It was April and John Moore was  studying for an important examination.  

As the date of the exam came nearer, he  decided to go somewhere and read by himself.  

He did not want the amusements of the seaside,  or the beauties of the countryside. He decided  

to find a quiet, ordinary little  town and work there undisturbed.  

He packed his suitcases with clothes  and books. Then he looked in a railway  

timetable for a town that he did not know. He  found one, and bought a ticket to go there.  

He did not tell anyone where he was going.  After all, he did not want to be disturbed.

That is how Moore arrived at Benchurch. It was  a market town, and once a week it was quite busy  

for a few hours. The rest of the time it was a  very quiet, sleepy little place. Moore spent his  

first night at the only hotel in the town.  The landlady was very kind and helpful, but  

the hotel was not really quiet enough for him. The  second day he started looking for a house to rent.

There was only one place that he liked. It was  more than quiet - it was deserted and very lonely.  

It was a big, old seventeenth-century  house. It had tiny windows like a prison,  

and a high brick wall all round it. It would  be hard to imagine a more unwelcoming place.  

But it suited Moore perfectly. He went to find the  local lawyer, who was responsible for the house.

Mr Carnford, the lawyer, was very  happy to rent the house to him.

'I'd he glad to let you have it free,' he  said, 'just to have somebody living in it  

again after all these years. It's been  empty so long that people have spread a  

lot of foolish stories about it. You'll be  able to prove that the stories are wrong.'

Moore did not think it was necessary to ask the  lawyer for more details of the 'foolish stories'.  

He paid his rent, and Mr Carnford gave him  the name of an old servant to look after him.  

He came away from the lawyer's office  with the keys of the house in his pocket.  

He then went to Mrs Wood,  the landlady of the hotel.

'I'm renting a house for a few weeks,' he said.  

'Can you advise me about shopping,  please? What do you think I shall need?'

'Where are you going to stay, sir?'  the landlady asked. Moore told her.

She threw up her hands in horror. 'Not the Judge's  House!' she said, and she grew pale as she spoke.

He asked her to tell him more about the house.  'Why is it called the Judge's House?' he said,  

'and why doesn't anyone want to live in it?'

CHAPTER TWO

'Well, sir,' she said, 'a long time ago - no,  I don't know how long - a judge lived there.  

He was a hard, cruel judge, sir - a real  hanging judge. He showed no mercy to anyone.  

But as for the house itself - well,  I can't say. I've often asked,  

but nobody could tell me for certain.'  She found it hard to explain. The general  

feeling in the town was that there was  something strange about the Judge's House.  

'As for me, sir,' she said, 'I won't stay there  alone, not for all the money in the bank!'

Then she apologized to Moore.  'I'm sorry to worry you, sir,  

really I am. But if you were my son I wouldn't  let you stay there one night on your own.  

I'd go there myself and pull the  big alarm bell that's on the roof!'

Moore was grateful for her  kindness and her anxiety.  

'How good of you to be so anxious about me, Mrs  Wood!' he said. 'But there's really no need to  

worry. I'm studying for an important examination  and I have no time for horrors or mysteries.'

The landlady kindly promised  to do his shopping for him.  

Moore then went to see the old servant  whom Mr Carnford had recommended to him.  

Her name was Mrs Dempster, and she seemed  pleasant and eager to please her new master.

When he returned with her to the Judge's House two  hours later, he found Mrs Wood waiting outside it.  

She had several people with her - men and boys  carrying parcels, and another two men with a bed.

'But there are beds in the house!' cried  Moore in surprise. 'And nobody's slept in  

them for fifty years or more! No, sir, I won't  let you risk your life in an old, damp bed.'

The landlady was obviously curious  to see the inside of the house.  

At the same time she was clearly afraid. At the  smallest noise she held nervously to Moore's arm.  

Together they explored the whole house.  

After his exploration, Moore decided to live  in the dining-room. It was big enough for both  

working and sleeping. Mrs Wood and Mrs Dempster  began to arrange everything. Soon the baskets  

were unpacked. Moore saw that kind Mrs Wood had  brought many good tilings from her own kitchen.  

Before she left she turned to Moore and  said, 'I do hope you will be all right, sir.  

But I must say - I couldn't sleep  here, with all those ghosts!'

When she left, Mrs Dempster laughed. 'Ghosts!'  she said. 'Ghosts! There are no ghosts! There  

are rats and insects, and doors that need oiling.  There are windows that blow open in the wind...  

Look at the old oak walls of this  room, sir. They are old - hundreds  

of years old! Don't you think there'll  he rats and insects behind the wood?  

You'll see plenty of rats here, sir, but  you won't see any ghosts - I'm sure of that.  

Now you go and have a nice walk, sir. And when you  come back. I'll have this room all ready for you.'

She kept her promise. When Moore returned  he found the room clean and neat. A fire was  

burning in the ancient fireplace. She had lit  the lamp and put his supper ready on the table.

'Good night, sir,' she said.  'I have to go now and get my  

husband's supper. I'll see you in the morning.'

'This is wonderful!' said Moore to himself  as he ate Mrs Dempster's excellent food.  

When he had finished his supper, he pushed  the dishes to the other end of the table.  

He put more wood on the fire and began to study.

CHAPTER THREE

Moore worked without stopping  until about eleven o'clock.  

Then he put some more wood on the fire. He  also made a pot of tea. He was enjoying himself  

very much. The fire was burning brightly. The  firelight danced on the old oak walls and threw  

strange shadows around the room. His tea tasted  excellent, and there was nobody to disturb him.  

Then for the first time he noticed  how much noise the rats were making.

'Were they making all this noise  while I was studying?' he thought.  

'No, I don't think they were.  Perhaps they were afraid of me  

at first. Now they have become braver,  and they are running about as usual.'

How busy they were! And what  a lot of noise they made!  

Up and down they rushed, behind the old oak  walls, over the ceiling and under the floor.  

Moore remembered Mrs Dempster's words: 'You'll  see plenty of rats, but you won't see any ghosts.'

'Well,' he said with a smile, 'she  was right about the rats, anyway!'

He picked up the lamp and looked around the  room. 'How strange,' he said to himself. 'Why  

doesn't anybody want to live in this beautiful  old house?' The oak walls were very beautiful.  

There were some old pictures on the walls,  but they were covered with dust and dirt and  

he could not see them clearly. Here and there  he saw small holes in the walls. From time to  

time the curious face of a rat stared at him.  Then with a scratch and a squeak, it was gone.

The thing that interested him most, however, was  the rope of the great alarm bell on the roof.  

The rope hung down in a corner of the room  on the right-hand side of the fireplace.  

He found a huge, high-backed oak chair and pulled  it up beside the fire. There he sat and drank his  

last cup of tea. Then he put more wood on the fire  and sat down at the table again with his books.  

For a time the rats disturbed him  with their scratching and squeaking.  

But he got used to the noise, and soon  he forgot everything except his work.

Suddenly he looked up. Something had disturbed  him, but he did not know what it was. He sat  

up and listened. The room was silent. That was  it! The noise of the rats had stopped. 'That's  

what disturbed me!' said Moore with a smile. He  looked around the room - and saw an enormous rat.  

It was sitting on the great high-backed chair by  the fire, and it was staring at him with hate in  

its small red eyes. Moore picked up a book and  pretended to throw it. But the rat did not move.  

It showed its great white teeth angrily, and its  cruel eyes shone mercilessly in the lamplight.

'Why, you-' cried Moore. Me picked up the  poker from the fireplace and jumped up.  

Before he could hit the rat, however,  it jumped to the floor with a squeak.  

It ran up the rope of the alarm bell  and disappeared in the darkness.  

Strangely, the squeaks and scratches  of the rats in the walls began again.

By this time Moore no longer felt like working.  Outside the house the birds were singing:  

soon it would be morning. He climbed  into bed and immediately fell asleep.

CHAPTER FOUR

He slept so deeply that he did  not hear Mrs Dempster come in.  

She dusted the room and made his breakfast.  Then she woke him with a cup of tea.

After breakfast he put a book in his pocket  and went out for a walk. On the way he bought  

a few sandwiches. ('Then I shan't have  to stop for lunch,' he said to himself).  

He found a pretty, quiet little park and spent  most of the day there, studying. On his way home  

he called at the hotel to thank Mrs Wood for  her kindness. She looked at him searchingly.

'You must not work too hard, sir.  You look pale this morning. Too  

much studying isn't good for anyone. But  tell me, sir, did you have a good night?  

Mrs Dempster told me you were  still asleep when she went in.'

'Oh, I was all right,' said Moore with  a smile. 'The ghosts haven't troubled me  

yet. But the rats had a party last night!  There was one old devil with red eyes.  

He sat up on the chair by the fire. He  didn't move until I picked up the poker.  

Then he ran up the rope of the alarm bell. I  didn't see where he went. It was too dark.'

'Dear God!' cried Mrs Wood, 'an old devil  sitting by the fire! Take care, sir, take care.'

'What do you mean?' asked Moore in surprise.

'An old devil! The old devil,  perhaps.' Moore started to laugh.

'Please forgive me, Mrs Wood,' he said at last,  'I just couldn't help laughing at the idea of the  

Devil himself sitting by my fire...' And he began  to laugh again. Then he went home for dinner.

That evening the noise of the rats began  earlier. After dinner he sat down beside the  

fire and drank his tea. Then he sat down  at the table and started to work again.

The rats disturbed him more than the previous  night. They scratched and squeaked and ran about,  

and stared at him from the holes in the  walls. Their eyes shone like tiny lamps  

in the firelight. But Moore was becoming used to  them. They seemed playful rather than aggressive.  

Sometimes the bravest rats ran out onto the  floor or across the tops of the pictures.  

Now and again, when they disturbed  him, Moore shook his papers at them.  

They ran to their holes at once. And so the  early part of the night passed quite quietly.

Moore worked hard for several hours.

All at once he was disturbed by a sudden silence.  

There was not a sound of running,  or scratching, or squeaking.

The huge room was as silent as the grave.  Moore remembered the previous night. He  

looked at the chair by the fireside  - and got a terrible shock. There,  

on the great high-backed oak chair, sat the same  enormous rat. It was staring at him with hate.

Without thinking, Moore picked up the nearest  book and threw it. It missed, and the rat did  

not move. So Moore again picked up the poker.  Again the rat ran up the rope of the alarm bell.  

And once more the other rats started  their scratching and squeaking.  

Moore was unable to see where the rat had gone.  

The light of the lamp did not reach as far as  the high ceiling, and the fire had burned low.

Moore looked at his watch. It was almost  midnight. He put more wood on the fire  

and made a pot of tea. Then he sat down in the  great oak chair by the fire and enjoyed his tea.

'I wonder where that old rat went just now,' he  thought. 'I must buy a rat trap in the morning.'  

He lit another lamp. He placed it so that it  would shine into the right-hand corner of the  

wall by the fireplace. He got several books  ready to throw at the creature, Finally he  

lifted the rope of the alarm bell. He put it on  the table and fixed the end of it under the lamp.

As he handled the rope, Moore  noticed how pliable it was.  

'You could hang a man with it,' he thought.  Then he stood back and admired his preparations.

'There, my friend,' he said aloud. 'I  think I'll learn your secret this time!'

He started work again, and was soon lost in  his studies. But once again he was disturbed  

by a sudden silence. Then the bell rope moved a  little, and the lamp on top of the rope moved too.  

Moore made sure that his books were  ready for throwing. Then he looked  

along the rope. As he looked, the great rat  dropped from the rope onto the old oak chair.  

It sat there staring at him angrily. He picked  up a hook and aimed it at the rat. The creature  

jumped cleverly to one side. Moore threw another  book, but without success. Then, as Moore stood  

with a third hook in his hand, ready to throw,  the rat squeaked and seemed to be afraid.  

Moore threw the book and it hit the rat's side.  With a squeak of pain and fear, and a look of real  

hate, it ran up the back of the chair and made  a great jump onto the rope of the alarm bell.  

It ran up the rope like lightning, while the  heavy lamp shook with its desperate speed.  

Moore watched the rat carefully.  By the light of the second lamp,