Whether it be a magnificent cathedral or merely a frame shack, a house of prayer is invariably
vested with an air of otherworldliness.
Perhaps it is because of this fact that one is never too surprised to learn of strange
and incredible events which occur within the confines of the Church, and as evidence that
such events do occur, witness the curious case of the organist at Avonbury.
It was a simple house of worship, this Avonbury Church in Herfordshire, England, and its vicar
was a simple man.
For twenty years he attended the spiritual needs of the community, and it is greatly
to be doubted whether anything really remarkable had ever happened to him.
Not at least until a certain autumn night in the year 1919, when the vicar was making
his way home after a condolence call on a bereaved widow.
He could see the white church spire gleaming in the moonlight.
Hello, that's strange.
Now who could be playing the organ at this hour?
The church had been locked at seven o'clock that evening, and now it was almost twelve,
and yet someone was inside playing the organ.
It must be Emily Willingham.
The vicar approached the church and climbed the wooden steps and tried the door.
It was still locked.
He stood there groping in his pocket for the key.
The music stopped.
Miss Willingham?
Emily Willingham, are you there?
The vicar switched on the light and glanced slowly around, but the church was empty, and
the front door was the only door to the church.
It was not until evening of the following day that the vicar found time to visit Miss
Willingham, and he wanted to know how she had managed to leave the church.
I was never in it, not last night.
But just at midnight, Miss Willingham, I distinctly heard something.
Never you may have heard, my dear vicar.
It was not I.
I was in my bed at twelve o'clock last night.
Have you spoken to Mr. Rumley?
Rumley, the section?
He has a key to the church, has he not?
If anyone would know a way of leaving the church unnoticed, I'm sure it would be he.
And while he has never confessed to having musical talent, I'm certain he would be happy
to improve his position by taking my duties as organist away from me.
I shall speak to him at once.
And soon, my dear vicar, shall I.
Dusk had fallen when the vicar and Emily Willingham reached the little cottage just behind the
church.
I'm glad you've come, vicar.
I've been wanting to talk to you all day.
I'm registering a complaint against her.
Against me?
Aye.
I've got no objection to you playing the organ any time you like.
Only not at midnight.
My, your father's a very good...
I heard her, vicar.
I heard her in the middle of the night, it was.
The organ bleating out like a Sunday morning.
He's simply trying to avoid suspicion from himself, vicar.
To know perfectly well, Mr. Rumley, that it was you who played in the church last night.
Me?
I never touched a blasted instrument in me life.
Obviously it was one of the two of you.
We three are the only ones who could have got into the church.
No one else has a key.
And I'm quite certain that I...
What have you...
Listen, Rumley.
There it is again.
But... but isn't the church locked?
No.
Oye, vicar.
I knocked it myself half hour ago.
And there wasn't a living soul in there when I did.
The three of them hastened to the church.
But before they reached it, the music stopped.
And they found no one.
Who he was, and how he gained entrance into the church, and how he left without being observed.
All of these remain a mystery.
A mystery incredible but true.