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for B flat； the lump of coal was thrown by the sinful man from one of the
windows； and that it went down the wait's throat and choked him。〃
〃You want to be a good shot； but it is certainly worth trying；〃
murmured Mr。 Coombes thoughtfully。
〃But that was not his only crime； alas！〃 added my uncle。 〃Prior to
that he had killed a solo cornet…player。〃
〃No！ Is that really a fact？〃 exclaimed Mr。 Coombes。
〃Of course it's a fact；〃 answered my uncle testily； 〃at all events； as
much a fact as you can expect to get in a case of this sort。
〃How very captious you are this evening。 The circumstantial
evidence was overwhelming。 The poor fellow； the cornet…player； had
been in the neighbourhood barely a month。 Old Mr。 Bishop； who kept
the 'Jolly Sand Boys' at the time； and from whom I had the story； said he
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had never known a more hard…working and energetic solo cornet…player。
He； the cornet…player； only knew two tunes； but Mr。 Bishop said that the
man could not have played with more vigour； or for more hours in a day； if
he had known forty。 The two tunes he did play were 〃Annie Laurie〃 and
〃Home； Sweet Home〃； and as regarded his performance of the former
melody； Mr。 Bishop said that a mere child could have told what it was
meant for。
〃This musicianthis poor； friendless artist used to come regularly and
play in this street just opposite for two hours every evening。 One evening
he was seen； evidently in response to an invitation； going into this very
house； BUT WAS NEVER SEEN COMING OUT OF IT！〃
〃Did the townsfolk try offering any reward for his recovery？〃 asked
Mr。 Coombes。
〃Not a ha'penny；〃 replied my uncle。
〃Another summer；〃 continued my uncle； 〃a German band visited here；
intendingso they announced on their arrivalto stay till the autumn。
〃On the second day from their arrival； the whole company； as fine and
healthy a body of men as one could wish to see； were invited to dinner by
this sinful man； and； after spending the whole of the next twenty…four
hours in bed； left the town a broken and dyspeptic crew； the parish doctor；
who had attended them； giving it as his opinion that it was doubtful if they
would； any of them； be fit to play an air again。〃
〃Youyou don't know the recipe； do you？〃 asked Mr。 Coombes。
〃Unfortunately I do not；〃 replied my uncle； 〃but the chief ingredient
was said to have been railway refreshment…room pork…pie。
〃I forget the man's other crimes；〃 my uncle went on； 〃I used to know
them all at one time； but my memory is not what it was。 I do not；
however； believe I am doing his memory an injustice in believing that he
was not entirely unconnected with the death； and subsequent burial； of a
gentleman who used to play the harp with his toes； and that neither was he
altogether unresponsible for the lonely grave of an unknown stranger who
had once visited the neighbourhood； an Italian peasant lad； a performer
upon the barrel… organ。
〃Every Christmas Eve；〃 said my uncle； cleaving with low impressive
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tones the strange awed silence that； like a shadow； seemed to have slowly
stolen into and settled down upon the room； 〃the ghost of this sinful man
haunts the Blue Chamber； in this very house。 There； from midnight until
cock…crow； amid wild muffled shrieks and groans and mocking laughter
and the ghostly sound of horrid blows； it does fierce phantom fight with
the spirits of the solo cornet… player and the murdered wait； assisted at
intervals； by the shades of the German band； while the ghost of the
strangled harpist plays mad ghostly melodies with ghostly toes on the
ghost of a broken harp。
Uncle said the Blue Chamber was comparatively useless as a sleeping…
apartment on Christmas Eve。
〃Hark！〃 said uncle； raising a warning hand towards the ceiling； while
we held our breath； and listened； 〃Hark！ I believe they are at it nowin
the BLUE CHAMBER！〃
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THE BLUE CHAMBER
I rose up； and said that I would sleep in the Blue Chamber。
Before I tell you my own story； howeverthe story of what happened
in the Blue ChamberI would wish to preface it with …
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A PERSONAL EXPLANATION
I feel a good deal of hesitation about telling you this story of my own。
You see it is not a story like the other stories that I have been telling you；
or rather that Teddy Biffles； Mr。 Coombes； and my uncle have been telling
you： it is a true story。 It is not a story told by a person sitting round a
fire on Christmas Eve； drinking whisky punch： it is a record of events
that actually happened。
Indeed； it is not a 'story' at all； in the commonly accepted meaning of
the word： it is a report。 It is； I feel； almost out of place in a book of this
kind。 It is more suitable to a biography； or an English history。
There is another thing that makes it difficult for me to tell you this
story； and that is； that it is all about myself。 In telling you this story； I
shall have to keep on talking about myself； and talking about ourselves is
what we modern…day authors have a strong objection to doing。 If we
literary men of the new school have one praiseworthy yearning more ever
present to our minds than another it is the yearning never to appear in the
slightest degree egotistical。
I myself； so I am told； carry this coynessthis shrinking reticence
concerning anything connected with my own personality； almost too far；
and people grumble at me because of it。 People come to me and say …
〃Well； now； why don't you talk about yourself a bit？ That's what we
want to read about。 Tell us something about yourself。〃
But I have always replied； 〃No。〃 It is not that I do not think the
subject an interesting one。 I cannot myself conceive of any topic more
likely to prove fascinating to the world as a whole； or at all events to the
cultured portion of it。 But I will not do it； on principle。 It is inartistic；
and it sets a bad example to the younger men。 Other writers （a few of
them） do it； I know； but I will notnot as a rule。
Under ordinary circumstances； therefore； I should not tell you this
story at all。 I should say to myself； 〃No！ It is a good story； it is a moral
story； it is a strange； weird； enthralling sort of a story； and the public； I
know； would like to hear it； and I should like to tell it to them； but it is all
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about myselfabout what I said； and what I saw； and what I did； and I
cannot do it。 My retiring； anti…egotistical nature will not permit me to
talk in this way about myself。〃
But the circumstances surrounding this story are not ordinary； and
there are reasons prompting me； in spite of my modesty； to rather welcome
the opportunity of relating it。
As I stated at the beginning； there has been unpleasantness in our
family over this party of ours； and； as regards myself in particular； and my
share in the events I am now about to set forth； gross injustice has been
done me。
As a means of replacing my character in its proper lightof dispelling
the clouds of calumny and misconception with which it has been darkened；
I feel that my best course is to give a simple； dignified narration of the
plain facts； and allow the unprejudiced to judge for themselves。 My chief
object； I candidly confess； is to clear myself from unjust aspersion。
Spurred by this motiveand I think it is an honourable and a right motive…
…I find