Figgs. He tried desperately to find a solution … an answer that would explain it all away. Reginald centered in on it being a dream. It had to be the cause. What else could it be?
“ But you were sleeping, William. It might have been part of your dream. I’ve done that myself. Not really been awake and just thought that I saw some …”
“ No, sir, it twern’t no dream.”
“ But how do you know?”
“ Cause it dropped the pipe, sir.”
“ What?”
“ That’s right, sir. It had hold of Mr. Perry’s pipe in its mouth. It was in such a hurry, that when it darted, it dropped it on the floor! I sat on the couch for a minute trying to collect myself. I was doing what you’re doing now – trying to convince myself it was a bad dream. I didn’t want to see what I’d just seen, but I knew I’d heard something. I got up to investigate. See for myself that there was nothing there. I walked to the spot in the living room where that gentleman was, and looked down. There was Mr. Perry’s pipe on the floor … lit and full of tobacco … just like it fell from someone’s mouth! And I knew I weren’t imagining that because there were embers still lit and I had to stomp them out. You can still see a bit of a burn if you look, sir. The marks are still there, but you have to look closely.”
Reginald resisted the urge to pull his arms in around him. He grasped his hands together – knitting his fingers tightly closed. He didn’t believe in the supernatural. What Figgs was saying couldn’t be true and yet he couldn’t deny the feeling he had in his bones. It had gotten worse as he sat at the table listening to Figgs’ ghost story. Reginald always relied on his intuition about witnesses in the courtroom and his inner voice was telling him that Figgs was telling the truth, but it couldn’t be. Figgs voice penetrated Reginald’s inner dialogue.
“ I left the house right after that. I started spending less and less time here and that’s when the dreams started.”
“ Dreams?”
The cold seeped into Reginald’s skull like a dull rain drizzling down his body. It washed over him in a wave and then evaporated in a cold fog that wrapped around him like a shroud of frozen air. Reginald shivered from the unnerving cold.
“ Yes, sir, dreams. At night. I’d be home in my own bed with my Missus next to me. I’d fall asleep and I’d dream of being here and …” Figgs’ head lolled to the side. He held his hands over his eyes, shielding himself from Reginald’s rigid stare. He felt humiliated and he didn’t like feeling that way. He was a proud man that had taken care of himself and his family all these years. Suddenly, he felt he could no longer control things. He felt helpless and exposed.
“ I can’t, sir.”
“ I assure you that what you say to me will never leave this room. You have my word as a gentleman and a friend.”
Figgs remained silent. He needed more convincing. Reginald tried once more. He reluctantly loosened his hands and laid one of them gently, yet firmly across Figgs’ arm.
“ Please, William, I need to know,” he prodded softly. “If you don’t want to do it for me, please, do it for Arthur.”
Figgs lower jaw flinched. There was a torrent of words locked inside. A decision was reached – the floodgate opened.
“ I dreamt of a coffin.”
“ A coffin?”
“ Yes, a plain wooden coffin. It were nailed shut.”
“ Nailed, you say? But why?”
“ To make sure whatever was in there didn’t get out. You see, at first, I didn’t know it were a coffin. It looked like a plain pine box to me. I found out what it was and what it wanted because in my dreams, it whispered to me.”
“ It whispered? You mean the corpse inside?”
“ Twern’t a corpse, sir.”
“ You mean someone was alive? And locked inside?”
“ You could say that, sir. It’d be more the truth, but not
“ But you were sleeping, William. It might have been part of your dream. I’ve done that myself. Not really been awake and just thought that I saw some …”
“ No, sir, it twern’t no dream.”
“ But how do you know?”
“ Cause it dropped the pipe, sir.”
“ What?”
“ That’s right, sir. It had hold of Mr. Perry’s pipe in its mouth. It was in such a hurry, that when it darted, it dropped it on the floor! I sat on the couch for a minute trying to collect myself. I was doing what you’re doing now – trying to convince myself it was a bad dream. I didn’t want to see what I’d just seen, but I knew I’d heard something. I got up to investigate. See for myself that there was nothing there. I walked to the spot in the living room where that gentleman was, and looked down. There was Mr. Perry’s pipe on the floor … lit and full of tobacco … just like it fell from someone’s mouth! And I knew I weren’t imagining that because there were embers still lit and I had to stomp them out. You can still see a bit of a burn if you look, sir. The marks are still there, but you have to look closely.”
Reginald resisted the urge to pull his arms in around him. He grasped his hands together – knitting his fingers tightly closed. He didn’t believe in the supernatural. What Figgs was saying couldn’t be true and yet he couldn’t deny the feeling he had in his bones. It had gotten worse as he sat at the table listening to Figgs’ ghost story. Reginald always relied on his intuition about witnesses in the courtroom and his inner voice was telling him that Figgs was telling the truth, but it couldn’t be. Figgs voice penetrated Reginald’s inner dialogue.
“ I left the house right after that. I started spending less and less time here and that’s when the dreams started.”
“ Dreams?”
The cold seeped into Reginald’s skull like a dull rain drizzling down his body. It washed over him in a wave and then evaporated in a cold fog that wrapped around him like a shroud of frozen air. Reginald shivered from the unnerving cold.
“ Yes, sir, dreams. At night. I’d be home in my own bed with my Missus next to me. I’d fall asleep and I’d dream of being here and …” Figgs’ head lolled to the side. He held his hands over his eyes, shielding himself from Reginald’s rigid stare. He felt humiliated and he didn’t like feeling that way. He was a proud man that had taken care of himself and his family all these years. Suddenly, he felt he could no longer control things. He felt helpless and exposed.
“ I can’t, sir.”
“ I assure you that what you say to me will never leave this room. You have my word as a gentleman and a friend.”
Figgs remained silent. He needed more convincing. Reginald tried once more. He reluctantly loosened his hands and laid one of them gently, yet firmly across Figgs’ arm.
“ Please, William, I need to know,” he prodded softly. “If you don’t want to do it for me, please, do it for Arthur.”
Figgs lower jaw flinched. There was a torrent of words locked inside. A decision was reached – the floodgate opened.
“ I dreamt of a coffin.”
“ A coffin?”
“ Yes, a plain wooden coffin. It were nailed shut.”
“ Nailed, you say? But why?”
“ To make sure whatever was in there didn’t get out. You see, at first, I didn’t know it were a coffin. It looked like a plain pine box to me. I found out what it was and what it wanted because in my dreams, it whispered to me.”
“ It whispered? You mean the corpse inside?”
“ Twern’t a corpse, sir.”
“ You mean someone was alive? And locked inside?”
“ You could say that, sir. It’d be more the truth, but not
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