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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Weapons of Mystery, by Joseph Hocking
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Weapons of Mystery
+
+Author: Joseph Hocking
+
+Release Date: August 10, 2004 [EBook #13158]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WEAPONS OF MYSTERY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Suzanne Shell, Charlene Taylor and PG Distributed
+Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+
+POPULAR NOVELS
+
+BY
+
+JOSEPH HOCKING
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE STORY OF ANDREW FAIRFAX
+
+JABEZ EASTERBROOK
+
+ALL MEN ARE LIARS
+
+FIELDS OF FAIR RENOWN
+
+WEAPONS OF MYSTERY
+
+THE PURPLE ROBE
+
+THE SCARLET WOMAN
+
+THE BIRTHRIGHT
+
+MISTRESS NANCY MOLESWORTH
+
+LEST WE FORGET
+
+GREATER LOVE
+
+THE COMING OF THE KING
+
+ROGER TREWINION
+
+THE PRINCE OF THIS WORLD
+
+GOD AND MAMMON
+
+AN ENEMY HATH DONE THIS
+
+THE RING OF DESTINY
+
+HEARTSEASE
+
+THE TENANT OF CROMLECH COTTAGE
+
+NANCY TREVANION'S LEGACY
+
+THE SIGN OF THE TRIANGLE
+
+
+
+
+
+The Weapons of Mystery
+
+by Joseph Hocking
+
+AUTHOR OF "ALL MEN ARE LIARS", "THE PURPLE ROBE", "THE SCARLET WOMAN", ETC.
+
+
+WARD. LOCK & CO., LIMITED
+
+LONDON AND MELBOURNE
+_Made and Printed in Great Britain by_ Ward, Lock & Co., Limited, London.
+
+1890
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+Chap.
+
+I. INTRODUCES THE WRITER AND OTHERS
+
+II. CHRISTMAS EVE
+
+III. CHRISTMAS MORNING
+
+IV. VOLTAIRE'S STORY OF THE EAST
+
+V. CHRISTMAS NIGHT--THE FORGING OF THE CHAIN
+
+VI. AFTERWARDS
+
+VII. DREARWATER POND
+
+VIII. DARKNESS AND LIGHT
+
+IX. THE HALL GHOST
+
+X. THE COMING OF THE NIGHT
+
+XI. DARK DREAMS AND NIGHT SHADOWS
+
+XII. A MIDNIGHT CONFERENCE
+
+XIII. A MESMERIST'S SPELL
+
+XIV. GOD
+
+XV. BEGINNING TO SEARCH
+
+XVI. STRUGGLING FOR VICTORY
+
+XVII. USING THE ENEMY'S WEAPONS
+
+XVIII. NEARING THE END
+
+XIX. THE SECOND CHRISTMAS EVE
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+INTRODUCES THE WRITER AND OTHERS
+
+
+My story begins on the morning of December 18, 18--, while sitting at
+breakfast. Let it be understood before we go further that I was a
+bachelor living in lodgings. I had been left an orphan just before I
+came of age, and was thus cast upon the world at a time when it is
+extremely dangerous for young men to be alone. Especially was it so in
+my case, owing to the fact that at twenty-one I inherited a considerable
+fortune. One thing saved me from ruin, viz. a passionate love for
+literature, which led me to make it my profession. I had at the time of
+my story been following the bent of my inclinations for two years with a
+fair amount of success, and was regarded by those who knew me as a lucky
+fellow. That is all I think I need say concerning myself prior to the
+time when my story opens, except to tell my name; but that will drop out
+very soon. I had not made very great inroads into the omelette my
+landlady had prepared for me when I heard the postman's knock, and soon
+after a servant entered with a letter. One only. I had expected at least
+half-a-dozen, but only one lay on the tray before me.
+
+"Are you sure this is all, Jane?" I asked.
+
+"Quite sure, sir," said Jane, smiling, and then with a curtsey she took
+her leave.
+
+The envelope was addressed in a bold hand-writing to--
+
+
+_Justin M. Blake, Esq.,
+Gower Street,
+London, W._
+
+
+"Surely I know the writing," I mused, and then began to look at the
+postmarks as if a letter were something of very uncommon occurrence. I
+could make nothing of the illegible smear in the corner, however, and so
+opened it, and read as follows:--
+
+
+Dear old Justin Martyr,
+
+I suppose you have about forgotten your old schoolfellow, Tom Temple,
+and it's natural you should; but he has not forgotten you. You see, you
+have risen to fame, and I have remained in obscurity. Ah well, such is
+the fate of that community called 'country gentlemen.' But this is not
+what I want to write about, and I am going straight to the real object
+of this letter.
+
+We--that is, mother, the girls, and myself--are contemplating a real
+jolly Christmas. We are inviting a few friends to spend Christmas and
+New Year with us, and we wish you to make one of the number. Will you
+come and spend a fortnight or so at Temple Hall? Of course it is rather
+quiet here, but we are going to do our best to make it more lively than
+usual. The weather looks frosty, and that promises skating. We have a
+few good horses, so that we can have some rides across the country.
+There is also plenty of shooting, hunting, etc., etc. Altogether, if you
+will come and help us; we can promise a fairly good bill of fare. What
+do you say? You must excuse me for writing in this unconventional
+strain, but I can't write otherwise to my old schoolfellow.
+
+We shall all be really disappointed if you say 'no,' so write at once
+and tell us you will come, also when we may expect you. All the news
+when we meet.
+
+Your sincere friend,
+
+Tom Temple.
+
+P.S.--I might say that most of the guests will arrive on Christmas Eve.
+
+
+"Just the very thing," I exclaimed. "I had been wondering what to do and
+where to go this Christmas time, and this invitation comes in
+splendidly."
+
+Tom Temple lived in Yorkshire, at a fine old country house some distance
+from the metropolis of that county, and was a really good fellow. As for
+his mother and sisters, I knew but little about them, but I judged from
+the letters his mother wrote him when at school, that she must be a
+true, kind-hearted, motherly woman.
+
+I accordingly turned to my desk, wrote to Tom, telling him to expect me
+on the 24th inst., and then, without finishing my breakfast, endeavoured
+to go on with my work. It was very difficult, however. My thoughts were
+ever running away to Yorkshire, and on the pleasant time I hoped to
+spend. Between the lines on my paper I was ever seeing the old baronial
+hall that was Tom Temple's home, and the people who had been invited to
+spend the festive season there. Presently I began to chide myself for my
+foolishness. Why should the thoughts of a Christmas holiday so unfit me,
+a staid old bachelor of thirty, for my usual work? Nevertheless it did,
+so I put on my overcoat, and went away in the direction of Hyde Park in
+order, if possible, to dispel my fancies. I did dispel them, and shortly
+afterwards returned to my lodgings, and did a good morning's work.
+
+Nothing of importance happened between the 18th and the 24th, and early
+in the afternoon of the latter date I found my way to St. Pancras
+Station, and booked for the station nearest Tom Temple's home. Although
+it was Christmas Eve, I found an empty first-class carriage, and soon
+comfortably ensconced myself therein. I don't know why, but we English
+people generally try to get an empty carriage, and feel annoyed when
+some one comes in to share our possession. I, like the rest of my
+countrymen are apt to do in such a case, began to hope I might retain
+the entire use of the carriage, at least to Leeds, when the door opened,
+and a porter brought a number of wraps and shawls, evidently the
+property of a lady.
+
+"Bother it!" I mentally exclaimed, "and so I suppose I am to have some
+fidgety old women for my travelling companions."
+
+The reader will imagine from this that I was not a lady's man. At any
+rate, such was the case. I had lived my thirty years without ever being
+in love; indeed, I had from principle avoided the society of ladies,
+that is, when they were of the flirtable or marriageable kind.
+
+No sooner had the porter laid the articles mentioned on a corner seat,
+the one farthest away from me, than their owner entered, and my
+irritation vanished. It was a young lady under the ordinary size, and,
+from what I could see of her, possessed of more than ordinary beauty.
+Her skin was dark and clear, her eyes very dark, her mouth pleasant yet
+decided, her chin square and determined. This latter feature would in
+the eyes of many destroy her pretensions to beauty, but I, who liked
+persons with a will of their own, admired the firm resoluteness the
+feature indicated.
+
+She took no notice of me, but quietly arranged her belongings as if she
+were accustomed to take care of herself. She had only just sat down,
+when she was followed by another lady, who appeared, from the sign of
+recognition that passed between them, an acquaintance.
+
+Evidently, however, the younger lady was not delighted at the advent of
+the elder. A look of annoyance swept across her face, as if she could
+have very comfortably excused her presence. I did not wonder at it. This
+second comer was a woman of about fifty-five years of age. She had
+yellow wrinkled skin, a square upright forehead, shaggy grey eyebrows,
+beneath which, in two cavernous sockets, were two black beady-looking
+eyes. Her mouth was large and coarse, and, to make that feature still
+more objectionable, two large teeth, like two fangs, stuck out at a
+considerable angle from her upper jaw and rested on the lower lip.
+Altogether the face was repulsive. Added to this, she was tall and bony,
+and would have passed anywhere for one of the witches of olden time.
+
+"I have altered my mind, Gertrude, and am going with you." This was said
+in a harsh, thick voice.
+
+"I see you are here, Miss Staggles," said the younger lady very coolly.
+
+"I did not intend coming at first, but your aunt, poor silly thing, said
+you would not take your maid with you, and so I thought it would be a
+sin for a young girl like you to travel alone to Yorkshire on a day like
+this."
+
+"Yorkshire?" I thought. "Is that old woman to be in this carriage with
+me for five or six long hours? I'll get out."
+
+I was too late; at that moment the guard's whistle blew, and the train
+moved slowly out of the station. At all events, I had to remain until
+the train stopped, so I composed myself as well as I could, and resolved
+to make the best of it. Neither of them paid the slightest attention to
+me. The elder lady sat bolt upright opposite the younger, and began to
+harangue her.
+
+"Don't you know it was very foolish of you to think of coming alone?"
+
+"No," said the younger lady; "I'm tired of having a maid dogging my
+every footstep, as if I were a child and unable to do for myself."
+
+"Nevertheless, Gertrude, you should have brought her; no young lady
+should travel alone. However, you will have a chaperon, so the
+deficiency will be more than remedied;" and there was grim satisfaction
+in the woman's voice.
+
+There was no satisfaction in the young lady's face, however, and she
+turned with what I thought an angry look towards the scrawny duenna, who
+had claimed guardianship over her, and said----
+
+"But, Miss Staggles, you are in a false position. You have received no
+invitation."
+
+"No, I have not; but your aunt had one, poor silly creature, and so, for
+duty's sake, I am breaking the rules of etiquette. Those fine people you
+are about to visit did not think it worth their while to invite your
+aunt's late husband's step-sister--perhaps because she is poor; but she
+has a soul above formalities, and so determined to come and take care of
+her niece."
+
+The young lady made no reply.
+
+"You will be thankful, Gertrude Forrest, some day that I do care for
+you," Miss Staggles continued, "although I never expect to get any
+reward for my kindness."
+
+By this time the train was going rapidly, and so loud was the roar it
+made that I heard only the growling of Miss Staggles' voice without
+distinguishing any words. Indeed, I was very glad I could not. It was by
+no means pleasant to have to sit and listen to her hoarse voice, so I
+pulled down the laps of my travelling cap over my ears and, closing my
+eyes, began to think who Gertrude Forrest was, and where she was going.
+
+I did not change carriages as I intended. Miss Staggles got tired after
+awhile, and so there was relief in that quarter, while my seat was most
+comfortable, and I did not want to be disturbed. Hour after hour passed
+by, until night came on; then the wind blew colder, and I began to
+wonder how soon the journey would end, when the collector came to take
+all the tickets from the Leeds passengers. Shortly after we arrived at
+the Midland station, for which I was truly thankful. I did not wait
+there long; a train stood at another platform, which stopped at a
+station some two miles from Tom Temple's home. By this time there was
+every evidence of the holiday season. The train was crowded, and I was
+glad to get in at all, unmindful of comfort.
+
+What had become of my two travelling companions I was not aware, but
+concluded that they would be staying at Leeds, as they had given up
+their tickets at the collecting station. I cannot but admit, however,
+that I was somewhat anxious as to the destination of Gertrude Forrest,
+for certainly she had made an impression upon me I was not likely to
+forget. Still I gave up the idea of ever seeing her again, and tried to
+think of the visit I was about to pay.
+
+Arrived at the station, I saw Tom Temple, who gave me a hearty welcome,
+after which he said, "Justin, my boy, do you want to be introduced to
+some ladies at present?"
+
+"A thousand times no," I replied. "Let's wait till we get to Temple
+Hall."
+
+"Then, in that case, you will have to go home in a cab. I retained one
+for you, knowing your dislike to the fair sex; for, of course, they will
+have to go in the carriage, and I must go with them. Stay, though. I'll
+go and speak to them, and get them all safe in the carriage, and then,
+as there will be barely room for me, I'll come back and ride home with
+you."
+
+He rushed away as he spoke, and in a few minutes came back again. "I am
+sorry those ladies had to be made rather uncomfortable, but guests have
+been arriving all the day, and thus things are a bit upset. There are
+five people in yon carriage; three came from the north, and two from the
+south. The northern train has been in nearly half-an-hour, so the three
+had to wait for the two. Well, I think I've made them comfortable, so I
+don't mind so much."
+
+"You're a capital host, Tom," I said.
+
+"Am I, Justin? Well, I hope I am to you, for I have been really longing
+for you to come, and I want you to have a jolly time."
+
+"I'm sure I shall," I replied.
+
+"Well, I hope so; only you don't care for ladies' society, and I'm
+afraid I shall have to be away from you a good bit."
+
+"Naturally you will, old fellow. You see, you are master of the hall,
+and will have to look after the comfort of all the guests."
+
+"Oh, as to that, mother will do all that's necessary; but I--that is--"
+and Tom stopped.
+
+"Any particular guest, Tom?" I asked.
+
+"Yes, there is, Justin. I don't mind telling you, but I'm in love, and I
+want to settle the matter this Christmas. She's an angel of a girl, and
+I'm in hopes that--Well, I don't believe she hates me."
+
+"Good, Tom. And her name?"
+
+"Her name," said Tom slowly, "is Edith Gray."
+
+I gave a sigh of relief. I could not help it--why I could not tell; and
+yet I trembled lest he should mention another name.
+
+We reached Temple Hall in due time, where I was kindly welcomed by Mrs.
+Temple and her two daughters. The former was just the kind of lady I had
+pictured her, while the daughters gave promise of following in the
+footsteps of their kind-hearted mother.
+
+Tom took me to my room, and then, looking at his watch, said, "Make
+haste, old fellow. Dinner has been postponed on account of you late
+arrivals, but it will be ready in half-an-hour."
+
+I was not long over my toilet, and soon after hearing the first dinner
+bell I wended my way to the drawing-room, wondering who and what kind of
+people I should meet, but was not prepared for the surprises that
+awaited me.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+CHRISTMAS EVE
+
+
+Just before I reached the drawing-room door, Mrs. Temple came up and
+took me by the arm.
+
+"We are all going to be very unceremonious, Mr. Blake," she said, "and I
+shall expect my son's friend to make himself perfectly at home."
+
+I thanked her heartily, for I began to feel a little strange.
+
+We entered the drawing-room together, where I found a number of people
+had gathered. They were mostly young, although I saw one or two
+ancient-looking dames, who, I supposed, had come to take care of their
+daughters.
+
+"I am going to introduce you to everybody," continued the old lady, "for
+this is to be a family gathering, and we must all know each other. I
+know I may not be acting according to the present usages of society, but
+that does not trouble me a little bit."
+
+Accordingly, with the utmost good taste, she introduced me to a number
+of the people who had been invited.
+
+I need make no special mention of most of them. Some of the young ladies
+simpered, others were frank, some were fairly good looking, while others
+were otherwise, and that is about all that could be said. None had
+sufficient individuality to make a distinct impression upon me. The
+young men were about on a par with the young ladies. Some lisped and
+were affected, some were natural and manly; and I began to think that,
+as far as the people were concerned, the Christmas gathering would be a
+somewhat tame affair.
+
+This thought had scarcely entered my mind when two men entered the room,
+who were certainly not of the ordinary type, and will need a few words
+of description; for both were destined, as my story will show, to have
+considerable influence over my life.
+
+I will try to describe the more striking of the two first.
+
+He was a young man. Not more than thirty-five. He was fairly tall, well
+built, and had evidently enjoyed the education and advantages of a man
+of wealth. His hair was black as the raven's wings, and was brushed in a
+heavy mass horizontally across his forehead. His eyes were of a colour
+that did not accord with his black hair and swarthy complexion. They
+were of an extremely light grey, and were tinted with a kind of green.
+They were placed very close together, and, the bridge of the nose being
+narrow, they appeared sometimes as if only one eye looked upon you. The
+mouth was well cut, the lips rather thin, which often parted, revealing
+a set of pearly white teeth. There was something positively fascinating
+about the mouth, and yet it betrayed malignity--cruelty. He was
+perfectly self-possessed, stood straight, and had a soldier-like
+bearing. I instinctively felt that this was a man of power, one who
+would endeavour to make his will law. His movements were perfectly
+graceful, and from the flutter among the young ladies when he entered, I
+judged he had already spent some little time with them, and made no
+slight impression.
+
+His companion was much smaller, and even darker than he was. His every
+feature indicated that he was not an Englishman. With small wiry limbs,
+black, restless, furtive eyes, rusty black hair, and a somewhat
+unhealthy colour in his face, he formed a great contrast to the man I
+have just tried to describe. I did not like him. He seemed to carry a
+hundred secrets around with him, and each one a deadly weapon he would
+some day use against any who might offend him. He, too, gave you the
+idea of power, but it was the power of a subordinate.
+
+Instinctively I felt that I should have more to do with these men than
+with the rest of the company present.
+
+Although I have used a page of good paper in describing them, I was only
+a very few seconds in seeing and realizing what I have written.
+
+Both walked up to us, and both smiled on Mrs. Temple, whereupon she
+introduced them. The first had a peculiar name; at least, so it seemed
+to me.
+
+"Mr. Herod Voltaire--Mr. Justin Blake," she said; and instantly we were
+looking into each other's eyes, I feeling a strange kind of shiver pass
+through me.
+
+The name of the smaller man was simply that of an Egyptian, "Aba Wady
+Kaffar." The guests called him Mr. Kaffar, and thus made it as much
+English as possible.
+
+Scarcely had the formalities of introduction been gone through between
+the Egyptian and myself, when my eyes were drawn to the door, which was
+again opening. Do what I would I could not repress a start, for, to my
+surprise, I saw my travelling companions enter with Miss
+Temple--Gertrude Forrest looking more charming and more beautiful than
+ever, and beside her Miss Staggles, tall, gaunt, and more forbidding
+than when in the railway carriage.
+
+It is no use denying the fact, for my secret must sooner or later drop
+out. My heart began to throb wildly, while my brain seemed on fire. I
+began to picture myself in conversation with her, and becoming
+acquainted with her, when I accidentally looked at Herod Voltaire. His
+eyes were fixed on Miss Forrest, as if held by a magnet, and I fancied I
+saw a faint colour tinge his cheek.
+
+What I am now going to write may appear foolish and unreal, especially
+when you remember that I was thirty years of age, but the moment I saw
+his ardent, admiring gaze, I felt madly jealous.
+
+The second dinner bell rang, and so, mechanically offering my arm to a
+lady who had, I thought, been neglected on account of her plain looks, I
+followed the guests to the dining-room.
+
+Nothing happened there worth recording. We had an old-fashioned English
+dinner, and that is about all I can remember, except that the table
+looked exceedingly nice. I don't think there was much talking; evidently
+the guests were as yet strangers to each other, and were only gradually
+wearing away the restraint that naturally existed. I could not see Miss
+Gertrude Forrest, for she was sitting on my side of the table, but I
+could see the peculiar eyes of Herod Voltaire constantly looking at some
+one nearly opposite him, while he scarcely touched the various dishes
+that were placed on the table.
+
+Presently dinner came to an end. The ladies retired to the drawing-room,
+while the gentlemen prepared to sit over their wine. Being an abstainer,
+I asked leave to retire with the ladies. I did this for two reasons
+besides my principles of abstinence. First, I thought the custom a
+foolish one, as well as being harmful; and, second, I hoped by entering
+the drawing-room early, I might have a chance to speak to Miss Forrest.
+
+I did not leave alone. Two young Englishmen also declared themselves to
+be abstainers, and wanted to go with me, while Herod Voltaire likewise
+asked leave to abide by the rules he had ever followed in the countries
+in which he had lived.
+
+Of course there was some laughing demur among those who enjoyed their
+after-dinner wine, but we followed the bent of our inclination, and
+found our way to the drawing-room.
+
+Evidently the ladies were not sorry to see us, for a look of pleasure
+and surprise greeted us, and soon the conversation became general.
+Presently, however, our attention was by degrees drawn to that part of
+the room where Herod Voltaire sat, and I heard him speaking fluently and
+smoothly on some subject he was discussing with a young lady.
+
+"Yes, Miss Emery," he said, "I think European education is poor, is
+one-sided. Take, for example, the ordinary English education, and what
+does it amount to? Arithmetic, and sometimes a little mathematics,
+reading, writing, French, sometimes German, and of course music and
+dancing. Nearly all are educated in one groove, until there is in the
+English mind an amount of sameness that becomes monotonous."
+
+"You are speaking of the education of ladies, Mr. Voltaire?" said Miss
+Emery.
+
+"Yes, more particularly, although there is but little more variation
+among the men. Take your University degrees--your Cambridge and Oxford
+Master of Arts, for example; what a poor affair it is! I have been
+looking over the subjects of examination, and what are they? A couple of
+languages, the literature of two or three countries, mathematics, and
+something else which I have forgotten now."
+
+"You are scarcely correct, sir," said one of the young men who came in
+with me. "I happen to have passed through Cambridge, and have taken the
+degree you mention. I found it stiff enough."
+
+"Not so stiff, when it can be taken at your age," replied Voltaire.
+"But, admitting what you say, you are all cast in the same mould. You
+study the same subjects, and thus what one of you knows, all know."
+
+"And what may be your ideas concerning education?" said Miss Forrest.
+
+Herod Voltaire turned and looked admiringly on her, and I saw that a
+blush tinged both their cheeks.
+
+"My ideas are such as would not find much favour in ordinary English
+circles," he said smilingly. "But I should do away with much of the
+nonsense of ordinary English education, and deal with the more occult
+sciences."
+
+"Pardon me, but I do not quite understand you."
+
+"I will endeavour to make my meaning plain. There are subjects relating
+to the human body, mind, and soul, which cannot be said to have been
+really studied at all, except by some recluse here and there, who is
+generally considered mad. You deal with the things which are seen, but
+think not of the great unsolved spiritual problems of life. For example,
+the effect of mind upon mind, animal magnetism, mesmerism, biology, and
+kindred subjects are unknown to you. The secrets of mind and spirit are
+left unnoticed by you Western people. You seek not to solve the occult
+truths which exist in the spirit of all men. You shudder at the problem
+of what you call death, and fancy nothing can be known of the spirit
+which leaves the world in which you live; whereas there is no such thing
+as death. The spirits of the so-called dead are living forces all around
+us, who can tell their condition to those who understand some of the
+secrets of spiritualism. Nay, more than that. There are occult laws of
+the soul which, if understood by some powerful mind, can be made to
+explain some of the deepest mysteries of the universe. For example, a
+man versed in the secrets of the spirit life can cause the soul of any
+human being to leave its clay tenement, and go to the world of spirits,
+and learn its secrets; and by the powers of his soul life, which can be
+a thousand times strengthened by means of a knowledge of the forces at
+the command of all, he can summon it back to the body again. Of course I
+can only hint at these things here, as only the initiated can understand
+these secret laws; but these are the things I would have studied, and
+thus lift the life of man beyond his poor material surroundings." By
+this time the drawing-room was pretty well full. Nearly all the men had
+left their wine, and all were listening intently to what Voltaire was
+saying.
+
+"You have lived in the East?" said Miss Forrest, evidently fascinated by
+the strange talk.
+
+"For the last ten years. I spent a year in Cairo, two more up by the
+banks of the Nile, among the ruins of ancient cities, where, in spite of
+the degradation that exists, there is still to be found those who have
+some of the wisdom of past ages. Four years did I live in India among
+the sages who hold fast to the teaching of Buddha. The three remaining
+years I have spent in Arabia, Syria, and Chaldea."
+
+"And do you mean to say that what you have mentioned exists in reality?"
+said Miss Forrest.
+
+"I have only hinted at what really exists. I could record to you facts
+that are strange, beyond the imagination of Dumas; so wonderful, that
+afterwards you could believe the stories told by your most renowned
+satirist, Dean Swift."
+
+"Favour us with one," I suggested.
+
+Voltaire looked at me with his green-tinted eyes, as if he would read my
+innermost thoughts. Evidently his impression of me was not favourable,
+for a cynical smile curled his lips, and his eyes gleamed with a steely
+glitter. "One has to choose times, occasions, and proper circumstances,
+in order to tell such facts," he said. "I never speak of a sacred thing
+jestingly."
+
+We were all silent. This man had become the centre of attraction. Both
+men and women hung upon his every word. I looked around the room and I
+saw a strange interest manifested, except in the face of the Egyptian.
+Aba Wady Kaffar was looking at the ceiling as if calculating how many
+square feet there were.
+
+"Perhaps you find it difficult to believe me," went on Voltaire. "The
+truth is, I am very unfortunate in many respects. My way of expressing
+my thoughts is perhaps distasteful to you. You see, I have lived so long
+in the East that I have lost much of my European training. Then, my name
+is unfortunate. Herod killed one of your Christian saints, while
+Voltaire was an infidel. You English people have strong prejudices, and
+thus my story would be injured by the narrator."
+
+"Nay, Voltaire," said Tom Temple, "we are all friendly listeners here."
+
+"My good host," said Voltaire, "I am sure you are a friendly listener,
+but I have been telling of Eastern knowledge. One aspect of that
+knowledge is that the learned can read the minds, the thoughts of those
+with whom they come into contact."
+
+The ladies began to express an intense desire to hear a story of magic
+and mystery, and to assure him that his name was a delightful one.
+
+"I trust I am not the disciple of either the men whose name I bear.
+Certainly I am susceptible to the influence of ladies"--and he smiled,
+thereby showing his white, shining teeth--"but I am a great admirer of
+honest men, whoever they may be, or whatever be their opinion. I am not
+a follower of Voltaire, although I admire his genius. He believed but
+little in the powers of the soul, or in the spirit world; I, on the
+other hand, believe it to be more real than the world in which we live."
+
+"We are not altogether strangers to stories about spiritualism or
+mesmerism here," said Miss Forrest, "but the votaries of these so-called
+sciences have been and are such miserable specimens of mankind that
+educated people treat them with derision."
+
+There was decision and energy in her voice. Evidently she was not one to
+be easily deceived or trifled with.
+
+"Counterfeits prove reality," said Voltaire, looking searchingly at her;
+"besides, I seek to impose none of my stories on any one. I am not a
+professional spiritualist, psychologist, or biologist. I simply happen
+to have lived in countries where these matters are studied, and, as a
+consequence, have learned some of their mysteries. Seeing what I have
+seen, and hearing what I have heard, I beg to quote your greatest poet--
+
+  'There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your
+  philosophy.'"
+
+"Your quotation is apropos," she said in reply, "but it so happens that
+I have taken considerable interest in the matter about which you have
+been speaking, and after seeing various representations of these
+so-called occult sciences, and carefully examining them, I have come to
+the conclusion that they are only so many fairly clever juggling tricks,
+which have been attempts to deceive credulous people. Moreover, these
+have been so often exposed by cultured men, that they have no weight
+with people of intelligence."
+
+His eyes gleamed savagely, but he smiled upon her, and said, "Perhaps I
+may have an opportunity of undeceiving you, some time in the near
+future."
+
+"Meanwhile you will tell us an Eastern story," said one of the young
+ladies.
+
+"Pardon me," replied Voltaire, "but tonight is Christmas Eve, and as my
+story might be regarded as heathenish, I will wait for some more
+favourable time, when your minds will not be influenced by the memories
+of the birth of the Christian religion. Besides, I know many of you are
+longing for other amusement than stories of the unseen."
+
+As he spoke I saw his eyes travel towards Aba Wady Kaffar, and they
+exchanged glances; then he looked towards Miss Forrest, and again a look
+of intelligence passed between him and the Egyptian.
+
+Soon after Kaffar began to talk fluently to one of the Misses Temple,
+while several members of the party prepared for a charade. Then, when
+the attention of the guests was drawn towards those who displayed their
+powers at acting, I saw Voltaire rise and go out, and soon after he was
+followed by his friend.
+
+Acting upon sudden impulse, which I think was caused by the remembrance
+of the meaning glances that passed between them after Voltaire had
+looked at Miss Forrest, I followed them out into the silent night.
+Somehow I felt that this fascinating man did not like me, while I was
+sure he had been deeply impressed by the woman who had that day
+travelled with me from London.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+CHRISTMAS MORNING
+
+
+When I got out on the lawn, I accused myself of doing a very foolish
+thing. "Why," I thought, "should I follow these men? I know nothing
+against them. They have as much right here as I have, and surely two
+friends can leave the house and come out for a stroll without being
+watched?"
+
+With this thought in my mind I turned to go back again, when I heard
+voices close by me. Evidently they were behind some large laurel bushes
+which hid them from my sight. I stopped again for an instant; but,
+knowing I had no right to listen to what might be private conversation,
+I started a second time for the house, when I heard the name of Gertrude
+Forrest, and then I seemed chained to the ground.
+
+"You have inquired about her?" said a voice, which I recognized as
+belonging to Voltaire. The answer was in Arabic, and was spoken by
+Kaffar.
+
+Five years prior to the time of which I am writing I had been engaged in
+a work that required a knowledge of the Arabic language, and although it
+cannot be said I had become anything like proficient in that tongue, I
+had been taught by an Arabian, and could enter into ordinary
+conversation. Thus I understood the Egyptian's reply.
+
+"With regard to Miss Forrest," he said, "I answer not in the language
+which every one here knows. Miss Forrest must be yours, and that for
+several reasons. She is a flower in herself. She is an orphan. She has a
+large fortune. She has absolute control over it. She has a fine house in
+England's capital. She has a large estate and a grand country mansion in
+the south of this country. Win her, Herod Voltaire, and you can be a
+little king, and I your prime minister. We heard much about her before
+we came; but we did not think to find such a queen. Win her, man, and
+our fortunes are made."
+
+This was said quickly, and with all the fervour of an Eastern.
+
+"Yes, Kaffar. It would be well if it could be done. To be an English
+gentleman, with an _entree_ into the best English society, is what I
+have long longed for. It will not only satisfy my taste, but give me
+power, and power is what I must have. It is by good luck we are here,
+but neither of us have the means to pass as English aristocrats very
+long. As you say, something must be done, and, upon my honour, I have
+very nearly fallen in love with her. But she must be won, and won
+fairly. She is evidently strong and determined, and can be forced to do
+nothing."
+
+"Nonsense," snarled the Egyptian. "Use all your seductive arts first,
+and if you fail to win her by those, trust me to weave such a chain of
+events as shall make her become Mrs. Voltaire."
+
+Up to this point I listened attentively, and then a minute's silence on
+their part aroused me to myself. Was it right to stand listening thus?
+And yet a thousand things justified the act.
+
+They moved on from the spot where they had been standing, but I was too
+much stunned to follow them. At that moment I realized that I had given
+my heart to Gertrude Forrest, and that another man had designs
+concerning her.
+
+This sudden falling into love may appear foolish, especially when it is
+remembered that I had passed the age of boyhood, and yet I have known
+several cases similar to my own. Anyhow, I, who had never loved before,
+loved now--loved, perhaps, foolishly; for I knew nothing of the lady I
+loved, and, of course, had not the slightest hope of her caring for me.
+
+Thus it was with a throbbing heart that I stood there alone upon the
+lawn, with the knowledge of my new-found love just breaking upon me,
+and, more than that, I had every reason to fear that she was to be made
+the dupe of two clever villains.
+
+I turned to follow them, but they were gone I knew not whither, and so I
+went back to the house determined that, if I could be nothing else, I
+would be Miss Forrest's protector.
+
+I had been back in the drawing-room perhaps ten minutes, when Voltaire
+and Kaffar returned, and apparently entered with great zest into the
+festivities of the evening. There is no necessity that I should write of
+what took place during the remainder of Christmas Eve. It was held in
+good old English style, and to most, I am sure, it was very enjoyable. I
+got an opportunity of speaking to Miss Forrest, but only for a very
+short time; at the same time, I noticed that Voltaire took not the
+slightest notice of her.
+
+When I awoke the following morning and looked out, I saw that the great
+Yorkshire hills were covered with snow, the air was bitingly cold, and
+the leaden sky promised us some real Christmas weather.
+
+I was soon dressed and ready to go down, but on looking at my watch I
+found I had an hour to spare before breakfast. Arrangements had been
+made for us to breakfast at ten, and thus be just in time for service at
+the little village church.
+
+On my way down-stairs I saw Tom Temple, who told me to find my way to
+the library, where I should be able to pass the time pleasantly. I
+entered the room, an old-fashioned dark place lined on every side with
+books. I felt in no mood for looking at them just then, however, and so
+walked to a window and looked out on the snow-draped landscape that
+stretched away on every hand. It was a wondrous scene. The snow had
+fallen steadily all through the night, and no breath of wind had stirred
+the feathery flakes. Thus trees and bushes were laden with snow
+crystals, while the spotless white was relieved here and there by some
+shining evergreen leaves which peeped out amidst their snowy mantles.
+Ordinarily I should have been impressed by it. Now, however, I could not
+help thinking of other matters. One face was ever before me, and I
+constantly wondered whether she were in real danger from these strange
+men, and whether I should have any part in the labour of delivering her
+from them. As yet I could do nothing. I knew nothing wrong of them. They
+might be impostors, they might be penniless adventurers, but I could not
+prove it. Neither could I tell Miss Forrest what I had heard, while
+certainly Voltaire had as much right as I had to seek to win her
+affections.
+
+These thoughts had scarcely passed through my mind when, hearing a sound
+behind me, I turned and saw Miss Forrest, who met me with a bright
+"Good-morning" and the compliments of the season. I blushed almost
+guiltily at the sound of her voice--I, who had for years declared that
+no woman could interest me enough to make my heart throb one whit the
+quicker.
+
+"This is a pleasant surprise," I said, after responding to her greeting.
+"I quite expected to be alone for an hour at least. You see, we all
+remained up so late last night that it was to me a settled matter that
+none of you would appear until it was time to start for church."
+
+"I hope I am not disturbing you in your morning's meditations, Mr.
+Blake," she replied; "I would have stayed in my room had I thought so."
+
+"On the other hand, I am delighted to see you here. Whether you know it
+or not, I rode from London to Leeds with you yesterday, and I have
+thought ever since I should like to know you."
+
+She looked straight at me as if she would read my thoughts, and then
+said pleasantly, "I was on the point of asking you whether such was not
+the case. I was not sure, because you had your travelling cap pulled
+over your face."
+
+"How strange, though, that we were both bound for the same place!" I
+said.
+
+"Yes, it does seem remarkable; and yet it is not so wonderful, after
+all. I am an old friend and schoolfellow of Emily Temple, while you, I
+am told, are an old friend and schoolfellow of her brother. Thus nothing
+is more natural than that we should be invited to such a gathering as
+this."
+
+"Do you know any of the people who are here?" I asked.
+
+"I have met nearly all the young ladies, but only two of the
+gentlemen--Mr. Voltaire and Mr. Kaffar. I saw them on the Continent."
+
+"Indeed?" I said, while I have no doubt a dark look passed over my face.
+
+"Do you not like them?" she asked.
+
+"I do not know enough of either," I replied, "to give an answer
+reasonably, either in the affirmative or the negative. I think my
+failing is to form hasty judgments concerning people, which, of course,
+cannot be fair."
+
+I said this rather stammeringly, while she watched me keenly.
+
+"That means that you do not like them," she said.
+
+"Are you quite justified in saying that?" I replied, scarcely knowing
+what else to say.
+
+"Quite," she said. "You feel towards them just as I do. I was introduced
+to them in Berlin. Mr. Tom Temple had formed their acquaintance somehow,
+and seemed wonderfully fascinated by them. I scarcely spoke to them,
+however, as I left Germany the next day, and was rather surprised to see
+them here last night."
+
+"Mr. Voltaire is a very fascinating man," I suggested.
+
+"There can be no doubt about that," was her reply.
+
+"And yet I fancy much of his high-flown talk about spiritualism was mere
+imagination."
+
+"I was inclined to think so at first, but I have heard strange things
+about him. However, it is perhaps scarcely fair to talk about him thus."
+
+All this time we had stood looking out of the window upon the wintry
+landscape, and I, at least, was oblivious to all else but the fact that
+I was talking with the woman whose interest for me was paramount, when a
+lump of coal fell from the grate upon the fire-irons.
+
+We both turned, and saw Herod Voltaire standing by a bookcase with an
+open volume in his hand. A disinterested person might have fancied he
+had not heard a word of our conversation, but I was sure I saw a steely
+glitter in his eyes, and a cruel smile playing around his mouth.
+
+"Then you go to church this morning?" I said, seeking to turn the
+conversation as naturally as I could.
+
+"Yes, I always do on Christmas morning," she replied, as if thankful I
+had given her an opportunity of speaking about other matters.
+
+"Then I hope I shall have the pleasure of escorting you," I replied.
+
+Ordinarily I should not have dared to mention such a matter to a lady I
+had seen so little of, but the request slipped out unthinkingly; and
+she, no doubt confused by the presence of Voltaire, cheerfully assented.
+
+Our embarrassment came to an end just then, for several others came into
+the room, and the conversation became general.
+
+As the reader may guess, I was highly elated at the turn matters were
+taking, and in my heart I began to laugh at Voltaire's idea of winning
+Gertrude Forrest. Moreover, she had willingly consented to walk to
+church with me, and had expressed a dislike for the man I, in spite of
+myself, was beginning to fear.
+
+Only a very few of the party found their way to the old time-honoured
+building to join in the Christmas service that morning. Some were tired
+and remained in their rooms, while others enjoyed sitting around the
+cheerful fires. I was not sorry, however, for I was thus enabled to
+enjoy more of Miss Forrest's society. Need I say that my morning was
+truly enjoyable? I think not. I found in my companion one who was in
+every way delightful. Widely read, she was able to converse about books
+she loved, and possessing a mind that was untrammelled by society
+notions, it was refreshing to hear her talk. Far removed from the giddy
+society girl, she was yet full of mirth and pleasantness. Ready witted,
+she was quick at repartee; and possessing a keen sense of humour, she
+saw enjoyment in that which to many would be commonplace.
+
+Only one thing marred my happiness. That was the memory of a cruel look
+which rested on Voltaire's face as we went away together. From that
+moment I am sure he regarded me as his rival, and from that moment he
+sought to measure his strength with mine. I could see in his face that
+he had guessed my secret, while I fancied I could see, beneath his
+somewhat cynical demeanour, indications of his love for Gertrude
+Forrest.
+
+On our way back from church we met Voltaire and Kaffar, who were eagerly
+conversing. They took but little notice of us, however, and, for my own
+part, I felt relieved when they were out of sight.
+
+"Do you know what is on the programme for to-night?" I said, when they
+were out of hearing.
+
+"Yes; Mr. Temple has arranged for a conjuror and a ventriloquist to
+come, and thus we shall have something to occupy our attention besides
+ordinary chitchat."
+
+"I'm very glad," I replied, "although I should be delighted to spend the
+evening as I have spent this morning."
+
+I said this with an earnestness about which there could be no doubt, and
+I fancied I saw a blush mount to her cheek. At any rate, I felt that we
+were good friends, and my heart beat high with hope.
+
+Arriving at Temple Hall, I saw Tom reading a letter. "Disappointing,
+Justin, my boy," he said.
+
+"What's the matter?" I asked.
+
+"Why, I engaged some fellows to come here and give us an entertainment
+to-night, and they write to say they can't come. But never mind; we must
+do the best we can among ourselves. You are good at all sorts of odd
+games; while at--yes, the very thing!--that's delightful!"
+
+"What's delightful?"
+
+"You'll know to-night! 'Pon my word, it's lucky those juggling fellows
+can't come. Anyhow, I can promise you a jolly evening."
+
+Had I known then what that evening would lead to, I should not have
+entered the house so joyously as I did; but I knew nothing of what lay
+in the future, while Miss Forrest's great dark eyes beamed upon me in
+such a way as to make earth seem like heaven.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+VOLTAIRE'S STORY OF THE EAST
+
+
+When lunch-time came, I, to my delight, obtained a seat next to Miss
+Forrest, and soon I became oblivious to all else but her. I was sure,
+too, that she liked me. Her every word and action disclaimed the idea of
+her being a coquette, while her honest preference for my society was
+apparent.
+
+As we left the table I turned towards Voltaire, and I found that he was
+looking at us. If ever hate and cruelty were expressed in any human
+face, they were expressed in his. Evidently he regarded me as his rival,
+and thus his natural enemy. A little later in the afternoon he was again
+talking with Kaffar, and instinctively I felt that I was the subject of
+his conversation. But I did not trouble, for was not Gertrude Forrest
+near me, and did we not have delightful conversation together? It seemed
+as if we had known each other for years, and thus it was natural for us
+to converse freely.
+
+Just before dinner, Voltaire came to me, as if he wished to enter into
+conversation. He commenced talking about Yorkshire, its customs,
+legends, and superstitions, and then, with a tact and shrewdness which I
+could not resist, he drew me into a talk about myself. I felt that he
+was sifting me, felt that he was trying to read my very soul, and yet I
+could not break myself from him.
+
+One thing was in my favour. I knew his feelings towards me, felt sure
+that he hated me, and thus I kept on my guard. Time after time, by some
+subtle question, he sought to lead me to speak about the woman dear to
+my heart, but in that he did not succeed. He fascinated me, and in a
+degree mastered me, but did not succeed in all his desires. I knew he
+was weighing me, testing me, and seeking to estimate my powers, but
+being on my guard his success was limited.
+
+When our conversation ceased I felt sure of one thing. It was to be a
+fight to the death between me and this man, if I would obtain the woman
+I loved. Perhaps some may think this conclusion to be built on a very
+insufficient foundation, nevertheless I felt sure that such was the
+case. When I was quite a lad, I remember an old Scotchwoman visited our
+house. It is little I can recall to memory now concerning her, but I
+know that when she first set her eye upon me she said--
+
+"Eh, Mrs. Blake, but yon bairn has the gift o' second sight."
+
+My mother laughed at the idea, whereupon the old woman began to correct
+herself.
+
+"I'll no say he has the gift o' second sight properly," she said, "but
+he'll _feel_ in a minute what it'll tak soom fowk years to fin' out. Eh,
+lad"--turning to me--"if ye coom across some one as ye doesna like, hae
+as leetle to do wi' 'em as ye can."
+
+I am inclined to think there is truth in this judgment of the old Scotch
+lady. I have found her words true in many cases, and I was sure in the
+case of Voltaire my feelings told me what actually existed.
+
+There was one thing in my favour. Evidently he did not think I guessed
+his wishes; nevertheless I felt sure that if I was to obtain the mastery
+over such a man, it would be little short of a miracle.
+
+Dinner passed over without anything worthy of note, but as soon as it
+was over we hurried to the drawing-room. Even those who loved their
+after-dinner wine joined the ladies, as if in expectation of something
+wonderful. The truth was, it had gone around that Mr. Voltaire was going
+to tell us a story concerning the mystic rites that are practised in
+Eastern lands, and the subject was an attractive one. The ladies
+especially, evidently fascinated by the witchery of this man's presence,
+anxiously waited for him to commence.
+
+"What do you wish me to tell you about?" he said in answer to repeated
+requests for him to begin, from several young ladies.
+
+"Oh, tell us a story of second sight, and spiritualism, and all that,
+you know," replied a young lady with a doll's face and simpering manner.
+
+"You promised you would," said another.
+
+"True, I promised, but not to-day. This Christmas Day is like Sunday to
+you English folk, and I do not wish to mar its sacredness."
+
+"Oh, the Sunday part of it is all ended at twelve o'clock," cried the
+young lady who had spoken first. "As soon as church is over we commence
+our fun. Do, Mr. Voltaire; we shall be disappointed if you don't."
+
+"I cannot resist the ladies," he said, with a smile, "but you must not
+be frightened at my story. For, remember, what I tell you is true. I do
+not weave this out of my own brain like your average English novelist
+has to do."
+
+I fancied this was directed at me. Not that I deserved the appellation.
+I had written only one novel, and that was a very poor one. Still I
+fancied I saw his light glittering eyes turned in my direction.
+
+"I must make a sort of apology, too," he went on. "Many of you do not
+believe in what will be the very marrow of my story."
+
+"Come, Voltaire, never mind apologies," said Tom Temple; "we are all
+anxious to hear it."
+
+"I mentioned last night," said Voltaire, "that I had spent some time in
+Egypt up by the Nile. The story I have to tell relates to that part of
+the world.
+
+"I had sailed up the Nile, by one of the ordinary river steamers, to a
+place called Aboo Simbel, close to the Second Cataract. Here the
+ordinary tourist stops, and stops too at the beginning of what really
+interests an imaginative mind. There are, however, some fine ruins here
+which well repay one for a visit. Ah me! _One_ wishes he had lived three
+or four thousand years ago when he stands among those ancient piles.
+There was some wisdom then, some knowledge of the deep things of life!
+However, I did not stay here. I went with my friend Kaffar away further
+into the heart of Nubia.
+
+"I cannot speak highly of the rank and file of the people there. They
+are mostly degraded and uncultured, lacking"--here he bowed to the
+ladies--"that delightful polish which characterizes those who live in
+the West. Still I found some relics of the wisdom of the ancients. One
+of the sheiks of a village that lay buried among palm trees was deeply
+versed in the things I longed to know, and with him I took up my abode.
+
+"Abou al Phadre was an old man, and not one whom the ladies would
+love--that is, for his face, for it was yellow and wrinkled; his eyes,
+too, were almost buried in their cavernous sockets, and shaded by bushy
+white eyebrows. Those who love the higher powers, however, and can
+respect the divine power of knowledge, would have knelt at Abou's feet.
+
+"This wonderful man had a daughter born to him in his old age, born,
+too, with the same love for truth, the same thirst for a knowledge of
+things unseen to the ordinary eye. So much was this so, that she was
+called 'Ilfra the Understanding One.' As the years went on she
+outstripped her father, and obtained a knowledge of that for which her
+father had unsuccessfully studied all his life.
+
+"When Kaffar and I entered this village, she was nearly twenty years of
+age, and was fair to look upon. It was rarely she spoke to me, however,
+for she dwelt with the unseen and talked with the buried dead. Abou, on
+the other hand, was kind to me, and taught me much, and together we
+tried to find out what for years he had been vainly searching. What that
+secret was I will not tell. Only those who live in the atmosphere of
+mystery can think rightly about what lies in the mind and heart of the
+true magician.
+
+"As I before hinted, 'Ilfra the Understanding One' had found out the
+secret; her soul had outsoared that of her father and of all the sages
+for many miles around, and she would have revealed her knowledge both to
+her father and to me, but for one thing. Seven is a perfect number, and
+all the Easterns take it into consideration, and it is a law that no one
+shall reveal a secret that they may have found until three times seven
+years pass over their heads. Thus it was, while we eagerly sought for
+the mysterious power I have mentioned, we were buoyed up by the hope
+that, though we might not be successful, Ilfra would reveal to us what
+we desired to know."
+
+"And thus the time passed on until we reached Ilfra's twenty-first
+birthday, with the exception of seven days. Both Abou and I were glad at
+heart; for although the secret, to me, would be as nothing compared to
+what it would be to him, yet I could put it to some use, while, to him,
+it would dispel distance, time, and physical life. Through it the
+secrets of astronomer and astrologer would be known, while the pages of
+the past would lie before him like an open book.
+
+"Judge his anguish then, and my disappointment, when, seven days before
+her twenty-first birthday, she was bitten by a cerastes, and her body
+died. Had she been near her home, her knowledge would have defied the
+powers of this most deadly serpent's bite; for she knew antidotes for
+every poison. As it was, however, the same kind of serpent that had laid
+the beautiful Cleopatra low, likewise set at liberty the soul of Ilfra.
+Do not think Abou grieved because of her death. Death was not death to
+him--his eyes pierced that dark barrier; he suffered because the
+glorious knowledge he longed for was rudely snatched from him."
+
+"'Thou man of the West who bearest the name of a Jewish king,' he said
+to me, 'this is a heavy blow.'
+
+"'Not too heavy for you, Abou,' I said. 'The soul has flown, but when
+the three times seven years is complete you can call her back and learn
+her wisdom.'"
+
+"'I can call her back, but the secret--ah, I know it not,' he said."
+
+By this time there was a deadly silence in the room. Every ear was
+strained, so that not one sound of Voltaire's voice might be missed. As
+for him, he sat with his eyes fixed, as if he saw beyond the present
+time and place, while his face was like a piece of marble. Kaffar, I
+noticed, fixed his eyes upon his friend, and in his stony stare he
+seemed possessed of an evil spirit.
+
+None of the English guests spoke when Voltaire stopped a second in his
+narration. All seemed afraid to utter a sound, except Kaffar.
+
+"Go on, Herod," he said; "I am up in Egypt again."
+
+"It was little we ate," said Voltaire, "during the next seven days. We
+were too anxious to know whether the secrets of the dead were to be
+revealed. Neither could we speak much, for the tongue is generally
+silent when the soul is wrapped in mystery; and right glad were we when
+the day dawned on which the veil should be made thicker or altogether
+drawn aside.
+
+"We did not seek to know the mystery after which we were panting until
+the midnight of Ilfra's birthday. Then, when the earth in its revolution
+spelt out that hour, we entered the room of the maiden whose soul had
+departed.
+
+"The Egyptians have lost much of the knowledge of the ancients,
+especially in the art of embalming. Often the sons of Egypt moan over
+that departed wisdom; still the art is not altogether gone. The body of
+Ilfra lay embalmed before us as we entered. She had been beautiful in
+life, but was more beautiful in death, and it was with reverence for
+that beauty that I stood beside her.
+
+"'Fetch Helfa,' said Abou to a servant, 'and then begone.'
+
+"Helfa was Abou's son. Here, in England, you would cruelly designate him
+as something between a madman and an idiot, but the Easterns look not
+thus upon those who possess not their ordinary faculties. Through Helfa,
+Abou had seen many wonderful things, and now he was going to use him
+again.
+
+"'Howajja Herod,' he said to me, 'I am first going to use one of our old
+means of getting knowledge. It has failed me in the past, but it will
+be, perchance, more potent in the presence of Ilfra the Understanding
+One.'
+
+"With that he took some ink, and poured it in Helfa's hand. This ink was
+the most precious in his possession, and obtained by means not lawful to
+relate. When it was in his son's hands he looked at me straight in the
+eyes, until, while I was in possession of all my senses, I seemed to
+live a charmed life. My imagination soared, my heart felt a wondrous
+joy.
+
+"'Look,' said Abou, 'look in Helfa's hand.'
+
+"I looked intently.
+
+"'What see you, son Herod?'
+
+"'I see a paradise,' I replied, 'but I cannot describe it. The beauties
+are incomparable. Ilfra is there; she mingles with those who are most
+obeyed.'
+
+"'See you anything by which the mystery can be learned?'
+
+"'I can see nothing.'
+
+"I heard a sigh. I had returned to my normal condition again, and had
+told nothing.
+
+"'I expected this,' he said, 'but I will try Helfa.'
+
+"The experiment with Helfa, however, was just as fruitless.
+
+"Then he turned to me. 'Son Herod,' he said, 'prepare to see the greatest
+deed ever done by man. All the knowledge and power of my life are to be
+concentrated in one act.'
+
+"With that he looked at Helfa, who staggered to a low cushion.
+
+"'Spirit of Helfa, leave the body,' he said.
+
+"Instantly the eyes of Helfa began to close; his limbs grew stiff, and in
+a few seconds he lay lifeless by us.
+
+"'I have a mission for you, spirit of Helfa. Flee to the home of spirits,
+and bring back the soul of thy sister, that she may tell me what we wish
+to know.'
+
+"When the command was given, I felt that a something--an entity--was gone
+from us. Abou and I were alone with the two bodies.
+
+"'What expect you, Abou?' I said, anxiously.
+
+"'If the labour of a lifetime has not been a failure,' he said, 'these
+two bodies will soon possess their spirits.'"
+
+Again Voltaire stopped in his recital, and looked around the room. He
+saw that every eye was fixed upon him, while the faces of some of the
+young ladies were blanched with terror. Evidently they were deeply
+moved. Even some of the young men shuddered, not so much because of the
+story that was told, as the strange power of the man that told it. As he
+saw these marks of interest, a smile crept over his face. He evidently
+felt that he was the strongest influence in the room--that all had to
+yield to him as their superior.
+
+"I confess," he went on, "that my heart began to beat quickly at these
+words. Fancy, if you can, the scene. An Egyptian village, not far
+removed from some of the great temples of the dead past. Above our heads
+waved tall palm trees. Around was a strange land, and a wild, lawless
+people. The hour was midnight, and our business was with the dead.
+
+"We had not waited above three minutes when I knew that the room was
+peopled--by whom I knew not, except that they came from that land from
+whose bourne, your greatest poet says, 'no traveller returns.' I looked
+at Abou. His face was as the face of the dead, except for his eyes. They
+burned like two coals of fire. He uttered some strange words, the
+meaning of which was unknown to me, and then I knew some mighty forces
+were being exerted in that old sheik's hut. My brain began to whirl,
+while a terrible power gripped me; but still I looked, and still I
+remembered.
+
+"'Spirit of Ilfra,' said Abou, 'are you here?'
+
+"No voice spoke that I could hear, and yet I realized that Abou had
+received his answer.
+
+"'Enter thy body then, spirit of my daughter, and tell me, if thou
+darest, the secret I have desired so long.'
+
+"I looked at the embalmed body. I saw the eyelids quiver, the mouth
+twitch, and then the body moved.
+
+"'Speak to me, my daughter, and tell me all,' said Abou.
+
+"I only heard one sound. My overtaxed nerves could bear no more; the
+living dead was too terrible for me, and I fell senseless to the ground.
+
+"When I awoke to consciousness, I found only Abou and Helfa there. The
+body of Ilfra had been removed, where, I know not, for I never saw it
+again; but Helfa was like unto that which he had been before.
+
+"'The secret is mine, son Herod,' said Abou, 'but it is not for you to
+learn yet. Be patient; when your spirit is prepared, the knowledge will
+come.'"
+
+Voltaire stopped abruptly. One of the young ladies gave a slight scream,
+and then he apologized for having no more to tell.
+
+"But has the knowledge come since?" asked a voice.
+
+I did not know who spoke, but it sounded like Gertrude Forrest's voice.
+I turned towards her, and saw her looking admiringly at this man whom I
+could not help fearing.
+
+His answer was a beaming smile and a few words, saying that knowledge
+should never be boasted of.
+
+That moment my jealousy, which had been allayed, now surged furiously in
+me, and I determined that that very night I would match the strength of
+my mind with the strength of his.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+CHRISTMAS NIGHT--THE FORGING OF THE CHAIN
+
+
+"You have more than redeemed your promise, Voltaire," said Tom Temple,
+after a silence that was almost painful. "Certainly there is enough
+romance and mystery in your story to satisfy any one. What do you think
+of it, Justin?"--turning to me.
+
+"Mr. Voltaire used the word 'imagination' in his story," I replied, "and
+I think it would describe it very well. Still, it does not account for
+much after one has read Dumas' _Memoirs of a Physician_."
+
+"Am I to understand that you doubt the truth of my words?" asked
+Voltaire sharply.
+
+"I think your story is all it appears to be," I replied.
+
+Honestly, however, I did not believe in one word of it. On the very face
+of it, it was absurd. The idea of taking a spirit from a living body and
+sending it after some one that was dead, in order that some secret might
+be learned, might pass for a huge joke; but certainly it could not be
+believed in by any well-balanced mind. At any rate, such was my
+conviction.
+
+"I have heard that Mr. Blake has attempted to write a novel," said
+Voltaire. "Perhaps he believes my story is made on the same principle."
+
+"Scarcely," I replied. "My novel was a failure. It caused no sensation
+at all. Your story, on the other hand, is a brilliant success. See with
+what breathless interest it was listened to, and how it haunts the
+memories of your hearers even yet!"
+
+This raised a slight titter. I do not know why it should, save that some
+of the young ladies were frightened, and accepted the first opportunity
+whereby they could in some way relieve their feelings. Anyhow it aroused
+Mr. Voltaire, for, as he looked at me, there was the look of a demon in
+his face, and his hand trembled.
+
+"Do you doubt the existence of the forces I have mentioned?" he asked.
+"Do you think that the matters to which I have referred exist only in
+the mind? Are they, in your idea, no sciences in reality?"
+
+"Pardon me, Mr. Voltaire," I replied, "but I am an Englishman. We are
+thought by foreigners to be very conservative, and perhaps there may be
+truth in it. Anyhow, I, for one, like tangible proof before I believe in
+anything that does not appeal to my reason. Your story does not appear
+reasonable, and, although I hope I do not offend you by saying so, I
+cannot accept it as gospel."
+
+"Perhaps," said Kaffar, who spoke for the first time, "Mr. Blake would
+like some proofs. Perhaps he would like not only to _see_ manifestations
+of the power of the unseen, but to _feel_ them. Ah! pardon me, ladies
+and gentlemen, but I cannot stand by and hear the greatest of all
+sciences maligned, and still be quiet. I cannot be silent when that
+which is dearer to me than life itself is submitted to the cool test of
+bigoted ignorance. You may not believe it true, but I would give much to
+know what Ilfra the Understanding One knew. I was reared under Egypt's
+sunny skies; I have lain under her stately palms and watched the
+twinkling stars; I am a child of the East, and believe in the truths
+that are taught there. I have only dabbled in the mysteries of the
+unseen, but I know enough to tell you that what my friend says is true."
+
+Was this a ruse on the part of the Egyptian? Looking at the whole matter
+in the light of what followed I believe it was. And yet at the time I
+did not know.
+
+"I am sorry," I replied, "if I have caused annoyance. But we English
+people possess the right of our opinions. However, I do not wish to bias
+other minds, and trust that my scepticism may cause no unpleasantness."
+
+"But would Mr. Blake like to be convinced?" said Voltaire.
+
+"I am perfectly indifferent about the matter," I replied.
+
+"That is very convenient for one who has stated his beliefs so doggedly.
+Certainly I do not think that is English; if it is, I am glad I am not
+an Englishman."
+
+With this he fixed his eyes steadily on me, and tried to fasten my
+attention, but did not at the time succeed.
+
+"I was asked for my opinion," I said; "I did not force it. But still,
+since you place it in that light, I _should_ like to be convinced."
+
+By this time the interest manifested in the matter was great. Every one
+watched breathlessly for what was to be done or said next, and certainly
+I felt that I was regarded by the guests in anything but a favourable
+light.
+
+I saw Voltaire and Kaffar exchanging glances, and I felt sure that I
+heard the former say in Arabic, "Not yet."
+
+After this the two arranged to give us some manifestations of their
+power. While they were conversing I went across the room and spoke to
+Miss Forrest; but she was very reserved, and I thought her face looked
+very pale.
+
+"This is becoming interesting," I said.
+
+"I wish you had said nothing about his story," was her reply.
+
+"Pray why?"
+
+She only shook her head.
+
+"Surely you do not believe in his foolish story or conjuring tricks?" I
+said laughingly.
+
+But she did not reply in the same vein.
+
+"Mr. Voltaire is a wonderful man," she said, "a clever man. If I were a
+man I should not like to make him my enemy."
+
+"I have heard of an old saying at my home," I replied, "which ran
+something like this, 'Brag is a good dog, but Holdfast is better.'"
+
+"Still I should have nothing to do with Brag," she said.
+
+"I hope you will not," I replied meaningly.
+
+She did not answer me, but I fancied she blushed; and again I felt
+happy.
+
+By this time Voltaire was ready with his performance. "You will see," he
+said, "that here we have no chance for stage tricks. All is plain and
+open as the day. Moreover, I will have no secrets from you even with
+regard to the subject itself. The phenomena that will be brought before
+you are purely psychological. The mind of my friend Kaffar will be, by a
+secret power, merged into mine. What I see he will see, although in your
+idea of the matter he does not see at all. Now, first of all, I wish you
+to blindfold my friend Kaffar. Perhaps Mr. Blake, seeing he longs for
+truth, may like to do this. No? Well, then, perhaps our host will. Thank
+you, Mr. Temple."
+
+With this Tom Temple completely blindfolded the Egyptian, and then we
+awaited the further development of the matter.
+
+"Would you mind leading him to the library?" Voltaire continued. "He
+will certainly not be able to see anything of us here, and still he will
+not be out of earshot."
+
+Kaffar was accordingly led into the library, blindfolded.
+
+"Now," said Voltaire, "I told you that by a secret power his mind and
+mine became one. I will prove to you that I have not spoken boastingly.
+Will any gentleman or lady show me any curiosity he or she may have?"
+
+Accordingly several of the party pulled from their pockets articles of
+interest, and of which neither Voltaire nor Kaffar could have known.
+Each time the former asked what the article was, and each time the
+latter, although at a distance, correctly described it.
+
+A look of wonder began to settle on the faces of the guests, and
+exclamations of surprise and bewilderment were apparent. It was apparent
+that nearly all were converts to his beliefs, if beliefs they might be
+called. After a number of articles were shown and described, Kaffar was
+recalled, and was loudly applauded.
+
+"You see," said Voltaire, "the evident truth of this. Certainly this is
+a very simple affair, and my old friend Abou al Phadre would have smiled
+at its littleness. Still it must convince every unprejudiced mind that
+there is something deeper and more wonderful than those things which are
+constantly passing before your view."
+
+Miss Staggles, who had been almost as silent as a sphinx, spoke now. "We
+are convinced that you are a wonderful man," she said; "and what I have
+seen to-night will be ever a matter of marvel, as well as thankfulness
+that I have been privileged to see it."
+
+This was evidently the opinion of every one in the room. Even Gertrude
+Forrest was carried away by it, while Miss Edith Gray was enraptured at
+what she termed "a glorious mystery."
+
+"I should like," said Miss Staggles, "to hear what Mr. Blake, the Thomas
+of the party, has to say to it."
+
+There was an ugly leer in the old woman's eye as she spoke, and the
+thought struck me that Voltaire had been making friends with her.
+
+"Yes," said Voltaire; "I am sure we should all like to know whether Mr.
+Blake is convinced."
+
+"I am convinced that Mr. Kaffar has a good memory," I said.
+
+"Good memory! What do you mean?"
+
+"Why, Mr. Voltaire and his friends have come a few years too late to
+make a good impression. I have not only seen a better performance at a
+dozen entertainments, but I have found out the secret of what is called
+'thought-reading.'"
+
+"Do you mean to say you have seen similar feats before?" asked Voltaire,
+savagely.
+
+"At least a dozen times," I replied. "In a few years' time, we shall see
+the like performed on the sands at our fashionable watering-places."
+
+"I am glad," said Kaffar, "that the education of your country has so far
+advanced."
+
+I went on talking, not realizing that I was all the time forging a chain
+that should hold me in cruel bondage. "I am afraid it says very little
+for our education," I replied. "Some clever fellow has invented a clever
+system for asking and answering questions, and those who have taken the
+trouble to learn it have been able to deceive a credulous public."
+
+Voltaire's eyes flashed fire. All the malignity and cruelty that could
+be expressed in a human face I thought I saw expressed in his. And yet
+he wore his old fascinating smile; he never lost his seeming
+self-possession.
+
+"I must deny Mr. Blake's statement," he said; "and, further, I would
+defy him to find or produce such a code of questions as he mentions."
+
+I immediately left the room, and soon afterwards returned with a book by
+a renowned thought-reader, wherein he explained what, to so many, has
+appeared marvellous. I pointed out how, according to his system, by
+asking a question, the first word of which should begin with a certain
+letter, a particular thing should be indicated, and all that would be
+needed was that the performers should be perfectly conversant with the
+system.
+
+The company quickly saw the truth of what I was saying, and for the
+time, at any rate, Mr. Voltaire's marvellous knowledge was held at a
+discount. "But does Mr. Blake mean to insinuate that Mr. Kaffar and
+myself have learnt such a code as this?" said Voltaire at length.
+
+"I insinuate nothing," I replied. "I am simply showing how your
+performance can be done by those possessing no knowledge of the occult
+sciences."
+
+"But does Mr. Blake decline to believe that we know nothing of the
+mysterious--that we have not dived into subjects of which the ordinary
+mind can know nothing?" said Kaffar.
+
+"Pardon me," I replied, "but I decline to answer. I have not volunteered
+any opinion either as to Mr. Voltaire's story or your performance. I was
+asked my opinion, and I gave it."
+
+I watched Mr. Voltaire's face as I spoke. He seemed to be pondering some
+matter in his mind, and appeared irresolute as to what action he should
+take. At length, a strange light shot from his eyes, and he raised his
+head and spoke.
+
+"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "evidently Mr. Blake, with his hard
+English common-sense, has raised some amount of doubt in your minds as
+to the validity of my story and of our performance. I am sure you will
+allow me to vindicate and prove any assertion I have made. If I have
+claimed a knowledge of the mysterious, I have not done so without
+reason."
+
+"We believe that is true," said Miss Staggles; "we believe you are a
+wonderful man."
+
+"Thank you," said Voltaire. "I am sure I have Miss Staggles' sympathies,
+but will some one assist me in what I am about to do? I will allow no
+possibility of a _system_ in this, and consequently I shall be glad if
+any gentleman will help me in the manifestation of the hidden powers of
+the human mind. Perhaps"--turning, I thought, eagerly to me--"Mr. Blake
+will be the one?"
+
+"No," I said; "I prefer to be a spectator."
+
+I could no longer mistake the hate that flashed from his eyes; but he
+said nothing, and waited quietly for a volunteer. No one was
+forthcoming. At length Tom Temple said--
+
+"Would one of the servants do, Voltaire?"
+
+"I would rather have a visitor," said Voltaire, "and for two reasons:
+first, you could not then have any reason for suspecting a collusion;
+and, second, the ordinary English servant is extremely unsusceptible to
+the play of higher powers. If, however, none of you will volunteer, I
+can see no other alternative."
+
+Accordingly, a man about my own age was brought in, and introduced as
+Simon Slowden. I saw that he was no ordinary character as soon as he
+entered, and was by no means one who could be easily imposed upon. I
+afterwards found that Simon had spent his boyhood in London, had when a
+youth joined a travelling circus, and tramped the country for a few
+years. He had also travelled with several "shows," two or three
+travelling theatres, and had finally settled down with a lame leg at
+Temple Hall, where he made himself generally useful.
+
+His dialect was a mixture of the Cockney and a dozen others equally bad,
+until it was almost impossible to tell from that source the part of the
+country from which he hailed. He was, however, a good-hearted fellow,
+and for a wonder, considering his history, as honest as the day.
+
+"Now, Simon," said Tom Temple, "this gentleman is a scientist and wants
+to show some experiments, and he can't get any one to assist him, so I
+thought I'd ask you."
+
+"Well," said Simon, "I don't know as I think mich on these science
+gents. They're allays a-bringin' in some new-fangled thing or other, but
+generally there's nowt in 'em. Still, to 'blige the company, I'll do owt
+raisonable. I'm tough has a crocodile's tongue, and can stand a goodish
+bit o' jingo and nonsense. Here goes, yer honour." Voltaire eyed him
+doubtfully, and Simon coolly returned the stare.
+
+"You are not a-gwine to waccinate me, be 'ee?" said Simon at length.
+
+"No--why?"
+
+"'Cause I can't stand that, tough as I be. I lived wi' a doctor once,
+and says he to me, 'Simon, I want to speriment on ye,' says he. 'I'm
+tough 'nough,' says I. 'I want to waccinate you 'gainst cholera, hoopin'
+cough, and small-pox,' says he. 'What's that? give 'em to me?' says I.
+'No,' says he, 'but to prevent you from a hevin' 'em.' 'That's yer
+sorts,' says I. Well, gentlemen, he waccinated me, and I said to un,
+'Never no more, yer honour.'"
+
+"Why?" asked I.
+
+"'Cause I'd rather hev cholera, hoopin' cough, and small-pox all
+together than be waccinated. Jes like women, you never know where
+they'll break out."
+
+"Will you kindly sit down," said Voltaire, "while I go to my room for a
+book?"
+
+While he was gone I went to Simon, and spoke to him, and that gentleman
+got very communicative.
+
+"I'm not overmich in love wi' that chap," he says; "and sure's I'm a
+right-down Cockney, he hates you like pizen. Give 'im a wide berth, yer
+honour, and doan't hev nothin' to do wi' 'im."
+
+"Oh," I replied, "he can't hurt me."
+
+"Don't know, yer honour. You and he's got your peepers fixed in the same
+place, and scuse me; but if you give 'im a chance, he'll beat yer. He'd
+charm a serpiant vith thews peepers o' hisn."
+
+"Aren't you afraid yourself, then?"
+
+"He can't hurt me, for I'm too tough, and I'm noan sighin' for anybody,
+I ain't; and I hain't a got a good-lookin' jib, and--"
+
+But here Voltaire entered the room and spoke to Tom Temple.
+
+"Simon," said Tom a second after, "what colour are the chestnut mare's
+eyes?"
+
+Simon heaved himself, struggled, looked vacant, and said dreamily,
+"They're loike women, and--waccination, you--you--" But a film came over
+his eyes, and he was unconscious.
+
+Again there was deathly silence in the room, and all eyes were turned
+towards Voltaire, who had walked close to Simon Slowden.
+
+"The man is not very susceptible," said Voltaire, "consequently I cannot
+do so much with him as I should had he been more highly organized; but I
+can at least convince sceptics. You will see," he went on, "that I have
+not touched him, and yet he is no longer conscious. I will now ask him
+any question, concerning either the dead or the living, that you may be
+inclined to ask."
+
+"I will ask a test question," said Gertrude Forrest. "What are the
+servants doing at this time?"
+
+"The cook's examinin' a goose," was the reply, "and the housemaid's
+talking wi' a chap as is just come from t' village."
+
+He went on telling what the rest were doing; but Tom Temple immediately
+sent to the kitchen, and found that things were as was described.
+
+"Where's Dr. Sharp?" said Mrs. Temple, adding that they could easily
+find out the doctor's present whereabouts the next day.
+
+"He's comin' up here with his long-nosed pointer," was the reply, "and
+'ll be 'ere in a jiffy."
+
+Five minutes after, Dr. Sharp came into the room. "I did not know I
+could come until half-an-hour ago," he said as he entered, and then
+stared as he saw how matters stood.
+
+"Will you tell me," said Miss Forrest, "what my aunt is doing just now?"
+
+She mentioned no name, and I do not know how the man sitting in the
+chair could know anything about her.
+
+"She is jest gwine to bed," he said; "she's a bit ov a cold in 'er
+chest, and housekeeper is gwine to take some warmin' stuff to her."
+
+"I'll know if this is true to-morrow," said Miss Forrest, and then
+relapsed into silence.
+
+Meanwhile question after question was asked and answered, while Voltaire
+and Kaffar stood side by side, each with a terrible glitter in his eyes.
+
+Under some secret influence Simon Slowden was led to the piano, and
+there executed some of the latest and most difficult pieces of music,
+and, without hesitation, told things that were at least marvellous.
+Then, when excitement was at the highest, he woke up, and coolly rubbed
+his eyes.
+
+No one uttered a word, we were all too much amazed. At last Voltaire,
+with a sidelong glance at me, asked whether we were convinced, and one
+by one the members of the party expressed their wonder and astonishment.
+I, however, was silent. Some power of obstinacy seemed to possess me. I
+would not tamely admit his victory, after I had openly defeated him
+before. Still I did not speak a word.
+
+"Is Mr. Blake convinced?" said Miss Staggles, leering towards me.
+
+"Of what?" I asked.
+
+"Of Mr. Voltaire's power."
+
+"Undoubtedly."
+
+"Come," said Kaffar, "Mr. Blake is still a sceptic. I think it fair that
+he should consent to test this for himself."
+
+"Certainly not," I replied.
+
+"But I think it our right," said Voltaire. "You have expressed your want
+of faith in our power; now, if you have the courage of a man with an
+opinion, test the matter. Sit here as Simon did, and see whether you are
+right."
+
+I thought I heard a voice saying "Don't!" close to my ear, and I
+hesitated.
+
+At this there was a titter among the young ladies.
+
+"Evidently our Thomas is afraid," said Miss Staggles.
+
+There was an ugly look in her eyes as she said this, but the titter
+increased into a kind of derisive laugh.
+
+I know it was an evidence of my cowardice, but I could not withstand
+their laughter. I forgot the warning voice behind me; I refused to take
+notice of Mrs. Temple's warning glance; I rose up, went to the chair in
+the middle of the room, and defiantly said, "There! do all you can with
+me."
+
+Voltaire and Kaffar came up to me, while the rest crowded around. The
+former fixed his terrible eye upon me as if he would peer into my very
+soul. A strange feeling began to creep over me; but I struggled against
+it with all my strength, and for a minute I seemed to gain the mastery.
+I laughed in his face, as if I scorned his boasted strength. A strange
+gleam was emitted from his light grey eyes, while his lips became ashy
+pale. Then I saw him grip Kaffar's hand. Instantly the room was peopled
+with a strange crowd. Dark forms seemed to come from Voltaire's eyes;
+peculiar influences were all around me. The faces of the two men became
+dimmer and dimmer, the people appeared to float in mid air, and I with
+them; then something heavy seemed to move away, I thought I heard
+strange creeping noises, like that of an adder crawling amidst thick dry
+grass, and then all was blank.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+AFTERWARDS
+
+
+When I awoke to consciousness I was in my bedroom. For some time I could
+not gather up my scattered senses; my mind refused to exercise its
+proper functions. Presently I heard some one speak.
+
+"I had no idea he was so far gone," a voice said. "You see, his power of
+resistance is very great, and it needed four times the magnetism to
+bring him under that it did your servant."
+
+"I'm sorry you experimented on him at all," said another voice.
+
+"Oh, I can assure you no harm's done. There, you see, he's coming to."
+
+I felt something cold at my temples, then a strange shivering sensation
+passed over me, and I was awake.
+
+Voltaire, Kaffar, Tom Temple, and Simon Slowden were in the room. "How
+do you feel, Mr. Blake?" asked Voltaire, blandly.
+
+I lifted my eyes to his, and felt held by a strange power. "I'm all
+right," I said almost mechanically, at the same time feeling as if I was
+under the influence of a charm.
+
+"Then," said Voltaire, "I will leave you. Good-night."
+
+Immediately he left, followed by Kaffar, I experiencing a sense of
+relief. "Did I do anything very foolish?" I asked, recollecting the
+events of the evening.
+
+"Oh no, Justin," replied Tom. "And yet that Voltaire is a terrible
+fellow. Half the young ladies in the room were nearly as much mesmerized
+as you were. You acted in pretty nearly the same way as Simon here, but
+nothing else. Do you feel quite right?"
+
+"I am awfully weak," I said, "and cold shivers creep down my legs."
+
+"You were such a long time under the influence, whatever it is," said
+Tom. "But you'll go back to the drawing-room?"
+
+"No; I don't feel up to it. But don't you remain. I'm feeling shaky, but
+I shan't mind a bit if you'll let Simon remain with me."
+
+And so Tom left me with Simon. "Do you feel shaky and shivery, Simon?" I
+asked.
+
+"Not a bit on it, sir," was the reply. "Never felt better. But 'tween
+you and me and the gatepost, yon hinfidel hain't a served me like he hev
+you. I don't like the look o' things, yer honour."
+
+"Why, Simon?"
+
+"Why, sir, 'tain't me as ought to tell, and yet I don't feel
+comfortable. I wish I could 'a had a confabulation with yer afore this
+performance come off. I hain't got no doubts in my mind but that
+hinfidel and his dootiful brother hev got dealin's with the devil."
+
+Simon rose and went to the door, opened it, and peered cautiously
+around. "That Egyptian is a watcher," he said grimly, "and I don't like
+either of 'em."
+
+"What's the matter, Simon?"
+
+"Why, this yer morning, I wur exchangin' a few pleasant remarks with one
+of the maid-servants, when I hears the Egyptian say, 'It's gwine
+beautiful.' 'How?' says t'other. 'He'll nibble like hanything,' was the
+answer, and then I hearn a nasty sort o' laugh. Soon after, I see you
+with a bootiful young lady, and I see that hinfidel a-watchin' yer, with
+a snaky look in his eyes. And so I kep on watchin', and scuse me, yer
+honour, but I can guess as 'ow things be, and I'm fear'd as 'ow this
+waccination dodge is a trick o' this 'ere willain."
+
+"Explain yourself, Simon."
+
+"Well, sir, I knows as 'ow you've only bin yer one day, but I could see
+in a minit as 'ow you was a smitten with a certain young lady, and I can
+see, too, as 'ow that white-eyed willain is smitten in the same quarter,
+and he sees 'ow things be, and he means business."
+
+It was by no means pleasant to hear my affairs talked of in this way,
+and it was a marvel to me how Simon could have learnt so much, but I
+have found that a certain class of English servant seems to find out
+everything about the house with which they are connected, and I am
+afraid I was very careless as to who saw the state of my feelings. At
+any rate, Simon guessed how things were, and, more than that, he
+believed that Voltaire had some sinister design against me.
+
+"What do you mean by what you call the vaccination dodge?" I asked,
+after a second's silence.
+
+"Scuse me, yer honour, but since that doctor waccinated me and nearly
+killed me by it, tough as I be, I come to call all tomfoolery by the
+same name. I've been in theatres, yer honour, and played in pieces, and
+I've known the willain in the play get up a shindy like this. I knows
+they're on'y got up to 'arrow up the feelin's o' tender females; but I'm
+afeared as 'ow this Voltaire 'ev got somethin' in his head, a-concoctin'
+like."
+
+"Nonsense, Simon," I said. "You are thinking about some terrible piece
+you've acted in, and your imagination is carrying away your judgment."
+
+"I hope as 'ow 'tis, sur; but I don't think so. If you chop me up, sur,
+you'll not find sixpenno'th of imagination in my carcase, but I
+calcalate I'm purty 'eavy wi' judgment. Never mind, sur; Simon Slowden
+is in the 'ouse, if you should want help, sur."
+
+I did not feel much inclined to talk after this, and so, dismissing
+Simon, I began to think of how matters stood. Certainly everything was
+strange. Everything, too, had been done in a hurry. It seemed to me I
+had lived a long life in twenty-four hours. I had fallen in love, I had
+made an enemy, and I had matched myself against men who possessed a
+knowledge of some of the secret forces of life, without ever calculating
+my own strength. And yet I seemed to be beating the air. Were not my
+thoughts concerning Voltaire's schemes about Miss Forrest all fancy? Was
+not I the victim of some Quixotic ideas? Was not the creation of
+Cervantes' brain about as sensible as I? Surely I, a man of thirty,
+ought to know better? And yet some things were terribly real. My love
+for Gertrude Forrest was real; my walk and talk with her that day were
+real. Ay, and the hateful glitter of Voltaire's eyes was real too; his
+talk with Kaffar behind the shrubs the night before was real. The
+biological or hypnotic power that I had felt that very night was real,
+and, above all, a feeling of dread that had gripped my being was real. I
+could not explain it, and I could not throw it off, but ever since I had
+awoke out of my mesmeric sleep, or whatever the reader may be pleased to
+call it, I felt numbed; weights seemed to hang on my limbs, and my whole
+being was in a kind of torpor.
+
+I went to bed at length, however, and, after an hour's tossing, fell
+asleep, from which I did not wake until ten o'clock next morning. I
+found, on descending, that nearly all had breakfasted, but the few with
+whom I spoke were very kind and pleasant towards me. I had no sooner
+finished breakfast than I met Miss Forrest, and entered into
+conversation with her. Once with her, all my dreads and fears vanished.
+Her light eyes and merry laugh drove away dull care, and soon I was in
+Paradise. Surely I could not be mistaken! Surely the quivering hand, the
+tremulous mouth, the downcast eye, meant something! Surely she need not
+be agitated at meeting me, unless she took a special interest in
+me--unless, indeed, she felt as I felt! At any rate, it were heaven to
+think so. We had been talking I should think ten minutes, when Tom
+Temple came towards us.
+
+"Say, Justin, my boy," he said, "what do you say to a gallop of four?"
+
+"Who are the four?" I asked.
+
+"Miss Forrest, Miss Edith Gray, Justin Blake, and--myself," was the
+reply.
+
+"I shall be more than delighted if Miss Forrest will--" I did not finish
+the sentence. At that moment I felt gripped by an unseen power, and I
+was irresistibly drawn towards the door. I muttered something about
+forgetting, and then, like a man in a sleep, I put on my hat and coat
+and went out, I know not where.
+
+I cannot remember much about the walk. It was very cold, and my feet
+crunched the frozen snow; but I thought little of it--I was drawn on and
+on by some secret power. I was painfully aware that Miss Forrest must
+think I was acting strangely and discourteously, and once or twice I
+essayed to go back to her, but I could not I was drawn on and on, always
+away from the house.
+
+At length I entered a fir wood, and I began to feel more my real self. I
+saw the dark pines, from whose prickly foliage the snow crystals were
+falling; I realized a stern beauty in the scene; but I had not time to
+think about it. I felt I was near the end of my journey, and I began to
+wonder at my condition. I had not gone far into the wood before I
+stopped and looked around me. The influence had gone, and I was free;
+but from behind one of the trees stepped out a man, and the man
+was--Herod Voltaire!
+
+"Good-morning, Mr. Justin Blake," he said blandly.
+
+"Why have you brought me here?" I asked savagely.
+
+He smiled blandly. "You will admit I have brought you here, then?" he
+said. "Ah, my friend, it is dangerous to fight with a man when you don't
+know his weapons."
+
+"I want to know what this means?" I said haughtily.
+
+"Not so fast," he sneered. "Come down from that high horse and let's
+talk quietly. Yes, I've no doubt you would have enjoyed a ride with a
+certain lady better than the lonely walk you have had; but, then, you
+know the old adage, 'Needs must when the devil drives.'"
+
+"And so you've admitted your identity!" I said. "Well, I don't want your
+society; say what you want to say, or I'm going back."
+
+"Yes," he said, revealing his white teeth, "I am going to say what I
+want to say, and you are not going back until you have heard it, and,
+more than that, promised to accede to it."
+
+Again I felt a cold shiver creep over me, but I put on a bold face, and
+said, "It always takes two to play at any game."
+
+"Yes it does, Mr. Blake, and that you'll find out. You feel like defying
+me, don't you? Just so; but your defiance is useless. Did you not come
+here against your will? Are you not staying here now against your will?
+Look here, my man, you showed your hand immediately you came, and you've
+been playing your game without knowing the trump cards. It looked very
+innocent to be mesmerized last night, didn't it? Oh, mesmerism is a
+vulgar affair; but there was more than mesmerism realized last night. I
+played three trump cards last night, Mr. Justin Blake. The Egyptian
+story was one, the thought-reading was the second, the animal and mental
+magnetism was the third. I had tested my opponent before, and knew just
+how to play. When I took the last trick, you became mine--mine, body and
+soul!"
+
+I still defied him, and laughed scornfully into his face.
+
+"Yes, you laugh," he said; "but I like your English adages, and one is
+this, 'Those laugh best who win.' But come," he said, altering his tone,
+"you are in my power. By that one act last night you placed yourself in
+my power, and now you are my slave. But I am not a hard master. Do as I
+wish you, and I shall not trouble you."
+
+"I defy you!" I cried. "I deny your power!"
+
+"Do you?" he said. "Then try and move from your present position."
+
+I had been leaning against a tree, and tried to move; but I could not. I
+was like one fastened to the ground.
+
+He laughed scornfully. "Now do you believe?" he said.
+
+I was silent.
+
+"Yes," he said, "you may well be silent, for what I say is true. And
+now," he continued, "I promise not to use my power over you on one
+condition."
+
+"Name it," I said.
+
+"I will name it. It is this. You must give up all thoughts, all hopes,
+all designs, of ever winning Gertrude Forrest for your wife."
+
+"And if I refuse?"
+
+"If you refuse, I shall have to make you do what I would rather you
+would do willingly. Think as you will, but she can never be yours. I do
+not mind telling you now, for you dare not speak. I have marked her for
+my own; and, mark you, she must be mine. No power shall stop that. If
+you presume to speak to her, I will stop you in the act. If ever you
+seek to walk with her, I will drag you away from her; nay, more than
+that, I will make you act in such a way as to make you, to her, an
+object of derision."
+
+"But," I said, "if you possess such a power over me, which I do not
+admit, I will proclaim to every one in the house the villainous means by
+which you have possessed it. I will make you an object of hatred."
+
+His light eyes gleamed with an unearthly glare. "Think you I have not
+thought of that?" he said. "Try and tell of my influence over you, seek
+to speak one word against me, and mark the result. I defy you to utter
+one word."
+
+Again I was silent. I seemed hemmed in on every hand by this man's
+terrible power. "Come," he said, "do you consent to my terms? Do you
+relinquish all thoughts, all hopes, of ever winning Gertrude Forrest?"
+
+In spite of my strange situation, I could not help seeing two rays of
+light. One was, that this man must have seen that Miss Forrest looked on
+me with a degree of favour; and the other was that, if his power was as
+great as he boasted, he needed not be so anxious to obtain my consent to
+his terms. If I were wholly in his power, he could do with me as he
+would, and need not trouble about any promises of mine. This led me to
+defy him still.
+
+"Herod Voltaire," I said, "villain by your own admission, I do not
+believe in your power; but, admitting it for the moment, I still refuse
+to do what you ask me. You have guessed my secret. I love Gertrude
+Forrest with all my heart, and I will promise neither you nor any other
+man to give up hopes of winning her. And mark you this, too. Although by
+unlawful means you may have obtained mastery over me, as surely as there
+is a God who cares for men, your power will be broken. Meanwhile, you
+may force me to act against my will, but my will you shall never have!"
+
+"Fool, idiot!" he cried, "you shall repent this. You shall be dragged
+through mire, dirt, pain, defeat, disgrace, and then, when all is over,
+you will find I have had my own way!" He made a step towards me. "Stay
+there for a quarter of an hour," he said, "and then you may go where you
+will."
+
+He rushed away, and left me alone. I tried to move, but could not; and
+yet I realized this--although my body was chained, my mind was still
+free and active. When the quarter of an hour was up, I went away, with a
+great weight upon my heart, wondering, yet dreading, what would happen
+next.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+DREARWATER POND
+
+
+I will not try to describe my walk back to Temple Hall, or tell of the
+terrible sensations that I felt. Think, if you can, of my position. A
+young man of thirty, a slave to a deep designing villain, held fast in
+his power by some secret nervous or brain forces which he possessed.
+More than this, he had designs upon the woman I loved, while I was
+powerless, nay, worse than powerless, for he might make me do things
+which would be altogether opposed to what I believed right and true.
+When you realize this, you will be able to form some idea of how I felt.
+And yet I 'was not altogether without hope. I felt that life and love of
+liberty were strong in me, and I determined that, though I might be
+conquered, it should not be without a struggle.
+
+Arriving at the house, I saw Simon Slowden. He evidently had a message
+for me, for, making a sign for me to stop, he quickly came to my side.
+
+"Yer nag is saddled, sur," he said.
+
+I caught his meaning instantly. "Which way did they go, and how long
+have they been gone?" I asked.
+
+"They're gone to Drearwater Pond, yer honour. Started 'bout half-an-hour
+ago."
+
+"Any message for me?"
+
+"The guv'nor told me, if I saw yer, to tell yer where they'd gone."
+
+"Who went with Mr. Temple?"
+
+"Miss Gray and the other lady, yer honour."
+
+He had led out the horse by this time, and I was preparing to mount it,
+when I saw that he had something more to communicate.
+
+"What is it, Simon?" I said.
+
+He did not speak, but winked slyly at me, and then led the horse away
+from the stable-yard. As he did so, I saw Kaffar come away from one of
+the lads who was employed about the house.
+
+"He's a spy, yer honour, a reg'lar Judas Iscariot. T'other chap's called
+Herod, pity this one isn't called Judas. They be a bootiful couple, yer
+honour." He looked around again, and then said, "That murderin',
+waccinatin' willain is gone efter 'em, Mr. Blake. He came back just
+after they'd gone, and went ridin' efter 'em like greased lightnin'."
+
+For a minute I was stunned.
+
+"I thought I'd better tell 'ee, yer honour, and then you'd know 'ow to
+act."
+
+I thanked Simon heartily; then, turning my horse's head towards
+Drearwater Pond, I galloped away. I had not gone far before I began to
+question the wisdom of what I was doing. Was I right in thus openly
+defying the man who possessed such a terrible power? It certainly seemed
+foolish, and yet I could not bear the idea of his being the companion of
+Gertrude Forrest. Besides, it might stagger him somewhat to find that
+his words had not frightened me.
+
+With this thought I gave my horse the rein. He was a beautiful
+high-blooded creature, and seemed to delight in making the snow crystals
+fly around him, as he scampered over the frozen ground.
+
+I did not know the district at all, but I had been told in what
+direction Drearwater Pond lay, so I did not doubt that I should easily
+find them. When I came to the spot, however, those I hoped to find were
+nowhere to be seen, and so, guiding the horse up to the dark waters, I
+stood and looked at the little lake that bore such a sombre name. It was
+indeed a dreary place. On one side was wild moorland, and on the other a
+plantation of firs edged the dismal pond. It might be about a quarter of
+a mile long, and perhaps one-sixth of a mile wide. There were no houses
+near, and the high-road was some distance away. It was not an attractive
+place for several reasons. The region was very drear, and, moreover, the
+place had a bad reputation. The pond was said to have no bottom, while a
+murder having been committed on the moors near by, the country people
+said that dark spirits of the dead were often seen to float over the
+Drearwaters in the silent night.
+
+I stood at the edge of the water for some time; then I quietly led my
+horse away around to the other side, where dark fir trees made the
+scene, if possible, more gloomy than it would otherwise have been. I had
+not been there long before I heard voices, and, looking up, I saw the
+party walking towards me. Evidently they had fastened their horses in
+the near distance, and were now seeking to better enjoy themselves by
+walking.
+
+As they came near me, I made a slight noise, which drew their attention.
+Certainly I ought to have felt flattered by their greeting, especially,
+by that of Miss Forrest.
+
+"We thought you had been bewitched, Mr. Blake," said Miss Gray, after a
+few trivial remarks had been passed.
+
+"Perhaps I was," I said, looking at Voltaire. He stared at me as if in
+wonder, and a curious light played in his eyes. He had uttered no word
+when he saw me, but he gave indications of his astonishment.
+
+"Well," continued Miss Gray, "this is the proper place to be bewitched.
+Mr. Temple has been telling some strange stories about it. What was it,
+Mr. Temple?--a red hand appears from the water, and whoever sees it will
+be led to commit murder?"
+
+"Oh, there are dozens of stories about the place," said Tom. "Indeed,
+there is scarcely a youth or maiden who will be seen here after dark."
+
+"Why?" asked Voltaire, suddenly.
+
+"Oh, as I said just now, it is reported to be haunted; but, more than
+that, the pond is said to have an evil power. Some say that if any one
+sees the place for the first time alone, his hands will be red with
+blood before a month passes away."
+
+"Then that will refer to me," I said. "But surely such nonsense is not
+believed in now?"
+
+"These things are not nonsense," said Voltaire. "Earth and heaven are
+full of occult forces." I paid no further attention to the subject at
+the time, but this conversation came back to me with terrible force in
+the after-days.
+
+For a while we chatted on ordinary subjects, and then, remounting our
+horses, we prepared to ride back. During this time I had felt entirely
+free from any of the strange influences I have described, and I began to
+wonder at it; especially so as Miss Forrest had voluntarily come to my
+side, and we had galloped away together.
+
+We took a roundabout road to Temple Hall, and so were longer together,
+and again I was happy.
+
+"I thought you were not coming," she said. "What in the world drew you
+away so suddenly?"
+
+I tried to tell her, but I could not. Every time I began to speak of the
+influence Voltaire had exerted I was seemingly tongue-tied. No words
+would come.
+
+"I was very sorry," I said at length, "but you did not want a companion.
+Mr. Voltaire came."
+
+"Yes, he overtook us. Is he not a wonderful man?"
+
+"Yes," I said absently.
+
+"I was so sorry you allowed yourself to be placed under his influence
+last night. Did you not hear me asking you to avoid having anything to
+do with him?"
+
+"Yes," I said, "I am sorry. I was a coward."
+
+"I do not understand him," she said. "He fascinates while he repels. One
+almost hates him, and yet one is obliged to admire him. No one could
+want him as a friend, while to make him an enemy would be terrible."
+
+I could not help shuddering as she spoke. I had made him my enemy, and
+the thought was terrible.
+
+"He does not like you," she went on; "he did not like the way you
+regarded his magical story and his thought-reading. Were I you, I should
+have no further communications with him. I should politely ignore him."
+
+I watched her face as she spoke. Surely there was more than common
+interest betrayed in her voice; surely that face showed an earnestness
+beyond the common interest of a passing acquaintance?
+
+"I do not wish to have anything to do with him," I said, "and might I
+also say something to you? Surely if a man should avoid him, a woman
+should do so a thousand times more. Promise me to have nothing to do
+with him. Avoid him as you would a pestilence."
+
+I spoke passionately, pleadingly. She turned her head to reply, and I
+was bending my head so as not to miss a word when a subtle power seized
+me. I did not wait for her reply, but turned my head in a different
+direction.
+
+"Let us join the others," I stammered with difficulty, and rode away
+without waiting for her consent.
+
+She came up by my side again presently, however, but there was a strange
+look on her face. Disappointment, astonishment, annoyance, and hauteur,
+all were expressed. I spoke not a word, however. I could not; a weight
+seemed to rest upon me, my free agency was gone.
+
+"How do you know they are in this direction?" she said at length. "We
+have come a circuitous route."
+
+"They surely are," I said. The words were dragged out of me, as if by
+sheer force of another will, while I looked vacantly before me.
+
+"Are you well, Mr. Blake?" she asked again. "You look strange."
+
+"Well, well," I remember saying. Then we caught sight of three people
+riding.
+
+"Hurrah!" I cried, "there they are."
+
+I could see I was surprising Miss Forrest more and more, but she did not
+speak again. Pride and vexation seemed to overcome her other feelings,
+and so silently we rode on together until we rejoined our companions.
+
+"Ha, Justin!" cried Tom, "we did not expect to see you just yet Surely
+something's the matter?"
+
+"Oh no," I replied, when, looking at Herod Voltaire, I saw a ghastly
+smile wreathe his lips, and then I felt my burden gone. Evidently by
+some strange power, at which I had laughed, he had again made me obey
+his will, and when he had got me where he wanted me, he allowed me to be
+free. No sooner did I feel my freedom than I was nearly mad with rage. I
+had been with the woman I wanted, more than anything else, to accompany,
+we had been engaged in a conversation which was getting more and more
+interesting for me, and then, for no reason save this man's accursed
+power, I had come back where I had no desire to be.
+
+I set my teeth together and vowed to be free, but, looking again at
+Voltaire's eyes, my feelings underwent another revulsion. I trembled
+like an aspen leaf. I began to dread some terrible calamity. Before me
+stretched a dark future. I seemed to see rivers of blood, and over them
+floated awful creatures. For a time I thought I was disembodied, and in
+my new existence I did deeds too terrible to relate. Then I realized a
+new experience. I feared Voltaire with a terrible fear. Strange forms
+appeared to be emitted from his eyes, while to me his form expanded and
+became terrible in its mien.
+
+I knew I was there in a Yorkshire road, riding on a high-blooded horse;
+I knew the woman I loved was near me; and yet I was living a dual life.
+It was not Justin Blake who was there, but something else which was
+called Justin Blake, and the feelings that possessed me were such as I
+had never dreamed of. And yet I was able to think; I was able to connect
+cause and effect. Indeed, my brain was very active, and I began to
+reason out why I should be so influenced, and why I should act so
+strangely.
+
+The truth was, and I felt sure of it as I rode along, I was partly
+mesmerized or hypnotized, whatever men may please to call it. Partly I
+was master over my actions, and partly I was under an influence which I
+could not resist. Strange it may appear, but it is still true, and so
+while one part of my being or self was realizing to a certain extent the
+circumstances by which I was surrounded, the other enslaved part
+trembled and feared at some dreadful future, and felt bound to do what
+it would fain resist.
+
+This feeling possessed me till we arrived at Temple Hall, when I felt
+free, and, as if by the wave of some magical wand, Justin Blake was
+himself again.
+
+Instead of following the ladies into the house, I followed the horses to
+the stables. I thought I might see Simon Slowden, who I was sure would
+be my friend, and was watching Kaffar closely, but I could not catch
+sight of him. Herod Voltaire came up to me, however, and hissed in my
+ear--
+
+"Do you yield to my power now?"
+
+I answered almost mechanically, "No."
+
+"But you will," he went on. "You dared to follow me to yonder lake, but
+you found you could not ride alone with her. How terrible it must be to
+have to obey the summons of the devil, and so find out the truth that
+while two is company, five is none!"
+
+I began to tremble again.
+
+He fixed his terrible eye upon me, and said slowly and distinctly,
+"Justin Blake, resistance is useless. I have spent years of my life in
+finding out the secrets of life. By pure psychology I have obtained my
+power over you. You are a weaker man than I--weaker under ordinary
+circumstances. You would be swayed by my will if I knew no more the
+mysteries of the mind than you, because as a man I am superior to
+you--superior in mind and in will-force; but by the knowledge I have
+mentioned I have made you my slave."
+
+I felt the truth of his words. He was a stronger man than I naturally,
+while by his terrible power I was rendered entirely helpless. Still, at
+that very moment, the inherent obstinacy of my nature showed itself.
+
+"I am not your slave," I said.
+
+"You are," he said. "Did you feel no strange influences coming back just
+now? Was not Herod Voltaire your master?"
+
+I was silent.
+
+"Just so," he answered with a smile; "and yet I wish to do you no harm.
+But upon this I do insist. You must leave Temple Hall; you must allow me
+to woo and to win Miss Gertrude Forrest."
+
+"I never will," I cried.
+
+"Then," said he, jeeringly, "your life must be ruined. You must be swept
+out of the way, and then, as I told you, I will take this dainty duck
+from you, I will press her rosy lips to mine, and--"
+
+"Stop!" I cried; "not another word;" and, seizing him by the collar, I
+shook him furiously. "Speak lightly of her," I continued, "and I will
+thrash you like a dog, as well as that cur who follows at your heels."
+
+For a moment my will had seemed to gain the mastery over him. He stared
+at me blankly, but only for a moment, for soon his light eyes glittered;
+and then, as Kaffar came up by his side, my strength was gone, my hands
+dropped by my side, and unheeding the cynical leer of the Egyptian, or
+the terrible look of his friend, I walked into the house like one in a
+dream.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+DARKNESS AND LIGHT
+
+
+During the next few days there was but little to record. The party
+evidently forgot mesmerism and thought-reading, and seemingly enjoyed
+themselves without its assistance. The young men and women walked
+together and talked together, while the matrons looked complacently on.
+During the day there was hunting, skating, and riding, while at night
+there was story-telling, charades, games of various sorts, and dancing.
+Altogether, it was a right old-fashioned, unconventional English country
+party, and day by day we got to enjoy ourselves more, because we learned
+to know each other better.
+
+Perhaps, however, I am using a wrong expression. I ought not to have
+said "we." I cannot say that I enjoyed myself very much. My life was
+strange and disappointing. More than that, the calamities I dreaded did
+not take place, but the absence of those calamities brought me no
+satisfaction. And thus, while all the rest laughed and were joyful, I
+was solitary and sad. Once or twice I thought of leaving Temple Hall,
+but I could not bring myself to do so. I should be leaving the woman I
+was each day loving more and more, to the man who knew no honour, no
+mercy, no manliness.
+
+During these days I was entirely free from Voltaire's influence, as free
+as I was before I saw him. He always spoke to me politely, and to a
+casual observer his demeanour towards me was very friendly. Kaffar, on
+the other hand, treated me very rudely. He often sought to turn a laugh
+against me; he even greeted me with a sneer. I took no notice of him,
+however--never replied to his insulting words; and this evidently
+maddened him. The truth was, I was afraid lest there should be some
+design in Voltaire's apparent friendliness and Kaffar's evident desire
+to arouse enmity, and so I determined to be on my guard.
+
+I was not so much surprised at my freedom from the influence he had
+exercised over me the day after I had placed myself under his power, and
+for a reason that was more than painful to me. Miss Forrest avoided ever
+meeting me alone, never spoke to me save in monosyllables, and was cold
+and haughty to me at all times. Many times had I seen her engaged in
+some playful conversation with some members of the party; but the moment
+I appeared on the scene her smile was gone, and, if opportunity
+occurred, she generally sought occasion to leave. Much as I loved her, I
+was too proud to ask a reason for this, and so, although we were so
+friendly on Christmas Day, we were exceedingly cold and distant when New
+Year's Eve came. This, as may be imagined, grieved me much; and when I
+saw Voltaire's smile as he watched Miss Forrest repel any attempt of
+mine to converse with her, I began to wish I had never set my foot in
+Temple Hall.
+
+And yet I thought I might be useful to her yet. So I determined to
+remain in Yorkshire until she returned to London, and even then I hoped
+to be able to shield her from the designs which I was sure Voltaire
+still had.
+
+New Year's Day was cold and forbidding. The snow had gone and the ice
+had melted; but the raw, biting wind swept across moor and fen,
+forbidding the less robust part of the company to come away from the
+warm fires.
+
+I had come down as usual, and, entering the library, I found Miss
+Forrest seated.
+
+"I wish you a happy new year, Miss Forrest," I said. "May it be the
+happiest year you have ever known." She looked around the room as if she
+expected to see some one else present; then, looking up at me, she said,
+with the happy look I loved to see, "And I heartily return your wish,
+Mr. Blake."
+
+There was no coldness, no restraint in her voice. She spoke as if she
+was glad to see me, and wanted me to know it. Instantly a burden rolled
+away from my heart, and for a few minutes I was the happiest of men.
+Presently I heard voices at the library door, and immediately Miss
+Forrest's kindness and cheerfulness vanished, and those who entered the
+room must have fancied that I was annoying her with my company. I
+remained in the room a few minutes longer, but she was studiously cold
+and polite to me, so that when I made a pretence of going out to the
+stables to see a new horse Tom Temple had bought, I did so with a heavy
+heart.
+
+I had no sooner entered the stable-yard than Simon Slowden appeared, and
+beckoned to me.
+
+"I looked hout for yer honour all day yesterday," he said, "but you lay
+like a hare in a furze bush. Things is looking curious, yer honour."
+
+"Indeed, Simon. How?"
+
+"Can 'ee come this yer way a minit, yer honour?" "Certainly," I said,
+and followed him into a room over the stables. I did not like having
+confidences in this way; but my brain was confused, and I could not rid
+myself from the idea that some plot was being concocted against me.
+
+Simon looked around to make sure there were no eavesdroppers; then he
+said, "There's a hancient wirgin 'ere called Miss Staggles, ain't there,
+Mr. Blake?"
+
+"There is. Why?"
+
+"It's my belief as 'ow she's bin a waccinated ten times, yer honour."
+
+"Why, Simon?"
+
+"Why, she's without blood or marrow, she is; and as for flesh, she ain't
+got none."
+
+"Well, what for that?"
+
+"And not honly that," he continued, without heeding my question, "she
+hain't a got a hounce of tender feelin's in her natur. In my opinion,
+sur, she's a witch, she is, and hev got dealin's with the devil."
+
+"And what for all this?" I said. "Surely you haven't taken me up here to
+give me your impressions concerning Miss Staggles?"
+
+
+"Well, I hev partly, yer honour. The truth is"--here he sunk his voice
+to a whisper--"she's very thick with that willain with a hinfidel's
+name. They're in league, sur." "How do you know?"
+
+"They've bin a-promenadin' together nearly every day since Christmas;
+and when a feller like that 'ere Woltaire goes a-walkin' with a creature
+like that hancient wirgin on his arm, then I think there must be
+somethin' on board."
+
+"But this is purely surmise, Simon. There is no reason why Miss Staggles
+and Mr. Voltaire may not walk together."
+
+"There's more than surmise, sur. You know the plantation up behind the
+house, Mr. Blake?"
+
+"The fir plantation? Very well."
+
+"Well, sur, the night afore last I wur up there. They are hevin' a kind
+of Christmas-tree in one of the Sunday schools over in the willage
+to-night, and some o' the teachers came to the guv'nor and asked him for
+a tree to put some knick-knacks on. So he says to me, 'Simon,' says he,
+'go up in the plantation and pull up a young fir tree, and then in the
+morning put it in the cart and take it over to the school-room.' This
+was day afore yesterday, in the afternoon. I was busy jist then, so I
+didn't go to the plantation till 'twas dusk. However, as you know, yer
+honour, 'tis moonlight, so I didn't trouble. Well, I got a young fir
+tree pulled up, and was jist a-going to light my pipe, when I see some
+figures a-comin' threw the plantation towards a summer-'ouse that was
+put up 'bout two year ago. So I lied luff. 'I believe,' I says, 'that
+it's that hinfidel and the skinny wirgin a-walkin' together.' They goes
+into the summer-'ouse, and then I creeps down, and gets behind a tree,
+but close enough to the couple to hear every word. Sure 'nough, sur, I
+wur right; it was the wirgin Staggles and this 'ere Woltaire.
+
+"'They seemed quarrellin' like when I come up, for she wur sayin'--
+
+"'Tis no use, she never will.'
+
+"'Nonsense!' says he. 'Give her time, and poison her mind against that
+Blake, and she'll come around.'
+
+"'I've done that,' says she. 'I've told her that Mr. Blake is a regular
+male flirt; that he's had dozens of love affairs with girls; and,
+besides that, I told her that her marked preference for him was being
+talked about.'
+
+"'Yes,' says Woltaire, 'and see how she's treated him since.'
+
+"'True enough,' says she; 'but it's made her no softer towards you. If
+she avoids him, she dislikes you.'
+
+"'And do you think she cares about Blake?' says he.
+
+"'I don't know,' she replies. 'She never would tell me anything, and
+that's why I dislike her so. But, for all that, she's no hypocrite.'
+
+"'Well, what for that?' he asks.
+
+"'I went to her room last night, and I began to tell her more about him
+and compare him with you.'
+
+"'Well?' says he.
+
+"'Well, she got into a temper, and told me that she would not allow Mr.
+Blake's name to be associated with yours in her room.'
+
+"Then, sur, that 'ere willain he swore like a trooper, and said he'd make
+you rue the day you were born. After that, they were silent for a little
+while, and then she says to him--
+
+"'I believe she knows what you are wanting to do, and has some idea of
+the influence you have exerted over him. She's as sharp as a lancet, and
+it's difficult to deceive her.'
+
+"'If only that Blake hadn't come,' he says, as if talkin' to hisself.
+
+"'Yes,' she says, 'but he has come,' says she.
+
+"'But if he can be made to leave her, and never speak to her again, will
+it not show to her that he's what you said he was, and thus turn her
+against him?'
+
+"'I don't know. She's been cool enough to drive him away,' said that 'ere
+Miss Staggles.
+
+"'But if he leaves disgraced, proved to be a villain, a deceiver, a
+blackleg, or worse than that, while I show up as an angel of light?'
+
+"'I don't know,' she says. 'You are a wonderful man; you can do almost
+anything. You could charm even an angel.'
+
+"'Well, you'll do your best for me, won't you?' says he.
+
+"'You know I will,' she says; 'but we must not be seen together like
+this, or they will suspect something.'
+
+"'True,' says he, 'but I want to know how things are goin' on.' Then he
+stopped a minit, and a thought seemed to strike him. 'Miss Staggles, my
+friend,' he says, 'watch her closely, and meet me here on New Year's
+Day, at five o'clock in the evening. It's dark then, and everybody will
+be indoors.'"
+
+"Then, yer honour, they went away together, and I was on the look-out
+for you all day yesterday."
+
+There was much in Simon's story to think about, and for a time all was
+mystery to me. One thing, however, I thought was clear. He had either
+found he could do no good by his mesmeric influences, or else he had
+lost them, and so he was working up some other scheme against me. I
+pondered long over the words, "If he leaves disgraced, proved to be a
+villain, a deceiver, a blackleg, or worse than that, while I show up as
+an angel of light?" Surely that meant a great deal! I must be on the
+watch. I must be as cunning as he. I did not like eavesdropping or
+playing the spy, and yet I felt there were times when it would be right
+to do so, and surely that time had come in my history. There was
+villainy to be unmasked, there was a true, innocent girl to be saved,
+while my reputation, happiness, and perhaps life were in danger. I
+determined I would meet stratagem with stratagem. I would hear this
+conference in the wood that evening. I would seek to undeceive Miss
+Forrest, too, whose behaviour was now explained. Accordingly, after a
+few more words with Simon, I wended my way back to the house again.
+
+I found Miss Forrest still in the library, together with Tom Temple and
+Edith Gray. All three looked up brightly at my entrance.
+
+"We were just talking about you, Justin," said Tom, as I joined them. "I
+had been telling these ladies what a terrible woman-avoider you have
+always been. Miss Forrest wouldn't believe me at first; but that story
+of your walking five miles alone, rather than ride in a carriage with
+some ladies, has convinced her. I thought you had improved the first day
+or so after you came, but you seem to have fallen back into your old
+ways."
+
+"Don't put the fault on me, Tom," I said.
+
+"The fault has generally been with the ladies. The truth is, I'm not a
+ladies' man, and hence not liked by them. I have generally been put down
+as a kind of bore, I expect, and I've never taken the trouble to improve
+my reputation."
+
+"Then you ought," said Miss Gray, laughingly. "It's a shame that you
+should be under such a ban, because if a man can't make himself pleasant
+to ladies, what _can_ he do?"
+
+"Well, I should like to turn over a new leaf," I replied; "but then I
+don't seem to please. I've no doubt my company is very tiring, and thus
+I must be left out in the cold."
+
+"Nonsense," replied Tom. "Let us have another ride this afternoon, and
+see whether you can't make Miss Forrest a pleasant companion."
+
+"If Miss Forrest would allow me, I should be delighted," I said.
+
+I expected an excuse, such as a cold, a headache, or some previous
+engagement, especially as she had looked steadily into the fire while we
+had been talking. Instead of this, however, she frankly accepted my
+escort, and accordingly the ride was arranged.
+
+Nothing of importance happened before we started. We had gone out
+quietly, and had attracted no notice, and rode away towards the ruins of
+an old castle which Tom thought we should like to visit.
+
+As I stated, it was a raw, cold day; but I did not feel the biting wind,
+or notice the weird desolation that was all around. I felt supremely
+happy as I rode by Miss Forrest's side.
+
+We had gone perhaps two miles from the house, when we found ourselves
+separated from Tom Temple and Miss Gray, and we slackened our horses'
+speed to a walk.
+
+"Have you thought my conduct strange since we last rode out together?"
+she said.
+
+"I have indeed," I replied bluntly, "especially as I do not remember
+having done anything that should merit your evident dislike to me."
+
+"I owe you an apology," she said. "I have been very foolish, very
+unjust. I am very sorry."
+
+"But might I ask why you saw fit to change your conduct from
+friendliness to extreme aversion?"
+
+"I'm almost ashamed to tell you, Mr. Blake, but I will. If there is one
+thing for which I have aversion and contempt, it is for flirting,
+coquetry, and the like. If there is any species of mankind that I
+despise, it is that of a flirt, a society man, a ladies' man."
+
+"And have I ever given evidence of belonging to that class, Miss
+Forrest?"
+
+"No," she replied; "and that is why I am so ashamed of myself. But I
+listened to some foolish gossip about your boasting of your conquests
+with ladies and the like. I know I ought not to have listened to it, but
+I did. I am very sorry; will you forgive me?"
+
+She said this frankly, and without hesitation; yet I thought I saw a
+blush mount her cheek as she spoke.
+
+"If there is anything to forgive, I do forgive you," I replied,
+"especially as I despise that class of individuals as much as you. The
+vapid, dancing society mannikin is everywhere an object of contempt,
+while a society girl, as generally accepted, is not a whit more to my
+taste."
+
+I saw she was pleased at this, and I felt I loved her more than ever.
+Did she, I wondered, care anything for me? Was there any vestige of
+interest in her heart beyond that which she felt for any passing
+acquaintance?
+
+"Mr. Blake," she said, after pausing a second, "do you remember what we
+were talking about that day when we last rode out together?"
+
+"We were talking of Mr. Voltaire," I said. "Have you found out anything
+more about him?"
+
+"No, I have not. Is there any mystery connected with him?"
+
+"I think there is. I have an indistinct kind of feeling that both he and
+the Egyptian are deceivers, while I am sure that Mr. Voltaire is--is
+your enemy."
+
+"I have no doubt he is," I said.
+
+She looked at me strangely.
+
+"I had not been in Temple Hall two hours before that man had marked me
+as one that he would fain be rid of."
+
+"Indeed," she said; "then if that is the case, you should listen to my
+advice. Have nothing to do with him."
+
+"But I must have something to do with him, and with his friend the
+Egyptian as well."
+
+"Don't," she said anxiously; "the two work together, and both are
+cunning as serpents. I believe," she continued, after a pause, "that the
+thought-reading and mesmerism were somehow designed to injure you. I
+think somehow they are acquainted with forces unknown to us, and will
+use them for evil."
+
+"Yes, I believe all that," I said.
+
+"Then why must you have any dealings with them?"
+
+"Because they will have dealings with me; because they are plotting
+against me; because there are forces, over which I have no control,
+drawing me on."
+
+"But why will they have dealings with you? Why are they plotting against
+you?"
+
+"Because Voltaire knows that I love, with all my soul, the woman he
+wants to win for his wife."
+
+A curious look shot across her face. What was it? Love, astonishment,
+pain, vexation, or joy? I could not tell; but my tongue was unloosed.
+
+"Do I annoy you, astonish you, Miss Forrest?" I said. "Forgive me if I
+do. I have been regarded as a woman-hater, a society-avoider. That is
+because I never saw a woman in whom I was sufficiently interested to
+court her society. I have heard it said that such characters fall in
+love quickly, or not at all. The first day I saw you I fell in love with
+you; I love you now with all my soul."
+
+She looked at my face steadily, but did not speak a word.
+
+"Voltaire has found out this, and he too wants you for his wife; so he
+has been trying--is trying--to drive me away from here. How I cannot
+tell you; but what I have said is true!" I spoke rapidly, passionately,
+and I saw that her face became alternately pale and red, but she did not
+reply.
+
+"Am I bold to speak thus?" I asked. "I think I must be, for I have
+scarcely known you a week. But I cannot help it. My life is given up to
+you. If I could but know that my love were not in vain! If you could
+give me some word of hope!"
+
+A beautiful look lit up her eyes; she opened her mouth to speak, when a
+voice shouted--
+
+"Come, Justin; don't loiter so. We shall not get back in time for
+dinner, if you do."
+
+It was Tom Temple who spoke, and a turn in the lane revealed him. To say
+I was sorry would be but to hint at my feelings. But I could not hinder
+the turn things had taken, so we started our horses into a gallop, I
+hoping that soon another opportunity might occur for our being alone,
+when I trusted she would tell me what I desired to know.
+
+I do not know how I dared to make my confession of love, for certainly I
+had but little proof of her caring for me. If I hoped, it was almost
+without reason; and yet, as we galloped on, my heart beat right
+joyfully.
+
+Nothing of importance occurred during the ride. The castle we visited
+was grim and grey enough; but it was not the kind of afternoon when one
+could enjoy to the full such a place, so we were not long before we
+turned our horses' heads homeward. Time after time, on our homeward
+journey, did I contrive to be alone with Miss Forrest, but always in
+vain. She kept by the side of Edith Gray in spite of all my schemes to
+get her by mine. Her lips were compressed, and her eyes had a strange
+look. I longed to know what she was thinking about, but her face
+revealed nothing.
+
+We came to the house at length, however, and then I hastened from her
+side to lift her from the saddle. Then my heart gave a great throb, for
+I thought she returned the pressure of my hand.
+
+"Do be careful about that man," she said hurriedly, and then ran into
+the house.
+
+It was joy and light to me, and I needed it in the dark days that came
+after.
+
+The stable-boy had scarcely taken the horses when a thought struck me. I
+looked at my watch, and it was almost too dark for me to discern the
+time, but I saw, after some difficulty, that it wanted but a few minutes
+to five. In my joy I had forgotten my determination, but now I quickly
+made my way to the summer-house that stood in the dark fir plantation.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE HALL GHOST
+
+
+Perhaps some of my readers may think I was doing wrong in determining to
+listen to the proposed conference between Miss Staggles and Voltaire. I
+do not offer any excuse, however. I felt that if this man was to be
+fought, it must be by his own weapons; such, at any rate, as I could
+use. I remembered the terrible influence he had exercised over me, the
+power of which might not yet be broken. I remembered Miss Forrest too.
+Evidently this man was a villain, and wanted to make her his wife. To
+stop such an event, I would devote my life. Something important might be
+the result of such a conversation. I might hear disclosed the secret of
+his influence, and thereby discover the means whereby I could be free,
+and this freedom might, I hoped, make me his master.
+
+Anyhow, I went. The dark clouds which swept across the sky hid the pale
+rays of the moon, and, clothed in black as I was, it would be difficult
+to see me amongst the dark tall trees. I hurried to the summer-house,
+for I wished to be there before they arrived. I was successful in this.
+When I came, all was silent; so I got behind a large tree, which, while
+it hid me from any one entering the house, enabled me to be within
+earshot of anything that might be said, especially so as the
+summer-house was a rustic affair, and the sides by no means thick.
+
+Silently I waited for, I should think, half-an-hour; then a woman came
+alone. Evidently she was cold, for she stamped her feet against the wood
+floor with great vehemence. Minute after minute passed by, and still
+there was no third party. Then I heard a low "hist."
+
+"You're late," said the woman's voice, which I recognized as Miss
+Staggles'.
+
+"Yes; and we must not stay long."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because I think we are watched."
+
+"But why should we be watched? Surely no one perceives that we are
+suspicious parties?"
+
+"I cannot say. I only know I cannot stay long."
+
+"Why, again?"
+
+"I have much to think about, much to do." "And I have much to tell you."
+
+"I can guess it, I think; but I must know. Tell me quickly."
+
+He spoke peremptorily, as if he had a right to command, while she did
+not resent his dictatorial tones.
+
+"They've been riding together again to-day."
+
+"I guessed it. Bah! what a fool I've been! But there, that may mean
+nothing."
+
+"But it does; it means a great deal."
+
+"What?"
+
+"I believe that he's asked her to be his wife. In fact, I'm sure he
+has."
+
+"Darkness and death, he has! And she?"
+
+"I hardly know; but as sure as we are alive, she likes him."
+
+"How do you know this?"
+
+"I saw them come in from their ride, and so I guessed that they had
+become friendly again."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, I met her in the hall. She looked as happy as a girl could well
+look. I am a woman, so I began to put two and two together. I determined
+to listen. I went up-stairs to my room, which, you know, is close to
+Miss Gray's and Gertrude's. If you had known girls as long as I, you
+would know that they usually make friends and confidantes of each other.
+I found this to be true in the present case. Gertrude had not been in
+their room above five minutes before Miss Gray came to the door and
+asked to come in. It was immediately opened, and she entered."
+
+"And what then?"
+
+"I listened."
+
+"Just so; I expected that. But what did you hear?"
+
+"I could not catch all they said; but I gathered that they had a
+delightful ride, that Mr. Blake had made a declaration of love to
+Gertrude."
+
+"And her answer?"
+
+"I could not catch that; she spoke too low. But I should think it was
+favourable, for there was a great deal of whispering, and after a while
+I heard something about that dreadful man being Mr. Blake's enemy."
+
+"Ah! How did they know that?"
+
+"I gathered that Mr. Blake told her. Look here, Herod Voltaire; you are
+playing a losing game."
+
+"I playing a losing game? Do not fear. I'll win, I'll win, or--or--"
+Here he paused, as if a thought struck him.
+
+"Why don't you get an influence over her, as you did over Blake? Then
+you could manage easily." "I cannot. I've tried; her nature is not
+susceptible; besides, even if I got such a power, I could not use it.
+You cannot force love, and the very nature of the case would make such a
+thing impossible. Stay! You know Miss Forrest well, don't you, her
+education, and her disposition?"
+
+"I've known her long enough."
+
+"Well, tell me whether I am correct in my estimate of her character. If
+I am, I do not fear. She's very clear-headed, sharp, and clever; a hater
+of humbug, a despiser of cant."
+
+"True enough; but what's this got to do with the matter?"
+
+"In spite of this, however," went on Voltaire without heeding Miss
+Staggles' query, "she has a great deal of romance in her nature; has a
+strong love for mystery, so much so that she is in some things a trifle
+superstitious."
+
+"I can't say as to that, but I should think you are correct."
+
+"Then she's a young lady of very strong likes and dislikes, but at
+bottom is of a very affectionate nature."
+
+"Affectionate to nearly every one but me," muttered Miss Staggles.
+
+"She is intensely proud--"
+
+"As Lucifer!" interrupted Miss Staggles. "This is her great weakness,"
+went on Voltaire. "Her pride will overcome her judgment, and because of
+it she will do things for which she will afterwards be sorry. Is this
+true?"
+
+
+"True to the letter. You must be a wizard, Herod Voltaire, or you
+couldn't have summed up her disposition so correctly."
+
+"Her sense of honour is very great. She would sacrifice her happiness to
+do what was thought to be honourable."
+
+"I believe she would."
+
+"Then my path is marked out," said he, savagely.
+
+From that time I could catch nothing of what was said, although they
+conversed for five minutes at least. But it was in whispers, so low that
+I could not catch a word.
+
+Presently they got up and went away, while I, with aching head and
+fast-beating heart, tried to think what to do. Everything was mystery. I
+could not see a step before me. Why should Miss Staggles be so willing
+to help Herod Voltaire, and what were the designs in his mind? What was
+his purpose in getting at a correct estimate of Miss Forrest's
+character?
+
+I went to the house pondering these things in my mind, and, arriving
+there, heard the hall clock strike the quarter, from which I knew it was
+a quarter past six. We were to dine at seven that day, and, as I did not
+usually make an elaborate toilette, I knew I had plenty of time. I felt
+I could not go in for a few minutes; my brain seemed on fire. I turned
+to take a walk towards the park gates, when I heard a footstep, and
+turning, saw Simon Slowden.
+
+"Can you give me ten minutes before dinner, sur?" he said.
+
+"I dare say," I said.
+
+He led me into the room in which we had spoken together before. "There's
+something wrong, yer honour," he said in a low voice.
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"Why, that 'ere Egyptian hev bin doggin' me all day. He's got a hinklin'
+as how we're tryin' to match 'em, and reckons as how I'm yer friend.
+Besides, to-day when I see you ride hoff with the young lady, I thinks
+to myself, 'There's no knowin' what time he'll be back.' I know what
+'tis, yer honour; hi've bin in the arms o' Wenus myself, and knows as
+'ow a hour slips away like a minnit. So as there wur no tellin' if you
+would get to the summer-house to-night at five o'clock, I thought I'd
+just toddle up myself. But 'twas no go. I sees they two willains
+a-talkin' together, and when that 'ere Woltaire went off by himself, the
+other took it 'pon him to keep wi' me. I tried to git 'im off, but 'twas
+no use; he stuck to me like a limpet to a rock."
+
+"Perhaps it was all fancy, Simon."
+
+"No fancy in me, but a lot o' judgment. Fact, sur, I've begun to think
+for the fust time as 'ow some things in the Bible ain't true. In the
+Psalms of Solomon it reads, 'Resist the devil and he'll go away
+howlin'.' Well, I've resisted that 'ere devil, and he wouldn't go away
+till he'd knowed as how he'd played his little game;" and Simon looked
+very solemn indeed.
+
+"Is that all, Simon?"
+
+"All, yer honour. 'Tisn't much, you think; but to me it looks mighty
+suspicious, as I said to my sweetheart when I see her a-huggin' and
+kissin' the coachman."
+
+I went away laughing, but my heart was still heavy. Try as I would, I
+could not dispel the fancy that soon something terrible would happen.
+
+During dinner Kaffar made himself very disagreeable. This was somewhat
+unusual, as he was generally very bland and polite, but to-night he was
+so cantankerous that I fancied he must have been drinking. To me he was
+especially insulting, and went so far as to hint that I, unlike other
+Englishmen, was a coward; that I hadn't courage to resist a man
+manfully, but would act towards an enemy in a cunning, serpent-like way.
+This was not the first occasion on which he had sought to pick a quarrel
+with me, and I felt like resenting it. I desisted, however, as there
+were ladies present, and went on quietly talking to my neighbour as if
+he hadn't spoken. This roused his ire more, while I saw that Voltaire
+watched me with his light glittering eye, as if expecting a scene.
+
+After dinner, this being New Year's Day, we passed a more than usually
+merry time. Stories were told, old ballads were sung, while Roger de
+Coverley was danced in downright earnest by most of those who were
+present. By midnight, however, the old hall was silent; each of us had
+repaired to his room, and most, I expect, were quietly asleep, when a
+terrible scream was heard, after which there were shouts for help and
+hysterical cries. The sounds seemed to come from the direction of the
+servants' hall, and, quickly putting on some clothes, I hurried thither.
+I soon found that the noise had roused the whole household, and so, when
+I arrived, I found a number of the guests had gathered together. On
+looking into the room, I saw that the housekeeper was lying in a swoon,
+one of the servants was in hysterics, while Simon Slowden, who was in
+the room, and the page boy looked as white as sheets, and were trembling
+evidently with fear.
+
+"What does this mean?" asked Tom Temple, a little angrily.
+
+At this the housekeeper became conscious and said in a hoarse whisper,
+"Is she gone?"
+
+"What? Who do you mean?" asked Tom.
+
+"The hall lady," she said fearfully.
+
+"We are all friends here," said Tom, and I thought I detected an amount
+of anxiety in his voice.
+
+This appeared to assure the housekeeper, who got up and tried to collect
+her thoughts. We all waited anxiously for her to speak.
+
+"I have stayed up late, Mr. Temple," she said to Tom, "in order to
+arrange somewhat for the party you propose giving on Thursday. The work
+had got behind, and so I asked two or three of the servants to assist
+me."
+
+She stopped here, as if at a loss how to proceed.
+
+"Go on, Mrs. Richards; we want to know all. Surely there must be
+something terrible to cause you all to arouse us in this way."
+
+"I'll tell you as well as I can," said the housekeeper, "but I can
+hardly bear to think about it. Twas about one o'clock, and we were all
+very busy, when we heard a noise in the corridor outside the door.
+Naturally we turned to look, when the door opened and something
+entered."
+
+"Well, what? Some servant walking in her sleep?"
+
+"No, sir," said Mrs. Richards in awful tones. "It looked like a woman,
+very tall, and she had a long white shroud around her, and on it were
+spots of blood. In her hand she carried a long knife, which was also
+covered with blood, while the hand which held it was red. She came
+closer to us," she went on with a shudder, "and then stopped, lifting
+the terrible knife in the air. I cannot remember any more, for I was so
+terribly frightened. I gave an awful scream, and then I suppose I
+fainted."
+
+This story was told with many interruptions, many pauses, many cries,
+and I saw that the faces of those around were blanched with fear.
+
+"Do you know what it did, Simon," said Tom, turning to that worthy,
+"after it lifted its knife in the air?"
+
+"She went away with a wail like," said Simon, slowly; "she opened the
+door and went out. An' then I tried to go to the door, and when I got
+there, there was nothin'."
+
+"That is, you looked into the passage?"
+
+Simon nodded. "And what did you think she was like?"
+
+"Like the hall ghost, as I've heard so much about," said Simon.
+
+"The hall ghost!" cried the ladies, hysterically. "What does that mean,
+Mr. Temple?"
+
+I do not think Tom should have encouraged their superstition by telling
+them, but he did. He was excited, and scarcely knew what was best to do.
+
+"They say that, like other old houses, Temple Hall has its ghost," he
+said; "that she usually appears on New Year's night. If the year is to
+be good to those within at the time, she comes with flowers and dressed
+in gay attire; if bad, she is clothed in black; if there's to be death
+for any one, she wears a shroud. But it's all nonsense, you know," said
+Tom, uneasily.
+
+"And she's come in a shroud," said the servant who had been in
+hysterics, "and there was spots of blood upon it, and that means that
+the one who dies will be murdered; and there was a knife in her hand,
+and that means that 'twill be done by a knife."
+
+It would be impossible to describe the effect this girl's words made.
+She made the ghost very real to many, and the calamity which she was
+supposed to foretell seemed certain to come to pass. I looked at
+Gertrude Forrest and Ethel Gray, who, wrapped in their dressing-gowns,
+stood side by side, and I saw that both of them were terribly moved.
+
+Voltaire and Kaffar were both there, but they uttered no word. They,
+too, seemed to believe in the reality of the apparition.
+
+After a great deal of questioning on the part of the lady guests, and
+many soothing replies on the part of the men, something like quietness
+was at length restored, and many of the braver ones began to return to
+their rooms, until Tom and I were left alone in the servants' hall. We
+again questioned the servants, but with the same result, and then we
+went quietly up-stairs. Arriving at the landing, we saw Miss Forrest and
+Miss Gray leaving Mrs. Temple at the door of her room. Tom hurried to
+Miss Gray, and took her by the hand, while I, nothing loth, spoke to
+Miss Forrest.
+
+"There's surely some trick in this," I said to her.
+
+I felt her hand tremble in mine as she spoke. "I do not know. It seems
+terribly real, and I have heard of such strange things."
+
+"But you are not afraid? If you are, I shall be up all night, and will
+be so happy to help you."
+
+I thought I felt a gentle pressure of her hand, but I was not sure; but
+I know that her look made me very happy as she, together with Edith
+Gray, entered her room a few minutes after.
+
+When they had gone, I said to Tom, "I am not going to bed to-night."
+
+"No?" said Tom. "Well, I'll stay up with you."
+
+"This ghost affair is nonsense, Tom. I hope you will not find any
+valuables gone to-morrow."
+
+"Real or not," said Tom, gaily, "I'm glad it came."
+
+"How's that?"
+
+"It gave me nerve to pop the question," he replied. "I told my little
+girl just now--for she is mine now--that she wanted a strong man to
+protect such a weak little darling."
+
+"And she?"
+
+"She said that she knew of no one, whom she liked, that cared enough for
+her to protect her. So I told her I did, and then--well, what followed
+was perfectly satisfactory."
+
+I congratulated him on his audacity, and then we spent the night in
+wandering about the first floor of the house, trying to find the ghost,
+but in vain; and when the morning came, and we all tried to laugh at the
+ghost, I felt that there was a deep, sinister meaning in it all, and
+wondered what the end would be.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE COMING OF THE NIGHT
+
+
+Directly after breakfast I went away alone. I wanted to get rid of an
+awful weight which oppressed me. I walked rapidly, for the morning was
+cold. I had scarcely reached the park gates, however, when a hand
+touched me. I turned and saw Kaffar.
+
+"I hope your solitary walk is pleasant," he said, revealing his white
+teeth.
+
+"Thank you," I replied coldly.
+
+I thought he was going to leave me, but he kept close by my side, as if
+he wanted to say something. I did not encourage him to speak, however; I
+walked rapidly on in silence.
+
+"Temple Hall is a curious place," he said.
+
+"Very," I replied.
+
+"So different from Egypt--ah, so different. There the skies are bright,
+the trees are always green. There the golden sandhills stretch away,
+the palm trees wave, the Nile sweeps majestic. There the cold winds
+scarcely ever blow, and the people's hearts are warm."
+
+"I suppose so."
+
+"There are mysteries there, as in Temple Hall, Mr. Blake; but mysteries
+are sometimes of human origin."
+
+As he said this, he leered up into my face, as if to read my thoughts;
+but I governed my features pretty well, and thus, I think, deceived him.
+
+"Perhaps you know this?" he said.
+
+"No," I replied. "I am connected with no mysteries."
+
+"Not with the appearance of the ghost last night?"
+
+I looked at him in astonishment. The insinuation was so far from true
+that for the moment I was too surprised to speak.
+
+He gave a fierce savage laugh, and clapped his hands close against my
+face. "I knew I was right," he said; and then, before I had time to
+reply, he turned on his heel and walked away.
+
+Things were indeed taking curious turns, and I wondered what would
+happen next. What motive, I asked, could Kaffar have in connecting me
+with the ghost, and what was the plot which was being concocted? There
+in the broad daylight the apparition seemed very unreal. The servants,
+alone in the hall at midnight, perhaps talking about the traditional
+ghost, could easily have frightened themselves into the belief that they
+had seen it. Or perhaps one of their fellow-servants sought to play them
+a trick, and ran away when they saw what they had done. I would sift a
+little deeper. I immediately retraced my steps to the house, where
+meeting Tom, I asked him to let me have Simon Slowden and a couple of
+dogs, as I wanted to shoot a few rabbits. This was easily arranged, and
+soon after Simon and I were together. Away on the open moors there was
+no fear of eavesdroppers; no one could hear what we said.
+
+"Simon," I said, after some time, "have you thought any more of the
+wonderful ghost that you saw last night?"
+
+Instantly his face turned pale, and he shuddered as if in fear. At any
+rate, the ghost was real to him.
+
+"Yer honour," he said, "I don't feel as if I can talk about her. I've
+played in 'Amlet, yer honour, along with Octavius Bumpus's travellin'
+theatre, and I can nail a made-up livin' ghost in a minnit; but this
+ghost didn't look made up. There was no blood, yer honour; she looked as
+if she 'ad bin waccinated forty times."
+
+"And were the movements of her legs and arms natural?"
+
+"No j'ints, Master Blake. She looked like a wooden figger without proper
+j'ints! Perhaps she 'ad a few wire pins in her 'natomy; but no j'ints
+proper."
+
+"So you believe in this ghost?"
+
+"Can't help it, yer honour."
+
+"Simon, I don't. There's some deep-laid scheme on foot somewhere; and I
+think I can guess who's working it."
+
+Simon started. "You don't think that 'ere waccinatin', sumnamblifyin'
+willain 'ev got the thing in 'and?"
+
+I didn't speak, but looked keenly at him.
+
+At first he did nothing but stare vacantly, but presently a look of
+intelligence flashed into his eyes. Then he gave a shrug, as if he was
+disgusted with himself, which was followed by an expression of grim
+determination.
+
+"Master Blake," he said solemnly, "it's that waccinatin' process as hev
+done it. Simon Slowden couldn't hev bin sich a nincompoop if he hadn't
+bin waccinated 'gainst whoopin' cough, measles, and small-pox. Yer
+honour," he continued, "after I wur waccinated I broke out in a kind of
+rash all over, and that 'ere rash must have robbed me of my senses; but
+I'm blowed--There, I can't say fairer nor that."
+
+"Why, what do you think?"
+
+"I daren't tell you, yer honour, for fear I'll make another mistake. I
+thowt, sur, as it would take a hangel with black wings to nick me like
+this 'ere, and now I've bin done by somebody; but it's the waccinatin',
+yer honour--it's the waccination. In the Proverbs of Job we read, 'fool
+and his money soon parted,' and so we can see 'ow true the teachin' is
+to-day."
+
+"But what is to be done, Simon?"
+
+Simon shook his head, and then said solemnly, "I'm away from my
+bearin's, sur. I thought when I wur done the last time it should be the
+last time. It wur in this way, sur. I was in the doctor's service as
+waccinated me. Says he, when he'd done, 'Simon, you'll never have
+small-pox now.' 'Think not?' says I. 'Never,' says he; and when Susan
+the 'ousemaid heard on it, she says, 'I am so glad, Simon.' Then, says
+I, 'Susan, when people are married they're converted into one flesh.
+That's scripter. You get married to me,' says I, 'and you'll be kept
+free from small-pox, without goin' threw this yer willifyin' process.'
+Wi' that she looks at me, and she says, 'You are purty, and I'll try you
+for three months; if you don't get small-pox in that time, why
+then--we'll talk about it.' So I says, 'Say yes at once, Susan. The
+doctor says I can't get it, so there's no sort o' fear.' I wur young and
+simple then, and thowt doctors never made a mistake. Well, sur, in two
+months more I were down wi' small-pox, and when I got up again I wur a
+sight to behold. As soon as I wur fit to be seen I went to Susan to git
+a mite o' comfort, and then I see 'er a-courtin' wi' the coachman. And I
+says to myself, 'Simon Slowden,' I says, 'this yer is the last time you
+must be ever taken in;' and now I'm right mad that I should 'a bin
+licked in this yer way."
+
+I could not help laughing at Simon's story, in spite of my heavy heart,
+and so I asked him what the doctor said when he found vaccination a
+failure.
+
+"Sent me off without a character, sur," he replied grimly. "Said he
+couldn't keep a servant as would be a livin' advertisement as 'ow his
+pet 'obby wer a failure. And so I allays say as 'ow waccination is my
+ruin. It's ruined my blood and weakened my brain. Still," continued
+Simon, with a sly look, "I reckon as 'ow I'll be a match for that 'ere
+doubly waccinated ghost as frightened me so."
+
+I could get nothing more from him. He had formed some notion about the
+apparition which he would not divulge, so we devoted our attention to
+sport, and, after frightening a good many rabbits, we returned to the
+hall.
+
+Nothing of importance happened through the day, except an inquiry which
+Tom made among the servants. Each declared that they were entirely
+ignorant as to the appearance of the ghost, and all were evidently too
+frightened to doubt the truth of their statement. Thus when evening came
+nothing was known of it.
+
+Kaffar did not speak to me from the time I had seen him in the morning
+to dinner-time, and evidently avoided me. Voltaire, on the contrary, was
+unusually bland and smiling. He was pleasant and agreeable to every one,
+especially so to me.
+
+After dinner we all found our way to the drawing-room, when the usual
+singing, flirting, and dancing programme was carried out. Suddenly,
+however, there was comparative silence. One voice only was heard, and
+that was the Egyptian's.
+
+"Yes," he was saying, "I am what is called a superstitious man. I
+believe in dreams, visions, and returned spirits of the dead. But, ah! I
+do not believe in made-up ghosts. Oh, you cold-blooded English people,
+don't mistake the impulsive Egyptian; don't accuse him of lack of faith
+in the unseen. So much do I believe in it, that sometimes I long to be
+with those who have gone. But, bah! the ghost last night was to deceive,
+to frighten. Got up by some villain for a purpose, and I can guess who
+he is."
+
+"This is serious," said Tom Temple. "I have inquired of the servants,
+who all assure me of their entire ignorance of the matter, and I cannot
+think that any of my guests would assume the person of the traditional
+ghost for no other purpose than to frighten the housekeeper and two or
+three servants. I'm by no means superstitious, but I do not see how I
+can trace it to human origin."
+
+"I cannot see why any guest should assume the person of the traditional
+ghost, but some men have deep designing minds. They are like clever
+draught-players; they see half-a-dozen moves ahead, and so do that which
+to a novice appears meaningless and absurd."
+
+Then I heard another voice, one that caused my heart to beat wildly. It
+was Gertrude Forrest's. "Mr. Kaffar says he can guess who the person is
+who has personated this ghost," she said; "I think it fair to every
+guest that he should speak out."
+
+"I would not like to say," he said insultingly; "perchance I should
+wound _your_ tender feelings too deeply."
+
+"Mr. Kaffar will remember he's speaking to a lady, I'm sure," said Tom
+Temple.
+
+"Pardon me," said Kaffar, excitedly; "I forgot I was in England, where
+men are the slaves of the ladies. With us it is different. We speak and
+they obey. I forgot I was not in Egypt. I have done very wrong. I
+implore the lady's pardon."
+
+"I see no meaning in your words," said Miss Forrest, quietly, "therefore
+I see nothing to forgive."
+
+"Ah, I live again. A heavy load is gone from my heart! I have not
+merited the lady's displeasure."
+
+"Still I think it right, if you have grounds for suspecting any one,
+that we should know," said a voice; "otherwise some one may be wrongly
+accused."
+
+"Do not ask me," said Kaffar. "Ask Mr. Blake."
+
+Instantly all eyes were turned on me, and, do as I might, I could not
+help an uncomfortable flush rising in my face. "I do not know what Mr.
+Kaffar means," I replied. "I am as ignorant as to the origin of the
+ghost as he is, perhaps more so."
+
+Instantly Kaffar leapt from his chair, and came up to me, his hands
+clenched, his black eyes gleaming, his teeth set together as if in a
+terrible rage.
+
+"You are a liar and a villain!" he screamed.
+
+"Ah, remember this morning. I accused him, gentlemen, of being connected
+with this ghost only to-day, and he flushed guiltily and was silent. He
+looked like a Judas who betrayed his master."
+
+"Quietly, please," I replied. "You did come to me this morning with some
+foolish jargon about my being connected with last night's affair, but I
+was so surprised by the absurdity and foolishness of such a thing, that
+I could not answer you before you ran away."
+
+"You hear?" shrieked the Egyptian. "So surprised, was he? If he was, it
+was because I had found him out."
+
+"This man is mad," I said. "Surely he ought to be shut up."
+
+"Mad, am I?" he shrieked. "Yes, and you are a liar, a coward, a villain!
+You are engaged in a fiendish plot; you are deceiving an innocent lady.
+Ah, I spurn you, spit upon you."
+
+"Mr. Kaffar," said Tom Temple, "really this cannot be allowed. You must
+remember you are among gentlemen and ladies. Please act accordingly."
+
+"Ladies there are, gentlemen there are," shrieked the Egyptian; "but
+he"--pointing at me--"is no gentleman. He is at once a viper, a villain,
+and a coward. I leave this house; I renounce pleasant society; I leave
+this country--for ever; but before I go I would like to fight hand to
+hand with that giant, who--Ha!" He stood close to me and spat at me.
+"There!" he cried, and then he struck me in the face with all his
+strength.
+
+Instantly I leapt to my feet. This insult was too great. I could
+scarcely restrain from striking him to the ground. I mastered myself,
+however, and so did not touch him.
+
+"I leave this house," he said wildly. "Herod, send on my baggage to
+Cairo. But"--turning to me--"you I challenge--you, with your big body
+and trained arms! But, bah! you dar'n't fight. You are a mooning
+coward."
+
+He rushed out of the room as he spoke, and a minute later I heard the
+hall door slammed with vehemence.
+
+At that moment I became possessed of a terrible passion. I seemed to be
+mad. I longed to avenge the insults that had been offered. I looked
+around the room, and all seemed astounded at the behaviour of the
+Egyptian, save Voltaire, who was apologizing in profuse terms for his
+friend. As I looked at his terrible eyes, my passion became greater, and
+I felt I could not govern myself if I stayed in the room. I think some
+one came up to me, and congratulated me on my coolness in dealing with
+the man who had insulted me so; but I did not listen--I could not. An
+overmastering impulse laid hold of me to follow the Egyptian, and I
+dimly remember going into the hall and out into the silent night.
+
+I knew the probability was that I should be followed, but I did not know
+where to go, when I seemed to hear voices all around me uttering the
+words "Drearwater Pond!" With that I started running with all my might,
+knowing not where, yet dimly remembering that I had gone the road
+before. Then all memory and consciousness ceased.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+DARK DREAMS AND NIGHT SHADOWS
+
+
+I suppose I must have gone on blindly for some time, for when I again
+became conscious I stood beside a river, while tall trees waved their
+leafless branches overhead. Strange noises filled the air. Sometimes
+wailing sounds were wafted to me, which presently changed into hisses,
+until it seemed as if a thousand serpents were creeping all around me.
+The waters of the river looked black, while above me were weird,
+fantastic forms leaping in the stillness of the night. No words were
+spoken, no language was uttered, save that of wailing and hissing, and
+that somehow was indistinct, as if it existed in fancy and not in
+reality. By and by, however, I heard a voice.
+
+"Onward!" it said, and I became unconscious.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Again I realized my existence in a vague shadowy way. I stood beneath
+the ruined walls of an Eastern temple. Huge columns arose in the air,
+surmounted by colossal architraves, while the ponderous stones of which
+the temple was built were covered with lichen. Large grey lizards
+crawled in and out among the crevices of the rocks, and seemed to laugh
+as they sported amidst what was once the expression of a great religious
+system, but which was now terrible in its weird desolation. By and by
+the great building seemed to assume its original shape and became
+inhabited by white-robed priests, who ministered to the people who came
+to worship. I watched eagerly, but they faded away, leaving nothing save
+the feeling that a terrible presence filled the place. I heard a noise
+behind; I turned and saw Kaffar, his black eyes shining, while in his
+hand he held a gleaming knife. He lifted it above his head as if to
+strike; but I had the strength of ten men, and I hurled him from me. He
+looked at me with a savage leer.
+
+"Onward!" said a distant voice.
+
+The temple vanished, and with it all my realization of life, save a
+vague fancy that I was moving somewhere, I knew not where.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I stood by a well-remembered spot. I was by the side of Drearwater Pond.
+Around me was a stretch of common land, on which grew heather and
+furze. In front of me were noiseless waters, a dismal sight at the best
+of times, but awful as I saw them. Across the pond in the near distance
+loomed the dark fir trees. No sound broke the stillness of the night.
+The wind had gone to rest, the moon shone dimly from behind the misty
+clouds.
+
+I stood alone.
+
+Each minute my surroundings became more real. I recognized more clearly
+the objects which had struck me during my first visit, while the stories
+which had been told came back to me with terrible distinctness. I
+remembered how it had been said that the pond had no bottom, and that it
+was haunted by the spirits of those that had been murdered. The story of
+its evil influence came back to me, and in my bewildered condition I
+wondered whether there was not some truth in what had been said.
+
+What was that?
+
+The waters moved; distinctly moved near to where I stood, and from their
+dark depths something appeared--I could not at first tell what.
+
+What could it be? A monster of frightful mien? the ghost of some
+murdered man or woman? I could have believed in either just then. It was
+neither.
+
+What then? A human hand, large and shapely, appeared distinctly on the
+surface of the pond. Nothing more, not even the wrist to which it might
+be attached. It did not beckon, or indeed move at all; it was as still
+as the hand of death.
+
+I stood motionless and watched, while the outline of the hand became
+more clear; then I gave an awful shudder.
+
+_The hand was red._
+
+I gave a shriek, and for a time remembered nothing more.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I awoke to consciousness, fighting. At first it seemed as if I was
+fighting with a phantom, but gradually my opponent became more real to
+me. It was Kaffar.
+
+I had only a dim hazy idea of what I was doing, except that I sought to
+wrest from his hand a knife. We clutched each other savagely, and
+wrestled there on the edge of the pond. Weights seemed to hang upon my
+limbs, but I felt the stronger of the two. Gradually I knew I was
+mastering him--then all was blank.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A sound of voices. A flash of light. A feeling of freedom, and I was
+awake!
+
+Where?
+
+Still by Drearwater Pond. No phantoms, no shadow, nothing unreal, save
+the memory of that which I have but dimly described. That was but as a
+terrible nightmare--an awful dream.
+
+Where was Kaffar?
+
+I could not tell. Certainly he was not near; but two other forms stood
+by me, one bearing a lantern.
+
+"Is it you, Justin?" said a voice.
+
+"It is I, Tom," I said, looking vacantly around.
+
+"And where is Kaffar?" said another voice, which I recognized as
+Voltaire's.
+
+"Kaffar? I--I do not know."
+
+"But you have been together."
+
+"Have we?" I said vacantly.
+
+"You know you have. What is that in your hand?"
+
+I had scarcely known what I had been saying or doing up to this time,
+but as he spoke I looked at my hand.
+
+In the light of the moon I saw a knife red with blood, and my hand, too,
+was also discoloured.
+
+"What does this mean?" cried Voltaire.
+
+"I do not know. I am dazed--bewildered."
+
+"But that is Kaffar's knife. I know he had it this very evening. Where
+is Kaffar now?"
+
+"Is it true?" I remember saying. "Have we been together?" "That's his
+knife, at any rate. And what is this?"
+
+Voltaire picked up something from the ground and looked at it.
+"Kaffar's," he said. "Look, Mr. Blake; do you recognize this?"
+
+I looked and saw a finely-worked neckcloth, on which was written in
+Arabic characters the words "Aba Wady Kaffar." It had every appearance
+of being soiled by severe wrenching, and on it were spots of blood.
+
+My faculties were rapidly returning to me, yet I stood as one in a
+dream.
+
+"You say, Mr. Justin Blake, that you do not know where Kaffar is, yet
+you hold in your hand his knife, which is red with blood. Here is his
+scarf, which has evidently been strained, and on it are spots of blood,
+while all around are marks indicating a struggle. I say you do know what
+this means, and you must tell us."
+
+I reeled under this terrible shock. What had I done? Could it be that I
+had murdered this man? Had I? Had I?
+
+"I do not know what it means," I said. "I think I am ill."
+
+"Men usually are when they have done what you have," he said.
+
+"Why, what have I done?" I said, in a dazed kind of a way. "Done!" he
+repeated. "You know best about that, in spite of the part you play.
+Nevertheless, Kaffar has not gone without leaving a friend behind him,
+and you will have to show how you came by that"--pointing to the knife,
+which I had dropped with a shudder; "this"--holding up the neckcloth;
+"you must explain these marks"--pointing to footmarks near the water's
+edge; "besides which, you will have to produce my friend."
+
+A terrible thought flashed into my mind. I had again been acting under
+the influence of this man's power. By some means he had made me the
+slave of his will, and I had unknowingly killed Kaffar, and he, like the
+fiend he was, had come to sweep me out of his road. Perchance, too,
+Kaffar's death might serve him in good stead. Undoubtedly the Egyptian
+knew too much for Voltaire, and so I was made a tool whereby he could be
+freed from troublesome obstacles. The idea maddened me. I would proclaim
+the story to every one. If I were hanged I cared not. I opened my mouth
+to tell Tom the whole truth, but I could not utter a word. My tongue
+refused to articulate; my power of speech left me.
+
+My position was too terrible. My overwrought nerves yielded at last. I
+felt my head whirling around, while streams of icy water seemed to be
+running down my legs. Then I fell down at Tom Temple's feet.
+
+For some time after that I remembered nothing distinctly. I have some
+idea of stumbling along, with Tom on one side of me and Voltaire on the
+other, but no word was spoken until we came to Temple Hall. Then I heard
+Tom say--
+
+"He's better now. You go into the drawing-room as if nothing had
+happened, and I'll take him quietly up-stairs to bed."
+
+I entered the silent house like one in a dream, and went with Tom to my
+bedroom, where I undressed like a weary child, and soon sunk into a deep
+dreamless sleep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+A MIDNIGHT CONFERENCE
+
+
+Some one was knocking at the door.
+
+"Who's there?"
+
+"Tom Temple."
+
+I sprang out of bed and let him in. He looked very grave, very worried.
+Instantly everything flashed through my mind in relation to our terrible
+meeting of the night before.
+
+"It's nine o'clock, Justin."
+
+"Yes, Tom, I suppose it must be," I said confusedly; "but I have only
+just awoke."
+
+"I thought I must come; I want to talk with you."
+
+"Thank you, Tom; I am glad you have come."
+
+"How are you this morning? Is your mind clear?"
+
+"Fairly. Why?"
+
+"I must have some conversation with you about last night. Everything is
+confusion. I can explain nothing."
+
+"Neither can I."
+
+He looked at me keenly and sighed. "Were you with Kaffar last night
+after he had so abominably insulted you and left the house?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"Do you know where he is now?"
+
+"No."
+
+"No idea whatever?"
+
+"Not the slightest."
+
+"Justin, my friend, this looks very strange. Everything is terribly
+black, terribly suspicious."
+
+I tried to tell him all I knew; tried to tell him of my mad passion, and
+the scenes through which I seemed to go; but I could not. My mind
+refused to think, my tongue refused to speak, when that was the subject.
+
+"I suppose Voltaire has told every one the circumstances of last night?"
+I said at length.
+
+"No."
+
+"No one?"
+
+"No one that will divulge anything. Every one else thinks that Kaffar
+has gone back to Egypt, as he said, and especially so as Voltaire has
+been making arrangements for his luggage to be sent to Cairo."
+
+"This is astounding. I do not comprehend in the least; but, tell me,
+who is this some one to whom you or he has related last night's affair,
+and why was it done?"
+
+"I do not know whether I ought to tell or no, but you are an old friend,
+and I cannot refuse. After I had come down from here last night, and
+fancying that every one had retired, for it was quite midnight, I,
+knowing I was too excited to sleep, made my way to the library. I had
+just reached the door when I heard voices. I wondered who could be up at
+that time of the night, but was not left to remain long in doubt."
+
+"'Mr. Voltaire,' said a voice, 'you have been out looking for Mr. Blake;
+have you found him?'"
+
+"'Mr. Blake is safe in bed before this, Miss Forrest--probably asleep,'
+was his reply."
+
+"Miss Forrest!" I cried. "Did she go to him?"
+
+"Evidently," replied Tom. "Indeed, I found out afterwards that she had
+been very anxious. She had seen you go out, and watched Voltaire and me,
+who went in search of you, and would not retire until she knew your
+whereabouts."
+
+"Well, what then?"
+
+"I went into the room. I could not stand and play the eavesdropper. Miss
+Forrest seemed very glad to see me, and said eagerly--
+
+"'I came down to ask whether you had found Mr. Blake. I am glad he is
+safe.'
+
+"'And he must remain safe!' cried Voltaire.
+
+"'Why?' asked Miss Forrest.
+
+"'Miss Forrest,' cried Voltaire, vehemently, 'you have been deprived of
+your rest to-night in order to know about one who is guilty of what you
+English people call a foul crime, but which I call a deed that must be
+avenged.'
+
+"'I do not understand you.'
+
+"'Ah! Miss Forrest, we Easterns are not like you English people. You are
+cool and considerate; we are warm and impulsive. Kaffar was not one that
+could be loved by you cold people; but I loved him. We were more than
+brothers. I know he was faulty, I know he dared the anger of your
+English giant, but I did not think it would come to this.'
+
+"'Come to what?' she asked eagerly.
+
+"'Voltaire,' I said, 'is this quite fair?'
+
+"'No, no!' he cried; 'but I am so excited that I can scarcely master
+myself. I will say no more.'
+
+"'Come to what?' repeated Miss Forrest.
+
+"'I will not say,' replied Voltaire. 'I will not wound your tender
+nature; I will not tell you a tale of villainy; I will not cause a
+ripple on the even stream of your life. Retire to rest, sweet lady, and
+think that what I have said is a dream.'
+
+"'Villainy!' cried she. 'Tell me what it is. Yes, there is villainy, I
+think. I will be answered! Tell me the truth!'
+
+"Even Voltaire was cowed by her words. He stood and looked at her for a
+minute as if in doubt what to do. Then he burst out passionately--
+
+"'Yes, I will answer you. I will tell you now what all the world must
+know to-morrow. I had hoped to spare your feelings, but the tone of your
+demand makes me speak.'
+
+"'He has no proof for what he is going to say,' I said.
+
+"'Proof!' cried Voltaire. 'There is sufficient proof for an English court
+of law, and that law is terribly hard on murderers.'
+
+"'Murderers!' cried Miss Forrest. 'What do you mean?'
+
+"'This!' cried Voltaire. 'You saw Kaffar challenge Mr. Blake in the
+drawing-room?'
+
+"'I saw him insult Mr. Blake. I saw that Mr. Blake refrained from
+crushing him beneath his heel like a reptile. I saw that!' she cried
+excitedly.
+
+"'Just so,' said Voltaire. 'Then Kaffar went out, and Mr. Blake went
+after him.'
+
+"'After him! Where?'
+
+"'Mr. Temple and I did not like the look on his face, and we followed
+him. I traced his footsteps along the high-road for a long while, and
+then we lost sight of them. We knew not where to go, when Mr. Temple
+thought he heard voices away in the distance. We went in the direction
+of the sound, and came to Drearwater Pond.'
+
+"'Drearwater Pond? That terrible place to which we rode the other day?'
+
+"'The same, gentle lady.'
+
+"'And then?'
+
+"'When we came there we found Mr. Blake in a reclining position, with a
+bloody knife in his hand. I recognized it as belonging to Kaffar. I saw
+something lying on the ground, and, on picking it up, found it to be a
+scarf which Kaffar had been wearing this very night. It was twisted and
+soiled, and on it were spots of blood. Footmarks were to be seen on the
+edge of the deep pond, indicating a struggle; but Kaffar was nowhere to
+be seen.'
+
+"'It cannot be! It cannot be!' said Miss Forrest. 'But what then?'
+
+"'I asked Mr. Blake questions. I accused him of many things, but he
+denied nothing.'
+
+"'Denied nothing?'
+
+"'Nothing, Miss Forrest. He tacitly admitted everything. I wish I could
+think otherwise; but oh, I am afraid my friend, my only friend, lies
+murdered at the bottom of Drearwater Pond, and murdered by Mr. Blake.'
+
+"'It cannot be!' cried Miss Forrest. 'Mr. Blake could never, _never_ do
+so. There is some mistake.'
+
+"He took something from his pocket which was wrapped in a handkerchief.
+He removed this wrapping, and there revealed the knife you held in your
+hand.
+
+"'This blood cries out for vengeance,' he said; 'ay, and it shall be
+avenged too.'
+
+"She gave a scream as if in pain. 'Why, what will you do?' she cried.
+
+"'Were I in Egypt, my vengeance would be speedy,' he said, his light eyes
+glittering; 'but I am debarred from that here. Still, there is a means
+of vengeance. Your English law is stern. To-morrow the whole country
+shall shudder because of this dark deed, and to-morrow night that man,
+Justin Blake, shall sleep in a felon's cell'
+
+"'No, no!' she cried. 'Not that. Have mercy.'
+
+"'Yes, yes!' he said, his voice husky with passion. 'What mercy did he
+have upon my friend? I will have vengeance, and my vengeance is just.'"
+
+Try as I might, I could not help shuddering at this. A felon's cell! My
+name mentioned with loathing! 'Twas too horrible. I tried to conquer
+myself, however, and to tell Tom to go on with his recital. He
+continued--
+
+"'Does any one know of these things besides you two?' she said at length.
+
+"'No,' replied Voltaire. 'No one has had a chance of knowing.'"
+
+Tom stopped in his recital, as if he would rather not tell what
+followed.
+
+"What next, Tom?" I cried eagerly.
+
+"I am thinking whether it is fair to her to tell you, and yet it is
+right you should know."
+
+"What was it, Tom?"
+
+She threw herself down on her knees before us, and besought us to keep
+the matter in our own hearts.
+
+"'It is not true!' she cried; 'Mr. Blake would never do such a thing.
+There is some mistake. Promise me no word shall be uttered as to this.
+Mr. Kaffar has left, as he said, and gone back to Egypt. Why, then,
+should such a terrible suspicion be aroused? I will answer for Mr.
+Blake's innocence.'
+
+"'You answer, Miss Forrest?' cried Voltaire. 'Nay, you cannot. I would I
+could be merciful, but it must not be. My friend's spirit would haunt
+me from town to town and land to land.'
+
+"'Mr. Temple,' she cried to me, 'you will not tell, will you? You will
+not spread such a deceptive story about?'
+
+"'No,' I replied, 'I will not. Like you, I think there must be a mistake.
+My friend Justin could never do this.'
+
+"'There,' she cried to Voltaire; 'there's only you to be silent. Do it
+for my sake!'"
+
+I could not help feeling a great throb of joy in my heart at this. I was
+sure now that she loved me. I could bear anything after hearing those
+words. I was happy in spite of the terrible net that was woven around
+me.
+
+"'For your sake,' said Voltaire--'for your sake I could do almost
+anything. For your sake I could give up home, friends, happiness, life.
+Yes, I say this, here, in the presence of my friend Temple. I could
+forego anything for you. I would sacrifice father and mother for you.'"
+
+I gave a great start.
+
+"Justin, that man trembled like a leaf. His face became ashy pale; his
+terrible eyes became brighter than ever.
+
+"'You ask me much,' he continued. 'You ask me to give up what is now the
+dearest object of my life--except one. But, ah! I am an Eastern. I am
+selfish; I cannot sacrifice disinterestedly. There is only one thing for
+which I can give up my scheme of vengeance.'
+
+"'Tell me what it is,' she cried.
+
+"'Ah, sweet lady, I dare not tell; and yet I must. It is you. Be my wife,
+Miss Forrest; let me call you by your name, and I will wipe the blood
+from this knife, I will destroy every evidence of the dark deed. Justin
+Blake shall not lie in a prison cell; his name shall not be a synonym
+for devilry; he shall not be mentioned with loathing.'"
+
+"And what then?" I cried. "What was her answer?"
+
+"Man, she looked at him with loathing, but he did not see it.
+
+"'Be your wife?' she said.
+
+"'My wife, Miss Forrest,' he replied. 'Love cannot be greater than mine.
+I love the very ground on which you walk. Be my wife and I will be your
+slave. Your every desire shall be granted, and I will give up that which
+is dear to me.'
+
+"'And if I will not?' she said.
+
+"'Ah, if you will not! Then--ah, I am an Eastern, and cannot give up
+everything. If I cannot have love, I must have vengeance.'
+
+"'But you have made a mistake. Your friend is alive. It is absurd to
+think that Mr. Blake is guilty of such a deed.'
+
+"He pointed with a trembling hand to the bloody knife.
+
+"'I can have no stronger proof than that,' he said, 'and that blood cries
+out for vengeance now.'
+
+"'Oh, I cannot,' she said, 'I cannot.'
+
+"'You refuse me?' he said quietly.
+
+"'I must, I must,' she cried. 'It cannot be!'
+
+"He went to the writing-desk that stood near by, and commenced writing.
+'If a poor Eastern cannot have love, he can still have vengeance,' he
+said.
+
+"'What are you writing?' she cried.
+
+"'I am writing a letter to the superintendent of the nearest police
+station, telling him to come with some men to Temple Hall to arrest a
+murderer.'
+
+"'Have you no mercy?' she said.
+
+"'Mercy, lady. Only the Great Spirit above knows what I had made up my
+mind to give up, when I told you the condition on which I would be
+silent. I loved my friend as Jonathan loved David, and he is
+dead--murdered by an enemy's hand. Vengeance is one of the sweetest
+thoughts to an Eastern, and I meant to be avenged. You begged for his
+life, and I offered it--for your love. I asked you to marry me--me, who
+would give up everything for you; but you refused. I grieve for you,
+lady; but since I cannot have love, I must have revenge.'
+
+"He went on writing, while Miss Forrest clasped her hands as if in
+prayer.
+
+"I am relating this very badly, Justin. I cannot remember many of the
+things that were said; I cannot call to mind all the gestures, the tones
+of voice, or the awful anguish which seemed to possess them both. I can
+only give you a scrappy account of what passed."
+
+I remembered Tom's powers of memory, however, for which he had always
+been remarkable at school, and I knew that the account he gave me was
+not far from correct, and I begged him to go on.
+
+"At length she turned to him again," continued Tom. "'I am going to
+show,' she said, 'that I believe Mr. Blake innocent. You asked me for
+love; that I cannot give you. I do not love you, I never shall love you;
+but such is my belief in Mr. Blake's innocence that I promise you this:
+if he is not proved to be guiltless within a year, I will marry you.'
+
+"He leapt to his feet, as if to embrace her.
+
+"'No,' she said; 'you have not heard all my conditions. Within that year
+you are not to see me or communicate with me.'
+
+"'But,' he cried, 'if Kaffar is dead, if these terrible evidences of
+murder are real, then in a year--say next Christmas Eve; 'twas on
+Christmas Eve we first met in England--then you will promise to be my
+wife?'
+
+"'I promise.'
+
+"'And your promise shall be irrevocable?'
+
+"She turned on him with scorn. 'The promise of a lady is ever
+irrevocable,' she said.
+
+"'Ah!' cried Voltaire, 'love is a stronger passion than vengeance, and my
+love will win yours.'
+
+"'Meanwhile,' she went on without noticing this rhapsody, 'if you breathe
+one word or utter one sound by which suspicion can fall on Mr. Blake, my
+promise is forfeited; if you stay here after to-morrow, or attempt to
+see me within this and next Christmas Eve, my promise is also
+forfeited.'
+
+"'What, am I to leave you at once?'
+
+"'At once.'
+
+"He left the room immediately after," said Tom, "while, after saying
+'Good-night' to me, she too retired to her bedroom."
+
+To say that I was astonished at the turn things had taken would not give
+the slightest idea of my feelings. And yet a great joy filled my heart.
+The sword of Damocles, which seemed to hang over my head, possessed no
+terror.
+
+"Is that all, Tom?" I said at length.
+
+"This morning, as I told you, he arranged for Kaffar's luggage to be
+sent to Egypt, while he himself is preparing to depart."
+
+"Where is he going?"
+
+"To London."
+
+"And Miss Forrest?"
+
+"She, I hope, will stay with us for some time. But, Justin, can you
+really give no explanation of these things? Surely you must be able to?"
+
+"I cannot, Tom. I am hedged in on every side. I'm enslaved, and I cannot
+tell you how. My life is a mystery, and at times a terror."
+
+"But do you know what has become of Kaffar?"
+
+"No more than that dog barking in the yard. All is dark to me."
+
+Tom left me then, while I, with my poor tired brain, tried to think what
+to do.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+A MESMERIST'S SPELL
+
+
+I found on entering the breakfast-room that my presence caused no
+surprise, neither did any of the guests regard me suspiciously. It had
+gone abroad that I had gone out to find Kaffar, but was unable to do so;
+and as Voltaire had publicly spoken of Kaffar's luggage being sent to
+Cairo, there was, to them, no mystery regarding him.
+
+Several spoke of his going away as being a good riddance, and declared
+him to be unfit for respectable society; but I did not answer them, and
+after a while the subject dropped.
+
+Voltaire, however, was not in the room; and when, after having
+breakfasted, I was wondering where he was, I felt the old terrible
+sensation come over me. I tried to resist the influence that was drawing
+me out of the room, but I could not. I put on my overcoat and hat, and,
+drawn on by an unseen power, I went away towards the fir plantation in
+which the summer-house was built.
+
+As I knew I should, I found Voltaire there. He smiled on me and lifted
+his hat politely. "I thought I would allow you to have a good breakfast
+before summoning you," he said, "especially as this is the last
+conversation we shall have for some time."
+
+I thought I detected a look of triumph in his eyes, yet I was sure he
+regarded me with intense hatred.
+
+"Yes," I said, "I am come. What is your will now?"
+
+"This. I find that Mr. Temple has told you about an interview which was
+held in the library last night."
+
+"Yes; it is true."
+
+"Do you know of what you are in danger?"
+
+"No--what?"
+
+"Hanging."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"For murdering Kaffar."
+
+"Did I kill him? I remember nothing. What was done was not because of
+me, but because of the demon that caused me blindly to act."
+
+"Names are cheap, my man, and I don't mind. Claptrap morality is
+nothing to me. Yes, you killed Kaffar--killed him with that knife you
+held in your hand. I meant that you should. Kaffar was getting
+troublesome to me, and I wanted to get him out of the way. To use you as
+I did was killing two birds with one stone. You know that Miss Forrest
+has promised to marry me if Kaffar be not forthcoming by next Christmas
+Eve. That, of course, can never be, so my beautiful bride is safe;" and
+he looked at me with a savage leer.
+
+"Have you brought me here to tell me that?"
+
+"No; but to tell you a little good news. I have decided to hold you as
+the slave to my will until the day Miss Gertrude Forrest becomes Mrs.
+Herod Voltaire, and then to set you free. Meanwhile, I want to give you
+a few instructions."
+
+"What are they?"
+
+"You are not to take one step in trying to prove that Kaffar is alive."
+
+"Ah!" I cried; "you fear I might produce him. Then I have not killed
+him, even through you. Thank God! thank God!"
+
+"Stop your pious exclamations," he said. "No, you are wrong. You did
+kill Kaffar, and he lies at the bottom of yonder ghostly pool; so that
+is not the reason. Why I do not wish you to search for him is that
+thereby you might find out things about me that I do not wish you to
+do. In such a life as mine there are naturally things that I do not wish
+known. In going to my old haunts, trying to unearth Kaffar, you would
+learn something about them. And so I command you," he continued, in a
+hoarse tone that made me shudder, "that you do not move one step in that
+direction. If you do--well, you know my power."
+
+From that moment I felt more enslaved than ever. I shuddered at the
+thought of disobeying him; I felt more than ever a lost man. As I felt
+at that moment, in spite of my desire to let every one know this man's
+power over me, I would rather have pulled out my tongue than have done
+so.
+
+"Are those all your commands?" I said humbly.
+
+"Ah! you are cowed at last, are you?" he said mockingly. "You matched
+your strength with mine; now you know what it means. You did not think I
+could crush you like a grasshopper, did you? Yes, I have one other
+command for you. You must go to London to-morrow, and go on with your
+old work. You must not hold any communication with Miss Forrest, my
+affianced bride. I myself am going to London to-day, and most likely
+shall remain there for a while. Perhaps I shall want to see you
+occasionally. If I do, you will quickly know. I shall have no need to
+tell you my address;" and he laughed a savage laugh.
+
+"Is that all?" I said.
+
+"That is all. You will come to the wedding, Mr. Blake. You shall see her
+arrayed for her husband, dressed all in white, as a bride should be. You
+shall see her lips touch mine. You shall see us go away together--the
+woman you love, and the man who has crushed you as if you were a worm."
+
+This maddened me. By a tremendous effort of will I was free. "That shall
+never be. Somehow, some way, I will thwart you," I cried. "I will free
+myself from you; I will snap your cruel chain asunder."
+
+"I defy you!" he said. "You can do nothing that I have commanded you not
+to do. For the rest I care not a jot."
+
+He went away, leaving me alone, and then all the sensations of the
+previous nights came back to me. I remembered what the ghost was
+supposed to foretell, and the evil influence the dark pond was said to
+have. I saw again the large red hand on the water's surface. I recalled
+dimly the struggle, the fighting, the strange feeling I had as my senses
+began to leave me. Could I have killed him? If I did, I was guiltless
+of crime. It was not my heart that conceived the thought; it was not I
+who really did the deed. I had no pangs of conscience, no feeling of
+remorse, and yet the thought that I had hurried a man into eternity was
+horrible.
+
+I wandered in the plantation for hours, brooding, thinking, despairing.
+No pen can describe what I felt, no words can convey to the mind the
+thoughts and pains of my mind and heart. Never did I love Miss Forrest
+so much, never was Voltaire's villainy so real; and yet I was to lose
+her, and that man--a fiend in human form--was to wed her. I could do
+nothing. He had paralyzed my energies. He had set a command before me
+which was as ghastly as hell, and yet I dared not disobey. I, a young,
+strong man, was a slave--a slave of the worst kind. I was the plaything,
+the tool of a villain. I had to do as he told me; I had to refrain from
+doing what he told me I was not to do. I had done I knew not what.
+Perchance a hangman's rope was hanging near me even now. I could not
+tell. And yet I dared not rise from my chains, and see whether the
+things I had been accused of doing were true.
+
+I went back to the house. Voltaire was gone, while the guests and family
+were having their lunch. I felt that I could not join them, so I went
+into the library. I had not been there ten minutes when Miss Forrest
+entered. She looked pale and worried. I suppose that I, too, must have
+been haggard, for she started when she saw me. She hesitated a moment,
+and then spoke.
+
+"The whole party are going for a ride this afternoon. They have just
+been making arrangements. They are going to ask you to join them. Shall
+you go?" she asked.
+
+"No; I shall not go," I replied.
+
+"Will you come here at three o'clock?"
+
+"Yes," I said, wondering what she meant; but I had not time to ask her,
+for two young men came into the room.
+
+I went to my room and tried to think, but I could not. My mind refused
+to work. I watched the party ride away--it was comparatively small now,
+for several had returned to their homes--and then I found my way to the
+library.
+
+I sat for a while in silence, scarcely conscious of my surroundings; and
+then I wondered how long Miss Forrest would be before she came, and what
+she would tell me. The clock on the mantelpiece began to strike three;
+it had not finished when she entered the room.
+
+I placed a chair for her beside my own, which she accepted without a
+word.
+
+For a minute neither of us spoke; then she said abruptly, "You told me
+you loved me when we rode out together the other day."
+
+"I did," I said, "and I do love you with all the intensity that a human
+heart is capable of loving; but it is hopeless now."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"You have promised to marry another man."
+
+"What do you know of this?"
+
+Both of us were very excited. We were moved to talk in an unconventional
+strain.
+
+"Mr. Temple told me of your interview together last night."
+
+A slight flush came to her face. "But Mr. Temple has told you the
+condition of the promise as well," she said.
+
+"Yes; but that condition makes me hopeless."
+
+"What!" she cried. "But no, I will not entertain such a thought. You are
+as innocent as I am."
+
+"Yes, I am innocent in thought, in intent, and in heart; but as for the
+deed itself, I know not."
+
+"I do not understand you," she said; "you speak in words that convey no
+meaning to my mind. Will you explain?"
+
+"I cannot, Miss Forrest. I would give all I possess if I could. I have
+nothing that I would keep secret from you, and yet I cannot tell you
+that which you would know."
+
+Did she understand me? Did her quick mind guess my condition? I could
+not tell, and yet a strange look of intelligence flashed from her eyes.
+
+"Mr. Blake," she said, "my soul loathes the thought of marrying that
+man. If ever my promise has to be fulfilled, I shall die the very day on
+which he calls me wife."
+
+My heart gave a great throb of joy; her every word gave me hope in spite
+of myself.
+
+"Mr. Blake," she continued, "I never must marry him."
+
+"God grant you may not," I said.
+
+"I must not," she said, "and you must keep me from danger."
+
+"I, Miss Forrest! I would give the world if I could: but how can I? You
+do not know the terrible slavery that binds me, neither can I tell you."
+
+"I shall trust in you to deliver me from this man," she went on without
+heeding me. "You must prove yourself to be innocent."
+
+"To do that I must bring this man Kaffar. I know nothing of him. I could
+never find him. Oh, I tell you, Miss Forrest, a thousand evil powers
+seem to rend me when I attempt to do what I long for."
+
+"I shall trust in you," she cried. "Surely you are sufficiently
+interested in me to save me from a man like Voltaire?"
+
+"Interested?" I cried. "I would die for you, I love you so. And yet I
+can do nothing."
+
+"You can do something; you can do everything. You can save me from him."
+
+"Oh," I cried, "I know I must appear a pitiful coward to you. It is for
+me you have placed yourself in this position, while I refuse to try to
+liberate you from it. If I only could; if I dared! But I am chained on
+every hand."
+
+"But you are going to break those chains; you are going to be free; you
+are going to be happy."
+
+Her words nerved me. The impossible seemed possible, and yet everything
+was misty.
+
+"Only one thing can make me happy," I said, "and that can never be now.
+I have lost my strength; I am become a pitiful coward."
+
+"You are going to be happy!" she repeated.
+
+"Miss Forrest," I said, "do not mock me. My life for days has been a
+hell. I have had a terrible existence; no light shines in the sky. You
+cannot think what your words mean to me, or you would not speak them."
+
+"Will you not, for my sake, if not for your own, exert yourself? Will
+you not think of my happiness a little? The thought of marrying that
+man is madness."
+
+"Miss Forrest," I cried, "you must think I have lost all manhood, all
+self-respect, when you hear what I say; but the only thing that could
+make me think of trying to do what is ten thousand times my duty to do,
+is that you will give me some hope that, if I should succeed, you will
+be the wife of such a poor thing as I am."
+
+She looked at me intently. She was very pale, and her eyes shone like
+stars. Beautiful she looked beyond compare, and so grand, so noble. She
+was tied down to no conventionalities; whither her pure true heart led
+her, she followed.
+
+"If you succeed," she said, "I will be your wife."
+
+"But not simply from a feeling of pity?" I cried. "I could not let you
+do that. I have manliness enough for that even yet."
+
+"No," she said proudly, "but because you are the only man I ever did or
+can love."
+
+For a minute I forgot my woes, my pains. No ghastly deed taunted me with
+its memory, no dark cloud hung in the skies. I felt my Gertrude's lips
+against mine; I felt that her life was given to me. I was no longer
+alone and desolate; a pure, beautiful woman had trusted me so fully, so
+truly, that hope dawned in my sky, and earth was heaven.
+
+"Now, Justin," she said, after a few minutes of happy silence, "you must
+away. Every hour may be precious. God knows how gladly I would be with
+you, but it must not be. But remember, my hope lies in you, and my love
+is given to you. God bless you!"
+
+She went away then and left me; while I, without knowing why, prepared
+to start for London.
+
+I had a great work to do. I had, if I was to win Gertrude for my wife,
+to break and crush Voltaire's power over me. I had to find Kaffar, if he
+was to be found, and that to me was an awful uncertainty, and I had to
+bring him to Gertrude before the next Christmas Eve.
+
+Away from her the skies were dark again, great heavy weights rested on
+my heart, and my life seemed clogged. Still her love had nerved me to do
+what I otherwise could never have done. It had nerved me to try; and so,
+with her warm kiss burning on my lips, I hurried off to the great
+metropolis without any definite idea why I was going.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+GOD
+
+
+For the next three months I was an atheist! These are easy words to
+write, but terrible to realize. No one but those who know can tell the
+terror of a man who has given up belief in an Eternal Goodness, in a
+living God that cares for man.
+
+I left Yorkshire with some little hope in my heart--the memory of
+Gertrude's words was with me, cheering me during the long ride; but when
+once alone in my rooms, nothing but a feeling of utter desolation
+possessed my heart. The terrible night on the Yorkshire moors came back
+again, the dark forbidding waters, the ghastly red hand, the gleaming
+knife, the struggle--all were real. Did I kill him? I did not know.
+Possibly I was a murderer in act, if not in thought. I could not bear to
+think of it. Who can bear to think of having taken away a
+fellow-creature's life? And he might be lying in Drearwater Pond even
+then!
+
+Then there was the terrible spell that this man had cast upon me. I felt
+it clinging to every fibre of my being. I was not living a true life; I
+was living a dual life. A power extraneous to myself, and yet possessing
+me, made me a mere machine. As the days and weeks passed away things
+became worse. I promised Gertrude to exert myself to find Kaffar, to set
+her free from her promise to Voltaire; but I could not do it. His
+command was upon me. I felt that it was ever in his mind that I should
+not make any efforts, and I had to obey. And his power was evil, his
+motives were fiendish, his nature was depraved. Still preachers talked
+of a loving God, of the good being stronger than the evil. It could not
+be.
+
+"Try! Try! Resist! Resist! Struggle! Struggle!" said hope and duty and
+love; and I tried, I resisted, I struggled. And still I was bound in
+chains; still I was held by a mysterious occult power.
+
+Then it ceased to feel to be a duty to rid Gertrude of Voltaire. Why
+should I struggle and resist? Supposing I succeeded, was I any more fit
+to be her husband than he? What was I? At best a poor weak creature, the
+plaything of a villain. At any time he could exert his power and make
+me his slave. But I might be worse than that. I might, with my own hand,
+have sent a man into eternity. How did I know it was Voltaire's power
+that made me do the deed? Might not my blind passion have swept me on to
+this dark deed? But that could not be. No, no; I could not believe that.
+Besides, Voltaire had told me it was because of him. Still, I was not
+fit to be her husband.
+
+Then her words came back to me, and her pure influence gave me strength.
+She, so pure, so true, had seemed to understand my position, had bid me
+hope and be brave. She had told me she loved me--she, whom hundreds of
+brave men would love to call their own. I would try again. I _would_
+brake the chains Voltaire had forged; I WOULD hurl from me the incubus
+that would otherwise crush me.
+
+I tried again, and again; and again, and again I failed.
+
+I did not pray. I could not. If God cared, I thought, He would help the
+innocent. I was innocent in thought, and still I was not helped. God did
+not care, for He helped me not. Months had passed away, and I had taken
+no forward step. I was still enslaved. The preachers were wrong; God did
+not care for the beings He had made.
+
+There was no God.
+
+God meant "the good one." "God is eternally good, all-powerful, if there
+is a God. But there is not," I said. Evil was rampant. Every day vice
+triumphed, every day virtue suffered. Goodness was not the strongest
+force. Vice was conquering; evil powers were triumphant. Why should any
+exception be made for me? If there is a God, evil would be checked,
+destroyed; instead of which, it was conquering every day. There could be
+no God; and if no God, good and evil were little more than names. We
+were the sport of chance, and chance meant the destruction of anything
+like moral responsibility. I could not help being constituted as I was,
+neither could Voltaire help his nature. One set of circumstances had
+surrounded his life, another mine, and our image and shape were
+according to the force of these circumstances. As for a God who loved
+us, it was absurd.
+
+And yet who gave us love--made us capable of loving? Was love the result
+of chance, which was in reality nothing? And again, whence the idea of
+God, whence the longing for Him? Besides, did not the longing for Him
+give evidence of His being?
+
+But I will not weary the reader with my mental wanderings; they are
+doubtless wearisome enough, and yet they were terribly real to me
+Although I have used but a few pages of paper in hinting at them, they
+caused me to lie awake through many a weary night.
+
+Still no help came.
+
+I went to a church one Sunday night. There was nothing of importance
+that struck me during the service, save the reading of one of the
+lessons. It was the story of the youth who was possessed with a devil,
+which the disciples could not cast out. The minister was, I should
+think, a good man, for he read it naturally, and with a great deal of
+power; and when he came to the part where Jesus came and caused the evil
+spirit to come out of him, my heart throbbed with joy. Was there hope
+for me? Was Jesus Christ still the same wonderful power? Was He here
+now--to help, to save?
+
+That was at the end of three months.
+
+I went home and prayed--prayed to be delivered from the evil power which
+chained me.
+
+I might as well have turned my thoughts in another direction for all the
+good I could see it did me. The old numbing feeling still possessed me.
+My little spark of faith began to die. It was foolishness to think of
+God, I said.
+
+A week later, I walked in Hyde Park. An evil influence seemed to draw me
+in the direction of the Marble Arch. I had not gone far, when I met
+Voltaire. I knew then that I was more in his power than ever. He did not
+speak--he only looked; but it was a look of victory, of power.
+
+I got into Oxford Street and got on a 'bus. Mechanically I bought a
+paper, one of the leading dailies. Listlessly I opened it, and the first
+words that caught my eyes were "Reviews of Books." I glanced down the
+column, and saw the words, "David Elginbrod," by George Macdonald. "This
+book is one of remarkable power," the paper went on to say, "and will
+appeal to the highest class of minds. Its interest is more than
+ordinary, because it deals with the fascinating subjects of Animal
+Magnetism, Mesmerism, and Spiritualism. Moreover, Dr. Macdonald shows
+what enormous power, for evil or for good, may be exerted by it; indeed,
+the principal characters in the story are so influenced by it, that the
+author is led to make quite a study of these occult sciences."
+
+I did not read the review further; what I had read was sufficient to
+determine me to buy the book. Accordingly, on my arrival in the City, I
+obtained a copy; and then, with all possible haste, I made my way home,
+and, throwing myself in a chair, sat down to read it.
+
+I did not cease reading until I had finished what I regarded then, and
+still regard, as one of the finest religious novels of the age. This may
+seem to many extravagant praise; but when I remember the influence it
+had on my life, I feel inclined to hold to my opinion.
+
+Putting aside the other parts of the book, that in which I was so
+fearfully interested might be briefly stated thus:--
+
+Mesmerism and animal magnetism may be regarded as human forces. Those
+possessing them, and thereby having the power to mesmerize, may
+subjugate the will of those who are susceptible to mesmeric influences,
+and hold them in a complete and terrible slavery. The oftener the victim
+yields to the will of the mesmerist, the stronger will his power become.
+There is only one means by which the person under this influence can be
+free. This is by obtaining a strength superior to that of the mesmerist,
+which is only to be realized by being in communion with a Higher Life,
+and participating in that Life. Only the Divine power in the life of the
+victim can make him possess a power superior to the mesmerist's.
+Possessing that, he becomes free, because he possesses a life superior
+to mere physical or human power.
+
+The victim in the book is led to seek that Divine Life in her, and
+although she loses her physical life, she dies freed from the terrible
+thraldom which has been cursing her existence.
+
+That is all I need write concerning the book I have mentioned, i.e.
+descriptive of its teaching.
+
+It turned my mind into a new channel. The teaching seemed scientific and
+reasonable. If there were a God, who was the Source of all life, He
+could, by entering into the life of any individual, give him such forces
+as would be superior to any other force. This was true, further, because
+all evil was in opposition to the laws of the universe, and thus the
+good must overcome the evil.
+
+This, however, I clearly saw: if I would possess the power of God in me,
+I must submit myself wholly and unreservedly to Him. He had made me a
+free agent, and I must allow Him to possess me wholly.
+
+I will not describe what followed. It is too sacred a subject to parade.
+We cannot write on paper our deepest feelings; we cannot describe in
+words the yearnings and experiences of the soul. Were I to try I could
+give no adequate idea of my hopes and fears, my prayers and struggles.
+To realize my life, a similar condition must be experienced.
+
+I ask, however, that I may be believed when I say this: a month later I
+really believed in God, and soon I began to realize His power. I felt a
+new life growing in me, a higher life. I began to be possessed of a
+power whereby I could conquer myself, subjugate my own will, and be
+master over my passions. The reader may smile as he or she reads this,
+but this is true: when I became possessed of a life whereby I became
+master of my lower self, I felt free from Voltaire's power. I realized
+that to be master over myself meant being a slave to none.
+
+I was free, and I knew it. A fuller, richer life surged within me,
+enabling me to rise above the occult forces of our physical and mental
+natures. Hope lived within me, and confidence as to the future began to
+inspire me.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+BEGINNING TO SEARCH
+
+
+No sooner did I begin to feel freed from Voltaire's power than I began
+to exert myself to find Kaffar, if indeed he were to be found. There was
+much in my favour. I possessed freedom; I had plenty of money; I had
+plenty of time. On the other hand, there was much against me. Was he
+alive? Were Voltaire's words true? Had I in my mesmeric condition
+yielded to his will in such a degree as to kill the wily Egyptian and
+hurl him in the pond? Again, if he were alive, where was he? Who could
+tell? Supposing he had gone to Egypt, how could I find him? Possibly he
+had a thousand haunts unknown to me.
+
+I determined to go to Yorkshire, and soon found myself within the
+hospitable walls of Temple Hall. The house was very quiet, however for
+which I was very glad. I wanted to talk quietly with Tom; I wanted to
+investigate the whole matter.
+
+When I had finished telling Tom my story, he seemed perfectly astounded.
+
+"What, Justin!" he exclaimed, "do you mean to say that the villain used
+such means to get you out of his road and win Miss Forrest for himself?"
+
+"I felt he was unscrupulous when I first met him," I replied. "I am sure
+he guessed my secret, and determined to get me out of the way by fair
+means or by foul."
+
+We talked long concerning the matter; we tried to recall all that had
+been said and done; but, in spite of all, we could not hit upon any plan
+of action.
+
+"Do you think she will marry Voltaire," I said, after a short silence,
+"if I cannot find Kaffar or prove that he is alive?"
+
+"I am sure she will, Justin. Never did I meet with any one who has a
+higher sense of honour than she. I believe she would rather die than do
+a mean thing."
+
+"And yet," I said wearily, "I am almost certain I did not kill Kaffar. I
+can remember nothing distinctly, and yet I have the consciousness that I
+never struck him a blow."
+
+"And I, too, am sure you did not do this, Justin," replied Tom. "I felt
+that he was acting, in spite of the terrible evidence against you. But
+what is the use? If you cannot find the Egyptian, he will marry Miss
+Forrest, and after that--well, all seems hopeless."
+
+"It shall not be hopeless," I said. "If he is alive, he shall be found,
+and I will bring him back, and she shall see him."
+
+"Ah, yes; and that reminds me, Justin, she bade me tell you that she
+would be in her own home at Kensington until after the next new year."
+
+This made me joyful in spite of everything. She still had an interest in
+me; she still believed me innocent.
+
+"By the way, Tom," I said, after another short silence, "have you found
+out anything in relation to the ghost which appeared here during my
+visit?"
+
+"Nothing definite. Stay, I forgot. Simon Slowden said he had something
+particular to tell you when you came to Yorkshire again. I asked him the
+subject of this 'something particular,' and he said it was about the
+ghost. I tried to make him explain further, but could not."
+
+"I'll see Simon at once," I said. "I cannot afford to let anything pass
+without examining it. Any little thing might give a clue to the
+mystery."
+
+I sought Simon in the stable-yard, and found him as grim and platonic as
+ever.
+
+"Glad to see yer honour," said Simon, hastily. "I've made up my mind
+scores of times to write a letter, but I hev had sich bad luck wi'
+letters, that I 'adn't the necessary quantity o' pluck, you know."
+
+"Bad luck with your letters, Simon? How?"
+
+"Why, yer see, yer honour, after the doctor experimented on me by
+waccinatin' me agin' small-pox, cholera, and the measles, together wi'
+'oopin' cough and several other baby complaints as 'ev a hinjurious
+effect upon people as 'ev cut their wisdom teeth, you know as I told yer
+honour that I caught that 'ere werry disease of small-pox which spiled
+my beauty for ever. Well, as I told yer months ago, I went to the
+'ousemaid for a mite 'o comfort, and catches 'er a-courtin' wi' the
+coachman. So I goes 'ome, and I says I'll write 'er a letter as would
+charm a dead duck in a saucepan. So I begins my letter this yer way: 'My
+dearest dear,' I says, 'times es bad, and people be glad to catch
+anything; so I, thinkin' small-pox better than nothin', catched that.
+Forgive me, and I'll never do so no more. I'm cryin' all the day, as
+though I got my livin' wi' skinnin' onions. Relieve me, my dear, or my
+feelin's will be too much for me. They be fillin' me faster 'n I can
+dispose of 'em; and if you don't leave that 'ere coachman and smile on
+me, I shall either go up like a baloon, or else there'll be a case of
+combustion.' I went on in that 'ere style, yer know, thinkin' she'd melt
+like a h'yster in a fryin'-pan, but she didn't; and the next thing I
+hears wus that the coachman wur at the willage alehouse readin' my
+letter. Since then I've guv up the tender passion and guv up writin'
+letters."
+
+"Well, you have had bad luck, Simon; but perhaps you'll be more
+fortunate next time. Mr. Temple tells me you have something to tell me
+about the ghost. What is it?"
+
+"You ain't a-seen that 'ere hinfidel willain since he went away from
+'ere, Mr. Blake, have 'ee?"
+
+"I saw him in Hyde Park one day, but have never spoken to him."
+
+"Well, I'm in a fog."
+
+"In a fog! How?"
+
+"Why, I can't understand a bit why that 'ere ghost wur a got up."
+
+"You think it was got up, then?"
+
+"Certain of it, yer honour."
+
+"Well, tell us about it."
+
+"Well, sur, after you left all of a hurry like, we had a big party in
+the house, and all the servants 'ad to 'elp; and no sooner did I git in
+that 'ere house than I beginned to put two and two together, and then I
+see a hindiwidual that I beginned to think wur mighty like that 'ere
+ghost."
+
+"And who was that?"
+
+"Why, that 'ere hancient wirgin, Miss Staggles."
+
+"Ah, what then?"
+
+"Well, I heard somebody tellin' her as 'ow you were gone to London, and
+I thought she looked mighty pleased. After dinner, I see her come out of
+the drawin'-room, and go away by herself, and I thought I'd watch. She
+went up to her room, yer honour, and I got in a convenient place for
+watchin' her when she comes out. She weren't a minnit afore she wur out,
+Mr. Blake, a-carryin' somethin' in her hands. She looks curiously
+'round, and then I see her make straight for your bedroom door, and goes
+into your room. In a minnit more she comes out, with nothin' in her
+hands. So then I says to myself, 'She's deposited some o' her
+combustible matter in Mr. Blake's room.'
+
+"It was a bold and dangerous thing to do, yer honour, but I goes into
+your room and looks around. Everything seems right. Then I looks and
+sees that the drawer of the wardrobe ain't quite shut, so I takes a step
+forward and peeps in."
+
+"And what did you see?"
+
+"Why, I see the trappin's of that 'ere ghost. The shroud, knife, and all
+the rest on't."
+
+"Well, Simon?"
+
+"Well, sur, I takes it to my shanty, and puts it in my own box, to show
+you at 'a convenient season,' as Moses said."
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+"Not quite. The next mornin' I see her a-airin' her sweet self on the
+lawn, so I goes up to 'er all familiar like, and I says, 'Top o' the
+mornin', Miss Staggles.'
+
+"'Who are you, man?' she says.
+
+"'As nice a chap as you ever see,' I said, 'though I am marked wi'
+small-pox. But that ain't my fault, ma'am; it is owin' to the
+experimentin' o' a waccinatin' doctor.'
+
+"'What do you want with me, man?' she said.
+
+"'Why, ma'am,' I said, 'I'm young and simple, and I wur frightened wi' a
+ghost t'other night, and I thought as how you, bein' purty hancient,
+might assist me in findin' things out about it.'
+
+"With that, sur, she looked oal strange, and I thinks I'm on the right
+track, and I says again, 'That 'ere ghost wur well got up, mum. I've
+played a ghost myself in a theatre, and I could never git up like you
+did the other night.'
+
+"'Me get up as a ghost!' she screamed. 'Man, you are mad.'
+
+"'Not so mad,' I says, 'seein' as 'ow I see you carry that 'ere ghost's
+wardrobe, and put it in Mr. Blake's room last night.'
+
+"She went off without another word, yer honour, and the next thing I
+heard 'bout her was that she'd gone to London."
+
+"And why did you not tell Mr. Temple?"
+
+"Well, Mr. Blake, he didn't know anything 'bout her evenin' rambles wi'
+that 'ere hinfidel willain, and wasn't acquainted wi' the things that
+you and me hev talked about; besides, I thought as 'ow you wer the one
+that ought to know first of all."
+
+I thought long over Simon's words, but could not understand them. Why
+should Miss Staggles pose as a ghost, even at the instigation of
+Voltaire? There could be nothing gained by it, and yet I was sure that
+it was not without meaning. Somehow it was connected with Voltaire's
+scheme; of that I was sure, but at the time my mind was too confused to
+see how.
+
+So far, not one step had been taken to prove whether Kaffar was dead or
+alive, and although I knew nothing of a detective's business, I did not
+like taking any one into my confidence. I resolved to do all that was to
+be done myself.
+
+In spite of everything, I spent a pleasant evening at Temple Hall. We
+talked and laughed gaily, especially as Tom was preparing for his
+wedding with Miss Edith Gray, and when I told Mrs. Temple how Tom had
+popped the question on the landing at midnight, after the appearance of
+the famous hall ghost, the merriment knew no bounds.
+
+It was after midnight when I retired to rest, but I could not sleep. I
+could not help thinking about this great problem of my life. How could I
+find Kaffar? How could I tell whether he were alive or dead? After
+tossing about a long time, I hit upon a plan of action, and then my mind
+had some little rest.
+
+The next morning I bade good-bye to my friends, and started for the
+station. When I arrived all was quiet. Not a single passenger was there,
+while the two porters were lolling lazily around, enjoying the warmth of
+the bright May sun.
+
+I asked to see the station-master; he was not at the station. Then I
+made inquiries for the booking-clerk, who presently made his
+appearance. I found that there was a train leaving about midnight, which
+travelled northward, one that had been running some years.
+
+"Were you at the booking-office on the day after New Year's Day?" I
+asked.
+
+"Yes, sir," replied the clerk.
+
+"Do you remember a man coming for a ticket that night who struck you as
+peculiar?"
+
+"What kind of a man, sir?"
+
+"A foreigner. Small, dark, and wiry, speaking with an accent something
+like this," I said, trying to imitate Kaffar.
+
+"No, sir, I don't remember such a person. There were only three
+passengers that night--I remember it very well, because my brother was
+here with me--and they were all Yorkshire."
+
+"This midnight train is a stopping train?"
+
+"Yes, sir. It stops at every station from Leeds."
+
+"How far is the nearest station in the Leeds direction?"
+
+"Seven miles, sir. The population is rather thin here, sir. It gets
+thicker the closer you get to Leeds."
+
+"And how far the other way?"
+
+"Only a matter of three miles northward, sir. There's a little village
+there, sir, has sprung up because of Lord ----'s mansion, sir, and the
+company has put up a station."
+
+"And how far is the next station beyond that?"
+
+"A long way, sir. It's a junction where some go to catch the night
+express to Leeds. It must be eight miles further on. The train is now
+due, sir, that goes there."
+
+"And it stops at the next station?"
+
+"Oh yes, sir."
+
+I booked immediately for it, and in a few minutes arrived there. It was,
+if possible, more quiet than the one from which I had just come; a more
+dreary place one could not well see.
+
+I soon found the man who had issued tickets on the night I have
+mentioned. Did he remember such a passenger as I described?
+
+"Yes, sir," he said, "I do remember such a chap; partly because he was
+the only passenger, and partly because he looked so strange. He looked
+as if he'd been fightin', and yet he was quite sober. He was a funny
+chap, sir; one as I shudd'n like much to do wi'."
+
+"And where did he book for?"
+
+"Dingledale Junction, sir."
+
+"And he would be able to catch a train from there?"
+
+"He would have to wait a quarter of an hour for the express to Leeds,"
+replied the man.
+
+"And how long will it be before there's another train to Dingledale
+Junction?" I asked anxiously.
+
+"Three hours and a half, sir."
+
+This was an awful blow to me. To wait all this time at that roadside
+station was weary work, especially as I could do nothing. I found,
+however, that I could hire a horse and trap that would take me there in
+about two hours. I therefore closed with this offer, and shortly after
+drove away.
+
+I felt sure I had made one step forward. Kaffar was alive. The blunt
+Yorkshireman's description of him tallied exactly with the real
+appearance of the Egyptian. Of course I was not sure, but this was
+strongly in favour of his being alive. There was something tangible for
+which to work now, and my heart grew lighter.
+
+Dingledale Junction proved to be rather a busy place. There were two
+platforms in the station, and a refreshment room. I found also that Mr.
+Smith was actually represented there, in the shape of a small boy, a
+dozen novels, and a few newspapers. This, however, did not augur so well
+for my inquiries. The officials here would not be so likely to notice
+any particular passenger. Still there was something in my favour.
+Kaffar would in any circumstances attract attention in a country place.
+His appearance was so remarkable, that any countryman would stop for a
+second look at him.
+
+After a great many inquiries, I found that Kaffar, or a man strongly
+resembling him, had been there on the night in question, and had taken a
+ticket for Leeds. He had no luggage, and what made the porter in
+attendance remember him so vividly was the fact of his being angry when
+asked if he had any luggage to be labelled.
+
+So far, then, my inquiries were successful; so far I might congratulate
+myself on making forward steps. And yet I was scarcely satisfied. It
+seemed too plain. Would Kaffar have allowed himself to be followed in
+such a way? I was not sure. On the one hand, he was very cunning, and,
+on the other, he knew but little of the means of detecting people in
+England.
+
+I took the next train for Leeds, and there my success ended. I could
+find traces of him nowhere. This was scarcely to be wondered at. Leeds
+is a great commercial centre, where men of every nationality meet, and
+of course Kaffar would be allowed to pass unnoticed. Then I began to
+think what the Egyptian would be likely to do, and after weighing the
+whole matter in my mind I came to this conclusion: either he was in
+London with Voltaire, or he had gone back to Egypt. The first was not
+likely. If Kaffar were seen in London, Voltaire's plans would be upset,
+and I did not think my enemy would allow that. Of course he might have
+means of keeping him there in strict secrecy, or he might have a score
+of disguises to keep him from detection. Still I thought the balance
+would be heaviest on the side of his returning to Egypt. I naturally
+thought he would return to his native land, because I had heard him say
+he talked none of the European languages besides English and a
+smattering of Turkish.
+
+My next step, therefore, was to return to London, and then go to Dover,
+Calais, Newhaven, and Dieppe, to try to see whether Kaffar could be
+traced. At the same time, I determined to have a watch set upon
+Voltaire, and his every step dogged, so that, if he held any
+communication with Kaffar, necessary steps might be taken to prove to
+Miss Forrest my innocence, and thus she might at once be freed from the
+designs of the man she hated.
+
+No sooner did I arrive in London, however, and took possession of my
+easy-chair than I knew Voltaire wanted me to go to him, and I knew, too,
+that a month before I should have had to yield to the power he
+possessed. I need not say that I did not go. My will was now stronger
+than his, and by exercising that will I was able to resist him. Still,
+none but those who have been under such a spell can imagine what a
+struggle I had even then. God only gives us power to use, and He will
+not do for us what we can do for ourselves. For two long hours I felt
+this strange influence, and then it ceased. Evidently he had failed in
+his design, and, for the time, at all events, had abandoned it.
+
+Next morning, when I was preparing to visit Scotland Yard, a servant
+came into my room bearing a card on a tray. I took it and read, "Herod
+Voltaire."
+
+"Show him up," I said to the servant.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+STRUGGLING FOR VICTORY
+
+
+I confess that I was somewhat excited as I heard him coming up the
+stairs. I was sure that every means he could devise to defeat me would
+be eagerly used. The man was a villain possessed of a strange and
+dangerous power, and that power he would not hesitate to exert in every
+possible way. But I was not afraid; my faith in God had given me life,
+and so I would dare to defy the wretch.
+
+I did not look at him until the girl had shown him in and left the room;
+then our eyes met.
+
+I recognized the steely glitter of those whity-grey orbs, which at times
+seemed tinted with green. I knew he was seeking to exert his old
+influence, and once I thought I should have to yield. The power he
+possessed was something terrible, and I had to struggle to the utmost to
+remain unconquered. His efforts were in vain, however, and, for the
+time, at all events, the battle was not with him.
+
+"Will you sit down, Mr. Voltaire?" I said, after a minute's perfect
+silence.
+
+He sat down as if in astonishment.
+
+"Might I ask your business?" I asked as coolly as I could.
+
+This question either aroused his anger, or he began to play a part.
+"Yes," he said; "you will know my business at your cost. I thought you
+had found out before this that I was not the man either to be disobeyed
+or trifled with."
+
+I did not think it wise to speak.
+
+"I have come to tell you," he went on, "that you cannot escape my power,
+that you cannot disobey me and not suffer. Remember this: I conquered
+you, and you are my slave."
+
+Still I did not think it wise to reply.
+
+"You think," he continued, "because you have realized some immunity from
+the power I wield, that I have left you. I have not, and it is greater
+than ever. You have dared to leave London; you have dared to do that
+which I told you not; and now I have come to tell you that you have
+aroused the anger of a man who laughs at conventional laws, and snaps
+his fingers at the ordinary usages of society--one who knows nothing
+and cares nothing for your claptrap morality, and will not be influenced
+by it."
+
+"I am sorry if I have angered you," I replied humbly.
+
+"Just so, and you will be more than sorry. Man, I hold your life in the
+hollow of my hand. One word from me, and your liberty is gone; you will
+be dragged through the streets like a common felon."
+
+"Am I guilty of so much, then?" I said. "Did I really kill that man?"
+
+He looked at me curiously, as if he suspected something. "Kill him?" he
+replied. "Of course you did. But even if you did not, it is all the
+same. Kaffar cannot be found, or proved alive, and thus my power over
+you is absolute."
+
+"I wonder you do not use it," I said quietly.
+
+"I do not use it because it does not pay me to do so. My policy is to be
+quiet. Miss Forrest is mine because she knows I am master of your life.
+The months are swiftly passing away, Mr. Justin Blake. It is May now; in
+December I shall take her to my breast."
+
+"But supposing," I said, "that I find Kaffar; supposing before Christmas
+Eve comes I prove I am innocent of his death. What then?"
+
+"It is not to be supposed. You killed my friend; and even if you did
+not, you could never find him. You dare not, could not, take any
+necessary steps. You have not the power to ask other people to do it.
+Even now you cannot rise from your seat and walk across the room."
+
+Without a word I rose from my seat and walked across the room; then I
+came back and coolly sat down again.
+
+"What does this mean?" he asked angrily.
+
+"It means," I said, "that you are deceived--mistaken. It means that your
+villainous schemes are of no effect; that the man whom you thought you
+had entrapped by a juggler's trick to be your tool and dupe is as free
+as you are; that he defies your power; that he tells you to do your
+worst."
+
+I felt that again he was trying to throw me into a kind of trance, that
+he was exerting all his power and knowledge; but I resisted, and I was
+free. I stood up again and smiled.
+
+Then a strange light lit up his eyes.
+
+"Curse you!" he cried, "you defy me, eh? Well, you'll see what you get
+by defying me. In five minutes you will be safe in a policeman's
+charge."
+
+"If I were you I would try and learn the Englishman's laws before you
+appeal to them. The first question that will be asked will be why you
+have refrained from telling so long, for he who shelters a criminal by
+silence is regarded as an aider and an abettor of that criminal. Then,
+man, this case will be sifted to the bottom. That pond will be pumped
+dry, and every outlet examined. Besides, what about the booking-clerk
+that issued a ticket to Kaffar two hours after you and Mr. Temple found
+me?"
+
+"It's a lie!" he cried; "Kaffar was never seen."
+
+"Well, then, if you are so sure, give me in charge. It will not be very
+much opposed to my wishes, for by so doing you will set the whole
+machinery of the law of England on Kaffar's trail, and I promise you it
+will find him. English law is hard on murderers, but all evidence is put
+through a very fine sieve in an English court of justice. Kaffar is not
+an ordinary-looking man, and from Scotland Yard our police authorities
+hold communication with all other police authorities in the civilized
+world. I tell you, man, your trumped-up story would be torn to pieces in
+five minutes, and in the end you would be safely lodged down at Dartmoor
+for fourteen years."
+
+He sat silent a minute, as if in deep thought; then he said slowly, "Mr.
+Justin Blake, you think you have outwitted Herod Voltaire! Continue to
+think so. I shall not give you in charge--not because I believe in
+your paltry story, but because I should lose Miss Forrest by so doing,
+and I cannot afford to do that, if for nothing else than to spite you.
+You think you are free from me. Wait. You think Kaffar is to be
+found--well, wait. But, I tell you, you shall repent all this. I will
+marry the woman you love, and then I will lead you such a life as you
+never conceived. You shall pray to die, and death shall not come. You
+shall suffer as never man suffered. The condition of the Christians whom
+Nero used as torches shall be heaven to what yours shall be.
+Meanwhile--"
+
+All this time he kept looking at me, and his words were uttered with a
+nervous force and intensity that was terrible. I felt a strange chilling
+sensation creep over me, and involuntarily I sat down. No sooner had I
+done so than he gave a savage, exultant yell.
+
+"You are mine again!" he cried.
+
+It was a terrible struggle. His will and mine fought for the
+mastery--his strengthened by a knowledge of laws of which I was
+ignorant, and constant exertion of it; mine, by a new life which I had
+but lately begun to live, by a strength given me through communion with
+my Maker.
+
+For a minute I was chained to the seat. My senses were numbed, and, all
+the while his terrible glittering eyes rested on mine. Then my strength
+began to return, and I again stood up, and in a few seconds I was master
+of myself.
+
+"Coward," I said, "you sought to take me unawares. You have done your
+utmost, and I am your master, even now. Now go, and bear this in mind,
+that the right and the truth shall be triumphant."
+
+I rung the bell as I spoke, and the servant appeared. "Show this
+gentleman out, Mary," I said.
+
+Never shall I forget the look of hatred that gleamed from his eyes as he
+left the room. If ever a man looked possessed of an evil spirit, it was
+he; but he did not speak. He walked down the stairs without a word, and
+then out into the street.
+
+I stood and watched him until he was out of sight, and then tried to
+collect my scattered thoughts. On the whole, I was not pleased with the
+interview. I had shown my hand. It would have been far better if I could
+have allowed him still to think I was in his power, but the temptation
+to show him my freedom was too strong. It would now be a trial of skill
+between us. If he could have believed that I was unable to do anything
+to free myself, I should have, perhaps, caught him unawares. Now he
+would be prepared for everything I could do; he would check my every
+move. If Kaffar were alive, he would have a thousand means of keeping
+him out of my way; if dead--well, then, I did not care much what
+happened. If the latter, however, I determined to give up my life for
+Miss Forrest, to put myself in the hands of the police authorities, and
+tell of the influence Voltaire had exerted over me.
+
+Meanwhile I must act, and that quickly; so I went straight to a private
+detective, a man I slightly knew. I refrained from going to Scotland
+Yard, as I thought Voltaire would be watching me. I gave this detective
+a description of Voltaire, told him his address, which I had ascertained
+through his letters to Temple Hall, and explained my wishes to him. He
+took up my points very quickly, saw what I wanted without any lengthened
+explanations, and expressed a willingness to serve me. So much pleased
+was I with this interview, that I had no fear that my enemy would not be
+well looked after.
+
+After that I took train for Dover, and prepared to track Kaffar, if
+possible, wherever he had gone, not realizing at the time the task I had
+proposed for myself.
+
+I thought I made a forward step at Dover, for, on inquiring at an hotel
+there, I found that a man answering to Kaffar's description had engaged
+a bedroom for one night, and had gone on to Calais by the midday boat,
+in time to catch the express for Paris.
+
+"Did this gentleman have any luggage?" I asked.
+
+The hotel proprietor did not think the gentleman carried any luggage,
+but he would inquire.
+
+On inquiry of the hotel porter, I found that he carried a Gladstone bag,
+rather small and new. This was particularly remembered--first, because
+the foreign gentleman seemed very particular about it, and, second,
+because there seemed to be nothing in it.
+
+So far so good.
+
+I determined to go on to Paris; it could do no harm, it might do good. I
+could speak the French language fairly, and might, by some means, find
+out the steps he had taken.
+
+Arrived at Paris, I was completely blocked. He was not remembered in the
+Custom House; he was not remembered at some twenty hotels at which I
+called.
+
+Again I began to think what he was likely to do. I did not think he
+would possess very much money, and a man of his temperament would devise
+some means of getting some. How? Work would be a slow process, and not
+suited to his nature. Kaffar would get money by gambling. But that did
+not help me forward. To search out all the gambling-houses in Paris
+would be a hopeless task; besides, would he gamble in Paris, a city of
+which he knew nothing? I did not think so. Where, then?
+
+Monte Carlo!
+
+No doubt the reader will smile at my attempts as a private detective,
+but, realizing the circumstances by which I was surrounded, there may be
+some excuse for my unbusinesslike way of going to work. Besides, I was
+not sure that Kaffar was alive; I only had some vague grounds for
+thinking he was.
+
+I went to Monte Carlo. I inquired at the hotels; I inquired at the
+Casino--without success. I learnt one great lesson there, however, and
+that was the evil of gambling. In spite of tinsel and gilt, in spite of
+gay attire and loud laughter, in spite of high-sounding titles and
+ancient names, never did I see so much real misery as I saw in the
+far-renowned gaming palace.
+
+For days I tried to think what to do, without avail. Kaffar had not been
+at the Casino; he had not stayed at any of the hotels. Where was he,
+then?
+
+I began to entertain the idea that he had gone to Egypt as he had said.
+I would do my best to find out. Accordingly, I went to all the seaports
+along the coast of France and Italy from which he would be likely to set
+sail for Egypt. I was unsuccessful until I came to Brindisi.
+
+Here I found that inquiries could easily be made. There were only two
+hotels in the place, one of which was very small. At the smaller of the
+two, I found on inquiry that a man answering to my description had
+stayed there a day and a night, waiting for the boat for Alexandria. The
+hotel proprietor said he should not have remembered him, but that he had
+talked Arabic with him. This traveller had also told him he had come
+from England, the land of luxury and gold, and was going to Cairo.
+
+He did not remember his name. Egyptians often came to Brindisi, and to
+him one name was pretty much like another. He called them all "Howajja,"
+and remembered nothing more. He did not keep an hotel register.
+
+Little and poor as this evidence was, I determined to go to Egypt. It
+was now June, and terribly hot, even at Brindisi; I knew the heat must
+be worse in Cairo, but that was nothing. If I could find this man, I
+should be rewarded a thousandfold.
+
+Accordingly the next night, when an Austrian Lloyd steamer stopped at
+this little old-fashioned seaport on its way to Alexandria, I secured a
+berth and went on board. The voyage was not long, neither was it very
+tedious; at night, especially, it was glorious. To sit on deck and gaze
+at the smooth sea, which reflected in its deep waters the bright starry
+heavens, while the splash of the waters made music on the vessel's side,
+was to experience something not easily forgotten.
+
+Arrived in Alexandria, I again set inquiries on foot, but with far less
+chance of success. Kaffar was not a marked man here. In this town, where
+almost every nationality was to be seen, no notice would be taken of
+him. A thousand men answering to Kaffar's description might be seen
+every day. Still I did all I could, and then hurried on to Cairo.
+
+I have not tried to give any detailed account of my journeys, nor of the
+alternate feelings of hope and despair that possessed me. This must be
+left to the imagination of my readers. Let them remember the
+circumstances of the story as I have related them, let them think of how
+much depended on my discovery of Kaffar, let them also try to fancy
+something of my feelings, and then they will be able to guess at my
+weary nights and anxious days, they will know how feverishly I hurried
+from port to port and from town to town. Anyhow, I will not try to
+describe them, for I should miserably fail.
+
+Cairo was comparatively empty. The heat had driven the tourists away to
+colder climes. The waiters in the hotels lolled around, with little or
+nothing to do. Only a few guests required their attendance. Everything
+was very quiet. The burning sun fairly scorched the leaves of the acacia
+trees, which grew everywhere. The Nile was exceedingly low, and water
+was comparatively scarce. The older part of Cairo was simply unbearable;
+the little Koptic community dwelling in the low huts, which reeked with
+dirt and vermin, would, one would have thought, have been glad to have
+died.
+
+I had no success in Cairo. A dozen times I was buoyed up with hopes, a
+dozen times my hopes were destroyed, leaving me more despairing than
+ever. In spite of the terrible heat, all that could be done I did.
+Recommended by an hotel proprietor, I engaged two of the shrewdest men
+in this wonderful city to try and find Kaffar, but they could discover
+no trace of him. I went to mosques, to temples, to bazaars--in vain. If
+he were in Cairo, he was hiding.
+
+Oh, the weary work, the dreadful uncertainty! Hoping, despairing, ever
+toiling, ever searching, yet never achieving! The months were slipping
+by. It was now August, and I was no nearer finding him than when I
+started. Must I give up, then? Should I renounce my life's love? Should
+I yield my darling to Voltaire? Never!
+
+I formed a new resolution. I would go back to England. Doubtless I had
+gone clumsily to work, and thus my failure would be explained. When once
+back in London, I would engage the cleverest detectives the city could
+boast of, and I would state the whole case to them. Perchance they could
+do what I had failed to accomplish. This determination I at once carried
+into practice, and in a little more than a week I again saw the white
+cliffs of Dover. I did not rest. Arriving at Victoria, I drove straight
+to Scotland Yard, and in an hour later two of the most highly
+recommended officers of the London detective police force were in
+possession of all the facts that I could give them that would lead to
+the discovery of the Egyptian, providing he lived.
+
+Then I drove back to my rooms in Gower Street, weary and sad, yet not
+hopeless. There were four months in which to act. Two clever men were at
+work, while, thank God, I was free to act and to think.
+
+Yet the future looked terribly doubtful. Would the inquiries be
+successful? would Gertrude be freed from Voltaire? and should I be
+happy?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+USING THE ENEMY'S WEAPONS
+
+
+Two months passed, and no tidings of Kaffar--at least, none that were
+worthy of consideration. The detectives had done all that men could do;
+they had made every inquiry possible, they had set on foot dozens of
+schemes; but all in vain. Voltaire, who had been closely watched, was
+apparently living a quiet, harmless life, and was not, so far as could
+be seen, in communication with him. I had done all that I could do
+myself. I had followed in England every possible clue, all of which had
+ended in failure.
+
+Three months passed. Still no reliable news. One detective fancied he
+had detected him in Constantinople; another was equally certain he had,
+at the same time, seen him in Berlin. I became almost mad with despair.
+The first of December had come, and I was not a step nearer finding the
+man whose presence would free me from Voltaire's villainous charge.
+
+That which troubled me most was the fact that I did not know whether he
+were alive. Even if I did not kill him, perhaps Voltaire had got him out
+of the way so that he might fasten the guilt on me. "What, after all,"
+was the thought that maddened me, "if he should be lying at the bottom
+of Drearwater Pond?"
+
+There were only twenty-four days now. Three weeks and three days, and I
+knew not what to do. If I failed, my love would marry the man who was
+worse than a fiend, while I, for whom she was to suffer this torture,
+was unable to help her.
+
+And yet I had tried, God alone knows how; but only to fail. Still, there
+were twenty-four days; but what were they? Kaffar, if he were alive,
+might be in Africa, Australia--no one knew where. I saw no hope.
+
+A week more slipped by. There were only seventeen days left now. I was
+sitting in my room, anxiously waiting for the Continental mail, and any
+telegrams which might arrive. I heard the postman's knock, and in a
+minute more letters were brought in. Eagerly I opened those which came
+from the detectives, and feverishly read them. "Still in the dark;
+nothing discovered"--that summed up the long reports they sent me. I
+read the other letters; there was nothing in them to help me.
+
+Still another week went by. Only ten days were wanting to Christmas Eve,
+and I knew no more of Kaffar's whereabouts than I did on the day when I
+defied Voltaire and started on my search. Again reports from the
+detectives came, and still no news. No doubt, by this, Voltaire was
+gloating over his victory, while I was nearly mad with despair.
+
+Only ten days! I must do something. It was my duty, at all hazards, to
+free Gertrude Forrest from Voltaire. That was plain. I could not find
+the Egyptian, and thus it was probable I had killed him as had been
+said. What must I do? This, and this only. I must go to Scotland Yard,
+and relate to the authorities my whole story. I must tell them of
+Voltaire's influence over me, and that it was probable I had, while held
+under a mesmerist's spell, killed the man I had been trying to find.
+This was all. It _might_ bring this villain under suspicion, and, if so,
+it would hinder him from exacting the fulfilment of Gertrude Forrest's
+promise.
+
+It was at best but an uncertain venture, but it was all I could do. I
+owed it to the woman I loved. It was my duty to make this sacrifice. I
+would do it.
+
+I wasted no time; I put on my overcoat and walked to Scotland Yard.
+
+I put my hand upon the door of the room which I knew belonged to one of
+the officials, to whom I determined to report my case.
+
+I thought of the words I should say, when--
+
+"STOP!"
+
+I am sure I heard that word, clear and distinct. Where it came from I
+knew not; but it was plain to me.
+
+An idea flashed into my mind!
+
+Mad, mad, I must have been, never to have thought of it before.
+
+Ten days! Only ten days! But much might be done even yet. I rushed away,
+and got into St. James's Park, and there, in comparative quietness, I
+began to think.
+
+The clouds began to dispel, the difficulties began to move away. Surely
+I had hit upon a plan at last, a plan on which I should have thought at
+the outset.
+
+I walked on towards Westminster Abbey, still working out my newly
+conceived idea, and when there jumped into a cab.
+
+Yes, I remembered the address, for I had seen it only the day before, so
+I told the cabman to drive to ---- Street, Chelsea.
+
+I was right. There on the door was the name of the man I had hoped to
+find--Professor Von Virchow. I paid the cabman, and knocked at the door
+with a beating heart.
+
+A sallow-faced girl opened the door, and asked my business.
+
+Was Professor Virchow at home?
+
+Yes, he was at home, but would be engaged for the next quarter of an
+hour; after that, he could see me on business connected with his
+profession.
+
+I was accordingly ushered into a musty room, which sadly wanted light
+and air. The quarter of an hour dragged slowly away, when the
+sallow-faced girl again appeared, saying that Professor Von Virchow
+would be pleased to see me.
+
+I followed her into an apartment that was fitted up like a doctor's
+consulting-room. Here I found the man I had come to see.
+
+He was a little man, about five feet four inches high. He had, however,
+a big head, a prominent forehead, and keen grey eyes. He wore
+gold-rimmed spectacles, and was evidently well fed and on good terms
+with himself.
+
+"You are a professor of mesmerism and clairvoyance, I believe?" I began.
+
+"That is my profession," said the little man, "Then I am in hopes that
+you may be able to help me in my difficulty."
+
+"I shall be pleased to help you," he said, still stiffly.
+
+"Can you," I went on, "tell the whereabouts of a man whom I may describe
+to you?"
+
+"That is very vague," was the reply. "Your description may be incorrect,
+or a hundred men might answer to it. I would promise nothing under such
+conditions."
+
+"Perhaps I had better tell my story," I said.
+
+"I think you had," said the little professor, quietly.
+
+"On the 2nd of January of the present year," I said, "a man disappeared
+in the night from a place in Yorkshire. He is an Egyptian, and easily
+distinguished. A great deal depends on finding him at once. Ever since
+May, endeavours have been made to track him, but without success."
+
+"Perhaps he is dead," said the professor.
+
+"Perhaps so; but even then it is important to know. Can you help me to
+find out his whereabouts?"
+
+"Undoubtedly I can; but I must have a good photograph of him. Have you
+one?"
+
+"I have not."
+
+"Could you obtain one?"
+
+"I think not."
+
+"But this man has been seen by many people. Could not some one you
+know, and who knows him, sketch a faithful likeness from memory?"
+
+"I do not know of any one."
+
+"Then I could not guarantee to find him. You see, I cannot work
+miracles. I can only work through certain laws which I have been
+fortunate enough either to recognize or discover; but there must ever be
+some data upon which to go, and, you see, you give me none that is in
+the least satisfactory."
+
+"Perhaps you can," I said, "if I relate to you all the circumstances
+connected with what is, I think, a somewhat remarkable story."
+
+I had determined to tell this little man every circumstance which might
+lead to Kaffar's discovery, especially those which happened in
+Yorkshire. It seemed my only resource, and I felt, that somehow
+something would come of it.
+
+I therefore briefly related what I have written in this story.
+
+"That man who mesmerized you is very clever," said the professor
+quietly, when I had finished. "It was very unfortunate for you that you
+should have matched yourself with such a one. His plot was well worked
+out in every respect. He only made a mistake in one thing."
+
+"And that?"
+
+"He thought it impossible that you should ever be freed from his power
+without his consent. Still it was a well-planned affair. The story, the
+ghost, the quarrel--it was all well done."
+
+"I fail to see what part the ghost had in the matter," I said.
+
+The professor smiled. "No?" he said. "Well, I should not think it was a
+vital part of his plan, but it was helpful. He calculated upon the young
+lady's superstitious fancies. He knew what the particular form in which
+the ghost appeared portended, and it fitted in with his scheme of
+murder. Evidently he wanted the young lady to believe in your guilt, and
+thus give him greater chance of success. Ah, he is a clever man."
+
+"But," I asked anxiously, "can you tell me Kaffar's whereabouts now?"
+
+"No, I cannot--that is, not to-day."
+
+"When, then?"
+
+"I may not be able to do so at all. It all depends on one man."
+
+"Who is he?"
+
+"Simon Slowden, I think you called him."
+
+"Simon Slowden! How can he help us?"
+
+"Evidently he is susceptible to mesmeric influences, and he knows the
+man you wish to find. But the difficulty lies here. Is he sufficiently
+susceptible?"
+
+"Is that the only hope?"
+
+"All I can see at present. I was going to suggest that you be thrown
+into a mesmeric sleep; but you could not be depended on. The experiences
+which you have had would make you very uncertain."
+
+"Then your advice is--"
+
+"Send for this man at once. If he fails--well, I have another
+alternative."
+
+"May I know what?"
+
+"No, not now."
+
+"Answer me this. Do you think I killed Kaffar, the Egyptian?"
+
+"No, I do not; but your enemy intended you should."
+
+"Why did I not, then?"
+
+"Because the Egyptian also possessed a mesmerist's power, and hindered
+you. At any rate, such is my opinion. I am not sure;" and the little man
+looked very wise.
+
+"Expect us early to-morrow morning," I said, and then went away to the
+nearest telegraph office, with a lighter heart than I had known for many
+long months. The little professor had given me some hope. The matter was
+still enshrouded in mystery, but still I thought I had found a possible
+solution.
+
+"_Send Simon Slowden to me at once_" I telegraphed. "_Extremely
+important. Wire back immediately the time I may expect him_."
+
+Anxiously I waited for an answer. Although the message was flashed with
+lightning speed, it seemed a long time in coming. At length it came, and
+I read as follows:
+
+"_Slowden will come by train leaving Leeds 11.38. Meet him at St.
+Pancras_."
+
+I immediately caught a cab and drove to Gower Street, and, on looking at
+my time-table, I found that the train mentioned in the telegram arrived
+in London at 5.15. This would do splendidly. I could get Simon to my
+room and give him some breakfast, and then, after a little rest, drive
+direct to the professor's.
+
+I need not say I was early at St. Pancras the following morning. I had
+scarcely slept through the night, and anxiously awaited the appearance
+of the train. It swept into the station in good time, and, to my great
+relief and delight, I saw Simon appear on the platform, looking as
+stolid and imperturbable as ever.
+
+We were not long in reaching Gower Street, where Simon enjoyed a good
+breakfast, after which we drew up our chairs before the cheerful fire
+and began to talk.
+
+"Did you have a good journey, Simon?" I asked.
+
+"Slept like the seven sleepers of the patriarch, sur, all the way from
+Leeds."
+
+"And you don't feel tired now?"
+
+"Not a bit, yer honour."
+
+"Then," I said, "I want to explain to you a few things that must have
+appeared strange."
+
+Accordingly I told him of Voltaire's influence over me, and what came
+out of it.
+
+"Why, sur," said Simon, when I had finished, "that 'ere willain must be
+wuss nor a hinfidel; he must be the Old Nick in the garret. And do you
+mean to say, sur, that that 'ere beautiful Miss Forrest, who I've put
+down for you, is goin' to git married to that 'ere somnamblifyin'
+waccinatin' willain, if his dutiful mate ain't a found before Christmas
+Eve?"
+
+"Only nine days, Simon."
+
+"But it mustn't be, yer honour."
+
+"So I say, Simon; and that's why I've sent for you."
+
+"But I can't do nothink much, sur. All my wits hev bin waccinated away,
+and my blood is puddled like, which hev affected the workin' o' my
+brains; and, you see, all your detective chaps have failed."
+
+"But I shan't fail, if you'll help me."
+
+"Help you, Mr. Blake? You know I will!"
+
+"Simon, you offered to be my friend, now nearly a year ago."
+
+"Ay, and this 'ere is a lad as'll stick to his offer, sur, and mighty
+proud to do so."
+
+"Well, then, I'm in hopes we shall succeed."
+
+"How, yer honour?"
+
+"By fighting Voltaire with his own weapons."
+
+"What, waccinatin'?"
+
+"By mesmerism and clairvoyance, Simon."
+
+"And who's the chap as hev got to be waccinated--or mesmerized, as you
+call it?"
+
+"You, if you will, Simon."
+
+"Me, sir?" said Simon, aghast.
+
+"If you will."
+
+"Well, I said after that 'ere willain experimented on me in Yorkshire, I
+never would again; but if it's for you, sur--why, here goes; I'm purty
+tough. But how's it to be done?"
+
+Then I told him of my interview with the professor, and how he had told
+me that only he--Simon--could give the necessary help.
+
+"Let's off at once, yer honour," cried Simon. "I'm willin' for anything
+if you can git the hupper 'and of that 'ere willain and his other self.
+Nine days, sur--only nine days! Let's git to the waccinator. I'd rather
+have small-pox a dozen times than you should be knocked overboard by
+sich as he."
+
+I was nothing loth, and so, although it was still early, we were soon
+in a cab on our way to the professor's. On arriving, we were immediately
+shown in, and the little man soon made his appearance.
+
+"Ah! you've brought him?" said he. "I'm glad to see you so prompt. Would
+you mind taking this chair, my friend?"--to Simon. "That's it, thank
+you. You've been travelling all night and are a little tired, I expect.
+No? Well, it's well to be strong and able to bear fatigue. There, look
+at me. Ah, that's it!"
+
+With that he put his fingers on Simon's forehead, and my humble friend
+was unconscious of what was going on around him.
+
+"He's very susceptible; but I am afraid he has not been under this
+influence a sufficient number of times for his vision to be clear.
+Still, we'll try.--Simon!"
+
+"That's me," said Simon, sleepily.
+
+"Do you see Kaffar, the Egyptian?"
+
+He looked around as if in doubt. His eyes had a vacant look about them,
+and yet there seemed a certain amount of intelligence displayed--at any
+rate, it seemed so to me.
+
+"I see lots of people, all dim like," said Simon, slowly; "but I can't
+tell no faces. They all seem to be covered wi' a kind o' mist."
+
+"Look again," said the professor. "You can see more clearly now."
+
+Simon peered again and again, and then said, "Yes, I can see him; but he
+looks all strange. He's a-shaved off his whiskers, and hev got a sort o'
+red cap, like a baisin, on his head."
+
+My heart gave a great bound. Kaffar was not dead. Thank God for that!
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+"I am tryin' to see, but I can't. Everything is misty. There's a black
+fog a-comin' up."
+
+"Wait a few minutes," said the professor, "and then we'll try him
+again."
+
+Presently he spoke again. "Now," he said, "what do you see?"
+
+But Simon did not reply. He appeared in a deep sleep.
+
+"I thought as much," said the little man. "His nature has not been
+sufficiently prepared for such work. I suppose you had breakfast before
+you came here?"
+
+I assured him that Simon had breakfasted on kidneys and bacon; after
+which he had made considerable inroads into a cold chicken, with
+perchance half a pound of cold ham to keep it company. Besides which, he
+had taken three large breakfast cups of chocolate.
+
+"Ah, that explains somewhat. Still, I think we have done a fair
+morning's work. We've seen that our man is alive."
+
+"But do you think there is any hope of finding him?"
+
+"I'm sure there is, only be patient."
+
+"But what must I do?"
+
+"Well, take this man to see some of the sights of London until three
+o'clock, then come home to dinner. After dinner he'll be sleepy. Let him
+sleep, if he will, until nine o'clock; then bring him here again; but
+let him have no supper until after I have done with him."
+
+"Nine o'clock to-night! Why, do you know, that takes away another day?
+There will only want eight clear days to Christmas Eve."
+
+"I can't help that, sir," said the little professor, testily; "you
+should have come before. But that is the way. Our science, which is
+really the queen of sciences, is disregarded; only one here and there
+comes to us, and then we are treated as no other scientific man would be
+treated. Never mind, our day will come. One day all the sciences shall
+bow the knee to us, for we are the real interpreters of the mysteries of
+nature."
+
+I apologized for my impatience, which he gravely accepted, and then woke
+Simon from his sleep.
+
+"Where am I?" cried Simon. "Where've I been?"
+
+"I can't tell," said the professor; "I wish I could, for then our work
+would be accomplished."
+
+"Have you bin a-waccinatin' me?" said Simon.
+
+The little man looked to me for explanation.
+
+"He calls everything mysterious by that name," I said.
+
+"'Cause," continued Simon, "I thought as how you waccinators, or
+mesmerists, made passes, as they call 'em, and waved your hands about,
+and like that."
+
+"Did that Mr. Voltaire, I think you call him, make passes?" asked the
+professor.
+
+"He!" said Simon. "He ain't no ordinary man. He's got dealin's with old
+Nick, he hev. He didn't come near me, nor touch me, and I wur sleepin'
+afore I could think of my grandmother."
+
+"Just so; he is no ordinary man. He's a real student of psychology, he
+is. He has gone beyond the elements of our profession. I despise the
+foolish things which these quacks of mesmerism make Billy people do in
+order to please a gaping-mouthed audience. It is true I call myself a
+professor of mesmerism and clairvoyance, but it would be more correct to
+call me a practical psychologist. You'll attend to my wishes with
+regard to our friend, won't you? Good-morning."
+
+I will not try to describe how I passed the day. It would be wearisome
+to the reader to tell him how often I looked at my watch and thought of
+the precious hours that were flying; neither will I speak of my hopes
+and fears with regard to this idea of finding Kaffar's whereabouts by
+means of clairvoyance. Suffice it to say I was in a state of feverish
+anxiety when we drove up to the professor's door that night, about
+half-past nine.
+
+We did not wait a minute before operations were commenced. Simon was
+again in a mesmeric sleep, or whatever the reader may be pleased to call
+it, in a few seconds after he had sat down.
+
+Von Virchow began by asking the same question he had asked in the
+morning: "Do you see Kaffar, the Egyptian?"
+
+I waited in breathless silence for the answer. Simon heaved a deep sigh,
+and peered wearily around, while the professor kept his eye steadily
+upon him.
+
+"Do you see Kaffar, the Egyptian?" repeated he.
+
+"Yes, I see him," said Simon at length.
+
+"Where?"
+
+"That's what I'm trying to find out," said Simon. "The place is
+strange; the people talk in a strange tongue. I can't make 'em out."
+
+"What do you see now?" said the professor, touching his forehead.
+
+"Oh, ah, I see now," said Simon. "It's a railway station, and I see that
+'ere willain there, jest as cunnin' as ever. He's a gettin' in the
+train, he is."
+
+"Can you see the name of the station?"
+
+"No, I can't. It's a biggish place it is, and I can't see no name. Stay
+a minute, though. I see now."
+
+"Well, what's the name?"
+
+"It's a name as I never see or heard tell on before. B-O-L-O--ah, that's
+it; BOLOGNA, that's it. It is a queer name though, ain't it?"
+
+"Well, what now?"
+
+"Why, he's in the train, and it's started, it is."
+
+"Do you know where he's going?"
+
+"No."
+
+"But he has a ticket; can't you see it?"
+
+"Course I can't. It's in his pocket, and I can't see through the cloth,
+I can't."
+
+"And what's he doing now?"
+
+"Why, he's in for makin' hisself comfortable, he is. He's got a piller,
+and he's stretchin' hisself on the seat and layin' his head on the
+piller. There, he's closed his eyes--he's off to sleep."
+
+The professor turned to me. "I am afraid we can do no more to-night," he
+said. "Evidently he is on a journey, and we must wait until he arrives
+at his destination."
+
+"But can't Slowden remain as he is and watch him?"
+
+"The thing would be at once cruel and preposterous, sir. No, you must
+come again in the morning; then, perchance, he will have finished his
+journey;" and accordingly he proceeded to awake Simon.
+
+After all, it did not matter so much. It was now ten o'clock, and I
+could do nothing that night, in any case.
+
+"I do not know but that I am glad that things are as they are,"
+continued the professor. "This second sleep will enable him to see more
+clearly to-morrow. Meanwhile, consider yourself fortunate. If the
+Egyptian stops anywhere in Italy, it will be possible for you to reach
+him and bring him back within the time you mention. Take heart, my
+friend. Good-bye for the time. I shall expect you early to-morrow."
+
+No sooner were we in the street than Simon began to ask me what he had
+told me, for I found that he was entirely ignorant of the things he had
+said.
+
+"Who'd 'a thought it?" he said musingly, when I had told him. "Who'd 'a
+thought as 'ow I should hassist in a waccinatin' business like this
+'ere! Tell 'ee, yer 'onour, I shall believe in ghosts and sperrits again
+soon. Fancy me a-seein' things in Italy and tellin' 'em to you without
+knowin' anything about it! Well, but 'twill be grand if we can find 'im,
+yer honour, won't it then?"
+
+I spent a sleepless night, harassed by a thousand doubts and fears.
+There, in the quiet of my room, all this mesmerism and clairvoyance
+seemed only so much hocus-pocus, which no sensible and well-educated man
+should have anything to do with. Still, it was my only hope, and it only
+wanted eight days to Christmas Eve. Only one little week and a day, that
+was all, and then, if I did not produce Kaffar, all was lost. It would
+be no use to go to Miss Forrest's house in Kensington and tell her that
+Simon Slowden had, while in a mesmeric sleep, seen Kaffar in Italy. No,
+no; that would never do. I must produce him, nothing else would suffice.
+
+We were early at the professor's the following morning, and found him
+waiting and almost as anxious as we were. Again Simon submitted to the
+influence of the little man, and soon answered his questions far more
+readily than he had hitherto done.
+
+Did he see Kaffar?
+
+"Yes," was the reply.
+
+"Where is he now?"
+
+He was in a beautiful town. The houses were white, the streets were
+white; the town was full of squares, and in these squares were many
+statues. Such was Simon's information.
+
+"Do you know what country the town is in?"
+
+"No," said Simon, shaking his head.
+
+"Could you not by any means find out? There's a railway station in the
+town; can you not see the name there?"
+
+"Yes, there's a railway station, a fine one. Ah, I see the name now.
+T-O-R-I-N-O. TORINO, that's it."
+
+"Torino!" I cried, "Turin! That's a town in Italy, some distance beyond
+the French border."
+
+The professor beckoned me to be quiet.
+
+"Kaffar is at Torino, is he?" said the professor.
+
+"That's it--yes."
+
+"What is he doing?"
+
+"Talkin' with a man who keeps an hotel."
+
+"What does he say?"
+
+"It's in a foreign language, and I can't tell."
+
+"Can you repeat what he said?"
+
+"It sounded like this--'_Je restey ici pour kelka jour_;' but I can't
+make out what it means."
+
+The professor turned to me.
+
+"He's speaking French. I did not know Kaffar knew French; perhaps he's
+learned it lately. The words mean that he will stay there for some
+days."
+
+"Can you describe the street in which this hotel is?" continued Von
+Virchow.
+
+Simon began to describe, but we could make nothing of it.
+
+"We can't understand," replied the professor. "Can you draw a sketch of
+the road to it from the railway station?" and he put a piece of paper
+and pencil in Simon's hand.
+
+Without hesitating, Simon drew a sketch, a facsimile of which is given
+on the opposite page.
+
+I had been to Turin, and remembered some of the places the sketch
+indicated. It might be far from perfect, but it was sufficient for me.
+It would be child's play to find Kaffar there.
+
+"That will do," I said to the professor. "I'll start at once. Thank you
+so much."
+
+"Ah, that will do, will it?" he said, with a smile. "Then I'll wake up
+this man."
+
+Simon woke up as usual, rubbing his eyes, and asked whether any good had
+been done.
+
+"Everything's been done," cried I. "Come, professor, allow me to write
+you a cheque. How much shall it be?"
+
+"Not a penny until your work is accomplished," replied the little man,
+with dignity.
+
+"That is not fair," I said. "I don't know what may happen, and you must
+not be defrauded. Anyhow, here's something on account;" and I put a
+twenty-pound note in his hand.
+
+He smiled as he looked at it, while I took my hat, and stated my
+intention to start for Turin at once.
+
+"Beggin' yer pardon," said Simon, "but this 'ere waccination business
+is awfully wearyin', and I should like to--that is--"
+
+"The very thing," I replied, anticipating his request. "You shall go
+with me."
+
+Half-an-hour later, we were at Gower Street, making preparations for our
+journey to Turin--Simon calm and collected, I feverish and excited.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+NEARING THE END
+
+
+There were, as I said, eight days in which to find Kaffar and bring him
+to London, counting the day on which we started our journey. It was
+Wednesday; by the following Wednesday, at midnight, I must prove to
+Gertrude that Voltaire was a villain and a liar. It should be done
+easily. It was but little more than a thirty hours' ride to Turin--that
+is, providing everything went smoothly. To put it at the outside, it was
+only a forty-eight hours' journey, allowing time for a sleep on the way.
+Thus four days would suffice for travelling, and I should have more than
+three days in which to find Kaffar. It was true Turin was a large town,
+but in three days I was sure I could find him. In that time I thought I
+could hunt every lodging-house and hotel in the city.
+
+I shall say little of the journey. Mostly it was cold and wearisome
+enough. From Dover to Paris it was fairly comfortable, but from Paris to
+the Italian border we were travelling through a snowstorm, and thus,
+when we came to this our last stopping-place before going through the
+famous Mont Cenis Tunnel, we were four hours late. It was terribly cold
+there. Everything was ice-bound. Brooklets, waterfalls, rivers, all were
+held fast by the ice-king. Simon was much impressed by the scenery. The
+great giant mountains towering up on every hand were a revelation to
+him, and he stood open-mouthed, gazing at what is perhaps among the
+grandest sights in France.
+
+We swept through Mont Cenis Tunnel, and then, with a cry of gladness, we
+entered the sunny land of Italy. What a change it was! Here the warm
+sun, which had been hidden on the other side by the high mountain range,
+had melted the snow, and so bright streams of water came rushing down
+the mountain sides, laughing as if in glee. The cottagers sat outside
+their doors, singing in the sun. The vine-covered hills, although not
+yet clothed with their green garment, were still beautiful, while away
+in the distance spread a broad Italian plain, dotted with villages, out
+of whose midst a modest church spire ever lifted its head.
+
+I had seen all this before, but to Simon it was a marvel of beauty. In
+England the streets were muddy, and a yellow fog hung over London, and
+yet in forty-eight hours we were beneath sunny skies, we were breathing
+a comparatively humid air.
+
+But I must not stay to write about this, for my story is not about
+Italian scenery, or beautiful sights of any sort. It is my work now to
+tell about my search after Kaffar.
+
+We arrived in Turin on Friday evening, about fifty-one hours from the
+time we started from London. We had spent some little time in Paris, or
+we could have done it more quickly. We found Turin lit up with a pure
+bright light, and, as Simon declared, "looking one of the most purtiest
+places like, as ever he'd clapped his eyes on."
+
+We stayed at Hotel Trombetta. We had several reasons for doing this.
+First, it was a good hotel. I had stayed there before, and so I knew. It
+was also near the station, and fairly near the place where, according to
+Simon's sketch, Kaffar was staying. We got into the hotel just in time
+for dinner. Simon declared that he "dar'n't go into the dining-room amo'
+the swells like; it would take away his appetite jist like waccination
+did;" but as I insisted, he gave way, and certainly did not draw any
+one's attention by his awkwardness. I had got him a perfectly fitting
+suit of clothes in Paris, in which he looked a respectable member of
+society.
+
+Directly after dinner I went out, to try to find Kaffar's whereabouts;
+but although Turin is beautifully built, and the streets very straight,
+I found I had to put off my search until the morning.
+
+Every hour of waiting was, as the reader may imagine, of great anxiety
+to me. I was now making my great move. If I missed in this, all was
+lost. Was Kaffar in Turin? Was he or had he been there? Was all this
+mesmerism so much hocus-pocus and nonsense to deceive me, a credulous
+fool? And yet I was sure Simon would not be a party in deceiving me. But
+might not I have been deceived by the professor? Could he not make my
+friend say, not what really existed, but what existed in his own mind?
+And yet the little man seemed honest! Anyhow, I could do no more, and it
+was my only hope. There could be no harm in trying. If I failed, well, I
+could not help it; I had done my best. I would go back and face Voltaire
+and Miss Forrest, and--well--I knew not what--! But if I found the
+Egyptian! Ah, it was too good to be true. I dared not dwell upon the
+thought. It was not for me to build castles in the air, and weave
+bright fancies; but to work, until I had accomplished the work I had set
+out to do.
+
+And so I went quietly to bed, and, much to my astonishment, slept long
+and soundly. The sun was shining in at my window when I awoke, and this
+Italian city looked wondrously beautiful as it lay there this clear
+December morning, in the light of the bright sun.
+
+We wasted no time after breakfast before setting out--I with beating
+heart, Simon still calm and collected, looking with critical eyes on the
+sketch he had drawn in his mesmeric sleep.
+
+"After all," remarked Simon, slowly, "it shows us how a feller can live
+away from his body, don't it, then? We are fearfully and terribly made,
+as Solomon said to the people on Mount Sinai."
+
+I did not reply to Simon's philosophy, nor to his wonderful scriptural
+quotations. I was too anxious to get to this hotel, where I hoped Kaffar
+would be staying.
+
+We came to the great square in which stood the palace of the king, but I
+paid no heed to the imposing building nor to the magnificently carved
+monuments that stood around in the square. I was too anxious to turn
+down the street in which my hopes lay.
+
+I went slowly down, till I came to the bottom of it, where a narrow
+road branched off, leading to a kind of observatory; but I saw nothing
+of an hotel.
+
+My heart became like lead.
+
+Simon's sketch of the streets had not been a false one. If any of my
+readers have been to Turin, they will remember the long street leading
+from the station; they will also recognize the two squares which Simon
+indicated in his plan. True, he had sketched them out of proportion,
+while the street was far more straight than he had drawn it. Still, it
+bore a close resemblance to that particular part of the city.
+
+But there was no hotel, nor sign of one in the street.
+
+We walked up and down again and again, with no success. Could it be that
+I had come all these weary miles again only for a bitter and terrible
+disappointment? The thought almost drove me mad.
+
+I would not give up, however! There might be no hotel, but it was
+possible Kaffar stayed in a lodging-house, or even in a private house. I
+would knock at every house in the street, and make inquiries, before I
+would give up.
+
+The Italian language was not altogether strange to me. I could not by
+any means speak it fluently, but I knew it enough to enter into an
+ordinary conversation. So, seeing a soldier pass up the street, I
+saluted him and asked him whether he knew a lodging-house or private
+boarding establishment in the street?
+
+No, the soldier said, he did not know any at all in that street, or,
+indeed, in that part of the town; but if I would go with him, he would
+direct me to a splendid place, marvellously convenient, marvellously
+clean, and marvellously cheap, and, best of all, kept by his mother's
+sister.
+
+I cannot say I felt either elated or depressed by this answer. Evidently
+this was a keen youth, trying to get a suitable customer for his
+relations.
+
+Another youth came up to me soon after, offering to sell me photographs
+of some of the principal sights in Turin. Could he tell me of any
+boarding or lodging establishment in the street?
+
+Yes, he knew of three or four. For a franc he would give me their
+history and lead me to them.
+
+Was there one about the middle of the street?
+
+Yes, there were two close together. Should he take me?
+
+I closed with the youth's offer, and accordingly we walked down the
+street together. He entered a tobacconist's shop, assuring me that this
+was a lodging-house.
+
+A young Italian girl stood behind the counter, as if waiting for an
+order; so I asked to see the proprietor of the place.
+
+She immediately went out of the shop and gave a shout, and a minute
+after a matronly woman entered, about fifty years of age, and who, from
+her close resemblance to the dark-eyed girl, was probably her mother.
+
+Was she the proprietor of this establishment?
+
+She was.
+
+Did she keep a boarding-house?
+
+She did--for well-behaved people.
+
+She had no husband?
+
+The Blessed Virgin had taken him home.
+
+And a man did not conduct her business?
+
+Certainly not. She was a capable woman, able to attend to the wants of
+her guests, while her daughter was a universal favourite because of
+politeness to customers and the good tobacco she sold. Should she have
+the pleasure of selling me some?
+
+I did not reply except by a smile, which this Italian maiden evidently
+took for an assent to her mother's proposition, and accordingly
+proceeded to make some cigarettes for me. Meanwhile her mother assured
+me that her house was convenient and comfortable, and asked permission
+to show me some vacant rooms, and give me an idea of the attendance I
+should receive.
+
+I accordingly followed her, and found rooms which, while not altogether
+according to my English tastes, did her credit.
+
+"Have you many lodgers now?" I asked.
+
+"Four," was the reply.
+
+"Gentlemen?"
+
+"All gentlemen."
+
+"Might I ask their nationality?" I said.
+
+"They are all Italian," was the reply.
+
+My hopes had risen high, but they were by this answer dashed to the
+ground. Then I remembered that Simon had described Kaffar as being in a
+room with a man. So, after thanking the lady for her kindness and paying
+for the cigarettes, I asked the boy, who was waiting for his franc, to
+show me to the other lodging-house close by.
+
+"Oh, sir," said the proprietress of this establishment, "don't go there!
+It's a bad house; it really is! The lodgers are bad men, and they are
+bad people." She said this evidently in earnest, while the little girl
+behind the counter hoped I should not go among those thieves.
+
+I was not displeased at this. I did not think Kaffar would be very
+particular as to his society, and he would be more likely to stay at
+this disreputable place than in a respectable lodging-house.
+
+Accordingly, I told the good lady that I should not take lodgings there,
+and, if I took apartments in any place in the city, hers should have the
+first consideration. This considerably mollified her, so my guide
+proceeded to lead the way to the other lodging-house. This was also a
+tobacconist's shop, but a dirty old woman stood behind the counter. She
+was very polite, however, and quickly called down the proprietor of the
+establishment.
+
+This was a lodging-house, was it not?
+
+He assured me that my surmise was correct, and forthwith began to
+enumerate the advantages received by those who were fortunate enough to
+be received as lodgers.
+
+"Have you many lodgers at present?" I asked.
+
+"Five," was the reply.
+
+My heart began to beat violently now, for I felt I was near the time
+when my labours would be rewarded by success, or I should have to give
+up my search in despair.
+
+"Are they all Europeans?" I asked.
+
+"No. There was one Turk, one Frenchman, two Italians, and one Egyptian."
+
+My heart gave a great bound. Surely I had been guided aright; I should
+find him at last.
+
+"Are they at home during the day?"
+
+"No," was the reply; "they are mostly out."
+
+"But they come home at night?"
+
+"Yes, they come home at night, all except one."
+
+Which was he?
+
+The Egyptian.
+
+Did he stay at home during the day?
+
+He really could not say. He only came a little more than two days ago,
+and his habits seemed uncertain.
+
+"And is the Egyptian at home now?"
+
+"No," said the man, eyeing me keenly.
+
+"Might I ask when he will be home?" I asked eagerly.
+
+"I do not think it right to answer questions about my lodgers," said the
+man, sharply. "You have asked a great many; I must know your reasons for
+so doing before I answer any more."
+
+I began to chide myself for my folly. I had raised suspicions, and now I
+might not be able to get the information I wanted. "I did not intend to
+be offensive," I said. "If I mistake not, this Egyptian gentleman is
+acquainted with a man in England whom I know, and I have a message of
+great importance to convey."
+
+"To Mr. Kaffar's advantage?" asked the Italian, eagerly.
+
+No words can express what I felt as the man unthinkingly uttered
+Kaffar's name. I had not come on a false report. The Egyptian bore the
+name of the man I wanted to find.
+
+"He can turn it to his advantage," I replied.
+
+"Mr. Kaffar is not in Turin at present," he said confidentially.
+
+"Could you tell me where he is?" I said, with beating heart.
+
+"I cannot. You see--" and the Italian put his face close to mine. "Might
+I ask if you are somewhat of a--well, a gentleman fond of play?"
+
+I did not reply.
+
+"Ah, I thought so," said he, cunningly. "At first I was afraid you were
+a detective fellow, but I see now. Well, you will perhaps know that Mr.
+Kaffar is a very accomplished gentleman, and he left yesterday afternoon
+for a little tour--where I don't know. Another accomplished gentleman
+went with him. We have a jolly house, and you Englishmen would enjoy a
+few nights here. Come up to-night and win some of our Italian gold."
+
+"When will Mr. Kaffar be back?"
+
+"He said he might be back on Monday night--on Tuesday morning at
+latest."
+
+"I daren't come and play till he comes," I said. "Will he let you know
+when he is coming back?"
+
+"Yes; he said he'd telegraph."
+
+"Would you mind letting me know the train? I am staying at the Hotel
+Trombetta."
+
+"Yes, yes, I shall be delighted; and then, when he comes, we'll--But
+what name shall I write on my message?"
+
+"Herod Voltaire," I said.
+
+I went away then, and began to think. I found the man, and yet I had
+not. Nothing was certain yet. It was now Saturday, and he would not
+return until Monday night or Tuesday morning, and I must be in London by
+Wednesday at midnight, or all was lost. Say he came back on Tuesday by
+noon, there would then be only thirty-six hours left in which to get to
+London. Thirty-six hours, and many hundreds of dreary, weary miles
+between! Or if he should not come at all! If the Italian were deceiving
+me!
+
+I shall not try and relate what happened the next two days, except to
+say that I set Simon to watch every train that came into Turin station,
+while I did all I could to discover whether he were hiding in Turin.
+
+Neither of us saw Kaffar, nor did we hear anything of him.
+
+Monday night came. I had received no message from the lodging-house
+keeper, neither had I heard any news. The suspense was becoming
+terrible.
+
+Six o'clock! Seven o'clock, and no news!
+
+"Simon," I said, "go to that lodging-house and ask whether any message
+has been received."
+
+The willing fellow, still with a smile on his face and a cheery look,
+started to do my bidding. I do not know how I should have borne up
+during those two terrible days, but for my faithful friend.
+
+He had not been gone above half a minute before he came bounding back to
+my room.
+
+"A message jist 'a come, yer honour!" he cried.
+
+Eagerly I snatched it, and read--"_Expect me home to-night by the
+midnight train.--KAFFAR._"
+
+I caught up a time-table and anxiously scanned it. The telegram was from
+_Nice_. There was a train due from this fashionable seaport at 12.30.
+
+The lodging-house keeper had kept his word, and Kaffar would be safe. It
+was become intensely real, intensely exciting!
+
+Five hours to wait--five hours! Only those who have felt as I did can
+know what they meant.
+
+At twelve o'clock I sent Simon to the station, while I went to the
+lodging-house to await Kaffar's arrival.
+
+"Mr. Kaffar will have supper, I suppose?" I said to the proprietor of
+the house.
+
+"Yes, I shall prepare supper."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"In his own room."
+
+"Just so. Could you manage to put me in a room where I can see him at
+supper without being observed? I should like to enter quietly and give
+him a surprise."
+
+"You mean nothing wrong?"
+
+"On my honour, I do not."
+
+"It is said," mused the Italian, "that an English gentleman's honour is
+like English cloth; it can always be depended on. The adjoining room is
+empty, sir."
+
+"Thank you," I replied, while he led the way to the room.
+
+I had not been there long before I heard some one enter with the
+landlord. The two rooms, like many we find in French hotels, could
+easily be made one, as a doorway led from one to the other. I had
+arranged my door to be slightly ajar, so was able to see.
+
+The man with the landlord was Kaffar!
+
+I found that Kaffar could not speak Italian. He spoke French enough to
+make himself understood, and, as his host was proficient in that
+language, French was the tongue in which they conversed.
+
+"Has any one been asking for me?" asked Kaffar.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"A gentleman from England."
+
+"From England! What kind of a man?"
+
+"A giant, with brown hair."
+
+"A giant, with brown hair! Man, where is he now?"
+
+"How can I say?" said the Italian.
+
+Kaffar held down his head for a minute, and then said hastily, "And his
+message?"
+
+"Something to your advantage, sir."
+
+"My advantage? Can it be he? Did he give his name?"
+
+"Herod Voltaire!"
+
+"Voltaire! Never! He dare not come near me; I'm his master for many
+reasons--he dare not come! But--"
+
+He checked himself, as if he were telling the Italian too much. The host
+then left the room, while Kaffar went on with his supper.
+
+I opened the door noiselessly and went into the room, and said
+distinctly, "Good evening, Mr. Kaffar."
+
+He looked up and saw me. Never, I think, did I see so much terror,
+astonishment, mingled with hate, expressed on a human face before.
+
+He made a leap for the door. I caught him, and held him fast.
+
+"No, Mr. Kaffar, you must not escape," I said, leading him back to his
+chair.
+
+"You cannot--kill me--here!" he gasped. "I mean no wrong--to you. I--Ah,
+you've followed me for revenge."
+
+For an answer I went to the door and locked it.
+
+"Have mercy!" he said. "Don't kill me. I--you don't know all! Voltaire's
+your enemy, not I."
+
+"You knew I was following you, did you?" I said.
+
+"Yes. Voltaire said you were mad for my life; that you swore to be
+revenged; that you would pull me limb from limb! Ah, you do not know."
+
+Surely I had found out the man's nature. He was a coward, and stood in
+deadly fear of me. He had been Voltaire's tool, who had frightened him
+to do his every bidding. Now I must use his fear of me to make him do my
+will.
+
+"Well, I have found you out," I said. "You thought you would master me,
+didn't you?"
+
+"Well, I'm master of you both. Voltaire's influence over me is gone, and
+now he is in my power; while you--"
+
+"Ah, Mr. Blake, have mercy," he whined. "I only did what he told me, and
+he has treated me like a dog."
+
+"Yes; he intended me to kill you, while both of you tried to ruin me."
+
+"Curse him! I know he did. Oh, I am not his friend now. Mr. Blake,
+forgive me. Ah, say--"
+
+I felt that if I allowed this man to think my welfare depended on his
+doing my will, he would defy me. I must use means suitable to the man.
+
+"Kaffar," I said, "had I a heart like you Egyptians, you know what I
+should do; but--well, I will be merciful on one condition."
+
+"Oh, what-what?"
+
+"That you will come back to England with me at once."
+
+"I cannot; I dare not. He has promised to take my life-blood if I do."
+
+"No harm shall happen to you, I promise."
+
+"You will not allow him to touch me?"
+
+"He shall not."
+
+"Then I will go."
+
+My point was gained. The man had promised to accompany me willingly,
+while I had expected a difficult matter in getting him to England.
+
+Early the next day we were on our way to England, Simon and I taking
+turns in watching the wily Egyptian.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+THE SECOND CHRISTMAS EVE
+
+
+The skies were clear when we left Turin, and the air pure and free. We
+had not got far into France, however, when we found everything changed.
+It was snow--snow everywhere. On ordinary occasions I should not have
+minded much, but now everything depended on my getting to London at a
+certain hour. How slowly the train seemed to creep, to be sure; and how
+long we stopped at the little roadside stations!
+
+Simon did his best to cheer me, while Kaffar furtively watched us both,
+as if in fear. I was silent and fearful, for I felt sure the Egyptian
+meditated escape. The laughter of the light-hearted French people, who
+were preparing for Christmas festivities, grated on my ears; for,
+although I had succeeded almost beyond my hopes, a great fear rested
+upon me that I should fail even yet. Especially was this realized when
+I knew that our train was hours late, and I knew that did we not arrive
+in Paris at something like reasonable time, we should miss the express
+trains for England.
+
+When we got to the French metropolis we were nearly five hours late. It
+was not to be wondered at, for the snow fell in blinding drifts, until,
+in some cases, the railways were completely blocked. The wonder was how
+we got to Paris so soon, when we considered what had to be contended
+with.
+
+Anxiously I inquired after trains by which I could catch the boats for
+England, but the replies were vague. First, it was now Christmas Eve,
+which at all times caused the general traffic to be delayed; and,
+second, the weather was so bad that to state times of arrival was
+impossible.
+
+It was now Wednesday morning, and I started from Paris with sixteen
+hours before me in which to get to London. Ordinarily I should have had
+time enough and to spare, but everything was delayed and confused. I had
+thought of going back by Dieppe and Newhaven; but a storm was blowing,
+and I knew that meant a longer sea-passage, so I went to Calais, thus
+riding through one of the most uninteresting parts of France. It was
+five o'clock on Christmas Eve when we arrived at this little French
+seaport, and then it took us two hours to cross the straits, although we
+happened to be on one of the fast-sailing steamers. We had now five
+hours to get to Kensington. I was getting terribly anxious now. If there
+should be a breakdown, or if anything should happen to hinder us! We
+were so near, and yet so far. Once I thought of telegraphing and telling
+of my success, but I refrained from that. I wanted to tell of my victory
+in person, and thus, if needs be, destroy Voltaire's last hope.
+
+The usual time for an express train to run from Dover to Victoria is
+about two hours; but it was Christmas Eve, special trains were running,
+and passengers crowded on every hand, thus we were more than three hours
+in accomplishing the journey. The train swept into Victoria at a
+quarter-past ten. There was one hour and three-quarters to go to
+Kensington.
+
+"This way to the Custom House," shouted one of the officials. I had
+forgotten this part of the programme, but I determined not to wait for
+my luggage. I would sooner lose it a thousand times over than be late in
+reaching Kensington. I accordingly got the keys from Kaffar and Simon,
+and pointing out the portmanteaus to an official, gave him a sovereign
+to see them examined and sent on to my address in Gower Street.
+
+I hailed a hansom, but the cabby refused to take the three of us, upon
+which Kaffar offered to go in another; but I dared not risk him out of
+my sight, so we got into a rumbling old four-wheeler, and I offered the
+cabby a sovereign if he would get me at the address I gave him in
+half-an-hour.
+
+"Couldn't do it for ten sovereigns, sir," said the cabby. "The streets
+is as slippery as glass, and as crowded as herrin's in a barrel. I'll do
+it in _three-quarters_ for a quid, yer honour."
+
+It was now nearly half-past ten; that would make it a quarter-past
+eleven. To me it was drawing it terribly fine, but I consented. If he
+were not spurred on by thought of reward, short as the distance was,
+there was no knowing how long he would be.
+
+At length the cab stopped. It was a quarter-past eleven, and as I got
+out I noticed that we stood in front of one of those tall noble-looking
+mansions which are so common in Kensington.
+
+"Wait a minute," I said to the cabby; "I want to be certain this is the
+right house." Meanwhile I noticed that my constant friend Simon held
+Kaffar by the arm.
+
+I rang the bell violently, and a servant appeared at the door.
+
+Did Miss Gertrude Forrest live there?
+
+Yes.
+
+Was she at home?
+
+Yes.
+
+Could I see her?
+
+The servant was not sure, but would ascertain. Miss Forrest was then
+engaged.
+
+I stopped the man, for I did not wish to appear in the way that matters
+seemed to promise. Meanwhile Simon had paid the cabby, and so the three
+of us stood together in the hall.
+
+"I am an old friend of Miss Forrest's," I said to the man; "I want to be
+shown to the room where she is, without her being apprised of my
+presence."
+
+"I daren't," he replied; "it would be as much as my place is worth."
+
+"No, it would not," I replied. "You would not suffer in the slightest
+degree."
+
+"But there are several people in the room," he said, eyeing a sovereign
+I was turning over in my hand.
+
+"How many?"
+
+"There's Miss Forrest, her aunt, and Miss Staggles, besides a gentleman
+that came early in the evening."
+
+"That gentleman's name is Herod Voltaire," I said.
+
+"Yes, sir, that's the name. Well, I'll do as you wish me."
+
+I followed the servant, while Simon kept fast hold on Kaffar. The man
+knocked at the door, while I stood close behind him, and the moment he
+opened the door I entered the room.
+
+Never shall I forget the sight. Evidently Voltaire had been claiming the
+fulfilment of her promise, for he was earnestly speaking when I entered,
+while Miss Forrest, pale as death, sat by an elderly lady, who I
+concluded to be her aunt. Miss Staggles also sat near, as grim and
+taciturn as ever.
+
+"It is nearly twelve o'clock," I heard Voltaire say, "and he's not here.
+He dare not come; how dare he? He has left the country, and will never
+return again."
+
+"But I am here," I said distinctly.
+
+They all turned as I spoke, and Miss Forrest gave a scream. I had been
+travelling incessantly for forty hours, so I am afraid I did not present
+a very pleasant appearance. No doubt I was travel-stained and dusty
+enough.
+
+"Who are you?" demanded Voltaire.
+
+"You know well enough who I am," I said.
+
+"Begone!" he cried; "this is no place for murderers."
+
+"No," I said, "it is not."
+
+No sooner had Miss Forrest realized who I was, than she rushed to my
+side.
+
+"Oh, are you safe--are you safe?" she said huskily.
+
+I looked at her face, and it was deathly pale, while her eyes told me
+she had passed sleepless nights.
+
+"No, he's not safe," said Voltaire, "and he shall pay for this with his
+life."
+
+"Is it manly," I said to him, "to persecute a lady thus? Can't you see
+how she scorns you, hates you, loathes you? Will you insist on her
+abiding by a promise which was made in excitement to save an innocent
+man?"
+
+"Innocent!" he sneered, and I noticed a look of victory still in his
+glittering eye. "Innocent! Yes, as innocent as Nero or Robespierre; but
+you shall not come here to pollute the air by your presence. Begone!
+before I forget myself, and send for the police to lock you up. Ah, I
+long for vengeance on the man who murdered my dear friend."
+
+"Then you will not release Miss Forrest?"
+
+"Never!"
+
+"Then I shall make you."
+
+"You make me?" he cried savagely.
+
+Meanwhile Miss Forrest had clung tremblingly to my arm; Miss Forrest's
+aunt had looked fearfully, first at Voltaire, then at me; while Miss
+Staggles had been mumbling something about showing me out of doors.
+
+"Yes," I said; "I shall make you."
+
+"You cannot," he jeered. "I have it in my power now to lodge you safe in
+a felon's gaol, and bring you to a hangman's noose."
+
+"Ay, and I would too," cried Miss Staggles. "You are too kind, too
+forbearing, Mr. Voltaire."
+
+"Oh, leave me," cried Miss Forrest, clinging closer to me; "I will
+suffer anything rather than you should be--be--"
+
+"Ring the bell for a servant," I said; and Miss Forrest's aunt
+tremblingly touched a button close beside her.
+
+The man who had showed me in immediately answered the summons.
+
+"Show my friends in," I said.
+
+A minute more and Simon entered, carefully leading Kaffar. Voltaire gave
+a yell like that of a mad dog, while Miss Forrest gave a scream of
+delight.
+
+"There, villain," I said, "is the man whom you say I've murdered."
+
+"How dare you come here?" said Voltaire to Kaffar.
+
+"Because I brought him," I said, "to save this lady and expose you. Now,
+where is your power, and where are the charges you have brought?"
+
+Had he a pistol I believe he would have shot me dead. His ground was cut
+from under him. The man who destroyed his every hope stood before us
+all, and refuted his terrible charges. For a minute he stood as if
+irresolute; then he turned to Miss Forrest and spoke as coolly as if
+nothing had happened.
+
+"May I claim your pardon, your forgiveness?" he said. "Believe me, lady,
+it was all because I loved you that I have acted as I have. Say, then,
+now that all is against me, that you forgive me."
+
+She hesitated a minute before replying; then she said slowly, "It is
+difficult for me to speak to you without shuddering. Never did I believe
+such villainy possible; but--but I pray that God may forgive you, as I
+do."
+
+"Then I will leave you," he said, with a terrible look at me.
+
+"No," I said; "you will not leave us so easily. Know, man, that you are
+punishable by the law of England."
+
+"How?"
+
+"You are guilty of many things that I need not enumerate here; some
+Kaffar has told me about, some I knew before. So, instead of my lying in
+a felon's cell, it will be you."
+
+Then we all received a great shock. Miss Staggles arose from her chair
+and rushed towards me.
+
+"No, no, Mr. Blake," she cried; "no, not for my sake. He's my only son.
+For my sake, spare him."
+
+"_Your_ only son? _Yours?_" cried Miss Forrest's aunt.
+
+"Mine," cried this gaunt old woman. "Oh, I was married on the Continent
+when quite a girl, and I dared not tell of it, for my husband was a
+gambler and a villain; but he was handsome and fascinating, and so he
+won me. Herod, this son of mine, was born just the day before his father
+was killed in a duel. Oh, spare him for my sake!"
+
+I need not enter into the further explanations she made, nor how she
+pleaded for mercy for him, for they were painful to all. And did I spare
+him? Yes; on condition that he left England, never to return again,
+besides stipulating for Kaffar's safety.
+
+He left the house soon after, and we all felt a sense of relief when he
+had gone, save Miss Staggles, or rather Mrs. Voltaire, who went up to
+her room weeping bitterly.
+
+Need I relate what followed that night? Need I tell how I had to recount
+my doings and journeyings over again and again, while Simon and Kaffar
+were asked to give such information as I was unable to give, and how one
+circumstance was explained by another until all was plain? I will not
+tax my readers' patience by so doing; this must be left to their own
+imagination.
+
+After this, Mrs. Walters insisted that we must have refreshments, and
+bustled away to order it, while a servant conducted Simon and Kaffar to
+a room where food was to be obtained; and so I was left alone with the
+woman I loved.
+
+"Well?" I said, when they were gone.
+
+"Well?" she replied, looking shyly into my face.
+
+"I have done your bidding," I said, after a minute's silence. "I have
+freed you from that man."
+
+"Thank God, you have!" she said, with a shudder. "Oh, if you only knew
+how I have prayed and hoped and thought!"
+
+"And I had a promise, too," I said; "will it be painful for you to keep
+it?"
+
+"Painful, Justin?" she cried. "You know I will gladly be your wife."
+
+I will not write of what happened then. It is not for the eyes of the
+world to see. Tears come into my eyes now as I remember how her
+new-found happiness lit up her eyes with joy, and how the colour came
+into her beautiful cheeks. God alone knows how happy we were. We had
+been kept asunder by a cruel hand, and had been brought together again
+by long and bitter struggles, struggles which would never have been but
+for the love of God and the love in our hearts. Then, when our joy was
+fullest, a choir from a neighbouring church began to sing--
+
+"Christians, awake, salute the happy morn,
+Whereon the Saviour of mankind was born."
+
+It was indeed, a happy Christmas morn to us. The darkness had rolled
+away, and the light of heaven shone upon us.
+
+When I left shortly after, I asked whether I should come the next day,
+or rather when daylight came, and spend Christmas Day with her.
+
+"You must not be later than nine o'clock," she said, with a glad laugh,
+while my heart seemed ready to break for joy.
+
+I have nearly told my story now; the loving work of months is almost at
+an end, and soon I must drop my pen. I am very happy, happier than I
+ever hoped to be. My new-found strength not only brought me freedom from
+my enemy, not only enabled me to accomplish my purpose, but gave me
+fuller and richer life. Gertrude and I live under brighter skies than we
+should do had I not been led through so terrible an experience. Thus the
+Eternal Goodness brings good out of evil.
+
+Voltaire is on the Continent. I do not think that he has ever returned
+to England; while his mother, who still lives the same kind of life as
+of yore, supplies him with money. It appears that she has means which
+were unknown to her friends, and thus she keeps him supplied. Of course
+the relationship between them explains their being in league in
+Yorkshire. She was ever seeking to serve him then; she is still trying
+to do the same. She never speaks to me. But for me, she says, her son
+would have married Gertrude, and then she would have lived with her
+Herod, who would have been a country gentleman, not the poor outcast he
+is now.
+
+Kaffar has gone back to Egypt. He stayed in London a few days after the
+scene on Christmas Eve, and I gave him house-room in my old lodgings;
+but he tired of England, so I sent him back to Cairo. I think he is a
+far better man than he was, but I am not at all sorry that he dislikes
+England. He writes sometimes, but I never receive his letters without
+thinking of the terrible night on the Yorkshire moors--of the dark
+waters, the red hand, and the terrible struggle. Although I am now
+entirely free from any such influences, I cannot help fearfully
+wondering at the awful power one being can exert over another. How an
+evil man could almost deplete me of my own self, and make me see
+according to his will and act according to his desires, is to me beyond
+explanation. Truly does our greatest poet say--
+
+      "We are such stuff
+  As dreams are made of, and our little life
+  Is rounded with a sleep."
+
+Tom Temple is married, and lives happily at Temple Hall. Tom attributes
+all his happiness to the ghost. He should never have had the pluck to
+ask Edith Gray to be his wife, he says, had not his lady-love been so
+fearful.
+
+"But you found no difficulty in getting her consent, Tom?" I said one
+day at Temple Hall.
+
+"Difficulty!" laughed Tom. "She said 'Yes' before I had stuttered out
+my little speech."
+
+"I couldn't bear to see you in such an agony of pain," blushingly
+replied his happy little wife.
+
+Ah, well, Tom deserves his happiness, because he makes those around him
+happy.
+
+Simon Slowden lives with Gertrude and me. He declared that he couldn't
+bear the idea of leaving us, after he'd gone through so much to bring us
+together. We are not sorry for this, for he has been an incalculable
+help to me in many ways. But for him, perhaps, I should never have the
+treasure I now possess, the truest and noblest wife God ever gave to
+man; but for him, I might have dragged out my weary life, disappointed
+and almost broken-hearted. Of course this might not be so; but I know
+that Simon was one of my greatest helpers in making me the happiest man
+on earth.
+
+I will close my story with a secret. Yesterday, Simon came to me,
+looking very grave.
+
+"If I remember aright, yer honour," he said, "I told you as 'ow I'd
+completely finished wi' all belongin' to the female persuasion."
+
+"You did, Simon."
+
+"Well, I've changed my mind. I used to think after that waccinatin'
+business gived me small-pox, that I was done for; but that 'ere Emily
+the 'ousemaid 'ev bin waccinated, and she 'ev had small-pox too. Well,
+'t seems to me as 'ow it must hev bin special Providence as hev brought
+us together, as we read in the Book of Job; and not likin' to go 'gin
+Providence, I axed her to change her name to Slowden."
+
+"Well, Simon, what was her reply?"
+
+"She seed the force o' my reasonin's in a minute, and so, as you may
+say, 'there'll be good brought out o' evil,' even the evil o'
+waccinatin'; for it's give us both small-pox, and we both live. Our
+faces be a bit pitty, but kisses ain't none the less sweet for that."
+
+"And when is it to come off, Simon?"
+
+"I'm goin' to the registrar's now, yer honour, so three weeks to-morrow
+I shall be took in and done for, and all threw waccination."
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Weapons of Mystery, by Joseph Hocking
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