Farmer Wheatgear's Presentiment.

Thames Star, Volume XIV, Issue 4544, 28 July 1883, Page 1

Farmer Wheatgear's Presentiment.

Mr Wheatyoar, » pro»pewßt fcrmer trota the Midland Counties, told «we fat cattle one day *t ;; a market tews wliieh was considerably beyond hit ttttwl ndrai, and received in payasent good bfak oo>a „ J»i gold amounting to two or three Wndred pounds. He stowed away the Money in a bulky^pdcke^bobk, wliieh, i» iurn, he carisfully d.^ppiited iiji 'Tin iritfur ;ppcßit|)f bis oTerewfcvjfortef) • wai,lir fT brtneh%f his Of n rb|nlt in the town, in'd he w*?. rss™MK db]ig«4 to carry away W^ Rampjp^sh. While flOn*tinK ofer .. the ittbney in the preaenoe of the buyer, he suddenly bewMlie 1 oonscioua of some one eyeing him Intently, and looking up, in obedience to a sort of mafnetic attrae-. tion, he encountered the gaw of a dark; , hearily - beanied, determined-Ipo|»|j i&ivr, irbti w*s: wa^chin'f ii^^rfr^^tr^;, , keen and sinister expr^sfion. Mr Wheatycar instinotirely started.and theatoangeri isfeejhff that he was obserTcd, disappeared in the crowd..•«XhM<littfetiMUMt^fciil^4^. very disquieting effect upon the farmer's . mind, and somehow the fellow's face seemed to haunt him for, the rest of the day, tbongh he did not come acrjow him afjalbr .. ..■ !r..-,- v ■-"■ :11.. v ,.-..••:...£. ... _..,. " As he could riot return home that night, '•" )K'era\MPg:9i^';9)^:i#Bßiißiai^i-' by rail, mnd the* diatenci%ing to great to .driTe^'Wtootthej^u-^^'f.ine^ tpwo, where rtMjTijw topeetr him the nexti'inornw^'kfter^igood dinaer at the inn, he adjourned to the smoSjfngrdoin for a ■ quieff'|»!pfiTana%-*|la'si: ; of prog;befpre turning in #ud ; 'w^bf aKdii}i! { he find seated in • ooiri^[ apart from? tfce - fresfc pf the coinpany,bat th« fofbiddictt.lpoking jn|iy|duai;wh&)Md; it§r9fld. ft* iß«.<te''rab'tniflfr^ J'TBfT reobgiiitton/w.ti.isppar^afcjy.-, tnntoai,,fo« the fellow iciM ■■; glancing, lanixTcly," Myfa^miumtwpn; "■.trader 1 ka. shaggy eye-browa witU evident Intereat.-.TliisGuexpßeted meeting aroused the farmer's serjouf apprehensions for it really ; seemed as though h»WM being nil?"rrirf"T-:i)'iil;T-nfrhrfl-;--- fTi tplt IWWOluai

to draw the waiter's attention to the man* but could learn nothing except thai he was a stranger. After fidgetting in his chair, Mr Wheatyear determined to retire to Lis bedroom atttnce, for there he would at leaßt be safe from having his pockets picked, and would .avoid the man's per* aistent gaze. Uisroom was on the second floor, at the end of a narrow passage, which was approached by two or three steps from the main corridor. The house being very full, he had to put up' with what accommodation he could get, and from the air of stuffiness which pervaded the' apartment, there was reason to suspect that in ordinary times it,was used as a lumberroom. A large oaken press stood in a corner, containing old moth-eaten hangings, and other odds and ends, while underneath the. bed—a decrepit four* poster—was the skeleton of another bedstead, and some oornioe poles. Mr Wheatyear 'took note of these details while making a careful tour, of inspection. He was just in that ner?ous frame of mind which causes a person to peep intaeupboards, and to tike elaborate precautions. against intruders before putting the. candle out. Mr Wheatyear found nothing whatever to excite alarm; in fact, he felt vested and hnmiliated at his pusillanimity. He was rather startled, however, at discovering that he ' could not lock the door, owing, apparently, to the key being rusty, for he had , an uneasy suspicion that the stranger downstairs contemplated paying him a , nocturnal visit. H» hesitated a moment ■* whether he should ring the bell and get the defect remedied, but he finally, consoled himself with the reflection that, as the door was within a yard of the foot of the bed, it was hardly possible for a thief to enter without making noise enough to . wake him. .. Mr Wheatyear was a sturdy old gentleman, though close upon sixty years of age, and he therefore got into bed without much ado, having first taken the precaution to place the pocketbook containing the. money under his pillow. He did not fall asleep for some time, being strangely wakeful and uneasy, But by degrees, as stillness began to reign in the inn, he succumbed to a pleasant drowsiness, and at length drifted, into a shlmber. :Hehad scarcely dropped offit least, so it seemed \to him —when he was suddenly aroused to consciousness by a moving sensation beneath his head, and the pillow seemed to be gliding away from under him. He sprang up instantly, and •s he did so, his startled gaze encountered the sinister face of his acquaintance of the moruing. The next instant the man was gone, having apparently withdrawn quickly from the ray of moonlight in which fie had been visible; but Mr Wheatyear felt the drapery of the bed rustle as the intruder moved away towards the door. - The farmer at once rushed out of bed in pursuit, but in doing so caught his foot in the counterpane, and fell heavily on the floor. The shock dazed him for a moment, when he groped about feebly for the matches, and struck a light. He then found he was alone, the man having disappeared, and closed the door behind him; but he saw at a glance he had been robbed, for the pillow, which had ' evidently been drawn from under him, lay upon the floor, and his pocketbook had vanished. Mr Wheatyear at once rushed to the door, but the thief had managed to regain his room, or some other hiding-place, for he was not in the passage outside or in the corridor. The farmer's cries Boon brought assistance, and a strict search was immediately instituted. It transpired that the man was not supposed to be staying in the hotel, though nobody recollected having seen him leave. He had apparently concealed himself somewhere about the premises for the purpose, of committing the'robbery. He bad eon* trifed. to escape, however, though how he had managed it was a mystery, until some one pointed out that the upper part of one of the 'windows in the smokingroom had been left open for the pnrpose of . Ventilation. This, no doubt, had been his means of exit, for the house was carefully searched from garret to basement, and no trace of him>waa>fo~und. '; The police were communicated with, and a full description of the man—who had been noticed by several persons the preceding nigbt—was circulated, but without result. Unfortunately, Mr Wheatyear had omitted to take the numbers of the notes, and did not know the names of the persons from whom he had obtained them, so that the police had no means of tracing the culprit, except from his appearance. This, no doubt, had been effectually disguised; for he contrived to baffl > the vigilance of. the authorities, until Mr Wheatyear began to consider his property irretrievably lost.: . About a month afterwards, however, Mr Wheatyear had occasion to go up to London on business, and while walking along Oxford street one afternoon, be suddenly came face to face with the rascal who had robbed him. The farmer felt so convinced ofc his identity, in spite of a considerable alteration in the man's attire and the hair about his face, that he unhesitatingly gave: him, into custody to the nearest policeman. The man blustered n good deal at being taken to the station* house; bat it transpired at tbe preliminary investigatiaft that he had' about his person a large sum of money in' gold and small notes.of which he could give no satisfactory account. The prisoner gave the name of John Simmons, and he was committed for trial at the next assizes. When the trial came on, the evidence against the aiasK-1-was ; overwhelming, though he Tehementlv: protested his innoeenoe, and declared; that he left the hotel several hours before the robbery was committed. Bat he failed to prove an alibi, and, in /acfe,; called no. witnesses; while he could' gnfe no satisfactory explanation of being in possession of such a large sum of money, On the other hand, Mr Wheatyear swore most positively that he had seen the man in his room that night, and the police ascertained that he had taken a passage to America in a ship which sailed on the day after his arrest, the theory being that he had remained in England .as long as was necessary to realise his booty by cautiously changing the larger notes. There never was any* doubt upon the minds of the jury as to tfye man s guilt, and they returned a verdict of guilty. He was sentenced to a term ef jasnal servitude; and the Judge, considering tkft the money found upon the prisoner forced part of the sum he had robbedfrom. Mr Wbeatyear, directed it to be paid Qiff to the farmer. Two yean afterwards Mr Wheatyear, having attended the same fair where he had encountered the ::man Simmons, passed another night in the" hotel before referred, to, and happened to be put into the identical room where the robbery had takes place. It was rather a disagreeable cojocideßO*, but he bad to make the best

of it, for the home, as was always usual at 1 that season, was full to overflowing, and !he had no choice in the matter. When he retired to rest, the locality vividly reminded him of his adventure, and oddly enough he experienced a sort of nervous* ness arising from old associations. How-j ever, he thought nothing of it, and having; no money in his possession of which he could be robbed, even if such an experience were likely to happen to him again,' he soon fell asleep. All of a sudden he found, himself out of bed, shivering with cold, standing at the .other end of the room. At first he realised nothiag but a sensation of discomfort ; but presently he began to wonder where he was, and what be had got oat of bed for. It occurred to him that he must have been walking in his sleep, which is always a startling discovery to make, with some trepidation he groped his, way to the matches, and lit a candle. He then preceived that he had been standing in front of the old oak press—the door of which was opened. A sudden curiosity induced him to investigate the matter, for he had a vapno idea that he. had been there for some definite purpose. He there-; fore took the candle and looked into the press, when his.attention was attracted by a small, dark object, which was half hidden behind a box at the back. With a start, he stretched forth his hand to it, something vßguely familiar in the action; striking, him,. forcibly, and. the next; moment he had drawn forth the identical' pocket-book which he had lost two years, "before*' ■■' •■• • ';;■ '■ ■'■ ■ ■ ■■''. ■■"■ \ Mr Wheatyear was thunderstruck with amazement and consternation, especially wheni he found that the contents were' intact. There was the bundle of bank notes and the bag of sovereigns, just as he had placed them when they were handed over to him, while the pocketbook itself was covered with dust, show* ing that it had never been disturbed since it had been hidden away. With a sud ■' den conviction which flashed upon him lite a revelation, Mr Wheatyear at once realised that on the eventful night he must have risen in his sleep and hidden the pocket-book in the press. The fear of being robbed had no doubt preyed upon his mind to such an extent that his brain was actively comprehensive, while the rest of his senses were numbed by uricbnscionsness. • -• .-.:'-■ The more MrWheatyear thought over the matter, the more satisfied did he feel that he had discovered the true solution ;of the mystery. It followed, therefore, that he had never been robbed at all, and he soon arrived at the conclusion that he had been the victim of an hallucination. Being at the scene of the (supposed occurrence, he could recall every detail distinctly, and had no difficulty in persuading himself how his fright had been caused. Probably, in searohing'for the pocketbook, he had shifted the position of the pillow, which, on his returning to bed, after hiding his treasure, had slid off the bolster/ The movement had startled him, and; being suddenly terrified, the apparition of the face which had made such an impression upon him had flashed across his metal! vision with vivid distinctness. The rustling of the drapery had, no doubt, been caused by the falling of the pillow, which; he remembered subsequently find* ing on the floor. Whether these details were rightly surmised' or not,! it seemed clear that the man Simmonds was innocent of the crime of which he had been convicted. Mr Wheatyear was quite agonised at the dreadful consequences. He felt he cotficV never make sufficient atonement for the wrong he had done, but he "resolved; at least, to lose no time in setting to work to obtain the man'f release. He ui^ht of, course,have avoided all unplesantness to himself by concealing the discovery he had made; but he was an honest old gentleman, and did not shrink from doing his duty. He prudently said nothing at ; the hotel about the matter, but took the first train to London, and in the course of the day was closeted with a high official at the Home Office, : ' Ere he had time to explain the object, of his visit, however,he was^tnetby* the startling "information" that the unfortunate convict had died ,in prison before a year of his sentence had expired. It appeared, moreover, that the prison authorities knew absolutely nothing of the man's antecedents and believed that he had left no friends .or relatives. The interview therefore came to a somewhat abrupt termination, for Mr Wheatyear felt jusified under the circumstances in holding his tongue, since no good could possibly result from the disagreeable disclosure he had intended to make. Bat he was' not satisfied till he had seen the governor of the prison in which the man died, who confirmed the information obtained at the Home Office. The adventure weighed a good deal upon the old farmer's mind, especially during his later years, and, not content I with., handing over to a charity a sum equivalent/,to-two or thr^ee i times i the amount he had wrongly received but of the money found upon the unfortunate prisoner, he" left by his will a very considerable legacy to a benevolent institution ffor the aid of discharged convicts. Be||ore doing this, however, he made careful inquiries to ascertain if the man had left latiy relatives dependent upon him; but without result. His chief consolation was that the prisoner had, to a certain extent, courted his fate by not accounting for the money found in his possession, and by not attempting to prove an alibi, which he surely could have done, had he not been unwilling, for some mysterious reason, to disclose his movements on that fatal night.—Truth. J