NOBILITIES GHOSTS

NOBILITIES
GHOSTS

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: center"
align="center">By Jack
Morrison

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class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"Would you care for some
tea?"

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"Actually, if you have
coffee??"

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     The older man raised an
eyebrow. There was no humor in his face as he prepared the cup for his
guest.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"You understand we English take our tea rather
seriously."

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     The young American
nodded.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"It's common knowledge, but
I've never acquired a taste for tea. My mother, however, drank it
religiously. Thank you."

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">     He accepted the cup and
relaxed into the well-stuffed Victorian. The china was lovely, bone
white with gold trim and primly decorated with blue orchids. The coffee
though, was horribly
bitter.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%"> "Instant?" he
asked.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"Yes, do you find it
unsuitable?"

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     The young man detected
sarcasm in the Englishman's voice but chose to ignore it. He did not
wish to offend him.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%"> "No, it's fine. Thanks again." He smiled and
sipped his coffee

class="MsoBodyText" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"> style="mso-spacerun: yes">     A
brief look of annoyance crossed the face of his host. The young man
knew that they had entered into some form of psychological duel; but he
had come a long way to meet this man, and was anxious to get down to
business. The "thrust and parry" would have to wait.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%"> "To the matter then?" he
asked.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"Indeed, the box. Briefly, it has been in my
family for generations, sent here by the first Lord of this manor,
Eric, while he was fighting a land dispute in Scotland. It was said
that he had gone insane just before, and leveled an entire village of
women and children. He died shortly after on the battle
field."

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class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">      Lord Harrington sat
straight and proud opposite the young man. He punctuated his words with
a slight flip of his hand though his face remained perfectly placid.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"The box was delivered into the hands of his
wife Elizabeth, who committed suicide that same night. Hence forth it
has remained under lock and key in this manor,
unopened."

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     He paused, his eyes fixed
on the young man.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"Sounds like quite the
enigma."

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"Indeed Mr. Johns. Several of
my ancestors had gone utterly mad from this damned thing. I do not wish
to join them."

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"I couldn't blame you. And you
say it's never been opened?" the old man
nodded.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     Johns set down his cup
and thought for a
moment.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"Please don't take this the
wrong way," he said, "but if it's as old as you say, then how can you
be so confident it's never been
opened?"

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     Lord Harrington grinned.
It was the first show of open emotion that Johns had seen from the man,
and it was not pleasant. He found that he preferred the stone
face.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"Because the seal is not broken." Harrington
replied.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"Then I have one more
question. Why has no one opened
it?"

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"Mr. Johns, the box is sealed with blood. Would
you have the courage to open
it?"

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blue"> 

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TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="center">II

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class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     They left the comforts of
the parlor and entered the main hall. It was long and cold with few
adornments. High arching windows and a polished stone floor that lent a
dull thud to each step. Presently they came upon a dim staircase to
their left. They ascended two long flights to an upper hall. This had
less stature of the lower hall, few nominal windows, a wood floor and a
bad case of neglect.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"Pleases excuse the untidiness
Mr. Johns. I live alone and have a small staff, so the lower halls are
the only living quarters
occupied."

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     At the end of the hall was a
rough-hewn wood door. And here Lord Harrington stopped. The door was,
at one time, fitted with an old style lock, the kind with the huge keys
like you see in old movies with dungeons. But it had recently been
re-fitted with a steel bar and pad-lock. Lord Harrington produced a key
and reached to unlock it, but  paused a moment, his hands trembling
slightly. Johns could see, even in the poor light that the older man
had gone pale.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"Are you all right?" he
asked.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">     Lord Harrington pulled
back his shoulders and
nodded.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"Remember what I told you
about my ancestors going mad?" he
asked.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"Yes I do." replied
Johns.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"It is only when I enter this room that I can
feel it. As if insanity has taken on a solid form, the color of shadow,
and waits for me."

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     Without further
hesitation the Englishman removed the lock and bar and released the
latch. Johns expected an ominous creek, but the door swung silent on
its hinges.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">      The interior room
was darker even than the hall. One electric bulb burned, but it was
covered with a thick layer of filth, blotting out the helpful beams. It
was indeed a chamber of shadows, and Johns felt a fleeting inclination
to turn and quickly leave the manor without a backwards glance. But he
had not traveled this far to leave now. This was what he had come for,
so shadow or not he was going to see it to the end. Besides, he had
nothing to lose.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     They stood at the
threshold, both knowing they must enter, and at the same time, both
wishing they were back in the parlor. Lord Harrington was first to step
in, followed by Johns. The room was winter cold, and their breath came
in white puffs. 
Johns could see the shimmer of frost on the
floor.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"Is it always like this?" he
asked.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"What did you expect Mr. Johns, balloons and
party hats?"

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     The only furnishing in
the room was a small table, upon which sat the box. It was hard to
believe that so much supernatural focus had been given to this thing.
The container was really quite simple, a foot deep by a foot wide, no
unusual markings or lettering of any sort. It appeared to be made of
lead, rough, as if fashioned in haste. The one thing that gave Johns a
chill was the fact that the box was surrounded by ice, yet untouched by
it.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"Tell me Mr. Johns," asked Harrington, "what are
you feeling at this
moment?"

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">" A very insistent pressure on
my bladder." he replied.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     The older mans brows
furrowed.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"I find no humor here Mr.
Johns." he stated.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"I'm being absolutely serious
sir. This room is thick with something I can't see, but I feel it very
well."

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     He approached the table
with great watchfulness, showing more courage than he possessed, and
bent to study the seal. It was a purple/black substance that very well
could have been blood, but there was an odd, artificial look to it.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"There seems to be something mixed into it." he
said.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"Your absolutely correct Mr. Johns. If you look
to the right corner you will see that a small portion was scratched
away. I sent that sample to an acquaintance of mine at Scotland Yard
for analysis, the results were rather
curious."

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"How so?" asked Johns, his
eyes transfixed on the
box.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue"> "Well, it seems as though there is not one
type of blood but two, and the material that gives it a waxy appearance
is just that, candle
wax."

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">     Johns was listening, but
as if from a distance. As he gazed at the box he began to feel as
though he was separating from everything around him. Within moments the
box was all there was, even he no longer existed. It called, a soothing
song that warmed him, pleased him. He wanted to be with the box, within
it if possible. All the answers were there, if he would only open
it.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"Mr. Johns!" cried
Harrington.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     Reality returned with
whiplash velocity. There was a moment of confusion, then the
realization that his hand was inches from the box. He reeled back in
shock and slipped on the slick frost, biting his tongue as he landed
hard on the floor. Lord Harrington came to his side and helped him to
his feet.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"Are you all right Mr. Johns?"
he asked.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     Johns only nodded, he was
staring again at the box wondering what the hell had just happened.
Then from the far corner of the room came the hushed sound of a woman
weeping. They could see nothing in the shadows, but there was no
mistaking what they were hearing. It was both fearful, and
heartbreaking to witness such disembodied anguish, so much so that
Johns was torn between running away at full tilt, or crying as
well.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">     He looked to see that
Lord Harrington had chosen the latter. Tears spilled freely down his
cheeks.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"It is Elizabeth." he
whispered.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     At the mention of her
name, the box rose up and drove itself violently into the top of the
table, again, and again, until the wood began to splinter. And then it
was still.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     They looked at each
other, ashen, trembling, and bolted for the door. Once in the hall Lord
Harrington slid the bar home and threw on the padlock in rapid
succession. Johns leaned back against the wall holding his chest, his
lungs heaving.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"That was some scary shit." he
rasped.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"Indeed." breathed Harrington.
"Scotch or brandy?"

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"Both." Johns
replied.

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TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="center">III

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class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     Back in the parlor Johns
was sipping his third drink. The first two had disappeared down his
throat faster than he could taste them, and now a warm buzz was
nestling in his skull. He went over the events that he could recall,
the frost, the sobbing ghost, the violence of the box. Who had held it
then, Elizabeth? Could she have had that kind of strength? Does it
matter when you're a spirit? His thoughts whirled. style="mso-spacerun: yes">   

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%"> "It was not her." Harrington
said.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">     He had been lying on the
divan for awhile and Johns had thought him asleep. He sat up now and
regarded the young man.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%"> "What?" Johns
asked.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"It was not Elizabeth that manipulated the box,
it was Eric. You've been
mumbling."

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">.     Harrington stood, walked
to the bar and poured a generous amount of brandy into a
snifter.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"It's obvious that one or the
other attempted to use you to open the box. When that failed they
became upset, each in their own way of coarse. Whatever is concealed in
it is most important to
them"

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">     Johns nodded. He had felt
as though he had been used as something like a puppet. The style="mso-spacerun: yes">  ease at which he had
been controlled was distressing. Looking up he noticed that Lord
Harrington was staring at him
intently.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"I feel that we have some
issues to discuss Mr. Johns. Something has been going over in my mind
repeatedly and I wish to lay it to rest." He returned to the
divan.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">     Johns began to feel a
touch of anxiety clutch at him. He had been keeping something from
Harrington, something he planned to disclose later, but he felt that
the perceptive nobleman had already figured it out. Or at least he knew
that all was not
legitimate.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"Perhaps you're right," he
replied. "What seems to be bothering
you?"

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">     Harrington cleared his
throat and sipped his brandy before
answering.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"When I sent my letter to the
institute you represent, asking for assistance, I assumed that

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">the person they sent would be experienced. Your
organization is foremost in paranormal research, highly praised in all
related fields."

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"Yes, that's correct." Johns
responded.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"Well then, my confusion is
based on your reactions to the happenings of late. Tell me, how many
cases have you been assigned to Mr.
Johns?"

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     There it was, the
question that he had been dreading. Johns finished his drink in one
fluid motion and set the glass down. He drew a deep breath and looked
Harrington in the eye.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"None." he stated. Harrington
nodded.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"I thought as much. Upstairs
you reacted as if you had never experienced anything like that
before."

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"That's true. Until today I
never really believed in any of
it."

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"But you work for the institute, do you
not?"

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"Yes, for the past three years I've been in
charge of the custodial functions on floors three through
six."

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">Lord Harrington looked puzzled. Johns rose from
his chair, picked up his glass and smiled at the elderly
chap.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"I'm a janitor,
Harrington."

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     He walked to the bar and
refreshed his drink. With his back to Harrington he awaited the
reaction that he had anticipated, rage. But instead, Lord Harrington
began to chuckle, and then he began to laugh. Johns turned and saw
tears welling up in the Englishman's eyes.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"Forgive me Mr. Johns, give me a moment to
compose myself."

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     After a few minutes they
sat across from each other, stately Lord and lowly janitor, sipping
brandy in a five hundred year old
manor.

class="MsoBodyText" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">"Mr. Johns, eh, what
is your first name?"

"Robert." He
said.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"Robert, a fine English name."

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"And what do they call you?" Johns
asked.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"They call me Lord Harrington, Robert." He
replied with a grin. "Now tell me how you came to be here. What became
of my letter?"

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"Well," Johns began, " the
sixth floor of the institute contains the offices of the director and
his staff. Several nights ago I was emptying waste- baskets when an
envelope fell out bearing an English stamp. I'm something of a novice
collector so I picked it up. Out of curiosity I removed the letter and
read it."

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"And how was it that my letter
had found its way to the waste-basket?" He
asked.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">     Johns shifted in the
chair. He was uncertain how to explain the following events without
offending Lord Harrington. But he felt that the man had a right to
know, so he continued.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"I don't know why it was
thrown away. It seems like something right up their alley, but written
boldly across the top was one word. "Rubbish". These people are very
eccentric in the way they perceive things. Your guess is as good as
mine, I'm sorry."

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     Harrington waved his
hand.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"No need to apologize for something that you had
no part in." he said. "Besides, eccentricity was an English attribute
long before it was adopted by the Americans. So now why did you come
here?"

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"For the money." Johns replied. "When I got to
the part where you offered two million American dollars for helping you
find out what's in the box, I couldn't resist. I wrote you back, forged
the directors name, mailed it and bought a
ticket."

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"And now here you are. But if
you have no formal paranormal training, and you're definitely not
psychic, how do you intend to assist
me?"

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"Easy, I'm going to open the
box."

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">     The color in Lord
Harrington's face dulled to an ashen gray. It was as if his spirit had
suddenly left his body, slack and empty looking. He gaped at Johns,
white spittle forming  
at the edges of his mouth. Johns saw that he was having a
paralyzing fit of terror. He snatched the brandy from the frightened
mans hand before it was dropped to the floor.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"Are you insane!" Harrington cried out, now
shaking uncontrollably.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"No, I know exactly what I'm
proposing." Johns
assured.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     Harrington shot from the
divan and paced the room like a nervous cat. He alternated between
wringing his hands and thrusting his fingers through his thin gray
hair. Johns watched him, wondering to himself if it would have been
better to have eased Harrington into the idea rather than just blurt it
out like he did. But the damage was done, and he only hoped that the
old man didn't throw him out on his
ass.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">     At long last Harrington
ceased his pacing and returned to the divan. He downed the remains of
his brandy and quietly asked Johns to refill the snifter. Johns poured
him a double and then returned to the chair across from his fearful
host.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"Mr. Johns, Robert, my apologies. I don't
believe that I've ever had an experience quite like that before." He
shook his head. "My God man, do you realize that for five hundred years
no one has ever offered or even suggested opening that box? You've felt
its evil presence, you've seen what its capable of doing, yet you would
endanger your sanity, if not your very life, to open the damned thing?
Why?"

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">     Johns took a long sip
from his drink. He stared into Lord Harrington's eyes and with what
seemed like great effort, told him a
story.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"There was this guy, a real nice guy. People
liked him and he them, not an enemy in the world. He met a nice girl
and they fell in love, got married. Two years later they had a son, and
then a daughter a couple of years after that. He had a good job, but
lost it due to budget cuts. He had trouble finding employment in the
same field and had to settle for a janitorial position for a bunch of
ghost hunters."

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     Johns paused to catch his
breath and wipe a stray tear from his eye. Harrington sat and politely
waited for Johns to continue. He felt compassion for the young man.
There was an air of great suffering in this story, and he suspected
that its conclusion would sway him to let Johns open the box. Although
the prospect of that action terrified him to his very
soul.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">     "Anyway," Johns
continued, " Shortly after he began to have chest pains. They weren't
serious, short and sharp. He put it down to stress and thought nothing
more about it. Gradually they became more painful, and lasted longer.
He went to his doctor and after a battery of tests they found he
carried a genetic disorder that caused a breakdown of aortal tissue.
This also affected the arteries leading into the heart so surgery just
wasn't an option. Medication helped with the pain and heart
fluctuations but the overall prognosis was grim, it was terminal. This
guy lived pay check to pay check so he had no savings, no life
insurance. Being a selfless man his thoughts revolved around the well
being of his family. Having no avenues available to him he began to
panic. Till fate stepped in bearing an English stamp. The rest you
already know."

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     Johns was crying now. The
silent weeping of a man with no where to turn in a desperate time.
Harrington went to the bar and brought Johns a fresh brandy, patting
his shoulder in a fatherly gesture. He sat down and thought for several
minutes. When he felt he had come to a decision he looked back at
Johns.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"Young man, in my country there are three types
of people: Royalty, Nobles, and  then Commoners. Some are born into royalty,
and there are those who believe the same is true for nobility. I,
however, have always thought that nobility stems from noble actions,
and today you have proven that theory. When will you open the
box?"

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">     Johns smiled.
"Tonight."

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%"> 

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%"> 

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%;
TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="center">IV

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%"> 

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     Lord Harrington sat in
his parlor. It had been roughly four hours since Johns had gone
upstairs to the frozen room. Night had fallen, and a thick fog licked
at the windows. He had heard no sound, seen no apparitions. Still, he
feared going up to see what had become of his young
visitor.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     In his hand he held two
items; one was a letter from Johns to his wife explaining his actions
on that night, and no doubt expressing his love. The other was a bank
account number in which Harrington would deposit the two million
dollars. If Johns were to survive, Harrington would cut him a check
there and then.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     Time went by slowly, and
when he could stand it no longer he drew in some courage and made his
way to the upper halls. The door lay open though it was too dark to see
into it. He crept closer, his heart pounding against his ribs. Step by
step he closed the gap, and every footfall increased his terror.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">     When he reached the
entrance to the room he noticed a considerable change in temperature.
In fact, upon entering he found the room to be quite warm. No trace of
frost was present, nor was the oppressive sensation of evil. Even the
filthy bulb that hung from the ceiling seemed to give off more light.
On the table sat the box, its lid lay to one side. But where was
Johns?

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">     He found him prone at the
far side of the room. From his position he apparently had backed
himself into the corner away from the table, and the box. Harrington
rushed to the body and checked for a pulse. He pulled his fingers away
shaking his head.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">"Poor chap." He whispered.
"What did you see?"

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     He turned then to the
box. Feeling no danger anymore, the curiosity of half a millennium over
took him. He approached the table anxiously and finally viewed its
contents. Inside where two pieces of folded paper, yellow and faded
with age, yet beautifully preserved. One bore a wax seal with the
Harrington crest. The other had been sealed but then opened. The papers
rested atop a gold cloth, which concealed more items beneath its
delicate patterns.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     Harrington decided to
begin with the opened letter. With trembling hands he plucked it from
the box. It was dry like husks, and he was very gentle in opening it
for fear of it crumbling in his hands. It was a letter written in old
Gaelic, with strokes that seemed masculine. A letter from Eric to his
wife Elizabeth, it read:

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">My dearest
love,

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">I write this in the throes of aguish and self-
hatred. I fear that I have committed an abominable act, one that has
assuredly condemned my soul. The dispute has become a war, and many
lives have been lost. I have not seen such brutality in all my days,
and I began to think that I could not stomach any
more.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">Then last night my advanced scouts sent word
that the enemy had set an ambush in a small village ahead of our
company. I sent several men out under cover of night to raid the
village and set it to flame. My God, Elizabeth! My informants were
wrong. There were none but women and children there, many of them
burned to their deaths!

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">By my word did this deed
unfold, as if by my own hand. The blame must fall on me and me alone. I
must atone for this sin.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">I have decided that on the
morning following this letter, when we face the whole of our enemy on
the battle ground near the burned village, I will not defend myself
against any harm. I will stand, and I will die. So that if my courage
should wane, I will see to it that I have no coarse of defense
available to me. It is a painful action, but necessary. I shall place
my token and this letter in my old box and have it sent to you
immediately. By the time you receive it, I will be
dead.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">Please understand my obligation to these
innocents whom I have harmed, forgive me my love. May we soon be
reunited.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">Eric

class="MsoBodyText" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"> style="mso-spacerun: yes">    
Harrington set the letter on the table. So much myth was
being discredited, so much mystery solved. He picked up the sealed
letter. Gently breaking the wax, he opened it and read:

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">My beloved and gentle
husband,

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">I weep for my loss and your pain. I see your
token and understand the sacrifice you have made, I'm sure that you
have been forgiven. My heart breaks at the thought of never holding
your hand in mine again. This is not something that I can live without.
I made a vow on the day that we wed that we would be together until
death parts us, tonight I shall keep that vow, and challenge death to
keep us from each other. Your sacrifice shall be mine.

I
have been and shall forever be your devoted wife. Our tokens will be
together in this old box, sealed by my hand for all time. For if God
turns against us, I shall take comfort in knowing that I still have
your touch, somewhere.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">Elizabeth

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     Harrington let the letter
fall to the floor. He was deeply overcome with the emotion of it all.
Such love, such devotion. He reached again into the box and removed the
golden cloth. What he saw did not surprise
him.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">     Laying one upon the other
were two severed hands, one male, the other female. They had been
placed so the fingers rested lovingly together. The male hand bore the
ring of the Harrington crest, a golden band adorned the wedding finger
of the slighter hand.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     Sacrifice. Suddenly
Harrington's entire life was surrounded with people willing to
sacrifice themselves for honor, and love. He felt a surge of pride
within him, for Eric, Elizabeth, and Johns. Pride in the fact that he
had indeed come from "Noble" stock. And that nobility has no
boundaries.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     A slight movement at the
door caught his attention. It could have been nothing more that a wisp
of fog that had burgled its way into the manor, but he felt it was
more. He peered into the hall and, like something from a dream, watched
as two figures walk away from him. They were nothing more solid than a
gossamer web, but he could tell that they were happy by the way they
held to each other. At long last
reunited.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     He watched them until
they had faded from sight and then went to Johns' body, proud to have
known such a noble man. He knelt beside him and lay a hand on his
chest.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">"Two million is not nearly enough for bringing
peace back into this house." He
said.

style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%"> style="COLOR: blue">     Before he stood something
glinted on Johns' cheek. Harrington knelt to take a better look and
watched as a fragment of frost slowly melted away and ran down Johns'
face. It was a curious thing, about the shape of a pair of lips.
Elizabeth had also expressed her
gratitude.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">     Harrington went
downstairs to the telephone. He had one call to make before bringing an
ambulance. It would be a difficult yet rewarding call. He needed to
speak with Johns' wife in person, tell her what happened in his own
voice. But the phone call would only be the beginning, he planned to
adopt this family.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%">Harrington Manor had been
empty for far too long.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT:
150%"> 

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%;
TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="center">THE END