The Journal of Jonathon Lindey From the main part of the journal - Page 19
My meeting with Mlle Francoise not being until the afternoon, I resolved to spend the morning looking round the western part of the village and the graveyard. I particularly wanted to see if there were any recent gravestones. Along the west side of the village runs a nameless tributary of the Pawtucket river. A low bridge carries the main road over it and the river marks the boundary of the village. I stood on the bridge for a while looking down at the dark oily looking waters. Crystal Falls? There was nothing crystalline about the water in this river. Just beneath the surface I could make out vague shapes moving, but whether they were fish or something altogether more sinister it was impossible to tell. With a shudder I left the bridge and headed for the graveyard, all the while telling myself that my imagination was becoming overactive. The graveyard was overgrown in places, and generally neglected, but I took the time to move the growth aside and look at the inscriptions. They were all at least a century old. By midday I had searched all except a small corner of the graveyard. As I went to look over the final part I noticed what looked like a much newer tombstone than the rest. Hurrying over to it I read the inscription with a growing sense of disbelief. It said Jonathon Lindey R.I.P. The earth by the gravestone was freshly dug, and a small posy of flowers had been left on it. My head whirled. Was this a trick to frighten me? But how could they have known that I would visit the graveyard? In a sombre mood I retraced my steps to the centre of the village. Checking my hunter I realised it was time to go and talk to Jeannette Francoise, so I put this new mystery behind me and strode up the road to her cottage. |
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