examined it under the
table's edge. It was a little silver crucifix, and I have kept it to
this day.

THE MYSTERY OF JOSEPH LAQUEDEM

_A Jew, unfortunately slain on the sands of Sheba Cove, in the parish of
Ruan Lanihale, August 15, 1810: or so much of it as is hereby related by
the Rev. Endymion Trist, B.D., then vicar of that parish, in a letter to
a friend._

My dear J--,--You are right, to be sure, in supposing that I know more
than my neighbours in Ruan Lanihale concerning the unfortunate young
man, Joseph Laquedem, and more than I care to divulge; in particular
concerning his tragical relations with the girl Julia Constantine, or
July, as she was commonly called. The vulgar knowledge amounts to
little more than this--that Laquedem, a young Hebrew of extraordinary
commercial gifts, first came to our parish in 1807 and settled here as
managing secretary of a privateering company at Porthlooe; that by his
aptitude and daring in this and the illicit trade he amassed a
respectable fortune, and at length opened a private bank at Porthlooe
and issued his own notes; that on August 15, 1810, a forced "run" which,
against his custom, he was personally supervising, miscarried, and he
met his death by a carbine-shot on the sands of Sheba Cove; and, lastly,
that his body was taken up and conveyed away by the girl Julia
Constantine, under the fire of the preventive men.

The story has even in our time received what I may call some fireside
embellishments; but these are the facts, and the parish knows little
beyond them. I (as you conjecture) know a great deal more; and yet
there is a sense in which I know nothing more. You and I, my old
friend, have come to an age when men do not care to juggle with the
mysteries of another world, but knowing that the time is near when all
accounts must be rendered, desire to take stock honestly of what they
believe and what they do not. And here lies my difficulty. On the one
hand I would not make public an experience which, however honestly set
down, might mislead others, and especially the young, into rash and
mischievous speculations. On the other, I doubt if it be right to keep
total silence and withhold from devout and initiated minds any glimpse
of truth, or possible truth, vouchsafed to me. As the Greek said,
"Plenty are the thyrsus-bearers, but few the illuminate"; and among
these few I may surely count my old friend.

It was in January 1807--the year of the abomi