“Suddenly, from out of nowhere, there sounded a golden mellow chime. The air was filled with a momentary flood of sweet, sinister music that rang like the voices of woodland nymphs on the cool mountain air. It made my flesh creep. There was a distinct element of the unknown and forbidden in that one elfin-like tone. For an instant the air seemed charged with a vibrant, tangible force—elusive as a rainbow, yet startling and chilling in its utter unearthliness. To say where it came from would be impossible. Simultaneously it seemed to spring from the dark hills and from the very air of the room. I know I must have been startled, for my fingers trembled on the table-top.
“The effect on the natives was startling. Every one of them froze in attitudes of intense listening. The rugged sheriff cursed under his breath and rose quickly to his feet. The faces of the two marshals showed nothing but awed surprise, and my own must have reflected the same emotion. My God, Single, I can hear that chime ringing yet! A mellow echo; breathtaking in its suddenness, and inherently evil and unreal. I could make nothing of it. About me the few occupants seemed somehow to recognize that note—and to fear it. The sheriff grasped his hat and hurriedly left the ill-lit room, followed by the federal officers, who glanced now and then out the open windows. I heard them pass around to the back, start their powerful automobile, and roar away into the night. I wondered if their destination concerned the haunting, sinister note. I left the dining room, unable to take my thoughts from the thing. I need not describe the utter terror and fear that lined the faces of the people in that room. There was something altogether horrifying in the effect which the one sound had upon them—something that was dimly echoed in my own uneasiness.
“That night in my room I was awakened by the sound of voices. The strange chime had filled my thoughts before retiring, and I must have slept lightly. The conversation was coming from the adjoining room, the thin walls permitting the words to filter through very distinctly, though, I assure you, I never intended at any time to eavesdrop. My bed was close to the wall. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and saw that a shaft of moonlight played on the bare floor. Then I listened closely to the talking, which originated from the three who had left so mysteriously earlier in the evening.
“It finally became apparent that they were trailing two suspicious characters who had arrived in Hampdon under great secrecy. I thought it strange that I had neither seen nor heard of their coming, but, as you know, the townfolk had told me absolutely nothing. I expected them to say something concerning the lone chime, and, finally, many moments later, the conversation indeed turned in that direction. I was, of course, wondering why they had not referred to it so far. To my astonishment, the two outsiders knew nothing about it and confessed they were greatly puzzled at the sound. I listened, fairly holding my breath, as they plied the sheriff with questions. He seemed reluctant to talk of it. Some time later, though, after a long interlude of whispering, the fellow began an unusual story. As I remember it, his guttural words told a tale something like this:
* * *
“A long time ago, when Hampdon was nothing but a settlement, a strange man and his daughter Charlotte came there from God-knew-where and built a house over by the hills. No one could say just how long ago this was, but the man—now very old—still lived in the same dwelling. People had long since quit going near the rotting place, which crouched under those overhanging cliffs. At any rate, his beautiful daughter Charlotte fell from the high mountains to her death, as the legend went, and the old fellow—his name was Cruth—never recovered from the shock.
“Some said he built an enormous tomb in the fastness of the hills where he laid his beloved child. Others said he had spirited her away to other places. Most people believed in the hidden tomb. About two years after her death, there arose rumors to the effect that there were gems of uncountable wealth buried within the tomb of Charlotte. No one knew just what they were, though some said diamonds, others pearls, and others opals. An intense longing grew among some of the younger people to subdue Cruth, hunt up the hidden tomb and loot it of its enormous fortune. There was, of course, much uncertainty about the matter, but for years it had been the talk of the townspeople—especially after the occurrence of a certain incident.
“In the fervor of the new gossip, a group of young men—five in all—decided to explore into the hills in quest of the mysterious sepulcher. This was, of course, nearly twenty years ago, and at the time most of the people had laughed when anyone mentioned the mysterious jewels. No one asked old Cruth about the affair or even cared to. The marauders started out one morning and did not reappear till late evening. They told strange, disjointed tales of finding the hidden place, but of fearing to enter at the last moment for some vague, unstated reason. No person could elicit anything concrete from the five. They seemed reluctant to reveal the incidents of the previous day, and very little was learned of the mysterious tomb.
“The next day they were off in fevered haste, neglecting to tell anyone just where their find had been made. The townspeople waited another day, still tolerantly amused at the antics of the young men. But that night they did not make an appearance. And they never came back! Not a trace of them was ever found! Dozens of expeditions were sent into the hills, but none of them ever solved the riddle of the missing five. After that, people did not laugh when anyone mentioned the Jewels of Charlotte, as they eventually came to be known. Some doubted the existence of the jewels; the sheriff did himself. But here is the strangest and most significant part of the whole thing. That night when the five were expected back—about eight o’clock—a very peculiar thing occurred. From somewhere in the hills there came a golden, mellow chime! And now that accursed ringing had been heard again—for the only time since then—and people were counting their families.
“But that wasn’t all. About a month before, two ragged-looking men had come into Hampdon and settled in a decrepit shack near the place where old man Cruth lived. From the first, the sheriff had not liked their actions; but there was nothing he could pin on them, so he just bided his time. At length, he saw them call on the old man—which was extremely singular, since Cruth had never cared for strangers. The sheriff had hidden in the brush, and when they came out of the house he saw that there was dark hate and anger on their faces. He could hear the old man’s hoarse voice ordering them to take their accursed proposition and get out of his shack. When they had moved off a ways, Cruth stepped out and yelled so loudly that the words were clearly audible to the sheriff—and he never forgot them. The aged man, as he tottered on his feeble legs, had cried: ‘—and if you monkey with those stones, the chime will ring again!’ The sheriff hadn’t known whether they actually read any significance in the phrase, but their faces surely looked as if they had. That had only been two days ago. Then the marshals arrived. ‘Do you wonder,’ concluded the sheriff, ‘that I jumped up and beat it for those fellows’ shack this evening when we heard it? But it was empty—and tonight the thing rang again…’”
* * *
“I did not sleep well that night.
“Upon rising the next morning I decided to make a clean breast of my eavesdropping. At breakfast I told the two marshals what I had heard. At first they were displeased, but in the end they seemed glad to confide in me. The story had affected them fully as much as it had me—indeed, they believed that a sinister element hovered over the whole region and the whole affair. It was an idea that had bothered me a great deal as well. We were talking the matter over when the sheriff arrived and I was introduced to the man to whom I had listened the night before. He was an interesting individual, once one became acquainted with him. Sargent and Roberts explained my interest in the affair and the chance eavesdropping that had occurred. He was more than willing to have another man in the swing.