The Burglary at the Vicarage

The facts of the burglary at the vicarage came to us chiefly through the medium of the vicar and his wife. It occurred in the small hours of Whit Monday, the day devoted in Iping to the Club festivities. Mrs. Bunting, it seems, woke up suddenly in the stillness that comes before the dawn, with the strong impression that the door of their bedroom had opened and closed. She did not arouse her husband at first, but sat up in bed listening. She then distinctly heard the pad, pad, pad of bare feet coming out of the adjoining dressing-room and walking along the passage towards the staircase. As soon as she felt assured of this, she aroused the Rev. Mr. Bunting as quietly as possible. He did not strike a light, but putting on his spectacles, her dressing-gown and his bath slippers, he went out on the landing to listen. He heard quite distinctly a fumbling going on at his study desk down-stairs, and then a violent sneeze.

We learned the facts of the burglary at the vicarage mainly from the vicar and his wife. It happened in the early hours of Whit Monday, the day of the Club festivities in Iping. Mrs. Bunting, it seems, woke suddenly in the stillness before dawn. She had a strong impression that their bedroom door had opened and closed. At first, she did not wake her husband, but sat up in bed and listened. Then she heard the clear pad, pad, pad of bare feet coming out of the adjoining dressing room. The footsteps continued along the hallway toward the stairs. As soon as she was sure of what she had heard, she woke the Rev. Mr. Bunting as quietly as possible. He did not light a lamp. Instead, he put on his glasses, her dressing gown, and his bath slippers, then went out onto the landing to listen. He clearly heard someone fumbling at his study desk downstairs, followed by a violent sneeze.

At that he returned to his bedroom, armed himself with the most obvious weapon, the poker, and descended the staircase as noiselessly as possible. Mrs. Bunting came out on the landing.

At that, he returned to his bedroom and picked up the most obvious weapon, the poker. Then he went downstairs as quietly as possible. Mrs. Bunting came out onto the landing.

The hour was about four, and the ultimate darkness of the night was past. There was a faint shimmer of light in the hall, but the study doorway yawned impenetrably black. Everything was still except the faint creaking of the stairs under Mr. Bunting’s tread, and the slight movements in the study. Then something snapped, the drawer was opened, and there was a rustle of papers. Then came an imprecation, and a match was struck and the study was flooded with yellow light. Mr. Bunting was now in the hall, and through the crack of the door he could see the desk and the open drawer and a candle burning on the desk. But the robber he could not see. He stood there in the hall undecided what to do, and Mrs. Bunting, her face white and intent, crept slowly downstairs after him. One thing kept Mr. Bunting’s courage; the persuasion that this burglar was a resident in the village.

It was about four o’clock, and the darkest part of the night had passed. A faint light shimmered in the hall, but the study doorway was completely black. Everything was still except for the faint creaking of the stairs under Mr. Bunting’s footsteps and slight movements in the study. Then something snapped, the drawer opened, and papers rustled. Someone cursed and struck a match, flooding the study with yellow light. Mr. Bunting was now in the hall. Through the crack in the door, he could see the desk, the open drawer, and a candle burning on the desk. But he could not see the robber. He stood in the hall, unsure what to do. Behind him, Mrs. Bunting crept slowly downstairs, her face pale and intent. One thing gave Mr. Bunting courage: he was convinced that the burglar lived in the village.

They heard the chink of money, and realised that the robber had found the housekeeping reserve of gold—two pounds ten in half sovereigns altogether. At that sound Mr. Bunting was nerved to abrupt action. Gripping the poker firmly, he rushed into the room, closely followed by Mrs. Bunting. “Surrender!” cried Mr. Bunting, fiercely, and then stooped amazed. Apparently the room was perfectly empty.

They heard coins clink and realized that the robber had found the household’s reserve of gold. It came to two pounds and ten shillings in half-sovereign coins. The sound spurred Mr. Bunting into sudden action. He gripped the poker firmly and rushed into the room, with Mrs. Bunting close behind. “Surrender!” Mr. Bunting cried fiercely. Then he bent over in amazement. The room was apparently empty.

Yet their conviction that they had, that very moment, heard somebody moving in the room had amounted to a certainty. For half a minute, perhaps, they stood gaping, then Mrs. Bunting went across the room and looked behind the screen, while Mr. Bunting, by a kindred impulse, peered under the desk. Then Mrs. Bunting turned back the window-curtains, and Mr. Bunting looked up the chimney and probed it with the poker. Then Mrs. Bunting scrutinised the waste-paper basket and Mr. Bunting opened the lid of the coal-scuttle. Then they came to a stop and stood with eyes interrogating each other.

Yet they were certain they had just heard somebody moving in the room. For perhaps half a minute, they stood there staring. Then Mrs. Bunting crossed the room and looked behind the screen. At the same time, Mr. Bunting peered under the desk. Then Mrs. Bunting pulled back the window curtains, while Mr. Bunting looked up the chimney and poked inside with the poker. Next, Mrs. Bunting examined the wastebasket, and Mr. Bunting opened the lid of the coal bin. Then they stopped and looked at each other questioningly.

“I could have sworn—” said Mr. Bunting.

“I could have sworn...” said Mr. Bunting.

“The candle!” said Mr. Bunting. “Who lit the candle?”

“The candle!” said Mr. Bunting. “Who lit the candle?”

“The drawer!” said Mrs. Bunting. “And the money’s gone!”

“The drawer!” said Mrs. Bunting. “And the money’s gone!”

She went hastily to the doorway.

She hurried to the doorway.

“Of all the strange occurrences—”

“Of all the strange things that happened...”

There was a violent sneeze in the passage. They rushed out, and as they did so the kitchen door slammed. “Bring the candle,” said Mr. Bunting, and led the way. They both heard a sound of bolts being hastily shot back.

There was a violent sneeze in the hallway. They rushed out, and the kitchen door slammed as they did. “Bring the candle,” said Mr. Bunting, and led the way. They both heard the sound of bolts being quickly drawn back.

As he opened the kitchen door he saw through the scullery that the back door was just opening, and the faint light of early dawn displayed the dark masses of the garden beyond. He is certain that nothing went out of the door. It opened, stood open for a moment, and then closed with a slam. As it did so, the candle Mrs. Bunting was carrying from the study flickered and flared. It was a minute or more before they entered the kitchen.

As he opened the kitchen door, he could see through the scullery that the back door was just opening. In the faint light of early dawn, he could make out the dark shapes of the garden beyond. He is certain that nothing went out through the door. It opened, stayed open for a moment, and then slammed shut. As it closed, the candle Mrs. Bunting was carrying from the study flickered and flared. A minute or more passed before they entered the kitchen.

The place was empty. They refastened the back door, examined the kitchen, pantry, and scullery thoroughly, and at last went down into the cellar. There was not a soul to be found in the house, search as they would.

The place was empty. They locked the back door again and searched the kitchen, pantry, and scullery thoroughly. At last, they went down into the cellar. No matter how hard they searched, they could not find a soul in the house.

Daylight found the vicar and his wife, a quaintly-costumed little couple, still marvelling about on their own ground floor by the unnecessary light of a guttering candle.

At daybreak, the vicar and his wife were still wandering around the ground floor of their home in amazement. The quaintly dressed little couple were using the unnecessary light of a flickering candle.