1 (20:50):
I shrugged my shoulders and remarked that it was no
business of mine. Come, Come, you are just as curious
as any of us. Is it a woman or not?
It is certainly a woman.
Speaker 2 (21:02):
Which room?
Speaker 1 (21:03):
Did you hear it from? From the turret room before
the ceiling fell? But I heard it from the library
only last night. I passed the door as I was
going to bed, and I heard some one wailing and praying,
just as plainly.
Speaker 2 (21:15):
As I hear you. It may be a woman.
Speaker 1 (21:19):
Why what else could it be? He looked at me,
heard there are more things in heaven and earth, said he.
If it is a woman, how does she get there?
I don't know, no nor I. But if it is
the other thing, ah, but there for a practical business
man at the end of the nineteenth century, this is
rather a ridiculous line of conversation. He turned away, but
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I saw that he felt even more than he had said.
To all the old ghost stories of Thorpe Place, a
new one was being added before our very eyes. It
may by this time have taken its permanent place. For
though an explanation came to me, it never reached the others.
And my explanation came in this way. I had suffered
(22:03):
a sleepless night from neuralgia, and about midday I had
taken a heavy dose of chlorodyne to alleviate the pain.
At that time I was finishing the indexing of Sir
John Bolimore's library, and it was my custom to work
there from five till seven on this particular day, I
struggled against the double effect of my bad night and
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the narcotic I have already mentioned that there was a
recess in the library, and in this it was my
habit to work. I settled down steadily to my task,
but my weariness overcame me, and, falling back upon the settee,
I dropped into a heavy sleep. How long I slept
I do not know, but it was quite dark when
(22:45):
I awoke. Confused by the chlorodine which I had taken,
I lay motionless in a semi conscious state. The great room,
with its high walls covered with books, loomed darkly all
around me. A dim radiance from the moonlight came through
the farther window, and against this lighter background, I saw
that Sir John Bolmore was sitting at his study table.
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His well set head and clearly cut profile was sharply
outlined against the glimmering square behind him. He bent as
I watched him, and I heard the sharp turning of
a key and a rasping of metal upon metal, as
if in a dream. I was vaguely conscious that this
was the Japanned box which stood in front of him,
and that he had drawn something out of it, something
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squat and uncouth, which now lay before him upon the table.
I never realized. It never occurred to my bemuddled and
torpid brain that I was intruding upon his privacy, that
he imagined himself to be alone in the room. And then,
just as it rushed upon my horrified perceptions, and I
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had half risen to announce my presence, I heard a strange, crisp,
metallic clicking, and then the voice. Yes, it was a
woman's voice. There could not be a doubt of it,
but a voice so charged with entreaty and with yearning
love that it will ring for ever in my ears.
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It came with a curious, far away tinkle, but every
word was clear, though faint, very faint, for they were
the last words of a dying woman. I am not
really gone, John, said the thin, gasping voice. I am
here at your very elbow, and shall be until we
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meet once more.
Speaker 2 (24:35):
I die happy to.
Speaker 1 (24:36):
Think that morning and night you will hear my voice.
Oh John, be strong, be strong until we meet again.
I say that I had risen in order to announce
my presence, but I could not do so while the
voice was sounding. I could only remain, half lying, half sitting, paralyzed, astounded,
(25:00):
listening to those yearning, distant musical words. And he, he
who was so absorbed that even if I had spoken,
he might not have heard me. But with the silence
of the voice came my half articulated apologies and explanations.
He sprang across the room, switched on the electric light,
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and in its white glare I saw him, his eyes
gleaming with anger, his face twisted with passion, as the
hapless charwoman may have seen him weeks before. Mister Colmore,
he cried, you here, what is the meaning of this, sir?
With halting words, I explained it all, my neuralgia, the narcotic,
my luckless sleep, and singular awakening. As he listened, the
(25:45):
glow of anger faded from his face, and the sad
impassive mask closed once.
Speaker 2 (25:51):
More over his features.
Speaker 1 (25:54):
My secret is yours, mister Colmore, said he. I have
only myself to blame for relaxing my precautions. Half confidences
are worse than no confidences. And so you may know all.
Since you know so much, the story may go where
you will when I have passed away. But until then
I rely upon your sense of honor, that no human
(26:15):
soul shall hear it from your lips. I am proud still,
God help me, or at least I am proud enough
to resent that pity which this story would draw upon me.
I have smiled at envy and disregarded hatred. But pity
is more than I can tolerate. You have heard the
source from which the voice comes, that voice which has,
(26:36):
as I understand, excited so much curiosity in my household.
I am aware of the rumors to which it has
given rise, these speculations, whether scandalous or superstitious, as such
as I can disregard and forgive. What I should never
forgive would be a disloyal spying and eavesdropping in order
to satisfy an illicit curiosity. But of that, to call more,
(27:00):
I acquit you. When I was a young man, sir,
many years younger than you are now, I was launched
upon town without a friend or adviser, and with a
purse which brought only too many false friends and false
advisers to my side. I drank deeply of the wine
of life. If there is a man living who has
(27:22):
drunk more deeply, he is not a man whom I envy,
My purse suffered, my character suffered, my constitution suffered. Stimulants
became a necessity to me. I was a creature from
whom my memory recoils. And it was at that time,
the time of my blackest degradation, that God sent into
(27:42):
my life the gentlest, sweetest spirit that ever descended as
a ministering angel from above. She loved me broken as
I was loved me, and spent her life in making
a man once more of that which had degraded itself
to the level of the beasts. But a fell disease
struck her, and she withered away before my eyes. In
(28:05):
the hour of her agony. It was never of herself,
of her own sufferings and her own death that she thought.
Speaker 2 (28:12):
It was all of me.
Speaker 1 (28:16):
The one pang which her fate brought her was the
fear that, when her influence was removed, I should revert
to that.
Speaker 2 (28:21):
Which I had been.
Speaker 1 (28:24):
It was in vain that I made oath to her
that no drop of wine would ever cross my lips.
She knew only too well the hold that the devil
had upon me, she who had striven so to loosen it,
and it haunted her day and night. The thought that
my soul might again be within his grip. It was
from some friend's gossip of the sick room that she
heard of this invention, this phonograph, and with the quick
(28:47):
insight of a loving woman, she saw how she might
use it for her ends. She sent me to London
to procure the best which money could buy. With her
dying breath, she gasped into it the words which have
held me straight ever since. Lonely and broken. What else
have I in the world to uphold me?
Speaker 2 (29:04):
But it is enough.
Speaker 1 (29:07):
Please God, I shall face her without shame when he
is pleased to reunite us. That is my secret, mister Colmore,
And whilst I live, I leave it in your keeping.
End of The Japanned Box by Arthur Conan Doyle, recording
by Jeremy Pavier
Tales of Terror and Mystery by Arthur Conan Doyle The
Japand Box. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings
are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer,
please visit LibriVox dot org. Recording by Jeremy Pavier Tales
(00:23):
of Terror and Mystery by Arthur Conan Oil The Japand Box.
It was a curious thing, said the private tutor, one
of those grotesque and whimsical incidents which occur to one
as one goes through life. I lost the best situation
which I am ever likely to have through it. But
I am glad that I went to Thorpe Place, for
(00:44):
I gained.
Speaker 2 (00:46):
Well.
Speaker 1 (00:46):
As I tell you the story, you will learn what
I gained. I don't know whether you are familiar with
that part of the Midlands, which is drained by the Avon.
It is the most English part of England. Shakespeare The
Flower of the Race was born right in the middle
of it. It is a land of rolling pastures, rising
in higher folds to the westwards until they swell into
(01:09):
the Malvern Hills. There are no towns, but numerous villages,
each with its gray Norman church.
Speaker 2 (01:17):
You have left the.
Speaker 1 (01:17):
Brick of the Southern and Eastern counties behind you, and
everything is stone, stone for the walls, and likened slabs
of stone for the roofs. It is all grim and
solid and massive as befits the heart of a great nation.
It was in the middle of this country, not very
far from Evesham, that Sir John Balmore lived in the
old ancestral home of Thorpe Place, and thither it was
(01:41):
that I came to teach his two little sons. Sir
John was a widower. His wife had died three years before,
and he had been left with these two lads, aged
eight and ten, and one dear little girl of seven.
Miss Witherton, who is now my wife, was governess to
this little girl. I was tutor to the two boys.
Could there be a more obvious prelude to an engagement?
(02:04):
She governs me now and I tutor two little boys
of our own. But there I have already revealed what
it was which I gained from thought place. It was
a very very old house, incredibly old pre Norman some
of it, and the Bolomores claimed to have lived in
that situation since long before the conquest. It struck a
(02:25):
chill to my heart when first I came there, those
enormously thick gray walls, the rude, crumbling stones, the smellers
from a sick animal which exhaled from the rotting plaster
of the aged building. But the modern wing was bright
and the garden was well kept. No house could be
dismal which had a pretty girl inside it, and such
(02:45):
a show of roses in the front. Apart from a
very complete stuff of servants, there were only four of
us in the household. These were Miss Witherton, who was
at that time four and twenty and as pretty well
as pretty as Missus Colmore is now myself, Frank Colmore,
aged thirty, Missus Stevens, the housekeeper, a dry, silent woman,
(03:09):
and mister Richards, a tall, military looking man who acted
as steward to the Balamore estates. We four always had
our meals together, but Sir John had his, usually alone
in the library. Sometimes he joined us at dinner, but
on the whole we were just as glad when he
did not, for he was a very formidable person. Imagine
(03:31):
a man six feet three inches in height, majestically built,
with a high nosed, aristocratic face, brindled hair, shaggy eyebrows,
a small pointed Mephistophelian beard, and lines upon his brow
and round his eyes as deep as if they had
been carved with a pen knife. He had gray eyes, weary,
hopeless looking eyes, proud and yet pathetic, eyes which claimed
(03:56):
your pity yet dared you to show it. His back
was rounded with study. But otherwise he was as fine
a looking man of his age five and fifty, perhaps
as any woman could wish to look upon. But his
presence was not a cheerful one. He was always courtious,
always refined, but singularly silent and retiring. I have never
(04:21):
lived so long with any man and known so little
of him. If he were indoors, he spent his time
either in his own small study in the Eastern tower
or in the library in the modern wing. So regular
was his routine that one could always say at any
hour exactly where he would be. Twice in the day
he would visit his study, once after breakfast, and once
(04:44):
about ten at night. You might set your watch by
the slam of the heavy door. For the rest of
the day he would be in his library, save that
for an hour or two in the afternoon he would
take a walk or a ride, which was solitary, like
the rest of his existence. He loved his children and
was keenly interested in the progress of their studies. But
(05:06):
they were a little awed by the silent, shaggy browed figure,
and they avoided him as much as they could. Indeed,
we all did that. It was some time before I
came to know anything about the circumstances of Sir John
Bolimore's life, for Missus Stevens, the housekeeper, and mister Richards,
the land steward, were too loyal to talk easily of
(05:26):
their employer's affairs. As to the Governess, she knew no
more than I did, and our common interest was one
of the causes which drew us together. At last. However,
an incident occurred which led to a closer acquaintance with
mister Richards and a fuller knowledge of the life of
the man whom I served. The immediate cause of this
(05:48):
was no less than the falling of Master Percy, the
youngest of my pupils, into the mill race, with imminent
danger both to his life and to mine, since I
had to risk myself in order to save him. Dripping
and exhausted, for I was far more spent than the child.
I was making for my room when Sir John, who
had heard the hubbub, opened the door of his little
(06:09):
study and asked me what was the matter. I told
him of the accident, but assured him that his child
was in no danger, while he listened with a rugged,
immobile face, which expressed in its intense eyes and tightened
lips all the emotion which he tried to conceal one moment.
Step in here, let me have the details, said he,
(06:31):
turning back to the open door. And so I found
myself within that little sanctum, inside which, as I afterwards learned,
no other foot had for three years been set save
that of the old servant who cleaned it out. It
was a round room, conforming to the shape of the
tower in which it was situated, with a low ceiling,
(06:51):
a single, narrow, ivy wreathed window, and the simplest of furniture.
An old carpet, a single chair, a deal table, and
a small shelf of books made up the whole contents.
On the table stood a full length photograph of a woman.
I took no particular notice of the features, but I
remember that a certain gracious gentleness was the prevailing impression.
(07:16):
Beside it were a large black japanned box on one
or two bundles of letters or papers, fastened together with
elastic bands. Our interview was a short one, for Sir
John Bollimore perceived that I was soaked and that I
should change without delay. The instant led, however, to an
instructive talk with Richard's, the agent who had never penetrated
(07:39):
into the chamber which chance had opened to me that
very afternoon. He came to me all curiosity, and walked
up and down the garden path with me while my
two charges played tennis upon the lawn beside us. You
hardly realize the exception which has been made in your favor,
said he. That room has been kept such a mystery.
(08:00):
Sir John's visits to have been so regular and consistent,
that an almost superstitious feeling has arisen about it in
the household. I assure you that if I were to
repeat to you the tales which are flying about, tales
of mysterious visitors there, and of voices overheard by the servants,
you might suspect that Sir John had relapsed into his
old ways.
Speaker 2 (08:20):
Why do you say.
Speaker 1 (08:21):
Relapsed, I asked, He looked at me in surprise. Is
it possible, said he, that Sir John Blimore's previous history
is unknown to you. Absolutely, you astound me. I thought
that every man in England knew something of his antecedents.
I should not mention the matter if it were not
that you are now one of ourselves, and the facts
(08:43):
might come to your ears in some harsher form if
I were silent upon them. I always took it for
granted that you knew that you were in the service
of Devil Blimont. But why devil, I asked, Ah.
Speaker 2 (08:56):
You are young, and the world moves fast.
Speaker 1 (08:59):
But twenty years ago the name of Devil Balamore was
one of the best known in London. He was the
leader of the fastest set, bruiser driver, gambler, drunkard, a
survival of the old type, and as bad as the
worst of them. I stared at him in amazement. What
I cried, that quiet, studious, sad faced man, the greatest
(09:24):
rip and debotch in England, all between ourselves, Colmoll, But
you understand now what I mean when I say that
a woman's voice in his room might even now give
rise to suspicions. But what can have changed him so
little Beryl Claire, when she took the risk of becoming
his wife. That was the turning point. He had got
(09:46):
so far that his own fast set had thrown him over.
There is a world of difference, you know, between a
man who drinks and a drunkard. They all drink, but
they taboo a drunkard. He had become a slave to it,
hopeless and helples. Then she stepped in, saw the possibilities
of a fine man in the wreck, took her chance
in marrying him, though she might have had the pick
(10:08):
of a dozen, and by devoting her life to it,
brought him back to manhood and decency. You have observed
that no liquor is ever kept in the house. There
never has been any since her foot crossed its threshold.
A drop of it would be like blood to a tiger.
Even now then, her influence still holds him, that is
(10:29):
the wonder of it. When she died three years ago,
we all expected and feared that he would fall back
into his old ways.
Speaker 2 (10:38):
She feared it.
Speaker 1 (10:38):
Herself, and the thought gave a terror to death, for
she was like a guardian angel to that man, and
lived only for the one purpose.
Speaker 2 (10:46):
By the way. Did you see a black japanned box
in his room? Yes?
Speaker 1 (10:52):
I fancy it contains her letters. If ever he has
occasion to be away, if only for a single night,
he invariably takes his black jam hand box with him.
Oh well, Colmore, perhaps I have told you rather more
than I should, but I shall expect you to reciprocate
if anything of interest should come to your knowledge. I
could see that the worthy man was consumed with curiosity,
(11:15):
and just a little piqued that I, the newcomer, should
have been the first to penetrate into the untrodden chamber.
But the fact raised me in his esteem, and from
that time onwards I found myself upon more confidential terms
with him. And now the silent and majestic figure of
my employer became an object of greater interest to me.
(11:37):
I began to understand that strangely human look in his eyes,
those deep lines upon his careworn face. He was a
man who was fighting a ceaseless battle, holding at arm's
length from morning till night, a horrible adversary who was
forever trying to close with him, an adversary which would
destroy him body and soul. Could it but fix its
(11:59):
claws once more upon him. As I watched the grim,
round backed figure pacing the corridor or walking in the garden,
this imminent danger seemed to take bodily shape, and I
could almost fancy that I saw this most loathsome and
dangerous of all the fiends, crouching closely in his very shadow,
like a half cowed beast which SLINKs beside its keeper,
(12:21):
ready at any unguarded moment to spring at his throat.
And the dead woman, the woman who had spent her
life in warding off this danger, took shape also to
my imagination, and I saw her as a shadowy but
beautiful presence which intervened for ever with arms uplifted to
screen the man whom she loved. In some subtle way,
(12:44):
he divined the sympathy which I had for him, and
he showed in his own silent fashion that he appreciated it.
He even invited me once to share his afternoon walk,
and although no word passed between us on this occasion,
it was a mark of confidence which he had never
shown to any before. He asked me also to index
his library. It was one of the best private libraries
(13:06):
in England, and I spent many hours in the evening
in his presence, if not in his society, he reading
at his desk, and I sitting in a recess by
the window, reducing to order the chaos which existed among
his books. In spite of these close relations, I was
never again asked to enter the chamber in the turret.
And then came my revulsion of feeling. A single incident
(13:29):
changed all my sympathy to loathing and made me realize
that my employer still remained all that he had ever been,
with the additional vice of hypocrisy. What happened was as follows.
One evening, Miss Witherton had gone down to Broadway, the
neighboring village, to sing at a concert for some charity,
and I, according to my promise, had walked over to
escort her back. The drive sweeps round under the eastern turret,
(13:53):
and I observed as I passed that the light was
lit in the circular room. It was a summer evening,
and the window, which was a little higher than our heads,
was open. We were, as it happened, engrossed in our
own conversation at the moment, and we had paused upon
the lawn which skirts the old turret, when Suddenly something
broke in upon our talk and turned our thoughts away
(14:13):
from our own affairs. It was a voice, the voice
undoubtedly of a woman. It was low, so low that
it was only in that still night air that we
could have heard it. But hushed as it was, there
was no mistaking its feminine tom It spoke hurriedly, gaspingly,
for a few sentences, and then was silent, a piteous, breathless,
(14:37):
imploring sort of voice. Miss Witherton and I stood for
an instant staring at each other. Then we walked quickly
in the direction of the hall door. It came through
the window. I said, we must not play the part
of eavesdroppers. She answered, we must forget that we have
ever heard it. There was an absence of surprise in
(14:58):
her manner which suggested a new eye. Dear to me,
you have heard it before, I cried. I could not
help it. My own room is higher up on the
same turret. It has happened frequently. Who can the woman be?
I have no idea. I had rather not discuss it.
Her voice was enough to show me what she thought.
(15:19):
But granting that our employer led a double and dubious life,
who could she be this mysterious woman who kept him
company in the old tower. I knew from my own
inspection how bleak and bear a room it was. She
certainly did not live there. But in that case, where
did she come from? It could not be any one
of the household. They were all under the vigilant eyes
(15:41):
of Missus Stevens. The visitor must come from without?
Speaker 2 (15:45):
But how.
Speaker 1 (15:48):
And then suddenly I remembered how ancient this building was,
and how probable that some medieval passage existed in it.
There is hardly an old castle without one.
Speaker 2 (15:58):
The mysterious room was the.
Speaker 1 (15:59):
Basement the turret, so that if there were anything of
the sort, it would open through the floor. There were
numerous cottages in the immediate vicinity. The other end of
the secret passage might lie among some tangle of bramble
in the neighboring copse. I said nothing to any one,
but I felt that the secret of my employer lay
within my power. And the more convinced I was of this,
(16:20):
the more I marveled at the manner in which he
concealed his true nature. Often as I watched his austere figure,
I asked myself if it were indeed possible that such
a man should be living this double life. And I
tried to persuade myself that my suspicions might, after all
prove to be ill founded. But there was the female voice,
there was this secret, knightly rendezvous in the turret chamber.
(16:43):
How could such facts admit of an innocent interpretation? I
conceived a horror of the man. I was filled with
loathing at his deep, consistent hypocrisy. Only once during all
those months did I ever see him without that sad
but impassive mask which he usually presented towards his fellow man.
(17:04):
For an instant I caught a glimpse of those volcanic
fires which he had damped down so long. The occasion
was an unworthy one, for the object of his wrath
was none other than the aged charwoman, whom I have
already mentioned as being the one person who was allowed
within his mysterious chamber. I was passing the corridor which
led to the turret, for my own room lay in
(17:24):
that direction, when I heard a sudden, startled scream and
merged in it the husky, growling note of a man
who is inarticulate with passion.
Speaker 2 (17:35):
It was a.
Speaker 1 (17:35):
Snarl of a furious wild beast. Then I heard his
voice thrilling with anger. You would dare, he cried, you
would dare to disobey my directions. An instant later the
charwoman passed me, flying down the passage, white faced and tremulous,
while the terrible voice thundered behind her, Go to missus
(17:57):
Stevens for your money. Never set footeenth thought place again.
Consumed with curiosity, I could not help following the woman
and found her round the corner, leaning against the wall
and palpitating like a frightened rabbit. What is the matter,
missus Brown, I asked, it's master. She gasped, Oh, how
he frightened me. If you had seen his eyes, mister Colmore, sir.
Speaker 2 (18:20):
I thought it would have been the death of me.
Speaker 1 (18:23):
But what had you done done, sir, Nothing, at least
nothing to make so much of Just laid my hand
on that black box of his, hadn't even opened it
when any came, and you hurt the way, he went on,
I've lost my place, and glad I am of it,
for I would never trust myself within reach of him again.
So it was the japanned box which was the cause
(18:45):
of this outburst, the box from which he would never
permit himself to be separated. What was the connection, or
was there any connection between this and the secret visits
of the lady whose voice I had overheard, Sir John
Bolimore's wrath enduring as well as fiery. For from that
day Missus Brown, the charwoman, vanished from our ken and
(19:06):
Thorpe place.
Speaker 2 (19:07):
Knew her no more.
Speaker 1 (19:10):
And now I wish to tell you the singular chance
which solved all these strange questions and put my employer's
secret in my possession. The story may leave you with
some lingering doubts as to whether my curiosity did not
get the better of my honor, and whether I did
not condescend to play the spy. If you choose to
(19:31):
think so, I cannot help it, but can only assure
you that, improbable as it may appear, the matter came
about exactly as I describe it. The first stage in
this denouement was that the small room in the turret
became uninhabitable. This occurred through the fall of the worm
eaten oaken beam which supported the ceiling. Rotten with age.
(19:53):
It snapped in the middle one morning and brought down
a quantity of plaster with it. Fortunately, Sir John was
not in the room at the time. His precious box
was rescued from amongst the debris and brought into the library, where,
henceforward it was locked within his bureau. Sir John took
no steps to repair the damage, and I never had
(20:14):
an opportunity of searching for that secret passage, the existence
of which I had surmised as to the lady. I
had thought that this would have brought her visits to
an end, had I not one evening heard mister Richards
asking Missus Stevens who the woman was whom he had
overheard talking to Sir John in the library. I could
not catch her reply, but I saw from her manner
(20:36):
that it was not the first time that she had
had to answer or avoid the same question. You've heard
the voice, Colmond, said the agent.
Speaker 2 (20:45):
I confessed that I had, And what do you think
of it?
Speaker 1 (20:50):
I shrugged my shoulders and remarked that it was no
business of mine. Come, Come, you are just as curious
as any of us. Is it a woman or not?
It is certainly a woman.
Speaker 2 (21:02):
Which room?
Speaker 1 (21:03):
Did you hear it from? From the turret room before
the ceiling fell? But I heard it from the library
only last night. I passed the door as I was
going to bed, and I heard some one wailing and praying,
just as plainly.
Speaker 2 (21:15):
As I hear you. It may be a woman.
Speaker 1 (21:19):
Why what else could it be? He looked at me,
heard there are more things in heaven and earth, said he.
If it is a woman, how does she get there?
I don't know, no nor I. But if it is
the other thing, ah, but there for a practical business
man at the end of the nineteenth century, this is
rather a ridiculous line of conversation. He turned away, but
(21:42):
I saw that he felt even more than he had said.
To all the old ghost stories of Thorpe Place, a
new one was being added before our very eyes. It
may by this time have taken its permanent place. For
though an explanation came to me, it never reached the others.
And my explanation came in this way. I had suffered
(22:03):
a sleepless night from neuralgia, and about midday I had
taken a heavy dose of chlorodyne to alleviate the pain.
At that time I was finishing the indexing of Sir
John Bolimore's library, and it was my custom to work
there from five till seven on this particular day, I
struggled against the double effect of my bad night and
(22:23):
the narcotic I have already mentioned that there was a
recess in the library, and in this it was my
habit to work. I settled down steadily to my task,
but my weariness overcame me, and, falling back upon the settee,
I dropped into a heavy sleep. How long I slept
I do not know, but it was quite dark when
(22:45):
I awoke. Confused by the chlorodine which I had taken,
I lay motionless in a semi conscious state. The great room,
with its high walls covered with books, loomed darkly all
around me. A dim radiance from the moonlight came through
the farther window, and against this lighter background, I saw
that Sir John Bolmore was sitting at his study table.
(23:08):
His well set head and clearly cut profile was sharply
outlined against the glimmering square behind him. He bent as
I watched him, and I heard the sharp turning of
a key and a rasping of metal upon metal, as
if in a dream. I was vaguely conscious that this
was the Japanned box which stood in front of him,
and that he had drawn something out of it, something
(23:29):
squat and uncouth, which now lay before him upon the table.
I never realized. It never occurred to my bemuddled and
torpid brain that I was intruding upon his privacy, that
he imagined himself to be alone in the room. And then,
just as it rushed upon my horrified perceptions, and I
(23:50):
had half risen to announce my presence, I heard a strange, crisp,
metallic clicking, and then the voice. Yes, it was a
woman's voice. There could not be a doubt of it,
but a voice so charged with entreaty and with yearning
love that it will ring for ever in my ears.
(24:11):
It came with a curious, far away tinkle, but every
word was clear, though faint, very faint, for they were
the last words of a dying woman. I am not
really gone, John, said the thin, gasping voice. I am
here at your very elbow, and shall be until we
(24:33):
meet once more.
Speaker 2 (24:35):
I die happy to.
Speaker 1 (24:36):
Think that morning and night you will hear my voice.
Oh John, be strong, be strong until we meet again.
I say that I had risen in order to announce
my presence, but I could not do so while the
voice was sounding. I could only remain, half lying, half sitting, paralyzed, astounded,
(25:00):
listening to those yearning, distant musical words. And he, he
who was so absorbed that even if I had spoken,
he might not have heard me. But with the silence
of the voice came my half articulated apologies and explanations.
He sprang across the room, switched on the electric light,
(25:20):
and in its white glare I saw him, his eyes
gleaming with anger, his face twisted with passion, as the
hapless charwoman may have seen him weeks before. Mister Colmore,
he cried, you here, what is the meaning of this, sir?
With halting words, I explained it all, my neuralgia, the narcotic,
my luckless sleep, and singular awakening. As he listened, the
(25:45):
glow of anger faded from his face, and the sad
impassive mask closed once.
Speaker 2 (25:51):
More over his features.
Speaker 1 (25:54):
My secret is yours, mister Colmore, said he. I have
only myself to blame for relaxing my precautions. Half confidences
are worse than no confidences. And so you may know all.
Since you know so much, the story may go where
you will when I have passed away. But until then
I rely upon your sense of honor, that no human
(26:15):
soul shall hear it from your lips. I am proud still,
God help me, or at least I am proud enough
to resent that pity which this story would draw upon me.
I have smiled at envy and disregarded hatred. But pity
is more than I can tolerate. You have heard the
source from which the voice comes, that voice which has,
(26:36):
as I understand, excited so much curiosity in my household.
I am aware of the rumors to which it has
given rise, these speculations, whether scandalous or superstitious, as such
as I can disregard and forgive. What I should never
forgive would be a disloyal spying and eavesdropping in order
to satisfy an illicit curiosity. But of that, to call more,
(27:00):
I acquit you. When I was a young man, sir,
many years younger than you are now, I was launched
upon town without a friend or adviser, and with a
purse which brought only too many false friends and false
advisers to my side. I drank deeply of the wine
of life. If there is a man living who has
(27:22):
drunk more deeply, he is not a man whom I envy,
My purse suffered, my character suffered, my constitution suffered. Stimulants
became a necessity to me. I was a creature from
whom my memory recoils. And it was at that time,
the time of my blackest degradation, that God sent into
(27:42):
my life the gentlest, sweetest spirit that ever descended as
a ministering angel from above. She loved me broken as
I was loved me, and spent her life in making
a man once more of that which had degraded itself
to the level of the beasts. But a fell disease
struck her, and she withered away before my eyes. In
(28:05):
the hour of her agony. It was never of herself,
of her own sufferings and her own death that she thought.
Speaker 2 (28:12):
It was all of me.
Speaker 1 (28:16):
The one pang which her fate brought her was the
fear that, when her influence was removed, I should revert
to that.
Speaker 2 (28:21):
Which I had been.
Speaker 1 (28:24):
It was in vain that I made oath to her
that no drop of wine would ever cross my lips.
She knew only too well the hold that the devil
had upon me, she who had striven so to loosen it,
and it haunted her day and night. The thought that
my soul might again be within his grip. It was
from some friend's gossip of the sick room that she
heard of this invention, this phonograph, and with the quick
(28:47):
insight of a loving woman, she saw how she might
use it for her ends. She sent me to London
to procure the best which money could buy. With her
dying breath, she gasped into it the words which have
held me straight ever since. Lonely and broken. What else
have I in the world to uphold me?
Speaker 2 (29:04):
But it is enough.
Speaker 1 (29:07):
Please God, I shall face her without shame when he
is pleased to reunite us. That is my secret, mister Colmore,
And whilst I live, I leave it in your keeping.
End of The Japanned Box by Arthur Conan Doyle, recording
by Jeremy Pavier
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The World's Most Dangerous Morning Show, The Breakfast Club, With DJ Envy, Jess Hilarious, And Charlamagne Tha God!