М. Р. Джеймс (M. R. James)THE LOST CROWNS OF ANGLIA
Seaburgh is a small town by the sea on the east coast of England. This part of England is called East Anglia. I went to Seaburgh for a holiday in 1919 with my friend, Henry Long.
There were few visitors in Seaburgh that year. There was only one other visitor in our hotel. His name was Paxton. Paxton was a tall, thin young man. He looked worried and unhappy.
One evening, when Henry and I were sitting in the hotel lounge, Paxton came up to us.
'Excuse me,' said Paxton, 'I must speak to somebody. Something strange has happened to me. I'd like to talk to someone about it. May I talk to you?'
'Of course,' I said. 'Please sit down and tell us about it.'
'A few days ago,' Paxton said, 'I went for a walk to Freston. Freston is a village about five miles from here. I took my camera with me. The church at Freston has an unusual door. I wanted to photograph it. There are three wooden crowns on the door.
The village priest came out of the church. I asked him about the three crowns on the door. The priest told me a strange story.
'Many years ago,' said Paxton, 'Anglia was a kingdom. The last king of Anglia died over a thousand years ago. When he died, his three crowns disappeared. The people believed that the crowns were magic. They believed that the crowns were buried in different places. The crowns guarded the coast against enemies from across the sea.
'About three hundred years ago, one of the crowns was found. It was secretly sold - no one knows what happened to it after that.'
'What about the other two crowns?' asked Henry.
'The second crown was washed into the sea. It was never found again.'
'What about the third crown?' I asked Paxton. 'Was it ever found?'
'I'll tell you about that,' answered Paxton. 'There was a family here called Ager. The people believed that the Agers were guardians of the third crown. The last Ager died a year ago, in 1918.
He had no children. I found his grave in the churchyard - I wrote down what was written on the gravestone.
WILLIAM AGER
Died
21th December 1918
Aged
28 years
'Later, I went to the bookshop in Freston. By chance, I found an old book dated 1740. Inside it were some lines of poetry: