 Whether it be a magnificent cathedral or merely a praying shack, a house of prayer is invariably vested with an air of other worldliness. 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 Hertfordshire, 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 by a 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. The door 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 lights 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. Whoever you may have heard, my dear vicar, it was not I. I was in my bed at 12 o'clock last night. Have you spoken to Mr. Rumley? Rumley, it is sexil. 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 talents, I'm certain he would be happy to improve his position by taking my duties as organist away from this. I shall speak to him at once. And so, my dear vicar, shall I? Does Kid Fallon, 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 registered in a complaint against her. Against me? Aye. I've got no objection to your play in the organ any time you like, only not at midnight. By your force, vicar. I don't know, vicar. I don't know. In the middle of the night, it was. The organ bleakened out like a Sunday morning. He should be going to a birth suspicion from himself, vicar. You know perfectly well, Mr. Rumley, that it was you who played in the church last night. Me? I never touched the blastered instrument in my 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 did. Hey, hey, call me. There it is again. But, but isn't the church locked? No. Oh, vicar. One hooded me so far 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.