ccount of the carpenter's incantations (if
so they are to be called), with a view of discovering the lost
document. It appears to have been his object to convert the mind of
Alice into a kind of telescopic medium, through which Mr. Pyncheon and
himself might obtain a glimpse into the spiritual world. He succeeded,
accordingly, in holding an imperfect sort of intercourse, at one
remove, with the departed personages in whose custody the so much
valued secret had been carried beyond the precincts of earth. During
her trance, Alice described three figures as being present to her
spiritualized perception. One was an aged, dignified, stern-looking
gentleman, clad as for a solemn festival in grave and costly attire,
but with a great blood-stain on his richly wrought band; the second, an
aged man, meanly dressed, with a dark and malign countenance, and a
broken halter about his neck; the third, a person not so advanced in
life as the former two, but beyond the middle age, wearing a coarse
woollen tunic and leather breeches, and with a carpenter's rule
sticking out of his side pocket. These three visionary characters
possessed a mutual knowledge of the missing document. One of them, in
truth,--it was he with the blood-stain on his band,--seemed, unless his
gestures were misunderstood, to hold the parchment in his immediate
keeping, but was prevented by his two partners in the mystery from
disburdening himself of the trust. Finally, when he showed a purpose
of shouting forth the secret loudly enough to be heard from his own
sphere into that of mortals, his companions struggled with him, and
pressed their hands over his mouth; and forthwith--whether that he were
choked by it, or that the secret itself was of a crimson hue--there was
a fresh flow of blood upon his band. Upon this, the two meanly dressed
figures mocked and jeered at the much-abashed old dignitary, and
pointed their fingers at the stain.

At this juncture, Maule turned to Mr. Pyncheon.

"It will never be allowed," said he. "The custody of this secret, that
would so enrich his heirs, makes part of your grandfather's
retribution. He must choke with it until it is no longer of any value.
And keep you the House of the Seven Gables! It is too dear bought an
inheritance, and too heavy with the curse upon it, to be shifted yet
awhile from the Colonel's posterity."

Mr. Pyncheon tried to speak, but--what with fear and passion--could
make only a gurgling murmur i