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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Uncanny Tales, by Various
+
+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: Uncanny Tales
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: C. Arthur Pearson
+
+Release Date: September 13, 2008 [EBook #26606]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNCANNY TALES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Clarke, Stephen Blundell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+       UNCANNY TALES
+
+
+           LONDON
+ C. ARTHUR PEARSON, LIMITED
+   HENRIETTA STREET, W.C.
+            1916
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+                                          PAGE
+
+    I. THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY                  7
+
+   II. THE ARMLESS MAN                      19
+
+  III. THE TOMTOM CLUE                      33
+
+   IV. THE CASE OF SIR ALISTER MOERAN       43
+
+    V. THE KISS                             63
+
+   VI. THE GOTH                             73
+
+  VII. THE LAST ASCENT                      88
+
+ VIII. THE TERROR BY NIGHT                  97
+
+   IX. THE TRAGEDY AT THE "LOUP NOIR"      113
+
+
+
+
+UNCANNY STORIES
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY
+
+
+Professor William James Maynard was in a singularly happy and contented
+mood as he strolled down the High Street after a long and satisfactory
+interview with the solicitor to his late cousin, whose sole heir he was.
+
+It was exactly a month by the calendar since he had murdered this
+cousin, and everything had gone most satisfactorily since. The fortune
+was proving quite as large as he had expected, and not even an inquest
+had been held upon the dead man. The coroner had decided that it was not
+necessary, and the Professor had agreed with him.
+
+At the funeral the Professor had been the principal mourner, and the
+local paper had commented sympathetically on his evident emotion. This
+had been quite genuine, for the Professor had been fond of his relative,
+who had always been very good to him. But still, when an old man remains
+obstinately healthy, when his doctor can say with confidence that he is
+good for another twenty years at least, and when he stands between you
+and a large fortune which you need, and of which you can make much
+better use in the cause of science and the pursuit of knowledge, what
+alternative is there? It becomes necessary to take steps. Therefore, the
+Professor had taken steps.
+
+Looking back to-day on that day a month ago, and the critical preceding
+week, the Professor felt that the steps he had taken had been as
+judicious as successful. He had set himself to solve a problem in higher
+mathematics. He had found it easier to solve than many he was obliged to
+grapple with in the course of his studies.
+
+A policeman saluted as the Professor passed, and he acknowledged it with
+the charming old world courtesy that made him so popular a figure in the
+town. Across the way was the doctor who had certified the cause of
+death. The Professor, passing benevolently on, was glad he had now
+enough money to carry out his projects. He would be able to publish at
+once his great work on "The Secondary Variation of the Differential
+Calculus," that hitherto had languished in manuscript. It would make a
+sensation, he thought; there was more than one generally accepted theory
+he had challenged or contradicted in it. And he would put in hand at
+once his great, his long projected work, "A History of the Higher
+Mathematics." It would take twenty years to complete, it would cost
+twenty thousand pounds or more, and it would breathe into mathematics
+the new, vivid life that Bergson's works have breathed into
+metaphysics.
+
+The Professor thought very kindly of the dead cousin, whose money would
+provide for this great work. He wished greatly the dead man could know
+to what high use his fortune was designed.
+
+Coming towards him he saw the wife of the vicar of his parish. The
+Professor was a regular church-goer. The vicar's wife saw him, too, and
+beamed. She and her husband were more than a little proud of having so
+well known a man in their congregation. She held out her hand and the
+Professor was about to take it when she drew it back with a startled
+movement.
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon!" she exclaimed, distressed, as she saw him raise
+his eyebrows. "There is blood on it."
+
+Her eyes were fixed on his right hand, which he was still holding out.
+In fact, on the palm a small drop of blood showed distinctly against the
+firm, pink flesh. Surprised, the Professor took out his handkerchief and
+wiped it away. He noticed that the vicar's wife was wearing white kid
+gloves.
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon!" she said again. "It--it startled me somehow. I
+thought you must have cut yourself. I hope it's not much?"
+
+"Some scratch, I suppose," he said. "It's nothing."
+
+The vicar's wife, still slightly discomposed, launched out into some
+parochial matter she had wished to mention to him. They chatted a few
+moments and then parted. The Professor took an opportunity to look at
+his hand. He could detect no sign of any cut or abrasion, the skin
+seemed whole everywhere. He looked at his handkerchief. There was still
+visible on it the stain where he had wiped his hand, and this stain
+seemed certainly blood.
+
+"Odd!" he muttered as he put the handkerchief back in his pocket. "Very
+odd!"
+
+His thoughts turned again to his projected "A History of the Higher
+Mathematics," and he forgot all about the incident till, as it happened
+that day month, the first of the month by the calendar, when he was
+sitting in his study with an eminent colleague to whom he was explaining
+his great scheme.
+
+"If you are able to carry it out," the colleague said slowly, "your book
+will mark an epoch in human thought. But the cost will be tremendous."
+
+"I estimate it at twenty thousand pounds," answered the Professor
+calmly. "I am fully prepared to spend twice as much. You know I have
+recently inherited forty thousand pounds from a relative?"
+
+The eminent colleague nodded and looked very impressed.
+
+"It is magnificent," he said warmly, "magnificent." He added: "You've
+cut yourself, do you know?"
+
+"Cut myself?" the Professor echoed, surprised.
+
+"Yes," answered the eminent colleague, "there is blood upon your
+hand--your right hand."
+
+In fact a spot of blood, slightly larger than that which had appeared
+before, showed plainly upon the Professor's right hand. He wiped it away
+with his handkerchief, and went on talking eagerly, for he was deeply
+interested. He did not think of the matter again till just as he was
+getting into bed, when he noticed a red stain upon his handkerchief. He
+frowned and examined his hand carefully. There was no sign of any wound
+or cut from which the blood could have come, and he frowned again.
+
+"Very odd!" he muttered.
+
+A calendar hanging on the wall reminded him that it was the first of the
+month.
+
+The days passed, the incident faded from his memory, and four weeks
+later he came down one morning to breakfast in an unusually good temper.
+There was a certain theory he had worked on the night before he meant to
+write to a friend about. It seemed to him his demonstration had been
+really brilliant, and then, also, he was already planning out with great
+success the details of the scheme for his great work.
+
+He was making an excellent breakfast, for his appetite was always good,
+and, needing some more cream, he rang the bell. The maid appeared, he
+showed her the empty jug, and as she took it she dropped it with a
+sudden cry, smashing it to pieces on the floor. Very pale, she stammered
+out:
+
+"Beg pardon, sir, your hand--there is blood upon your hand."
+
+In fact, on the Professor's right hand there showed a drop of blood,
+perceptibly larger this time than before. The Professor stared at it
+stupidly. He was sure it had not been there a moment before, and he
+noticed by the heading of the newspaper at the side of his plate that
+this was the first of the month.
+
+With a hasty movement of his napkin he wiped the drop of blood away. The
+maid, still apologising, began to pick up the pieces of the jug she had
+broken; but the Professor had no further appetite for his breakfast. He
+silenced her with a gesture, and, leaving a piece of toast half-eaten on
+his plate, he got up and went into his study.
+
+All this was trivial, absurd even. Yet somehow it disturbed him. He got
+out a magnifying glass and examined his hand under it. There was nothing
+to account for the presence of the drop of blood he and the maid had
+seen. It occurred to him that he might have cut himself in shaving; but
+when he looked in the mirror he could find no trace of even the
+slightest wound.
+
+He decided that, though he had not been aware of it, his nerves must be
+a little out of order. That was disconcerting. He had not taken his
+nerves into consideration for the simple reason that he had never known
+that he possessed any. He made up his mind to treat himself to a holiday
+in Switzerland. One or two difficult ascents might brace him up a bit.
+
+Three days later he was in Switzerland, and a few days later again he
+was on the summit of a minor but still difficult peak. It had been an
+exhilarating climb, and he had enjoyed it. He said something laughingly
+to the head guide to the effect that climbing was good sport and a fine
+test for the nerves. The head guide agreed, and added politely that if
+the nerves of monsieur the Professor had shown signs of failing on the
+lower glacier, for example, they might all have been in difficulties.
+The Professor thrilled with pleasure at the head guide's implied praise.
+He was glad to know on such good authority that his nerves were all
+right, and the incidents that had driven him there began to fade in his
+memory.
+
+Nevertheless, he found himself watching the calendar with a certain
+interest, and when he woke on the morning of the first day of the next
+month he glanced quickly at his right hand. There was nothing there.
+
+He dressed and spent, as he had planned, a quiet day, busy with his
+correspondence. His spirits rose as the day passed. He was still
+watchful, but more confident; and, after dinner, though he had meant to
+go straight to his room, he agreed to join in a suggested game of
+bridge. They were cutting for partners when one of the ladies who was to
+take part in the game dropped with a little cry the card she had just
+lifted.
+
+"Oh, there is blood upon your hand," she cried, "on your right hand,
+Professor!"
+
+Upon the Professor's right hand there showed now a drop of blood, larger
+still then those other three had been. Yet the very moment before it had
+not been there. The Professor put down his cards without a word, and
+left the room, going straight upstairs.
+
+The drop of blood was still standing on his hand. He soaked it up
+carefully with some cotton-wool he had, and was not surprised to find
+beneath no sign or trace of any cut or wound. The cotton-wool he made up
+carefully into a parcel and addressed it to an analytical chemist he
+knew, inclosing with it a short note.
+
+He rang the bell, sent the parcel to the post, and then he got out pen
+and paper and set himself to solve this problem, as in his life he had
+solved so many others.
+
+Only this time it seemed somehow as though the data were insufficient.
+
+Idly his pen traced upon the paper in front of him a large _X_, the sign
+of the unknown quantity.
+
+But how, in this case, to find out what was the unknown quantity? His
+hand, his firm and steady hand, shook so that he could no longer hold
+his pen. He rang the bell again and ordered a stiff whisky-and-soda. He
+was a man of almost ascetic habits, but to-night he felt that he needed
+some stimulant.
+
+Neither did he sleep very well.
+
+The next day he returned to England. Almost at once he went to see his
+friend, the analytical chemist, to whom he had sent the parcel from
+Switzerland.
+
+"Mammalian blood," pronounced the chemist, "probably human--rather a
+curious thing about it, too."
+
+"What's that?" asked the Professor.
+
+"Why," his friend answered, "I was able to identify the distinctive
+bacillus----" He named the rare bacillus of an unusual and obscure
+disease. And this disease was that from which the Professor's cousin had
+died.
+
+The professor was a man interested in all phenomena. In other
+circumstances he would have observed keenly that which now occurred,
+when the hair of his head underwent a curious involuntary stiffening and
+bristling process that in popular but sufficiently accurate terms, might
+be described as "standing on end." But at the moment he was in no state
+for scientific observations.
+
+He got out of the house somehow. He said he did not feel well, and his
+friend, the chemist, agreed that his holiday in Switzerland did not seem
+to have done him much good.
+
+The Professor went straight home and shut himself up in his study. It
+was a fine room, ranged all round with books. On the shelves nearest to
+his hand stood volumes on mathematics, the theory of mathematics, the
+study of mathematics, pure mathematics, applied mathematics. But there
+was not any one of these books that told him anything about such a thing
+as this. Though, it is true, there were many references in them, here
+and there, to _X_, the unknown quantity.
+
+The Professor took his pen and wrote a large _X_ upon the sheet of paper
+in front of him.
+
+"An unknown quantity!" he muttered. "An unknown--quantity!"
+
+The days passed peacefully. Nothing was out of the ordinary except that
+the Professor developed an odd trick of continually glancing at his
+right hand. He washed it a good deal, too. But the first of the month
+was not yet.
+
+On the last day of the month he told his housekeeper that he was feeling
+a little unwell. She was not surprised, for she had thought him looking
+ill for some time past. He told her he would probably spend the next day
+in bed for a thorough rest, and she agreed that that would be a very
+good idea. When he was in his own room and had undressed, he bandaged
+his right hand with care, tying it up carefully and thoroughly with
+three or four of his large linen handkerchiefs.
+
+"Whatever comes, shall now show," he said to himself.
+
+He stayed in bed accordingly the next day. His housekeeper was a little
+uneasy about him. He ate nothing and his eyes were strangely bright and
+feverish. She overheard him once muttering something to himself about
+"the unknown quantity," and that made her think that he had been working
+too hard.
+
+She decided he must see the doctor. The Professor refused peremptorily.
+He declared he would be quite well again in the morning. The
+housekeeper, an old servant, agreed, but sent for the doctor all the
+same; and when he had come the Professor felt he could not refuse to see
+him without appearing peculiar. And he did not wish to appear peculiar.
+So he saw the doctor, but declared there was nothing much the matter, he
+merely felt a little unwell and out of sorts and tired.
+
+"You have hurt your hand?" the doctor asked, noticing how it was
+bandaged.
+
+"I cut it slightly--a trifle," the Professor answered.
+
+"Yes," the doctor answered, "I see there is blood on it."
+
+"What?" the Professor stammered.
+
+"There is blood upon your hand," the doctor repeated.
+
+The Professor looked. In fact, a deep, wide stain showed crimson upon
+the bandages in which he had swathed his hand. Yet he knew that the
+moment before the linen had been fair and white and clean.
+
+"It is nothing," he said quickly, hiding his hand beneath the bed
+clothes.
+
+The doctor, a little puzzled, took his leave, but had not gone ten
+yards when the housekeeper flew screaming after him. It seemed she had
+heard a fall, and when she had gone into the Professor's bedroom she had
+found him lying there dead upon the hearthrug. There was a razor in his
+hand, and there was a ghastly gash across his throat.
+
+The doctor went back at a run, but there was nothing he or any man could
+do. One thing he noticed, with curiosity, was that the bandage had been
+torn away from the dead man's hand and that oddly enough there seemed to
+be on the hand no sign of any cut or wound. There was a large solitary
+drop of blood on the palm, at the root of the thumb; but, of course,
+that was no great wonder, for the wound the dead man had dealt himself
+had bled freely.
+
+Apparently death had not been quite instantaneous, for with a last
+effort the Professor seemed to have traced an _X_ upon the floor in his
+own blood with his forefinger. The doctor mentioned this at the
+inquest--the coroner had decided at once that in this case an inquest
+was certainly necessary--and he suggested that it showed the Professor
+had worked too hard and was suffering from overwork which had disturbed
+his mental balance.
+
+The coroner took the same view, and in his short address to the jury
+adduced the incident as proof of a passing mental disturbance.
+
+"Very probably," said the coroner, "there was some problem that had
+worried him, and that he was still endeavouring to work out. As you are
+aware, gentlemen, the sign _X_ is used to symbolise the unknown
+quantity."
+
+An appropriate verdict was accordingly returned, and the Professor was
+duly interred in the same family vault as that in which so short a time
+previously his cousin had been laid to rest.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+THE ARMLESS MAN
+
+
+I first met Bob Masters in the hotel at a place called Fourteen Streams,
+not very far from Kimberley.
+
+I had for some months been trying to find gold or diamonds by digging
+holes in the veldt. But since this has little or nothing to do with the
+story, I pass by my mining adventures and come back to the hotel. I came
+to it very readily that afternoon, for I was very thirsty.
+
+A tall man standing at the bar turned his head as I entered and said
+"Good-day" to me. I returned the compliment, but took no particular
+notice of him at first.
+
+Suddenly I heard the man say to the barman:
+
+"I'm ready for another drink."
+
+That surprised me, because his glass was still three-quarters full. But
+I was still more startled by the action of the barman who lifted up the
+glass and held it whilst the man drank.
+
+Then I saw the reason. The man had no arms.
+
+You know the easy way in which Englishmen chum together anywhere out of
+England, whilst in their native country nothing save a formal
+introduction will make them acquainted? I made some remark to Masters
+which led to another from him, and in five minutes' time we were
+chatting on all sorts of topics.
+
+I learnt that Masters, bound for England, had come in to Fourteen
+Streams to catch the train from Kimberley, and, having a few hours to
+wait, had strolled up to the collection of tin huts calling itself a
+town.
+
+I was going down to Kimberley too, so of course we went together, and
+were quite old friends by the time we reached that city.
+
+We had a wash and something to eat, and then we walked round to the
+post-office. I used to have my letters addressed there, _poste
+restante_, and call in for them when I happened to be in Kimberley.
+
+I found several letters, one of which altered the whole course of my
+life. This was from Messrs. Harvey, Filson, and Harvey, solicitors,
+Lincoln's Inn Fields. It informed me that the sudden death of my cousin
+had so affected my uncle's health that he had followed his only son
+within the month. The senior branch of the family being thus extinct the
+whole of the entailed estate had devolved on me.
+
+The first thing I did was to send off two cablegrams to say that I was
+coming home by the first available boat, one to the solicitors, the
+other to Nancy Milward.
+
+Masters and I arranged to come home together and eventually reached Cape
+Town. There we had considerable trouble at the shipping office. It was
+just about the time of year when people who live in Africa to make
+money, come over to England to spend it, and in consequence the boats
+were very crowded. Masters demanded a cabin to himself, a luxury which
+was not to be had, though there was one that he and I could share. He
+made a tremendous fuss about doing this, and I thought it very strange,
+because I had assisted him in many ways which his mutilation rendered
+necessary. However, he had to give way in the end, and we embarked on
+the Castle liner.
+
+On the voyage he told me how he had lost his arms. It seemed that he had
+been sent up country on some Government job or other, and had had the
+ill-fortune to be captured by the natives. They treated him quite well
+at first, but gave him to understand that he must not try to escape. I
+suppose that to most men such a warning would be a direct incitement to
+make the attempt. Masters made it and failed. They cut off his right arm
+as a punishment. He waited until the wound was healed and tried again.
+Again he failed. This time they cut off his other arm.
+
+"Good Lord," I cried. "What devils!"
+
+"Weren't they!" he said. "And yet, you know, they were quite
+good-tempered chaps when you didn't cross them. I wasn't going to be
+beaten by a lot of naked niggers though, and I made a third attempt.
+
+"I succeeded all right that time, though, of course, it was much more
+difficult. I really don't know at all how I managed to worry through.
+You see, I could only eat plants and leaves and such fruit as I came
+across; but I'd learnt as much as I could of the local botany in the
+intervals."
+
+"Was it worth while?" I asked. "I think the first failure and its result
+would have satisfied me."
+
+"Yes," he said slowly, "it was worth while. You see, my wife was waiting
+for me at home, and I wanted to see her again very badly--you don't
+know how badly."
+
+"I think I can imagine," I said. "Because there is a girl waiting for me
+too at home."
+
+"I saw her before she died," he continued.
+
+"Died?" I said.
+
+"Yes," he answered. "She was dying when I reached home at last, but I
+was with her at the end. That was something, wasn't it?"
+
+I do hate people to tell me this sort of thing. Not because I do not
+feel sorry for them; on the contrary, I feel so sorry that I absolutely
+fail to find words to express my sympathy. I tried, however, to show it
+in other ways, by the attentions I paid him and by anticipating his
+every wish.
+
+Yet there were many things that were astonishing about his actions,
+things that I wonder now I did not realise must have been impossible for
+him to do for himself, and that yet were done. But he was so
+surprisingly dexterous with his lips, and feet too, when he was in his
+cabin that I suppose I put them down to that.
+
+I remember waking up one night and looking out of my bunk to see him
+standing on the floor. The cabin was only faintly lit by a moonbeam
+which found its way through the porthole. I could not see clearly, but I
+fancied that he walked to the door and opened it, and closed it behind
+him. He did it all very quickly, as quickly as I could have done it. As
+I say, I was very sleepy, but the sight of the door opening and shutting
+like that woke me thoroughly. Sitting up I shouted at him.
+
+He heard me and opened the door again, easily, too, much more easily
+than he seemed to be able to shut it when he saw me looking at him.
+
+"Hullo! Awake, old chap?" he said. "What is it?"
+
+"Er--nothing," I said. "Or rather I suppose I was only half awake; but
+you seemed to open that door so easily that it quite startled me."
+
+"One does not always like to let others see the shifts to which one has
+to resort," was all the answer he gave me.
+
+But I worried over it. The thing bothered me, because he had made no
+attempt to explain.
+
+That was not the only thing I noticed.
+
+Two or three days later we were sitting together on deck. I had offered
+to read to him. I noticed that he got up out of his chair. Suddenly I
+saw the chair move. It gave me a great shock, for the chair twisted
+apparently of its own volition, so that when he sat down again the
+sunlight was at his back and not in his eyes, as I knew it had been
+previously. But I reasoned with myself and managed to satisfy myself
+that he must have turned the chair round with his foot. It was just
+possible that he could have done so, for it had one of those light
+wicker-work seats.
+
+We had a lovely voyage for three-quarters of the way, and the sea was as
+calm as any duck-pond. But that was all altered when we passed Cape
+Finisterre. I have done a lot of knocking about on the ocean one way and
+another, but I never saw the Bay of Biscay deserve its reputation
+better.
+
+I'd much rather see what is going on than be cooped up below, and after
+lunch I told Bob I was going up on deck.
+
+"I'll only stay there for a bit," I said. "You make yourself comfortable
+down here."
+
+I filled his pipe, put it in his mouth, and gave him a match; then I
+left him.
+
+I made my way up and down the deck for a time, clutching hold of
+everything handy, and rather enjoyed it, though the waves drenched me to
+the skin.
+
+Presently I saw Masters come out of the companion-way and make his way
+very skilfully towards me. Of course it was fearfully dangerous for him.
+
+I staggered towards him, and, putting my lips to his ear, shouted to him
+to go below at once.
+
+"Oh, I shall be all right!" he said, and laughed.
+
+"You'll be drowned--drowned," I screamed. "There was a wave just now
+that--well, if I hadn't been able to cling on with both hands like grim
+death, I should have gone overboard. Go below."
+
+He laughed again and shook his head.
+
+And then what I dreaded happened. A vast mountain of green water lifted
+up its bulk and fell upon us in a ravening cataract. I clutched at
+Masters, but trying to save him and myself handicapped me badly. The
+strength of that mass of water was terrible. It seemed to snatch at
+everything with giant hands, and drag all with it. It tossed a hen-coop
+high, and carried it through the rails.
+
+I felt the grip of my right hand loosen, and the next instant was
+carried, still clutching Masters with my left, towards that gap in the
+bulwark.
+
+I managed to seize the end of the broken rail. It held us for a moment,
+then gave, and for a moment I hung sheer over the vessel's side.
+
+In that instant I felt fingers tighten on my arm, tighten till they bit
+into the flesh, and I was pulled back into safety.
+
+Together we staggered back, and got below somehow. I was trembling like
+a leaf, and the sweat dripped from me. I almost screamed aloud.
+
+It was not that I was frightened of death. I've seen too much of that in
+many parts of the earth to dread it greatly. It was the thought of those
+fingers tightening on me where no fingers were.
+
+Masters did not speak a word, nor did I, until we found ourselves in the
+cabin.
+
+I tore the wet clothes off me and turned my arm to the mirror. I knew I
+could not have been mistaken when I felt them.
+
+There on the upper arm, above the line of sunburn that one gets from
+working with sleeves rolled up, there on the white skin showed _the red
+marks of four slender fingers and a thumb_! I sat down suddenly at sight
+of them, and pulling open a drawer, found a flask of neat brandy, and
+gulped it down, emptied it in one gulp.
+
+Then I turned to him and pointed to the marks.
+
+"In God's name, how came these here?" I said. "What--what happened up
+there on deck?"
+
+He looked at me very gravely.
+
+"I saved you," he said, "or rather I didn't, for I could not. But _she_
+did."
+
+"What do you mean?" I stammered.
+
+"Let me get these clothes off," he said, "and some dry ones on; and I'll
+tell you."
+
+Words fail to describe my feelings as I watched the clothes come off him
+and dry ones go on just as if hands were arranging them.
+
+I sat and shuddered. I tried to close my eyes, but the weird, unnatural
+sight drew them as a lodestone.
+
+"I'm sorry that you should have had this shock," he said. "I know what
+it must have been like, though it was not so bad for me when they seemed
+to come, for they came gradually as time went on."
+
+"What came gradually?" I asked.
+
+"Why, these arms! They're what I'm telling you about. You asked me to
+tell you, I thought?"
+
+"Did I?" I said. "I don't know what I'm saying or asking. I think I'm
+going mad, quite mad."
+
+"No," he said, "you're as sane as I am, only when you come across
+something strange, unique for that matter, you are naturally terrified.
+Well, it was like this. I told you about my adventures with the niggers
+up country. That was quite true. They cut off both my arms--you can see
+the stumps for that matter. And I told you that I came home to find my
+wife dying. Her heart had always been weak, I'd known that, and it had
+gradually grown more feeble. There must have been, indeed there was, a
+strange sort of telepathy between us. She had had fearful attacks of
+heart failure on both occasions when the niggers had mutilated me, I
+learnt on comparing notes.
+
+"But I had known too, somehow, that I must escape at all costs. It was
+the knowledge that made me try again after each failure. I should have
+gone on trying to escape as long as I had lived, or rather as long as
+she had lived. I knelt beside her bed and she put out her arms and laid
+them round my neck.
+
+"'So you have come back to me before I go,' she said. 'I knew you must,
+because I called you so. But you have been long in coming, almost too
+long. But I knew I had to see you again before I died.'
+
+"I broke down then. I was sorely tried. No arms even to put round her!
+
+"'Darling, stay with me for a little, only for a little while!' I
+sobbed.
+
+"She shook her head feebly. 'It is no use, my dear,' she said, 'I must
+go.'
+
+"'I'll come with you,' I said, 'I'll not live without you.'
+
+"She shook her head again.
+
+"'You must be brave, Bob. I shall be watching you afterwards just as
+much as if I still lived on earth. If only I could give you my arms! A
+poor, weak woman's arms, but better than none, dear.'
+
+"She died some weeks later. I spent all the time at her bedside, I
+hardly left her. Her arms were round me when she died. Shall I ever feel
+them round me again? I wonder! You see, they are mine now.
+
+"They came to me gradually. It was very strange at first to have arms
+and hands which one couldn't see. I used to keep my eyes shut as much as
+possible, and try to fancy that I had never lost my arms.
+
+"I got used to them in time. But I have always been careful not to let
+people see me do things that they would know to be impossible for an
+armless man. That was what took me to Africa again, because I could get
+lost there and do things for myself with these hands."
+
+"'And they twain shall be one flesh,'" I muttered.
+
+"Yes," he said, "I think the explanation must be something of that sort.
+There's more than that in it, though; these arms are other than flesh."
+
+He sat silent for a time with his head bowed on his chest. Then he spoke
+again:
+
+"I got sick of being alone at last, and was coming back when I met you
+at Fourteen Streams. I don't know what I shall do when I do get home. I
+can never rest. I have--what do they call it--_Wanderlust_?"
+
+"Does she ever speak to you from that other world?" I asked him.
+
+He shook his head sadly.
+
+"No, never. But I know she lives somewhere beyond this world of ours.
+She must, because these arms live. So I try always to act as if she
+watches everything. I always try to do the right thing, but, anyway,
+these arms and hands would do good of their own accord. Just now up on
+the deck I was very frightened. I'd have saved myself at any cost
+almost, and let you go. But I could not do that. The hands clutched you.
+It is her will, so much stronger and purer than mine, that still
+persists. It is only when she does not exert it that I control these
+arms."
+
+That was how I learnt the strangest tale that ever a man was told, and
+knew the miracle to which I owed my life.
+
+It may be that Bob Masters was a coward. He always said that he was.
+Personally I do not believe it, for he had the sweetest nature I ever
+met.
+
+He had nowhere to go to in England and seemed to have no friends. So I
+made him come down with me to Englehart, that dear old country seat of
+my family in the Western shires which was now mine.
+
+Nancy lived in that country, too.
+
+There was no reason why we should not get married at once. We had waited
+long enough.
+
+I can see again the old, ivy-grown church where Nancy and I were wed,
+and Bob Masters standing by my side as best man.
+
+I remember feeling in his pocket for the ring, and as I did so, I felt a
+hand grasp mine for a moment.
+
+Then there was the reception afterwards, and speech-making--the usual
+sort of thing.
+
+Later Nancy and I drove off to the station.
+
+We had not said good-bye to Bob, for he'd insisted on driving to the
+station with the luggage; said he was going to see the last of us there.
+
+He was waiting for us in the yard when we reached it, and walked with us
+on to the platform.
+
+We stood there chatting about one thing and another, when I noticed that
+Nancy was not talking much and seemed rather pale. I was just going to
+remark on it when we heard the whistle of the train. There is a sharp
+curve in the permanent way outside the station, so that a train is on
+you all of a sudden.
+
+Suddenly to my horror I saw Nancy sway backwards towards the edge of the
+platform. I tried vainly to catch her as she reeled and fell--right in
+front of the oncoming train. I sprang forward to leap after her, but
+hands grasped me and flung me back so violently that I fell down on the
+platform.
+
+It was Bob Masters who took the place that should have been mine, and
+leapt upon the metals.
+
+I could not see what happened then. The station-master says he saw Nancy
+lifted from before the engine when it was right upon her. He says it was
+as if she was lifted by the wind. She was quite close to Masters. "Near
+enough for him to have lifted her, sir, if he'd had arms." The two of
+them staggered for a moment, and together fell clear of the train.
+
+Nancy was little the worse for the awful accident, bruised, of course,
+but poor Masters was unconscious.
+
+We carried him into the waiting-room, laid him on the cushions there,
+and sent hot-foot for the doctor.
+
+He was a good country practitioner, and, I suppose, knew the ordinary
+routine of his work quite well. He fussed about, hummed and hawed a lot.
+
+"Yes, yes," he said, as if he were trying to persuade himself. "Shock,
+you know. He'll be better presently. Lucky, though, that he had no
+arms."
+
+I noticed then, for the first time, that the sleeves of the coat had
+been shorn away.
+
+"Doctor," I said, "how is he? Surely, if he isn't hurt he would not look
+like that. What exactly do you mean by shock?"
+
+"Hum--er," he hesitated, and applied his stethoscope to Masters' heart
+again.
+
+"The heart is very weak," he said at length. "Very weak. He's always
+very anæmic, I suppose?"
+
+"No," I answered. "He's anything but that. He's----Good Lord, he's
+bleeding to death! Put ligatures on his arms. Put ligatures on his
+arms."
+
+"Please keep quiet, Mr. Riverston," the doctor said. "It must have been
+a dreadful experience for you, and you are naturally very upset."
+
+I raved and cursed at him. I think I should have struck him, but the
+others held me. They said they would take me away if I did not keep
+quiet.
+
+Bob Masters opened his eyes presently, and saw them holding me.
+
+"Please let him go," he said. "It's all right, old man. It's no use your
+arguing with them, they would not understand. I could never explain to
+them now, and they would never believe you. Besides, it's all for the
+best. Yes, the train went over them and I'm armless for the second time.
+But--not for long!"
+
+I knelt by his side and sobbed. It all seemed so dreadful, and yet, I
+don't think that then I would have tried to stay his passing. I knew it
+was best for him.
+
+He looked at me very affectionately.
+
+"I'm so sorry that this should happen on your wedding-day," he said.
+"But it would have been so much worse for you if _she_ had not helped."
+
+His voice grew fainter and died away.
+
+There was a pause for a time, and his breath came in great sighing sobs.
+
+Then suddenly he raised himself on the cushions until he stood upright
+on his feet, and a smile broke over his face--a smile so sweet that I
+think the angels in Paradise must look like that.
+
+His voice came strong and loud from his lips.
+
+"Darling!" he cried. "Darling, your arms are round me once again! I
+come! I come!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"One of the most extraordinary cases I have ever met with," the doctor
+told the coroner at the inquest. "He seemed to have all the symptoms of
+excessive hæmorrhage."
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+THE TOMTOM CLUE
+
+
+I had just settled down for a comfortable evening over the fire in a
+saddle-bag chair drawn up as close to the hearth as the fender would
+allow, with a plentiful supply of literature and whisky, and pipe and
+tobacco, when the telephone bell rang loudly and insistently. With a
+sigh I rose and took up the receiver.
+
+"That you?" said a voice I recognised as that of Jack Bridges. "Can I
+come round and see you at once? It's most important. No, I can't tell
+you now. I'll be with you in a few minutes."
+
+I hung the receiver up again, wondering what business could fetch Jack
+Bridges round at that time of the evening to see me. We had been the
+greatest of pals at school and at the 'Varsity, and had kept the
+friendship up ever since, despite my intermittent wanderings over the
+face of the globe. But during the last few days or so Jack had become
+engaged to Miss Glanville, the daughter of old Glanville, of South
+African fame, and as a love-sick swain I naturally expected to see very
+little of him, until after the wedding at any rate.
+
+At this time of the evening, according to my ideas of engaged couples,
+he should be sitting in the stalls at some theatre, and not running
+round to see bachelor friends with cynical views on matrimony.
+
+I had not arrived at a satisfactory solution when the door opened and
+Jack walked in. One glance at his face told me that he was in trouble,
+and without a word I pushed him into my chair and handed him a drink.
+Then I sat down on the opposite side of the fire and waited for him to
+begin, for a man in need of sympathy does not want to be worried by
+questions.
+
+He gulped down half his whisky and sat for a moment gazing into the
+fire.
+
+"Jim, old man," he said at length, "I've had awful news."
+
+"Not connected with Miss Glanville?" I asked.
+
+"In a way, yes. It's broken off, but there's worse than that--far worse.
+I can hardly realise it; I feel numbed at present; it's too horrible.
+You remember that when you and I were at Winchester together my father
+was killed during the Matabele War?"
+
+I nodded.
+
+"Well," continued Jack, "I heard to-day that he was not killed by the
+Matabele, but was hanged in Bulawayo for murder. In other words, I am
+the son of a murderer."
+
+"Hanged for murder!" I exclaimed in horror. "Surely there's some
+mistake?"
+
+"No," groaned Jack, "it's true enough. I've seen the newspaper cutting
+of the time, and I'm the son of a murderer, who was also a forger, a
+thief, and a card-sharper. Old Glanville told me this evening. It was
+then that our engagement was broken off."
+
+"Your mother?" I asked. "Have you seen her?"
+
+Jack nodded.
+
+"Poor little woman!" he groaned. "She has known all along, and her one
+aim and object in life has been to keep the awful truth from me. That
+was why I was told he died an honourable death during the war. I've
+often wondered why the little mother was always so sad, and so weighed
+down by trouble. Now I know. Good God, what her life must have been!"
+
+He rose from his chair and paced up and down the room for a minute; then
+he stopped and stood in front of me, his face working with emotion.
+
+"But I don't believe it, Jim," he said, and there was a ring in his
+voice. "I don't believe it, and neither does the little mother. It's
+impossible to reconcile the big, bluff man with the heart of a child,
+that I remember as my father, with murder, forgery, or any other crime.
+And yet, according to Glanville and the old newspapers he showed me,
+Richard Bridges was one of the most unscrupulous ruffians in South
+Africa. In my heart of hearts I know he didn't do it, and though on the
+face of it there's no doubt, I'm going to try and clear his name. I am
+sailing for South Africa on Friday."
+
+"Sailing for South Africa!" I exclaimed. "What about your work?"
+
+"My work can go hang!" replied Jack heatedly. "I want to wipe away the
+stain from my father's name, and I mean to do it somehow. That's why
+I've run round to see you, old pal, for I want you to come with me.
+Knowing Rhodesia as you do, you're just the man to help me. Say you'll
+come?" he pleaded.
+
+It seemed quite the forlornest hope I had ever heard of, but Jack's
+distress was so acute that I hadn't the heart to refuse.
+
+"All right, Jack," I said, "I'm with you. But don't foster any vain
+hopes. Remember, it's twenty years ago. It will be a pretty tough job to
+prove anything after all these years."
+
+During the voyage out we had ample time to go through the small amount
+of information about the long-forgotten case that Jack had been able to
+collect from the family solicitors.
+
+In the year 1893, Richard Bridges, who was a mining engineer of some
+standing, had made a trip to Rhodesia with a view to gold and diamond
+prospecting. He had been accompanied by a friend, Thomas Symes, who, so
+far as we could ascertain, was an ex-naval officer; and the two, after a
+short stay at Bulawayo, had gone northward across the Guai river into
+what was in those days a practically unknown land. In a little over a
+year's time Bridges had returned alone--his companion having been, so he
+stated, killed by the Matabele, and for six months or so he led a
+dissolute life in Bulawayo and the district, which ended ultimately in
+his execution for murder. There was no doubt whatever about the murder,
+or the various thefts and forgeries that he was accused of, as he had
+made a confession at his trial, and we seemed to be on a wild-goose
+chase of the worst variety so far as I could see; but Jack, confident of
+his father's innocence, would not hear of failure.
+
+"It's impossible to make surmises at this stage," he said. "On the face
+of it there appears to be little room for doubt, but no one who knew my
+father could possibly connect him with any sort of crime. Somehow or
+other, Jim, I've got to clear his name."
+
+My memory went back to a tall, sunburnt man with a kindly manner who had
+come down to the school one day and put up a glorious feed at the tuck
+shop to Jack and his friends. Afterwards, at his son's urgent request,
+he had bared his chest to show us his tattooing of which Jack had,
+boy-like, often boasted to us. I recalled how we had gazed admiringly at
+the skilfully worked picture of Nelson with his empty sleeve and closed
+eye and the inscription underneath: "England expects that every man this
+day will do his duty." Jack had explained with considerable pride that
+this did not constitute all, as on his father's back was a wonderful
+representation of the _Victory_, and on other parts of his body a lion,
+a snake, and other _fauna_, but Richard Bridges had protested laughingly
+and refused to undress further for our delectation.
+
+We reached Bulawayo, but no one in the city appeared to recall the case
+at all; indeed, Bulawayo had grown out of all recognition since Richard
+Bridges had passed through it on his prospecting trip. It was difficult
+to know where to start. Even the police could not help, and had no
+knowledge of where the murderer had been buried. No one but an old
+saloon-keeper and a couple of miners could recollect the execution even,
+and they, so far as they could remember, had never met Richard Bridges
+in the flesh, though his unsavoury reputation was well known to them.
+
+In despair, Jack suggested a trek up country towards Barotseland, which
+was the district that Bridges and Symes had proposed to prospect,
+though, according to all accounts, Symes had been murdered by the
+Matabele before they reached the Guai river.
+
+For the next month we trekked steadily northwards, having very fair
+sport; but, as I expected, extracting no information whatever from the
+natives about the two prospectors who had passed that way years before.
+At length, Jack became more or less reconciled to failure, and realising
+the futility of further search suggested a return to Bulawayo. As our
+donkey caravan was beginning to suffer severely from the fly, I
+concurred, and we started to travel slowly back to Bulawayo, shooting by
+the way.
+
+One night after a particularly hard trek we inspanned at an old _kraal_,
+the painted walls of which told that at one time it had served as a
+royal residence, and as I had shot an eland cow that afternoon, which
+provided far more meat than we could consume, we invited the induna and
+his tribe to the feast. Not to be outdone in hospitality, the old chief
+produced the kaffir beer of the country, a liquid which has nothing to
+recommend it beyond the fact that it intoxicates rapidly.
+
+A meat feast and a beer drink is a great event in the average kaffir's
+life, and as the evening wore on a general jollification started to the
+thump of tomtoms and the squeak of kaffir fiddles. There was one very
+drunk old Barotse, who sat close to me, and, accompanying himself with
+thumps on his tomtom, sang in one droning key a song about a man who
+kept snakes and lions inside him, and from whose chest the evil eye
+looked out. At least, so far as I could gather that was roughly the gist
+of the song; but as his tomtom was particularly large and most obnoxious
+I politely took it away from him, and Jack and I used it as a table for
+our gourds of kaffir beer, which we were pretending to consume in large
+quantities.
+
+A gourd, however, is a top-heavy sort of drinking vessel, and in a very
+short time I had succeeded in spilling half a pint or so of my drink on
+the parchment of the drum. Not wishing to spoil the old gentleman's
+plaything, which he evidently valued above all things, I mopped up the
+beer with my handkerchief, and in doing so removed from the parchment a
+portion of the accumulated filth of ages.
+
+"Hullo!" said Jack, taking the instrument from me and holding it up to
+the firelight. "There's a picture of some sort here. It looks like a man
+in a cocked hat."
+
+He rubbed it hard with his pocket handkerchief, and the polishing
+brought more of the picture to light, till, plain enough in places and
+faded in others, there stood out, the portrait of a man in an
+old-fashioned naval uniform with stars on his breast, and underneath
+some letters in the form of a scroll.
+
+"That's not native work," I exclaimed. "These are English letters," for
+I could distinctly make out the word "man" followed by a "t" and an "h."
+"Rub it hard, Jack."
+
+The grease on the parchment refused to give way to further polishing,
+however, and remembering a bottle of ammonia I kept for insect bites, I
+mixed some with kaffir beer and poured it on the head of the tomtom. One
+touch of the handkerchief was sufficient once the strong alkali got to
+work, and out came the grand old face of Nelson and underneath his
+motto:
+
+"England expects that every man this day will do his duty."
+
+Jack dropped the drum as if it had bitten him.
+
+"What does it mean?" he gasped. "My father had this on his chest. I
+remember it well!"
+
+I was, however, too busy with the reverse end of the drum to heed him.
+On the other side the ammonia brought out a picture of the _Victory_,
+with the head of a roaring lion below it.
+
+"Good God!" exclaimed Jack. "My father had that on his back. Quick, Jim,
+rub hard! There should be the family crest to the right--an eagle with a
+snake in its talons and R. B. underneath."
+
+I rubbed in the spot indicated, and out came the crest and initials
+exactly as Jack had described them. There was something horribly uncanny
+and gruesome in finding the tattoo marks of the dead man on the
+parchment of a Barotse tomtom two hundred miles north of the Zambesi,
+and for a moment I was too overcome with astonishment to grasp exactly
+what it meant. Then it came to my mind in a flash that the parchment was
+nothing else than human skin, and Richard Bridges' skin at that. I put
+it down with sudden reverence, and, beckoning to its owner, demanded its
+full history. At first he showed signs of fear, but promising him a
+waist length of cloth if he told the truth, he squatted on his hams
+before us and began.
+
+"Many, many moons ago, before the white men came to trade across the Big
+Water as they do now, two white baases came into this country to look
+for white stones and gold. One baas was bigger than the other, and on
+his chest and on his body were pictures of birds, and beasts, and
+strange things. On his chest was a great inkoos with one eye covered,
+and on his back a hut with trees growing straight up into the air from
+it. On his loins was a lion of great fierceness, and coiled round his
+waist was a hissing mamba (snake). We were sore afraid, for the white
+baas told us he was bewitched, and that if harm came to either he would
+uncover the closed eye of the great inkoos upon his chest, which was the
+Evil Eye, and command him to blast the Barotse and their land for ever.
+
+"So the white men were suffered to come and go in peace, for we dreaded
+the Evil Eye of the great inkoos. They toiled, these white baases,
+digging in the hillside and searching the riverbed; and then one day it
+came to pass that they quarrelled and fought, and the baas with the
+pictures was slain. We knew then that his medicine was bad medicine,
+otherwise the white baas without the pictures could not have killed him.
+So we were wroth and made to slay the other baas, but he shot us down
+with a fire stick and returned to his own country in haste. Then did I
+take the skin from the dead baas, for I loved him for his pictures, and
+I made them into a tomtom. I have spoken."
+
+"Good heavens!" exclaimed Jack when I had translated the story. "Then my
+father was killed here in Barotseland, and it was Symes, his murderer,
+who went back to Bulawayo. It was that fiend Symes, also, who took my
+father's name, probably to draw any money that might have been left
+behind, and who, as Richard Bridges, was hanged for murder. Poor old
+dad," he added brokenly, "murdered, and his body mutilated by savages!
+But how glad I am to know that he died an honest man!"
+
+With the evidence at hand it was easy to prove the identity of the
+murderer of twenty years ago, and, having settled the matter
+satisfactorily and cleared the dead man's name, Jack and I returned to
+England, where a few weeks later I had to purchase wedding garments in
+order that I might play the part of best man at Jack's wedding.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+THE CASE OF SIR ALISTER MOERAN
+
+
+"Ethne?" My aunt looked at me with raised brows and smiled. "My dear
+Maurice, hadn't you heard? Ethne went abroad directly after Christmas,
+with the Wilmotts, for a trip to Egypt. She's having a glorious time!"
+
+I am afraid I looked as blank as I felt. I had only landed in England
+three days ago, after two years' service in India, and the one thing I
+had been looking forward to was seeing my cousin Ethne again.
+
+"Then, since you did not know she was away, you, of course, have not
+heard the other news?" went on my aunt.
+
+"No," I answered in a wooden voice. "I've heard nothing."
+
+She beamed. "The dear child is engaged to a Sir Alister Moeran, whom she
+met in Luxor. Everyone is delighted, as it is a splendid match for her.
+Lady Wilmott speaks most highly of him, a man of excellent family and
+position, and perfectly charming to boot."
+
+I believe I murmured something suitable, but it was absurd to pretend to
+be overjoyed at the news. The galling part of it was that Aunt Linda
+knew, and was chuckling, so to speak, over my discomfiture.
+
+"If you are going up to Wimberley Park," she went on sweetly, "you will
+probably meet them both, as your Uncle Bob has asked us all there for
+the February house-party. He cabled an invitation to Sir Alister as soon
+as he heard of the engagement. Wasn't it good of him?"
+
+I replied that it was; then, having heard quite enough for one day of
+the charms of Ethne's _fiancé_, I took my leave.
+
+That night, after cursing myself for a churl, I wrote and wished her
+good luck. The next morning I received a letter from Uncle Bob asking me
+to go to Wimberley; and early in the following week I travelled up to
+Cumberland. I received a warm welcome from the old General. As a boy I
+used to spend the greater part of my holidays with him, and being
+childless himself, he regarded me more or less as a son.
+
+On February 16th Ethne, her mother, and Sir Alister Moeran arrived. I
+motored to the station to meet them. The evening was cold and raw and so
+dark that it was almost impossible to distinguish people on the badly
+lighted little platform. However, as I groped my way along, I recognised
+Ethne's voice, and thus directed, hurried towards the group. As I did so
+two gleaming, golden eyes flashed out at me through the darkness.
+
+"Hullo!" I thought. "So she's carted along the faithful Pincher!" But
+the next moment I found I was mistaken, for Ethne was holding out both
+hands to me in greeting. There was no dog with her, and in the bustle
+that followed, I forgot to seek further for the solution of those two
+fiery lights.
+
+"It was good of you to come, Maurice," Ethne said with unmistakable
+pleasure, then, turning to the man at her side, "Alister, this is my
+cousin, Captain Kilvert, of whom you have heard me speak."
+
+We murmured the usual formalities in the usual manner, but as my fingers
+touched his, I experienced the most curious sensation down the region of
+my spine. It took me back to Burma and a certain very uncomfortable
+night that I once passed in the jungle. But the impression was so
+fleeting as to be indefinable, and soon I was busy getting everyone
+settled in the car.
+
+So far, except that he possessed an exceptionally charming voice, I had
+no chance of forming an opinion of my cousin's _fiancé_. It was
+half-past seven when we got back to the house, so we all went straight
+up to our rooms to dress for dinner.
+
+Everyone was assembled in the drawing-room when Sir Alister Moeran came
+in, and I shall never forget the effect his appearance made.
+Conversation ceased entirely for an instant. There was a kind of
+breathless pause, which was almost audible as my uncle rose to greet
+him. In all my life I had never seen a handsomer man, and I don't
+suppose anyone else there had either. It was the most startling,
+arresting style of beauty one could possibly imagine, and yet, even as I
+stared at him in admiration, the word "Black!" flashed into my mind.
+
+Black! I pulled myself up sharply. We English, who have lived out in the
+East, are far too prone to stigmatise thus anyone who shows the smallest
+trace of being a "half breed"; but in Sir Alister's case there was not
+even a suspicion of this. He was no darker than scores of men of my own
+nationality, and besides, he belonged, I knew, to a very old Scottish
+family. Yet, try as I would to strangle the idea, all through the
+evening the same horrible, unaccountable notion clung to me.
+
+That he was the personality of the gathering there was not the slightest
+doubt. Men and women alike seemed attracted by him, for his
+individuality was on a par with his looks.
+
+Several times during dinner I glanced at Ethne, but it was easy to see
+that all her attention was taken up by her lover. Yet, oddly enough, I
+was not jealous in the ordinary way. I saw the folly of imagining that I
+could stand a chance against a man like Moeran, and, moreover, he
+interested me too deeply. His knowledge of the East was extraordinary,
+and later, when the ladies had retired, he related many curious
+experiences.
+
+"Might I ask," said my uncle's friend, Major Faucett, suddenly, "whether
+you were in the Service, or had you a Government appointment out there?"
+
+Sir Alister smiled, and under his moustache I caught the gleam of
+strong, white teeth.
+
+"As a matter of fact, neither. I am almost ashamed to say I have no
+profession, unless I may call myself an explorer."
+
+"And why not?" put in Uncle Bob. "Provided your explorations were to
+some purpose and of benefit to the community in general, I consider you
+are doing something worth while."
+
+"Exactly," Sir Alister replied. "From my earliest boyhood I have always
+had the strangest hankering for the East. I say strange, because to my
+parents it was inexplicable, neither of them having the slightest
+leaning in that direction, though to me it seemed the most natural
+desire in the world. I was like an alien in a foreign land, longing to
+get home. I recollect, as a child, my nurse thought me a beastly uncanny
+kid because I loved to lie in bed and listen to the cats howling and
+fighting outside. I used to put my head half under the blankets and
+imagine I was in my lair in the jungle, and those were the jackals and
+panthers prowling around outside."
+
+"I suppose you'd been reading adventure books," Uncle Bob said, with a
+laugh. "I played at much the same game when I was a youngster, only in
+my case it was Redskins."
+
+"Possibly," Sir Alister answered with a slight shrug, "only mine wasn't
+a game that I played with any other boys, it was a gnawing desire, which
+simply had to be satisfied; and the opportunity came. When I was
+fourteen, the father of a school friend of mine, who was going out to
+India, asked me to go out with him and the boy for the trip. Of course,
+I went."
+
+"I wonder," the Major remarked, "that you ever came back once you got
+there, since you were so frightfully keen."
+
+"I was certain I should return," he replied grimly.
+
+A pause followed his last words, then Uncle Bob rose and led the way to
+the drawing-room, where for the remainder of the evening Sir Alister was
+chiefly monopolised by the ladies.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Well, Maurice," Uncle Bob said, when on the following evening I was
+sitting in his study having my usual before-dinner chat with him, "and
+how do you like Ethne's future husband?"
+
+I hesitated. "I--I really don't know," I replied.
+
+"Come, boy," he said, with his whimsical smile, "why not be frank and
+own to a very natural jealousy?"
+
+"Because," I answered simply, "the feeling Sir Alister Moeran inspires
+in me is not jealousy, curiously enough. It's something else, something
+indefinable that comes over me now and again. Dogs don't like him, and
+that's always a bad sign, to my thinking."
+
+My uncle's bushy eyebrows went up slightly.
+
+"When did you make this discovery?"
+
+"This morning," I replied. "You know I took him and Ethne round the
+place. Well, the first thing I noticed was that Mike refused to come
+with us, although both Ethne and I called him. As we passed through the
+hall he slunk away into the library. I thought it a bit strange, as he's
+usually so frantic to go out with me. Still, I didn't attach any
+significance to the matter until later, when we visited the kennels. I
+don't know why, but one takes it for granted that a man is keen on dogs
+somehow and----"
+
+"Isn't Sir Alister?"
+
+"They are not keen on him, anyhow," I answered grimly. "They had heard
+my voice as we approached and were all barking with delight, but
+directly we entered the place there was a dead silence, save for a few
+ominous growls from Argo. It was a most extraordinary sight. They all
+bristled up, so to speak, sniffing the air though on the scent of
+something. I let Bess and Fritz loose, but instead of jumping up, as
+they usually do, they hung back and showed the whites of their eyes in a
+way I've never seen before. I actually had to whistle to them sharply
+several times before they came, and then it was in a slinking manner,
+taking good care to put Ethne and me between themselves and Moeran, and
+looking askance at him the whole while."
+
+"H'm!" murmured the General with puckered brows. "That was certainly
+odd, very odd!"
+
+"It was," I agreed, warming to the subject, "but there's odder still to
+come. I dare say you'll think it all my fancy, but the minute those
+animals put their heads up and sniffed in that peculiar way, I
+distinctly smelt the musky, savage odour of wild beasts. You know it
+well, anyone who has been through a jungle does."
+
+Uncle Bob nodded. "I know it, too; 'Musky' is the very word--the smell
+of sun-warmed fur. Jove, how it carries me back! I remember once, years
+ago, coming upon a litter of lion cubs, in a cave, when I was out in
+Africa----"
+
+"Yes! Yes!" I cried eagerly. "And that is what I smelt this morning.
+Those dogs smelt it, too. They felt that there was something alien,
+abnormal in their midst."
+
+"That something being--Sir Alister Moeran?"
+
+I felt myself flush up under his gaze. I got up and walked about the
+room.
+
+"I don't understand it," I said doggedly. "I tell you plainly, Uncle
+Bob, I don't understand. My impression of the man last night was
+'black,' but he's not black, I know that perfectly well, no more than
+you or I are, and yet I can't get over the behaviour of those hounds.
+It wasn't only one of 'em, it was the whole lot. They seemed to regard
+him as their natural enemy! And that smell! I'm sure Ethne detected it
+too, for she kept glancing about her in a startled, mystified way."
+
+"And Sir Alister?" queried the General. "Do you mean to say he did not
+notice anything amiss?"
+
+I shrugged my shoulders. "He didn't appear to. I called attention myself
+to the singular attitude of the hounds, and he said quite casually:
+'Dogs never do take to me much.'"
+
+Uncle Bob gave a short laugh. "Our friend is evidently not sensitive."
+He paused and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then added: "It certainly is
+rather curious, but, for Heaven's sake, boy, don't get imagining all
+sorts of things!"
+
+This nettled me and made me wish I had held my tongue. I was quite aware
+that my story might have sounded somewhat fantastic from a stranger;
+still, he ought to have known me better than to accuse me of
+imagination. I abruptly changed the subject, and shortly after left the
+room.
+
+But I could not banish from my mind the incident of the morning. I could
+not forget the appealing faces of those dogs. Ethne and Sir Alister had
+left me there and returned to the house together, and, after their
+departure, those poor, dumb beasts had gathered round me in a way that
+was absolutely pathetic, licking and fondling my hands, as though
+apologising for their previous misconduct. Still, I understood. That
+bristling up their spines was precisely the same sensation I had
+experienced when I first met Sir Alister Moeran.
+
+As I was slowly mounting the stairs on my way up to dress, I heard
+someone running up after me, and turned round to find Ethne beside me.
+
+"Maurice," she said, rather breathlessly, "tell me, you did not punish
+Fritz and Bess for not coming at once when you called them this
+morning?"
+
+"No," I answered.
+
+She gave a nervous little laugh. "I'm glad of that. I thought
+perhaps----" She stopped short, then rushed on, "You know how queer
+mother is about cats--can't bear one in the room, and how they always
+fly out directly she comes in? Well, dogs are the same with Alister.
+He--he told me so himself. It seems funny to me, and I suppose to you,
+because we're so fond of all kinds of animals; but I don't really see
+why it should be any more extraordinary to have an antipathy for dogs
+than for cats, and no one thinks anything of it if you dislike cats."
+
+"That is so," I said thoughtfully.
+
+"Anyway," she went on, "it is not our own fault if a certain animal does
+not instinctively take to us."
+
+"Of course not," I replied stoutly. "You're surely not worrying about
+it, are you?"
+
+She hastened to assure me that she was not, but I could see that my
+indorsing her opinion was a great relief to her. She had been afraid
+that I should think it unnatural. I did for that matter, but I could
+not, of course, tell her so.
+
+That night Sir Alister and I sat up late talking after the other men had
+retired. We had got on the subject of India and had been comparing notes
+as to our different adventures. From this we went on to discussing
+perilous situations and escapes, and it was then that he narrated to me
+a very curious incident.
+
+"It happened when I was only twenty-one," he said, "the year after my
+father died. I think I told you that as soon as ever I became my own
+master, I packed up and was off to the East. I had a friend with me, a
+boy who had been my best pal at school. They used to call us 'Black and
+White.' He was fair and girlish-looking, and his name was Buchanan. He
+was just as keen on India as I was, and purposed writing a book
+afterwards on our experiences.
+
+"Our intention was to explore the wildest, most savage districts, and as
+a start we selected the province of Orissa. The forests there are
+wonderful, and it is there, if anywhere, that the almost extinct Indian
+lion is still to be found. We engaged two sturdy hillmen to accompany us
+and pushed our way downwards from Calcutta over mountains, rivers and
+through some of the densest jungles I've ever traversed. It was on the
+outskirts of one of the latter that the tragedy took place. We had
+pitched our tents one evening after a long, tiring day, and turned in
+early to sleep, Buchanan and I in one, and the two Bhils in the other."
+
+Sir Alister paused for a few moments, toying with his cigar in an
+abstracted manner, then continued in the same clear, even voice:
+
+"When I awoke next morning, I found my friend lying beside me dead, and
+blood all round us! His throat was torn open by the teeth of some wild
+beast, his breast was horribly mauled and lacerated, and his eyes were
+wide, staring open, and their expression was awful. He must have died a
+hideous death and known it!"
+
+Again he stopped, but I made no comment, only waited with breathless
+interest till he went on.
+
+"I called the two men. They came and looked, and for the first time I
+saw terror written on their faces. Their nostrils quivered as though
+scenting something; then 'Tiger!' they gasped simultaneously.
+
+"One of them said he had heard a stifled scream in the night, but had
+thought it merely some animal in the jungle. The whole thing was a
+mystery. How I came to sleep undisturbed through it all, how I escaped
+the same fate, and why the tiger did not carry off his prey----"
+
+"You are sure it was a tiger?" I put in.
+
+"I think there was no doubt of it," Sir Alister replied. "The Bhils
+swore the teeth-marks were unmistakable, and not only that, but I saw
+another case seven years later. The body of a young woman was found in
+the compound outside my bungalow, done to death in precisely the same
+way. And several of the natives testified as to there being a tiger in
+that vicinity, for they had found three or four young goats destroyed in
+similar fashion."
+
+"Who was the girl?" I asked.
+
+Moeran slowly turned his lucent, amber eyes upon me as he answered. "She
+was a German, a sort of nursery governess at the English doctor's. He
+was naturally frightfully upset about it, and a regular panic sprang up
+in the neighbourhood. The natives got a superstitious scare--thought
+one of their gods was wroth about something and demanded sacrifice; but
+the white people were simply out to kill the tiger."
+
+"And did they?" I queried eagerly.
+
+Sir Alister shook his head. "That I can't say, as I left the place very
+soon afterwards and went up to the mountains."
+
+A long silence followed, during which I stared at him in mute
+fascination. Then an unaccountable impulse made me say abruptly:
+"Moeran, how old are you?"
+
+His finely-marked eyebrows went up in surprise at the irrelevance of my
+question, but he smiled.
+
+"Funny you should ask! It so happens that it's my birthday to-morrow. I
+shall be thirty-five."
+
+"Thirty-five!" I repeated. Then with a shiver I rose from my seat. The
+room seemed to have turned suddenly cold.
+
+"Come," I said, "let's go to bed."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Next night at dinner I proposed Sir Alister's health, and we all drank
+to him and his "bride-to-be." They had that day definitely settled the
+date of their marriage for two months ahead; Ethne was looking radiant
+and everyone seemed in the best of spirits.
+
+We danced and romped and played rowdy games like a pack of children.
+Nothing was too silly for us to attempt. While a one-step was in full
+swing some would-be wag suddenly turned off all the lights. It was then
+that for a moment I caught sight of a pair of glowing, fiery eyes
+shining through the darkness. Instantly my thoughts flew back to that
+meeting at the station, when I had fancied that Ethne had her dog in her
+arms. A chill, sinister feeling crept over me, but I kept my gaze fixed
+steadily in the same direction. The next minute the lights went up, and
+I found myself staring straight at Sir Alister Moeran. His arm was round
+Ethne's waist and she was smiling up into his face. Almost immediately
+they took up the dance again, and I and my partner followed suit. But
+all my gaiety had departed. An indefinable oppression seized me and
+clung to me for the rest of the evening.
+
+As I emerged from my room next morning I saw old Giles, the butler,
+hurrying down the corridor towards me.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Maurice--Captain Kilvert, sir!" he burst out, consternation in
+every line of his usually stolid countenance. "A dreadful thing has
+happened! How it's come about I can't for the life of me say, and how
+we're going to tell the General, the Lord only knows!"
+
+"What?" I asked, seizing him by the arm. "What is it?"
+
+"The dawg, sir," he answered in a hoarse whisper, "Mike--in the
+study----"
+
+I waited to hear no more, but strode off down the stairs, Giles hobbling
+beside me as fast as he could, and together we entered the study.
+
+In the middle of the floor lay the body of Mike. A horrible foreboding
+gripped me, and I quickly knelt down and raised the dog's head. His neck
+was torn open, bitten right through to the windpipe, the blood still
+dripping from it into a dark pool on the carpet.
+
+A cold, numbing sensation stole down my spine and made my legs grow
+suddenly weak. Beads of perspiration gathered on my forehead as I
+slowly rose to my feet and faced Giles.
+
+"What's the meaning of it, sir?" he asked, passing his hand across his
+brow in utter bewilderment. "That dawg was as right as possible when I
+shut up last night, and he couldn't have got out."
+
+"No," I answered mechanically, "he couldn't have got out."
+
+"Looks like some wild beast had attacked him," muttered the old man, in
+awed tones, as he bent over the lifeless body. "D'ye see the teeth
+marks, sir? But it's not possible--not possible."
+
+"No," I said again, in the same wooden fashion. "It's not possible."
+
+"But how're we going to account for it to the General?" he cried
+brokenly. "Oh, Mr. Maurice, sir, it's dreadful!"
+
+I nodded. "You're right, Giles! Still, it isn't your fault, nor mine.
+Leave the matter to me. I'll break it to my uncle."
+
+It was a most unenviable task, but I did it. Poor Uncle Bob! I shall
+never forget his face when he saw the mutilated body of the dog that for
+years had been his faithful companion. He almost wept, only rage and
+resentment against the murderer were so strong in him that they thrust
+grief for the time into the background. The mysterious, incomprehensible
+manner of the dog's death only added to his anger, for there was
+apparently no one on whom to wreak his vengeance.
+
+The news caused general concern throughout the house, and Ethne was
+frightfully upset.
+
+"Oh, Alister, isn't it awful?" she exclaimed, tears standing in her
+pretty blue eyes. "Poor, darling Mike!"
+
+"Yes," he answered rather absently. "It's most unfortunate. Valuable
+dog, too, wasn't it?"
+
+I walked away. The man's calm, handsome face filled me suddenly with
+unspeakable revulsion. The atmosphere of the room seemed to become heavy
+and noisome. I felt compelled to get out into the open to breathe.
+
+I found the General tramping up and down the drive in the rain, his chin
+sunk deep into the collar of his overcoat, his hat pulled low down over
+his eyes. I joined him without speaking, and in silence we paced side by
+side for another quarter of an hour.
+
+"Uncle Bob," I said abruptly at last, "take my advice. Have one of the
+hounds indoors to-night--Princep, he's a good watch-dog."
+
+The General stopped short in his walk and looked at me.
+
+"You've something on your mind, boy. What is it?"
+
+"This," I answered grimly. "Whoever, or whatever killed Mike was in the
+house last night, or got in, after Giles shut up. It may still be there
+for all we know. In the dark, dark deeds are done, and--well, I think
+it's wise to take precautions."
+
+"Good God, Maurice, if there is any creature in hiding, we'll soon have
+it out! I'll have the place searched now. But the thing's impossible,
+absurd!"
+
+I shrugged my shoulders. "Then Mike died a natural death?"
+
+"Natural?" he echoed fiercely. "Don't talk rubbish!"
+
+"In that case," I said quietly, "you'll agree to let one of the dogs
+sleep in."
+
+He gave me a long, troubled, searching look, then said gruffly: "Very
+well, but don't make any fuss about it. Women are such nervous beings
+and we don't want to upset anyone."
+
+"You needn't be afraid of that," I replied, "I'll manage it all right."
+
+There was no further talk of Mike that day. The visitors, seeing how
+distressed the General was, by tacit consent avoided the subject, but
+everyone felt the dampening effect.
+
+That night, before I retired to my room, I took a lantern, went out to
+the kennels and brought in Princep, a pure-bred Irish setter. He was a
+dog of exceptional intelligence, and when I spoke to him, explaining the
+reason of his presence indoors, he seemed to know instinctively what was
+required of him.
+
+As I passed the study I noticed a light coming from under the door.
+Somewhat surprised, I turned the handle and looked in. My uncle was
+seated before his desk in the act of loading a revolver. He glanced up
+sharply as I entered.
+
+"Oh, it's you, is it? Got the dog in?"
+
+"Yes," I replied, "I've left him in the library with the door open."
+
+He regarded the revolver pensively for a few moments, then laid it down
+in front of him.
+
+"You've no theory as to this--this business?"
+
+I shook my head, I could offer no explanation. Yet all the while there
+lurked, deep down in my heart, a hideous suspicion, a suspicion so
+monstrous that had I voiced it, I should probably have been considered
+mad. And so I held my peace on the subject and merely wished my uncle
+good-night.
+
+It was about one o'clock when I got into bed, but my brain was far too
+agitated for sleep. Something I had heard years ago, some old wives'
+tales about a man's life changing every seven years, kept dinning in my
+head. I was striving to remember how the story went, when a slight sound
+outside caught my ear. In a second I was out of bed and had silently
+opened the door. As I did so, someone passed close by me down the
+corridor.
+
+Cautiously, with beating heart, I crept out and followed. However, I
+almost exclaimed aloud in my amazement, for the light from a window fell
+full on the figure ahead of me, and I recognised my cousin Ethne. She
+was sleep-walking, a habit she had had from her childhood, and which
+apparently she had never outgrown.
+
+For some minutes I stood there, undecided how to act, while she passed
+on down the stairs, out of sight. To wake her I knew would be wrong. I
+knew, also, that she had walked thus a score of times without coming to
+any harm. There was, therefore, no reason why I should not return to my
+room and leave her to her wandering, yet still I remained rooted to the
+spot, all my senses strained, alert. And then suddenly I heard Princep
+whine. A series of low, stertorous growls followed, growls that made my
+blood run cold! With swift, noiseless steps, I stole along to the
+minstrel's gallery which overlooked that portion of the hall that
+communicated with the library. As I did so, there arose from immediately
+below me a succession of sharp snarls, such as a dog gives when he is
+in deadly fear or pain.
+
+A shaft of moonlight fell across the polished floor, and by its aid I
+was just able to distinguish the form of Princep crouched against the
+wainscoting. He was breathing heavily, his head turned all the while
+towards the opposite side of the room. I looked in the same direction.
+Out of the darkness gleamed two fiery, golden orbs, two eyes that moved
+slowly to and fro, backwards and forwards, as though the Thing were
+prowling round and round. Now it seemed to crouch as though ready to
+spring, and I could hear the savage growling as of some beast of prey.
+
+As I watched, horrified, fascinated, a _portière_ close by was lifted,
+and the white-robed figure of Ethne appeared. All heedless of danger she
+came on across the hall, and the Thing, with soft, stealthy tread, came
+after her. I knew then that there was not an instant to be lost, and
+like a flash I darted along the gallery and down the stairs. But ere I
+gained the hall a piercing scream rent the air, and I was just in time
+to see Ethne borne to the ground by a great, dark form, which had sprung
+at her like a tiger.
+
+Half frantic, I dashed forward, snatching as I did so a rapier from the
+wall, the only weapon handy. But before I reached the spot, a voice from
+the study doorway called: "Stop!" and the next moment the report of a
+pistol rang out.
+
+"Good God!" I cried. "Who have you shot?"
+
+"Not the girl," answered the grim voice of my uncle, "you may trust my
+aim for that! I fired at the eyes of the Thing. Here, quick, get lights
+and let's see what has happened."
+
+But my one and only thought was for Ethne. Moving across to the dark
+mass on the floor, I stretched out my hand. My fingers touched a smooth,
+fabric-like cloth, but the smell was the smell of fur, the musky,
+sun-warmed fur of the jungle! With sickening repugnance, I seized the
+Thing by its two broad shoulders and rolled it over. Then I carefully
+raised Ethne from the ground. At that moment Giles and a footman
+appeared with candles. In silence my uncle took one and came towards me,
+the servants with scared, blanched countenances following.
+
+The light fell full upon the dead, upturned face of Sir Alister Moeran.
+His upper lip was drawn back, showing the strong, white teeth. The two
+front ones were tipped with blood. Instantly my eyes turned to Ethne's
+throat, and there I saw deep, horrible marks, like the marks of a
+tiger's fangs; but, thank God, they had not penetrated far enough to do
+any serious injury! My uncle's shot had come just in time to save her.
+
+"Merely fainted, hasn't she?" he asked anxiously.
+
+I nodded. My relief at finding this was so, was too great for words.
+
+"Heaven be praised!" I heard him mutter. Then lifting my beautiful,
+unconscious burden in my arms, I carried her upstairs to her room.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Can I explain, can anyone explain, the mysterious vagaries of atavism? I
+only know that there are amongst us, rare instances fortunately, but
+existent nevertheless--men with the souls of beasts. They may be
+cognisant of the fact or otherwise. In the case of Sir Alister I feel
+sure it was the latter. He had probably no more idea than I what
+far-reaching, evil strain it was that came out in his blood and turned
+him, every seven years, practically into a vampire.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+THE KISS
+
+
+The quiet of the deserted building incircled the little, glowing room as
+the velvet incircles the jewel in its case. Occasionally faint sounds
+came from the distance--the movements of cleaners at work, a raised
+voice, the slamming of a door.
+
+The man sat at his desk, as he had sat through the busy day, but he had
+turned sideways in his seat, the better to regard the other occupant of
+the room.
+
+She was not beautiful--had no need to be. Her call to him had been the
+saner call of mind to mind. That he desired, besides, the passing
+benediction of her hands, the fragrance of her corn-gold hair, the sight
+of her slenderness: this she had guessed and gloried in. Till now, he
+had touched her physical self neither in word nor deed. To-night, she
+knew, the barriers would be down; to-night they would kiss.
+
+Her quiet eyes, held by his during the spell that had bound them
+speechless, did not flinch at the breaking of it.
+
+"The Lord made the world and then He made this rotten old office," the
+man said quietly. "Into it He put you--and me. What, before that day,
+has gone to the making and marring of me, and the making and perfecting
+of you, is not to the point. It is enough that we have realised, heart,
+and soul, and body, that you are mine and I am yours."
+
+"Yes," she said.
+
+He fell silent again, his eyes on her hungrily. She felt them and longed
+for his touch. But there came only his voice.
+
+"I want you. The first moment I saw you I wanted you. I thought then
+that, whatever the cost, I would have you. That was in the early days of
+our talks here--before you made it so courageously clear to me that it
+would never be possible for you to ignore my marriage and come to me.
+That is still so, isn't it?"
+
+She moved slightly, like a dreamer in pain, as again she faced the creed
+she had hated through many a sleepless night.
+
+"It is so," she agreed. "And because it is so, you are going away
+to-morrow."
+
+"Yes."
+
+They looked at each other across the foot or two of intervening space.
+It was a look to bridge death with. But even beneath their suffering,
+her eyes voiced the tremulous waiting of her lips.
+
+At last he found words.
+
+"You are the most wonderful woman in the world--the pluckiest, the most
+completely understanding; you have the widest charity. I suppose I ought
+to thank you for it all; I can't--that's not my way. I have always
+demanded of you, demanded enormously, and received my measure pressed
+down and running over. Now I am going to ask this last thing of you:
+will you, of your goodness, go away--upstairs, anywhere--and come back
+in ten minutes' time? By then I shall have cleared out."
+
+She looked at him almost incredulously, lips parted. Suddenly she seemed
+a child.
+
+"You--I----" she stammered. Then rising to her feet, with a superb
+simplicity: "But, you must kiss me before you go. You must! You--simply
+_must_."
+
+For the space of a flaming moment it seemed that in one stride he would
+have crossed to her side, caught and held her.
+
+"For God's sake----!" he muttered, in almost ludicrous fear of himself.
+Then, with a big effort, he regained his self-control.
+
+"Listen," he said hoarsely. "I want to kiss you so much that I daren't
+even get to my feet. Do you understand what that means? Think of it,
+just for a moment, and then realise that _I am not going to kiss you_.
+And I have kissed many women in my time, too, and shall kiss more, no
+doubt."
+
+"But it's not because of that----?"
+
+"That I'm holding back? No. Neither is it because I funk the torture of
+kissing you once and letting you go. It's because I'm afraid--for
+_you_."
+
+"For me?"
+
+"Listen. You have unfolded your beliefs to me and, though I don't hold
+them--don't attempt to live up to your lights--the realisation of them
+has given me a reverence for you that you don't dream of. I have put you
+in a shrine and knelt to you; every time you have sat in that chair and
+talked with me, I have worshipped you."
+
+"It would not alter--all that," the girl said faintly, "if you kissed
+me."
+
+"I don't believe that; neither do you--no, you don't! In your heart of
+hearts you admit that a woman like you is not kissed for the first and
+last time by a man like me. Suppose I kissed you now? I should awaken
+something in you as yet half asleep. You're young and pulsing with life,
+and there are--thank Heaven!--few layers of that damnable young-girl
+shyness over you. The world would call you primitive, I suppose."
+
+"But I don't----"
+
+"Oh, Lord, you must see it's all or nothing! You surely understand that
+after I had left you you would not go against your morality, perhaps,
+but you would adjust it, in spite of yourself, to meet your desires! I
+cannot--safely--kiss you."
+
+"But you are going away for good!"
+
+"For good! Child, do you think my going will be your safeguard? If you
+wanted me so much that you came to think it was right and good to want
+me, wouldn't you find me, send for me, call for me? And I should come.
+God! I can see the look in your eyes now, when the want had been
+satisfied, and you could not drug your creed any more."
+
+Her breath came in a long sigh. Then she tried to speak; tried again.
+
+"It is so, isn't it?" he asked.
+
+She nodded. Speech was too difficult. With the movement a strand of the
+corn-gold hair came tumbling down the side of her face.
+
+"Then, that being the case," said the man, with infinite gentleness, his
+eyes on the little, tumbling lock, "I shall not attempt so much as to
+touch your hand before you leave the room."
+
+At the door she turned.
+
+"Tell me once again," she said. "You _want_ to kiss me?"
+
+He gripped the arms of his chair; from where she stood, she could see
+the veins standing out on his hands.
+
+"I want to kiss you," he said fiercely. "I want to kiss you. If there
+were any way of cutting off to-morrow--all the to-morrows--with the
+danger they hold for us--I would kiss you. I would kiss you, and kiss
+you, and kiss you!"
+
+
+II
+
+Where her feet took her during the thousand, thousand years that was his
+going she could never afterwards say; but she found herself at last at
+the top of the great building, at an open window, leaning out, with the
+rain beating into her eyes.
+
+Far below her the lights wavered and later she remembered that echoes of
+a far-off tumult had reached her as she sat. But her ears held only the
+memory of a man's footsteps--the eager tread that had never lingered so
+much as a second's space on its way to her; that had often stumbled
+slightly on the threshold of her presence; that she had heard and
+welcomed in her dreams; that would not come again.
+
+The raindrops lay like tears upon her face.
+
+She brushed them aside, and, rising, put up her hands to feel the wet
+lying heavy on her hair. The coldness of her limbs surprised her
+faintly. Downstairs she went again, the echoes mocking every step.
+
+She closed the door of the room behind her and idly cleared a scrap of
+paper from a chair. Mechanically her hands went to the litter on his
+desk and she had straightened it all before she realised that there was
+no longer any need. To-morrow would bring a voice she did not know;
+would usher a stranger into her room to take her measure from behind a
+barrier of formality. For the rest there would be work, and food, and
+sleep.
+
+These things would make life--life that had been love.
+
+She put on her hat and coat. The room seemed smaller somehow and
+shabbier. The shaded lights that had invited, now merely irritated; the
+whimsical disorder of books and papers spoke only of an uncompleted
+task. Gone was the glamour and the promise and the good comradeship. He
+had taken them all. She faced to-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow
+empty-handed--in her heart the memory of words that had seared and
+healed in a breath, and the dead dream of a kiss. Her throat ached with
+the pain of it.
+
+And then suddenly she heard him coming back!
+
+She stiffened. For one instant, mind and body, she was rigid with the
+sheer wonder of it. Then, as the atmosphere of the room surged back,
+tense with vitality, her mind leapt forward in welcome. He was coming
+back, coming back! The words hammered themselves out to the rhythm of
+the eager tread that never lingered so much as a second's space on its
+way to her, that stumbled slightly on the threshold of her presence.
+
+By some queer, reflex twist of memory, her hands brushed imaginary
+raindrops from her face and strayed uncertainly to where the wet had
+lain on her hair.
+
+The door opened and closed behind him.
+
+"I've come back. I've come back to kiss you. Dear--_dear_!"
+
+Her outflung hand checked him in his stride towards her. Words came
+stammering to her lips.
+
+"Why--but--this isn't--I don't understand! All you said--it was true,
+surely? It was cruel of you to make me know it was true and then come
+back!"
+
+"Let me kiss you--let me, let me!" He was overwhelming her, ignoring her
+resistance. "I must kiss you, I must kiss you." He said it again and
+again.
+
+"No, no, you shan't--you can't play with me! You said you were afraid
+for me, and you made me afraid, too--of my weakness--of the danger--of
+my longing for you----"
+
+"Let me kiss you! Yes, you shall let me; you _shall_ let me." His arms
+held her, his face touched hers.
+
+"Aren't you afraid any more? Has a miracle happened--may we kiss in
+spite of to-morrow?"
+
+Inch by inch she was relaxing. All thought was slipping away into a
+great white light that held no to-morrows, nor any fear of them, nor of
+herself, nor of anything. The light crept to her feet, rose to her
+heart, her head. Through the radiance came his words.
+
+"Yes, a miracle. Oh, my dear--my little child! I've come back to kiss
+you, little child."
+
+"Kiss me, then," she said against his lips.
+
+
+III
+
+Hazily she was aware that he had released her; that she had raised her
+head; that against the rough tweed of his shoulder there lay a long,
+corn-gold hair.
+
+She laughed shakily and her hand went up to remove it; but he caught her
+fingers and held them to his face. And with the movement and his look
+there came over her in a wave the shame of her surrender, a shame that
+was yet a glory, a diadem of pride. She turned blindly away.
+
+"Please," she heard herself saying, "let me go now. I want to be alone.
+I want to--please don't tell me to-night. To-morrow----"
+
+She was at the door, groping for the handle. Behind her she heard his
+voice; it was very tender.
+
+"I shall always kneel to you--in your shrine."
+
+Then she was outside, and the chilly passages were cooling her burning
+face. She had left him in the room behind her; and she knew he would
+wait there long enough to allow her to leave the building. Almost
+immediately, it seemed, she was downstairs in the hall, had reached the
+entrance.
+
+She confronted a group of white-faced, silent men.
+
+"Why, is anything the matter? What has happened? O'Dell?"
+
+The porter stood forward. He cleared his throat twice, but for all that,
+his words were barely audible.
+
+"Yes, Miss Carryll. Good-night, miss. You'd best be going on, miss, if
+you'll excuse----"
+
+Behind O'Dell stood a policeman; behind him again, a grave-eyed man
+stooped to an unusual task. It arrested her attention like the flash of
+red danger.
+
+"Why is the door of your room being locked, O'Dell?" She knew her
+curiosity was indecent, but some powerful premonition was stirring in
+her, and she could not pass on. "Has there been an accident? Who is in
+there?"
+
+Then, almost under her feet, she saw a dark pool lying sluggishly
+against the tiles; nearer the door another--on the pavement outside
+another--and yet another. She gasped, drew back, felt horribly sick;
+and, as she turned, she caught O'Dell's muttered aside to the policeman.
+
+"Young lady's 'is seccereterry--must be the last that seen 'im alive.
+All told, 'tain't more'n 'arf-an-'our since 'e left. 'Good-night,
+O'Dell,' sez 'e. 'Miss Carryll's still working--don't lock 'er in,' sez
+'e. Would 'ave 'is joke. Must 'ave gone round the corner an' slap inter
+the car. Wish to God the amberlance----"
+
+Her cry cut into his words as she flung herself forward. Her fingers
+wrenched at the key of the locked door and turned it, in spite of the
+detaining hands that seemed light as leaves upon her shoulder, and as
+easily shaken off. Unhearing, unheeding, she forced her way into the
+glare of electric light flooding the little room--beating down on to the
+table and its sheeted burden. Before she reached it, knowledge had
+dropped upon her like a mantle.
+
+Her face was grey as the one from which she drew the merciful coverings,
+but her eyes went fearlessly to that which she sought.
+
+Against the rough tweed of the shoulder lay a long, corn-gold hair.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+THE GOTH
+
+
+Young Cargill smiled as Mrs. Lardner finished her account.
+
+"And do you really think that the fact that the poor chap was drowned
+had anything to do with it?" he asked. "Why, you admit yourself that he
+was known to have been drinking just before he fell out of his boat!"
+
+"You may say what you like," returned his hostess impressively, "but
+since first we came to live at Tryn yr Wylfa only four people besides
+poor Roberts have defied the Fates, and each of them was drowned within
+the year.
+
+"They were all tourists," she added with something suspiciously like
+satisfaction.
+
+"I am not a superstitious man myself," supplemented the Major. "But you
+can't get away from the facts, you know, Cargill."
+
+Cargill said no more. He perceived that they had lived long enough in
+retirement in the little Welsh village to have acquired a pride in its
+legend.
+
+The legend and the mountains are the two attractions of Tryn yr
+Wylfa--the official guidebook devotes an equal amount of space to each.
+It will tell you that the bay, across which the quarry's tramp steamers
+now sail, was once dry land on which stood a village. Deep in the water
+the remains of this village can still be seen in clear weather. But
+whosoever dares to look upon them will be drowned within the year. A
+local publication gives full details of those who have looked--and
+perished.
+
+The legend had received an unexpected boom in the drowning of Roberts,
+which had just occurred. Roberts was a fisherman who had recently come
+from the South. One calm day in February he had rowed out into the bay
+in fulfilment of a drunken boast. He was drowned three days before
+Midsummer.
+
+After dinner young Cargill forgot about it. He forgot almost everything
+except Betty Lardner. But, oddly enough, as he walked back to the hotel
+it was just Betty Lardner who made him think again of the legend. He was
+in love, and, being very young, wanted to do something insanely heroic.
+To defy the Fates by looking on the sunken village was an obvious outlet
+for heroism.
+
+He must have thought a good deal about it before he fell asleep, for he
+remembered his resolution on the following morning.
+
+After breakfast he sauntered along the brief strip of asphalt which the
+villagers believe to be a promenade. He was not actually thinking of the
+legend; to be precise, he was thinking of Betty Lardner, but he was
+suddenly reminded of it by a boatman pressing him for his custom.
+
+"Yes," he said abruptly. "I will hire your boat if you will row me out
+to the sunken village. I want to look at it."
+
+The Welshman eyed him suspiciously, perceived that he was not joking,
+and shook his head.
+
+"Come," persisted Cargill, "I will make it a sovereign if you care to do
+it."
+
+"Thank you, but indeed, no, sir," replied the Welshman. "Not if it wass
+a hundred sofereigns!"
+
+"Surely you are not afraid?"
+
+"It iss not fit," retorted the Welshman, turning on his heel.
+
+It was probably this opposition that made young Cargill decide that it
+would be really worth while to defy the legend.
+
+He did not approach the only other boatman. He considered the question
+of swimming. The knowledge that the distance there and back was nearly
+five miles did not render the feat impossible, for he was a champion
+swimmer.
+
+But he soon thought of a better way. He went back to the hotel and
+sought out Bissett. Bissett was a fellow member of the Middle Temple, as
+contentedly briefless as himself. And Bissett possessed a motor-boat.
+
+Bissett was not exactly keen on the prospect.
+
+"Don't you think it is rather a silly thing to do?" he reasoned. "Of
+course it's all rot in a way--it must be. But isn't it just as well to
+treat that sort of thing with respect?"
+
+Eventually he agreed to take the motor-boat to within a few hundred
+yards of the spot. They would tow a dinghy, in which young Cargill could
+finish the journey.
+
+It took young Cargill half-an-hour to find the spot. But he did find it,
+and he did look upon, and actually see, all that remained of the sunken
+village.
+
+He felt vaguely ashamed of himself when he returned to dry land. He
+noticed that several of the villagers gave him unfriendly glances; and
+he resolved that he would say nothing of the matter to the Lardners.
+
+They were having tea on the lawn when he dropped in. He thought that
+Mrs. Lardner's welcome was a trifle chilly. After tea Betty executed a
+quite deliberate manœuvre to avoid having him for a partner at tennis.
+But he ran her to earth later, when they were picking up the balls.
+
+"How _could_ you?" was all she said.
+
+"I--I didn't know you knew," he stammered weakly.
+
+"Of course everybody knows! It was all over the village before you
+returned.
+
+"Can't you see what that legend meant to us?" she went on. "It was a
+thing of beauty. And now you have spoilt it. It's like burning down the
+trees of the Fairy Glen. You--you _Goth_!"
+
+"But suppose I am drowned before the year is out--like Roberts?" he
+suggested jocularly.
+
+"Then I will forgive you," she said. And to Cargill it sounded exactly
+as if she meant what she said.
+
+A few days later he returned to town. For six months he thought little
+about the legend. Then he was reminded of it.
+
+He had been spending a week-end at Brighton. On the return journey he
+had a first-class smoker in the rear of the train to himself. Towards
+the end of the hour he dozed and dreamt of the day he had looked on the
+sunken village. He was awakened when the train made its usual stop on
+the bridge outside Victoria.
+
+It had been a pleasant dream, and he was still trying to preserve the
+illusion when his eye fell lazily on the window, and he noticed that
+there was a dense fog.
+
+"Bit rough on the legend that I happened to be a Londoner!" he mused.
+"It isn't easy to drown a man in town!"
+
+He stood up with the object of removing his dressing-case from the rack.
+But before he reached it there was the shriek of a whistle, a violent
+shock, and he was hurled heavily into the opposite seat.
+
+It was not a collision in the newspaper sense of the word. No one was
+hurt. A local train, creeping along at four miles an hour, had simply
+missed its signal in the fog and bumped the Brighton train.
+
+Young Cargill, in common with most other passengers put his head out of
+the window. He saw nothing--except the parapet of the bridge.
+
+"By God!" he muttered. "If that other train had been going a little
+faster----"
+
+He could just hear the river gurgling beneath him.
+
+He had got over his fright by the time he reached Victoria.
+
+"Just a common-place accident," he assured himself, as he drove in a
+taxi-cab to his chambers. "That's the worst of it! If I happened to be
+drowned in the ordinary way they'd swear it was the legend. I suppose,
+for that reason, I had better not take any risks. Anyhow, I needn't go
+near the sea until the year is out!"
+
+The superstitious would doubtless affirm that the Fates had sent him one
+warning and, angered at his refusal to accept it, had determined to
+drive home the lesson of his own impotence. For when he arrived at his
+chambers he found a cablegram from Paris awaiting him.
+
+"Hullo, this must be from Uncle Peter!" he exclaimed, as he tore open
+the envelope.
+
+"_Fear uncle dying. Come at once.--Machell._"
+
+Machell was the elder Cargill's secretary, and young Cargill was the old
+man's heir.
+
+It was not until he was in the boat-train that he realised that he was
+about to cross the sea.
+
+It was a coincidence--an odd coincidence. When the ship tossed in an
+unusually rough crossing he was prepared to admit to himself that it was
+an uncanny coincidence.
+
+He stayed a week in Paris for his uncle's funeral. When he made the
+return journey the Channel was like the proverbial mill pond. But it was
+not until the ship had actually put into Dover that he laughed at the
+failure of the Fates to take the opportunity to drown him.
+
+He laughed, to be exact, as he was stepping down the gangway. At the end
+of the gangway the fold of the rug which he was carrying on his arm,
+caught in the railings. He turned sharply to free it and stepping back,
+cannoned into an officer of the dock. It threw him off his balance on
+the edge of the dockside.
+
+Even if the official had not grabbed him, it is highly probable that he
+could have saved himself from falling into the water, because the
+gangway railing was in easy reach; and if you remember that he was a
+champion swimmer, you will agree that it is still more probable that he
+would not have been drowned, even if he had fallen.
+
+But the incident made its impression. His thoughts reverted to it
+constantly during the next few days. Then he told himself that his
+attendance at the last rites of his uncle had made him morbid, and was
+more or less successful in dismissing the affair from his mind.
+
+He had many friends in common with the Lardners. Early in February he
+was invited for a week's hunting to a house at which Betty Lardner was
+also a guest.
+
+She had not forgotten. She did her best to avoid him, and succeeded
+remarkably well, in spite of the fact that their hostess, knowing
+something of young Cargill's feelings, made several efforts to throw
+them together.
+
+One day at the end of the hunt he came alongside of her and they walked
+their horses home together. When he was sure that they were out of
+earshot he asked:
+
+"You haven't forgiven me yet?"
+
+"You know the conditions," she replied banteringly.
+
+"You leave me no alternative to suicide," he protested.
+
+"That would be cheating," she said. "You must be drowned honestly, or
+it's no good."
+
+Then he made a foolish reply. He thought her humour forced and it
+annoyed him. Remember that he was exasperated. He had looked forward to
+meeting her, and now she was treating him with studied coldness over
+what still seemed to him a comparatively trifling matter.
+
+"I am afraid," he said, "that that is hardly likely to occur. The fact
+of my being a townsman instead of a drunken boatman doesn't give your
+legend a fair chance!"
+
+Less than an hour afterwards he was having his bath before dressing for
+dinner. The water was deliciously hot, and the room was full of steam.
+As he lay in the bath a drowsiness stole over him. Enjoying the keen
+physical pleasure of it, he thought what a wholly delightful thing was a
+hot bath after a day's hard hunting. His mind, bordering on sleep, dwelt
+lazily on hot baths in general. And then with a startling suddenness
+came the thought that, before now, men had been drowned in their baths!
+
+With a shock he realised that he had almost fallen asleep. He tried to
+rouse himself, but a faintness had seized him. That steam--he could not
+breathe! He was certain he was going to faint.
+
+With a desperate effort of the will he hurled himself out of the bath
+and threw open the window.
+
+It must have been the bath episode that first aroused the sensation of
+positive fear in Cargill. For it was almost a month later when he
+surprised the secretary of that swimming club of which he was the main
+pillar by his refusal to take part in any events for the coming season.
+
+He was beginning to take precautions.
+
+Late one night, when taxi-cabs were scarce, he found that his quickest
+way to reach home would be by means of one of the tubes. He was in the
+descending lift when he suddenly remembered that that particular tube
+ran beneath the river. Suppose an accident should occur--a leakage!
+After all such a thing was within the bounds of possibility. Instantly
+there rose before him the vision of a black torrent roaring through the
+tunnel.
+
+Without waiting for the lift to ascend he rushed to the staircase, and
+sweating with terror gained the street and bribed a loafer to find him a
+cab.
+
+He made an effort to take himself seriously in hand after that. More
+than one acquaintance had lately told him that he was looking "nervy."
+In the last few weeks his sane and normal self seemed to have shrunk
+within him. But it was still capable of asserting itself under
+favourable conditions. It would talk aloud to the rest of him as if to a
+separate individual.
+
+"Look here, old man, this superstitious nonsense is becoming an
+obsession to you," it said one fine April morning. "Yes, I mean what I
+say--an obsession! You must pull yourself together or you'll go stark
+mad, and then you'll probably go and throw yourself over the Embankment.
+That legend is all bosh! You're in the twentieth century, and you're not
+a drunken fisherman----"
+
+"Hullo, young Cargill!"
+
+The door burst open and Stranack, oozing health and sanity, glared at
+him.
+
+"Jove! What a wreck you look!" continued Stranack. "You've been
+frousting too much. I'm glad I came. The car's outside, and we'll run
+down to Kingston, take a skiff and pull up to Molesey."
+
+The river! Young Cargill felt the blood singing in his ears.
+
+"I'm afraid I can't manage it. I--I've got an appointment this
+afternoon," he stammered.
+
+Stranack perceived that he was lying, and wondered. For a few minutes
+he gossiped, while young Cargill was repeating to himself:
+
+"You must pull yourself together. It's becoming an obsession. You must
+pull yourself together."
+
+He was vaguely conscious that Stranack was about to depart. Stranack was
+already in the doorway. His chance of killing the obsession was slipping
+from him! A special effort and then:
+
+"Stop!" cried Cargill. "I--I'll come with you, Stranack."
+
+Oddly enough, he felt much better when they were actually on the river.
+He had never been afraid of water, as such. And the familiar scenery,
+together with the wholesome exercise of sculling, acted as a tonic to
+his nerves.
+
+They pulled above Molesey lock. When they were returning, Stranack said:
+
+"You'll take her through the lock, won't you?"
+
+It was a needless remark, and if Stranack had not made it all might have
+been well. As a fact, it set Cargill asking himself why he should not
+take her through the lock. He was admitted to be a much better boatman
+than Stranack, and everyone knew that it required a certain amount of
+skill to manage a lock properly. Locks were dangerous if you played the
+fool. Before now people had been drowned in locks.
+
+The rest was inevitable. He lost his head as the lower gates swung open,
+and broke the rule of the river by pushing out in front of a launch. The
+launch was already under way, and young Cargill trying to avoid it
+better, thrust with his boat-hook at the side of the lock. The thrust
+was nervous and ill-calculated, and the next instant the skiff had
+blundered under the bows of the launch.
+
+It happened very quickly. The skiff was forced, broadside on, against
+the lock gates, and was splintered like firewood. Cargill fell
+backwards, struck his head heavily against the gates--and sank.
+
+He returned to consciousness in the lock-keeper's lodge. He had been
+under water a dangerously long time before Stranack, who had suffered no
+more than a wetting, had found him. It had been touch and go for his
+life, but artificial respiration had succeeded.
+
+He soon went to pieces after that.
+
+From one of the windows of his chambers the river was just visible. One
+morning he deliberately pulled the blind down. The action was important.
+It signified that he had definitely given up pretending that he had the
+power of shaking off the obsession.
+
+But if he could not shake it off, he could at least keep it temporarily
+at bay. He started a guerilla campaign against the obsession with the
+aid of the brandy bottle. He was rarely drunk, and as rarely sober.
+
+He was sober the day he was compelled to call on an aunt who lived in
+the still prosperous outskirts of Paddington. It was one of his good
+days and, in spite of his sobriety, he had himself in very good control
+when he left his aunt.
+
+In his search for a cab it became necessary for him to cross the canal.
+On the bridge he paused and, gripping the parapet, made a surprise
+attack upon his enemy.
+
+Some children, playing on the tow path, helped him considerably. Their
+delightful sanity in the presence of the water was worth more to him
+than the brandy. He was positively winning the battle, when one of the
+children fell into the water.
+
+For an instant he hesitated. Then, as on the night of the Tube episode,
+panic seized him. The next instant the man who was probably the best
+amateur swimmer in England, was running with all his might away from the
+canal.
+
+When he reached his chambers he waited, with the assistance of the
+brandy, until his man brought him the last edition of the evening paper.
+A tiny paragraph on the back sheet told him of the tragedy.
+
+An hour later his man found him face downwards on the hearthrug and,
+wrongly attributing his condition wholly to the brandy, put him to bed.
+
+He was in bed about three weeks. The doctor, who was also a personal
+friend, was shrewd enough to suspect that the brandy was the effect,
+rather than the cause of the nerve trouble.
+
+About the first week in June Cargill was allowed to get up.
+
+"You've got to go away," said the doctor one morning. "You are probably
+aware that your nerves have gone to pieces. The sea is the place for
+you!"
+
+The gasp that followed was scarcely audible, and the doctor missed it.
+
+"You went to Tryn yr Wylfa about this time last year," continued the
+doctor. "Go there again! Go for long walks on the mountains, and put up
+at a temperance hotel."
+
+He went to Tryn yr Wylfa.
+
+The train journey of six hours knocked him up for another week. By the
+time he was strong enough for the promenade it was the fourteenth of
+June. He noticed the date on the hotel calendar, and realised that the
+Fates had another ten days in which to drown him.
+
+He did not call on the Lardners. He felt that he couldn't--after the
+canal episode. Four of the ten days had passed before Betty Lardner ran
+across him on the promenade.
+
+She noticed at once the change in him, and was kinder than she had ever
+been before.
+
+"Next Saturday," he said, "is the anniversary!"
+
+For answer she smiled at him, and he might have smiled back if he had
+not remembered the canal.
+
+She met him each morning after that, so that she was with him on the day
+when he made his atonement.
+
+There had been a violent storm in the early morning. It had driven one
+of the quarry steamers on to the long sand-bank that lies submerged
+between Tryn yr Wylfa and Puffin Island. The gale still lasted, and the
+steamer was in momentary danger of becoming a complete wreck.
+
+There is no lifeboat service at Tryn yr Wylfa. It was impossible to
+launch an ordinary boat in such a sea.
+
+Colonel Denbigh, the owner of the quarry and local magnate, who had been
+superintending what feeble efforts had been made to effect a rescue,
+answered gloomily when Betty Lardner asked him if there were any hope.
+
+"It's a terrible thing," he jerked. "First time there has been a wreck
+hereabouts. It's hopeless trying to launch a boat----"
+
+"Suppose a fellow were to swim out to the wreck with a life-line in
+tow?"
+
+It was young Cargill who spoke.
+
+The Colonel glared at him contemptuously.
+
+"He would need to be a pretty fine swimmer," he returned.
+
+"I don't want to blow my own trumpet, but I am considered to be one of
+the best amateur swimmers in the country," replied Cargill calmly. "If
+you will tell your men to get the line ready, I will borrow a bathing
+suit from somewhere."
+
+They both stared at him in amazement.
+
+"But you are still an invalid," cried Betty Lardner. "You----"
+
+She stopped short and regarded him with fresh wonder. Somehow he no
+longer looked an invalid.
+
+Mechanically she walked by his side to the little bathing office.
+Suddenly she clutched his arm.
+
+"Jack," she said, "have you forgotten the--the legend?"
+
+"Betty," he replied, "have you forgotten the crew?"
+
+While he was undressing the attendant asked him some trivial question.
+He did not hear the man. His thoughts were far away. He was thinking of
+a group of children playing on the bank of a canal.
+
+To the accompaniment of the Colonel's protests they fixed a belt on him,
+to which was attached the life-line.
+
+He walked along the sloping wooden projection that is used as a landing
+stage for pleasure skiffs, walked until the water splashed over him.
+Then he dived into the boiling surf.
+
+Thus it was that he earned Betty Lardner's forgiveness.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+THE LAST ASCENT
+
+
+The extraordinary rapidity with which a successful airman may achieve
+fame was well shown in the case of my friend, Radcliffe Thorpe. One week
+known merely to a few friends as a clever young engineer, the next his
+name was on the lips of the civilised world. His first success was
+followed by a series of remarkable feats, of which his flight above the
+Atlantic, his race with the torpedo-boat-destroyers across the North
+Sea, and his sensational display during the military manœuvres on
+Salisbury Plain, impressed his name and personality firmly upon the
+fickle mind of the public, and explains the tremendous excitement caused
+by his inexplicable disappearance during the great aviation meeting at
+Attercliffe, near London, towards the end of the summer.
+
+Few people, I suppose, have forgotten the facts. For some time
+previously he had been devoting himself more especially to ascending to
+as great a height as possible. He held all the records for height, and
+it was known that at Attercliffe he meant to endeavour to eclipse his
+own achievements.
+
+It was a lovely day, not a breath of wind stirring, not a cloud in the
+sky. We saw him start. We saw him fly up and up in great sweeping
+spirals. We saw him climb higher and ever higher into the azure space.
+We watched him, those of us whose eyes could bear the strain, as he
+dwindled to a dot and a speck, till at last he passed beyond sight.
+
+It was a stirring thing to see a man thus storm, as it were, the walls
+of Heaven and probe the very mysteries of space. I remember I felt quite
+annoyed with someone who was taking a cinematograph record. It seemed
+such a sordid, business-like thing to be doing at such a moment.
+
+Presently the aeroplane came into sight again and was greeted with a
+sudden roar of cheering.
+
+"He is doing a glide down," someone cried excitedly, and though someone
+else declared that a glide from such a height was unthinkable and
+impossible, yet it was soon plain that the first speaker was right.
+
+Down through unimaginable thousands of feet, straight and swift swept
+the machine, making such a sweep as the eagle in its pride would never
+have dared. People held their breath to watch, expecting every moment
+some catastrophe. But the machine kept on an even keel, and in a few
+moments I joined with the others in a wild rush to the field at a little
+distance where the machine, like a mighty bird, had alighted easily and
+safely.
+
+But when we reached it we doubted our own eyes, our own sanity. There
+was no sign anywhere of Radcliffe Thorpe!
+
+No one knew what to say; we looked blankly at our neighbours, and one
+man got down on his hands and knees and peered under the body of the
+machine as if he suspected Radcliffe of hiding there. Then the chairman
+of the meeting, Lord Fallowfield, made a curious discovery.
+
+"Look," he said in a high, shaken voice, "the steering wheel is jammed!"
+
+It was true. The steering wheel had been carefully fastened in one
+position, and the lever controlling the planes had also been fixed so as
+to hold them at the right angle for a downward glide. That was strange
+enough, but in face of the mystery of Radcliffe's disappearance little
+attention was paid it.
+
+Where, then, was its pilot? That was the question that was filling
+everybody's mind. He had vanished as utterly as vanishes the mist one
+sees rising in the sunshine.
+
+It was supposed he must have fallen from his seat, but as to how that
+had happened, how it was that no fragment of his body or his clothing
+was ever found, above all, how it was that his aeroplane had returned,
+the engine cut off, the planes secured in correct position, no even
+moderately plausible explanation was ever put forward.
+
+The loss to aeronautics was felt to be severe. From childhood Radcliffe
+had shown that, in addition to this, he had a marked aptitude for
+drawing, usually held at the service of his profession, but now and
+again exercised in producing sketches of his friends.
+
+Among those who knew him privately he was fairly popular, though not,
+perhaps, so much so as he deserved; certainly he had a way of talking
+"shop" which was a trifle tiring to those who did not figure the world
+as one vast engineering problem, while with women he was apt to be
+brusque and short-mannered.
+
+My surprise, then, can be imagined when, calling one afternoon on him
+and having to wait a little, I had noticed lying on his desk a crayon
+sketch of a woman's face. It was a very lovely face, the features almost
+perfect, and yet there was about it something unearthly and spectral
+that was curiously disturbing.
+
+"Smitten at last?" I asked jestingly, and yet aware of a certain odd
+discomfort.
+
+When, he saw what I was looking at he went very pale.
+
+"Who is it?" I asked.
+
+"Oh, just--someone!" he answered.
+
+He took the sketch from me, looked at it, frowned and locked it away. As
+he seemed unwilling to pursue the subject, I went on to talk of the
+business I had come about, and I congratulated him on his flight of the
+day before in which he had broken the record for height. As I was going
+he said:
+
+"By the way, that sketch--what did you think of it?"
+
+"Why, that you had better be careful," I answered, laughing; "or you'll
+be falling from your high estate of bachelordom."
+
+He gave so violent a start, his face expressed so much of apprehension
+and dismay, that I stared at him blankly. Recovering himself with an
+effort, he stammered out:
+
+"It's not--I mean--it's an imaginary portrait."
+
+"Then," I said, amazed in my turn, "you've a jolly sight more
+imagination than anyone ever credited you with."
+
+The incident remained in my mind. As a matter of fact, practical
+Radcliffe Thorpe, absorbed in questions of strain and ease, his head
+full of cylinders and wheels and ratchets and the Lord knows what else,
+would have seemed to me the last man on earth to create that haunting,
+strange, unearthly face, human in form, but not in expression.
+
+It was about this time that Radcliffe began to give so much attention to
+the making of very high flights. His favourite time was in the early
+morning, as soon as it was light. Then in the chill dawn he would rise
+and soar and wing his flight high and ever higher, up and up, till the
+eye could no longer follow his ascent.
+
+I remember he made one of these strange, solitary flights when I was
+spending the week-end with him at his cottage near the Attercliffe
+Aviation Grounds.
+
+I had come down from town somewhat late the night before, and I remember
+that just before we went to bed we went out for a few minutes to enjoy
+the beauty of a perfect night. The moon was shining in a clear sky, not
+a sound or a breath disturbed the sublime quietude; in the south one
+wondrous star gleamed low on the horizon. Neither of us spoke; it was
+enough to drink in the beauty of such rare perfection, and I noticed how
+Radcliffe kept his eyes fixed upwards on the dark blue vault of space.
+
+"Are you longing to be up there?" I asked him jestingly.
+
+He started and flushed, and he then went very pale, and to my surprise I
+saw that he was shivering.
+
+"You are getting cold," I said. "We had better go in."
+
+He nodded without answering, and, as we turned to go in, I heard quite
+plainly and distinctly a low, strange laugh, a laugh full of a honeyed
+sweetness that yet thrilled me with great fear.
+
+"What's that?" I said, stopping short.
+
+"What?" Radcliffe asked.
+
+"Someone laughed," I said, and I stared all round and then upwards. "I
+thought it came from up there," I said in a bewildered way, pointing
+upwards.
+
+He gave me an odd look and, without answering, went into the cottage. He
+had said nothing of having planned any flight for the next morning; but
+in the early morning, the chill and grey dawn, I was roused by the
+drumming of his engine. At once I jumped up out of bed and ran to the
+window.
+
+The machine was raising itself lightly and easily from the ground. I
+watched him wing his god-like way up through the still, soft air till he
+was lost to view. Then, after a time, I saw him emerge again from those
+immensities of space. He came down in one long majestic sweep, and
+alighted in a field a little way away from the house, leaving the
+aeroplane for his mechanics to fetch up presently.
+
+"Hullo!" I greeted him. "Why didn't you tell me you were going up?"
+
+As I spoke I heard plainly and distinctly, as plainly as ever I heard
+anything in my life, that low, strange laugh, that I had heard before,
+so silvery sweet and yet somehow so horrible.
+
+"What's that?" I said, stopping short and staring blankly upwards, for,
+absurd though it seems, that weird sound seemed to come floating down
+from an infinite height above us.
+
+"Not high enough," he muttered like a man in an ecstasy. "Not high
+enough yet."
+
+He walked away from me then without another word. When I entered the
+cottage he was seated at the table sketching a woman's face--the same
+face I had seen in that other sketch of his, spectral, unreal, and
+lovely.
+
+"What on earth----?" I began.
+
+"Nothing on earth," he answered in a strange voice. Then he laughed and
+jumped up, and tore his sketch across.
+
+He seemed quite his old self again, chatty and pleasant, and with his
+old passion for talking "shop." He launched into a long explanation of
+some scheme he had in mind for securing automatic balancing.
+
+I never told anyone about that strange, mocking laugh, in fact, I had
+almost forgotten the incident altogether when something brought every
+detail back to my memory. I had a letter from a person who signed
+himself "George Barnes."
+
+Barnes, it seemed, was the operator who had taken the pictures of that
+last ascent, and as he understood I had been Mr. Thorpe's greatest
+friend, he wanted to see me. Certain expressions in the letter aroused
+my curiosity. I replied. He asked for an appointment at a time that was
+not very convenient, and finally I arranged to call at his house one
+evening.
+
+It was one of those smart little six-room villas of which so many have
+been put up in the London suburbs of late. Barnes was buying it on the
+instalment system, and I quite won his heart by complimenting him on it.
+But for that, I doubt if anything would have come of my visit, for he
+was plainly nervous and ill at ease and very repentant of ever having
+said anything. But after my compliment to the house we got on better.
+
+"It's on my mind," he said; "I shan't be easy till someone else knows."
+
+We were in the front room where a good fire was burning--in my honour, I
+guessed, for the apartment had not the air of being much used. On the
+table were some photographs. Barnes showed them me. They were
+enlargements from those he had taken of poor Radcliffe's last ascent.
+
+"They've been shown all over the world," he said. "Millions of people
+have seen them."
+
+"Well?" I said.
+
+"But there's one no one has seen--no one except me."
+
+He produced another print and gave it to me. I glanced at it. It seemed
+much like the others, having been apparently one of the last of the
+series, taken when the aeroplane was at a great height. The only thing
+in which it differed from the others was that it seemed a trifle
+blurred.
+
+"A poor one," I said; "it's misty."
+
+"Look at the mist," he said.
+
+I did so. Slowly, very slowly, I began to see that that misty appearance
+had a shape, a form. Even as I looked I saw the features of a human
+countenance--and yet not human either, so spectral was it, so unreal and
+strange. I felt the blood run cold in my veins and the hair bristle on
+the scalp of my head, for I recognised beyond all doubt that this face
+on the photograph was the same as that Radcliffe had sketched. The
+resemblance was absolute, no one who had seen the one could mistake the
+other.
+
+"You see it?" Barnes muttered, and his face was almost as pale as mine.
+
+"There's a woman," I stammered, "a woman floating in the air by his
+side. Her arms are held out to him."
+
+"Yes," Barnes said. "Who was she?"
+
+The print slipped from my hands and fluttered to the ground. Barnes
+picked it up and put it in the fire. Was it fancy or, as it flared up,
+and burnt and was consumed, did I really hear a faint laugh floating
+downwards from the upper air?
+
+"I destroyed the negative," Barnes said, "and I told my boss something
+had gone wrong with it. No one has seen that photograph but you and me,
+and now no one ever will."
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+THE TERROR BY NIGHT
+
+
+Maynard disincumbered himself from his fishing-creel, stabbed the butt
+of his rod into the turf, and settled down in the heather to fill a
+pipe. All round him stretched the undulating moor, purple in the late
+summer sunlight. To the southward, low down, a faint haze told where the
+sea lay. The stream at his feet sang its queer, crooning moor-song as it
+rambled onward, chuckling to meet a bed of pebbles somewhere out of
+sight, whispering mysteriously to the rushes that fringed its banks of
+peat, deepening to a sudden contralto as it poured over granite boulders
+into a scum-flecked pool below.
+
+For a long time the man sat smoking. Occasionally he turned his head to
+watch with keen eyes the fretful movements of a fly hovering above the
+water. Then a sudden dimple in the smooth surface of the stream arrested
+his attention. A few concentric ripples widened, travelled towards him,
+and were absorbed in the current. His lips curved into a little smile
+and he reached for his rod. In the clear water he could see the origin
+of the ripples; a small trout, unconscious of his presence, was waiting
+in its hover for the next tit-bit to float downstream. Presently it rose
+again.
+
+"The odds are ten to one in your favour," said the man. "Let's see!"
+
+He dropped on one knee and the cast leapt out in feathery coils. Once,
+twice it swished; the third time it alighted like thistledown on the
+surface. There was a tiny splash, a laugh, and the little greenheart
+rod flicked a trout high over his head. It was the merest
+baby--half-an-ounce, perhaps--and it fell from the hook into the herbage
+some yards from the stream.
+
+"Little ass!" said Maynard. "That was meant for your big brother."
+
+He recovered his cast and began to look for his victim. Without avail he
+searched the heather, and as the fateful seconds sped, at last laid down
+his rod and dropped on hands and knees to probe among the grass-stems.
+
+For a while he hunted in vain, then the sunlight showed a golden sheen
+among some stones. Maynard gave a grunt of relief, but as his hand
+closed round it a tiny flutter passed through the fingerling; it gave a
+final gasp and was still. Knitting his brows in almost comical vexation,
+he hastened to restore it to the stream, holding it by the tail and
+striving to impart a life-like wriggle to its limpness.
+
+"Buck up, old thing!" he murmured encouragingly. "Oh, buck up! You're
+all right, really you are!"
+
+But the "old thing" was all wrong. In fact, it was dead.
+
+Standing in the wet shingle, Maynard regarded the speckled atom as it
+lay in the palm of his hand.
+
+"A matter of seconds, my son. One instant in all eternity would have
+made just the difference between life and death to you. And the high
+gods denied it you!"
+
+On the opposite side of the stream, set back about thirty paces from the
+brink, stood a granite boulder. It was as high as a man's chest, roughly
+cubical in shape; but the weather and clinging moss had rounded its
+edges, and in places segments had crumbled away, giving foothold to
+clumps of fern and starry moor-flowers. On three sides the surrounding
+ground rose steeply, forming an irregular horseshoe mound that opened to
+the west. Perhaps it was the queer amphitheatrical effect of this
+setting that connected up some whimsical train of thought in Maynard's
+brain.
+
+"It would seem as if the gods had claimed you," he mused, still holding
+the corpse. "You shall be a sacrifice--a burnt sacrifice to the God of
+Waste Places."
+
+He laughed at the conceit, half-ashamed of his own childishness, and
+crossing the stream by some boulders, he brushed away the earth and weed
+from the top of the great stone. Then he retraced his steps and gathered
+a handful of bleached twigs that the winter floods had left stranded
+along the margin of the stream. These he arranged methodically on the
+cleared space; on the top of the tiny pyre he placed the troutlet.
+
+"There!" he said, and smiling gravely struck a match. A faint column of
+smoke curled up into the still air, and as he spoke the lower rim of the
+setting sun met the edge of the moor. The evening seemed suddenly to
+become incredibly still, even the voice of the stream ceasing to be a
+sound distinct. A wagtail bobbing in the shallows fled into the waste.
+Overhead the smoke trembled upwards, a faint stain against a cloudless
+sky. The stillness seemed almost acute. It was as if the moor were
+waiting, and holding its breath while it waited. Then the twigs upon his
+altar crackled, and the pale flames blazed up. The man stepped back with
+artistic appreciation of the effect.
+
+"To be really impressive, there ought to be more smoke," he continued.
+
+Round the base of the stone were clumps of small flowers. They were
+crimson in colour and had thick, fleshy leaves. Hastily, he snatched a
+handful and piled it on the fire. The smoke darkened and rose in a thick
+column; there was a curious pungency in the air.
+
+Far off the church-bell in some unseen hamlet struck the hour. The
+distant sound, coming from the world of men and every-day affairs,
+seemed to break the spell. An ousel fluttered across the stream and
+dabbled in a puddle among some stones. Rabbits began to show themselves
+and frisk with lengthened shadows in the clear spaces. Maynard looked at
+his watch, half-mindful of a train to be caught somewhere miles away,
+and then, held by the peace of running water, stretched himself against
+the sloping ground.
+
+The glowing world seemed peopled by tiny folk, living out their timid,
+inscrutable lives around him. A water-rat, passing bright-eyed upon his
+lawful occasion, paused on the border of the stream to consider the
+stranger, and was lost to view. A stagnant pool among some reeds caught
+the reflection of the sunset and changed on the instant into raw gold.
+
+Maynard plucked a grass stem and chewed it reflectively, staring out
+across the purple moor and lazily watching the western sky turn from
+glory to glory. Over his head the smoke of the sacrifice still curled
+and eddied upwards. Then a sudden sound sent him on to one elbow--the
+thud of an approaching horse's hoofs.
+
+"Moor ponies!" he muttered, and, rising, stood expectant beside his
+smoking altar.
+
+Then he heard the sudden jingle of a bit, and presently a horse and
+rider climbed into view against the pure sky. A young girl, breeched,
+booted and spurred like a boy, drew rein, and sat looking down into the
+hollow.
+
+For a moment neither spoke; then Maynard acknowledged her presence by
+raising his tweed hat. She gave a little nod.
+
+"I thought it was somebody swaling--burning the heather." She considered
+the embers on the stone, and then her grey eyes travelled back to the
+spare, tweed-clad figure beside it.
+
+He smiled in his slow way--a rather attractive smile.
+
+"No. I've just concluded some pagan rites in connection with a small
+trout!" He nodded gravely at the stone. "That was a burnt sacrifice."
+With whimsical seriousness he told her of the trout's demise and high
+destiny.
+
+For a moment she looked doubtful; but the inflection of breeding in his
+voice, the wholesome, lean face and humorous eyes, reassured her. A
+smile hovered about the corners of her mouth.
+
+"Oh, is that it? I wondered ..."
+
+She gathered the reins and turned her horse's head.
+
+"Forgive me if I dragged you out of your way," said Maynard, never swift
+to conventionality, but touched by the tired shadows in her eyes. The
+faint droop of her mouth, too, betrayed intense fatigue. "You look
+fagged. I don't want to be a nuisance or bore you, but I wish you'd let
+me offer you a sandwich. I've some milk here, too."
+
+The girl looked round the ragged moor, brooding in the twilight, and
+half hesitated. Then she forced a wan little smile.
+
+"I am tired, and hungry, too. Have you enough for us both?"
+
+"Lots!" said Maynard. To himself he added: "And what's more, my child,
+you'll have a little fainting affair in a few minutes, if you don't have
+a feed."
+
+"Come and rest for a minute," he continued aloud.
+
+He spoke with pleasant, impersonal kindliness, and as he turned to his
+satchel she slipped out of the saddle and came towards him, leading her
+horse.
+
+"Drink that," he said, holding out the cup of his flask. She drank with
+a wry little face, and coughed. "I put a little whisky in it," he
+explained. "You needed it."
+
+She thanked him and sat down with the bridle linked over her arm. The
+colour crept back into her cheeks. Maynard produced a packet of
+sandwiches and a pasty.
+
+"I've been mooning about the moor all the afternoon and lost myself
+twice," she explained between frank mouthfuls. "I'm hopelessly late for
+dinner, and I've still got miles to go."
+
+"Do you know the way now?" he asked.
+
+"Oh, yes! It won't take me long. My family are sensible, too, and don't
+fuss." She looked at him, her long-lashed eyes a little serious. "But
+you--how are you going to get home? It's getting late to be out on the
+moor afoot."
+
+Maynard laughed.
+
+"Oh, I'm all right, thanks!" He sniffed the warm September night. "I
+think I shall sleep here, as a matter of fact. I'm a gipsy by instinct--
+
+    "'Give to me the life I love,
+    Let the lave go by me,
+    Give the jolly Heaven above----'"
+
+He broke off, arrested by her unsmiling eyes. She was silent a moment.
+
+"People don't as a rule sleep out--about here." The words came jerkily,
+as if she were forcing a natural tone into her voice.
+
+"No?" He was accustomed to being questioned on his unconventional mode
+of life, and was prepared for the usual expostulations. She looked
+abruptly towards him.
+
+"Are you superstitious?"
+
+He laughed and shook his head.
+
+"I don't think so. But what has that got to do with it?"
+
+She hesitated, flushing a little.
+
+"There is a legend--people about here say that the moor here is haunted.
+There is a Thing that hunts people to death!"
+
+He laughed outright, wondering how old she was. Seventeen or eighteen,
+perhaps. She had said her people "didn't fuss." That meant she was left
+to herself to pick up all these old wives' tales.
+
+"Really! Has anyone been caught?"
+
+She nodded, unsmiling.
+
+"Yes; old George Toms. He was one of Dad's tenants, a big purple-faced
+man, who drank a lot and never took much exercise. They found him in a
+ditch with his clothes all torn and covered with mud. He had been run to
+death; there was no wound on his body, but his heart was broken." Her
+thoughts recurred to the stone against which they leant, and his quaint
+conceit. "You were rather rash to go offering burnt sacrifices about
+here, don't you think? Dad says that stone is the remains of an old
+Phœnician altar, too."
+
+She was smiling now, but the seriousness lingered in her eyes.
+
+"And I have probably invoked some terrible heathen deity--Ashtoreth, or
+Pugm, or Baal! How awful!" he added, with mock gravity.
+
+The girl rose to her feet.
+
+"You are laughing at me. The people about here are superstitious, and I
+am a Celt, too. I belong here."
+
+He jumped up with a quick protest.
+
+"No, I'm not laughing at you. Please don't think that! But it's a little
+hard to believe in active evil when all around is so beautiful." He
+helped her to mount and walked to the top of the mound at her stirrup.
+"Tell me, is there any charm or incantation, in case----?" His eyes were
+twinkling, but she shook her fair head soberly.
+
+"They say iron--cold iron--is the only thing it cannot cross. But I must
+go!" She held out her hand with half-shy friendliness. "Thank you for
+your niceness to me." Her eyes grew suddenly wistful. "Really, though, I
+don't think I should stay there if I were you. Please!"
+
+He only laughed, however, and she moved off, shaking her impatient
+horse into a canter. Maynard stood looking after her till she was
+swallowed by the dusk and surrounding moor. Then, thoughtfully, he
+retraced his steps to the hollow.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A cloud lay across the face of the moon when Fear awoke Maynard. He
+rolled on to one elbow and stared round the hollow, filled with
+inexplicable dread. He was ordinarily a courageous man, and had no
+nerves to speak of; yet, as his eyes followed the line of the ridge
+against the sky, he experienced terror, the elementary, nauseating
+terror of childhood, when the skin tingles, and the heart beats at a
+suffocating gallop. It was very dark, but momentarily his eyes grew
+accustomed to it. He was conscious of a queer, pungent smell, horribly
+animal and corrupt.
+
+Suddenly the utter silence broke. He heard a rattle of stones, the
+splash of water about him, realised that it was the brook beneath his
+feet, and that he, Maynard, was running for his life.
+
+Neither then nor later did Reason assert herself. He ran without
+question or amazement. His brain--the part where human reasoning holds
+normal sway--was dominated by the purely primitive instinct of flight.
+And in that sudden rout of courage and self-respect one conscious
+thought alone remained. Whatever it was that was even then at his heels,
+he must not see it. At all costs it must be behind him, and, resisting
+the sudden terrified impulse to look over his shoulder, he unbuttoned
+his tweed jacket and disengaged himself from it as he ran. The faint
+haze that had gathered round the full moon dispersed, and he saw the
+moor stretching before him, grey and still, glistening with dew.
+
+He was of frugal and temperate habits, a wiry man at the height of his
+physical powers, with lean flanks and a deep chest.
+
+At Oxford they had said he was built to run for his life. He was running
+for it now, and he knew it.
+
+The ground sloped upwards after a while, and he tore up the incline,
+breathing deep and hard; down into a shallow valley, leaping gorse
+bushes, crashing through whortle and meadowsweet, stumbling over
+peat-cuttings and the workings of forgotten tin-mines. An idiotic
+popular tune raced through his brain. He found himself trying to frame
+the words, but they broke into incoherent prayers, still to the same
+grotesque tune.
+
+Then, as he breasted the flank of a boulder-strewn tor, he seemed to
+hear snuffling breathing behind him, and, redoubling his efforts,
+stepped into a rabbit hole. He was up and running again in the twinkling
+of an eye, limping from a twisted ankle as he ran.
+
+He sprinted over the crest of the hill and thought he heard the sound
+almost abreast of him, away to the right. In the dry bed of a
+watercourse some stones were dislodged and fell with a rattle in the
+stillness of the night; he bore away to the left. A moment later there
+was Something nearly at his left elbow, and he smelt again the nameless,
+fœtid reek. He doubled, and the ghastly truth flashed upon him. The
+Thing was playing with him! He was being hunted for sport--the sport of
+a horror unthinkable. The sweat ran down into his eyes.
+
+He lost all count of time; his wrist watch was smashed on his wrist. He
+ran through a reeling eternity, sobbing for breath, stumbling, tripping,
+fighting a leaden weariness; and ever the same unreasoning terror urged
+him on. The moon and ragged skyline swam about him; the blood drummed
+deafeningly in his ears, and his eyeballs felt as if they would burst
+from their sockets. He had nearly bitten his swollen tongue in two
+falling over an unseen peat-cutting, and blood-flecked foam gathered on
+his lips.
+
+God, how he ran! But he was no longer among bog and heather. He was
+running--shambling now--along a road. The loping pursuit of that
+nameless, shapeless Something sounded like an echo in his head.
+
+He was nearing a village, but saw nothing save a red mist that swam
+before him like a fog. The road underfoot seemed to rise and fall in
+wavelike undulations. Still he ran, with sobbing gasps and limbs that
+swerved under his weight; at his elbow hung death unnamable, and the
+fear of it urged him on while every instinct of his exhausted body
+called out to him to fling up his hands and end it.
+
+Out of the mist ahead rose the rough outline of a building by the
+roadside; it was the village smithy, half workshop, half dwelling. The
+road here skirted a patch of grass, and the moonlight, glistening on the
+dew, showed the dark circular scars of the turf where, for a generation,
+the smith's peat fires had heated the great iron hoops that tyred the
+wheels of the wains. One of these was even then lying on the ground with
+the turves placed in readiness for firing in the morning, and in the
+throbbing darkness of Maynard's consciousness a voice seemed to speak
+faintly--the voice of a girl:
+
+"_There's a Thing that hunts people to death. But iron--cold iron--it
+cannot cross._"
+
+The sweat of death was already on his brow as he reeled sideways,
+plunging blindly across the uneven tufts of grass. His feet caught in
+some obstruction and he pitched forward into the sanctuary of the huge
+iron tyre--a spasm of cramp twisting his limbs up under him.
+
+As he fell a great blackness rose around him, and with it the bewildered
+clamour of awakened dogs.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dr. Stanmore came down the flagged path from the smith's cottage,
+pulling on his gloves. A big car was passing slowly up the village
+street, and as it came abreast the smithy the doctor raised his hat.
+
+The car stopped, and the driver, a fair-haired girl, leant sideways from
+her seat.
+
+"Good-morning, Dr. Stanmore! What's the matter here? Nothing wrong with
+any of Matthew's children, is there?"
+
+The Doctor shook his head gravely.
+
+"No, Lady Dorothy; they're all at school. This is no one belonging to
+the family--a stranger who was taken mysteriously ill last night just
+outside the forge, and they brought him in. It's a most queer case, and
+very difficult to diagnose--that is to say, to give a diagnosis in
+keeping with one's professional--er--conscience."
+
+The girl switched off the engine, and took her hand from the
+brake-lever. Something in the doctor's manner arrested her interest.
+
+"What is the matter with him?" she queried. "What diagnosis have you
+made, professional or otherwise?"
+
+"Shock, Lady Dorothy; severe exhaustion and shock, heart strained,
+superficial lesions, bruises, scratches, and so forth. Mentally he is in
+a great state of excitement and terror, lapsing into delirium at
+times--that is really the most serious feature. In fact, unless I can
+calm him I am afraid we may have some brain trouble on top of the other
+thing. It's most mysterious!"
+
+The girl nodded gravely, holding her underlip between her white teeth.
+
+"What does he look like--in appearance, I mean? Is he young?"
+
+The shadow of a smile crossed the doctor's eyes.
+
+"Yes, Lady Dorothy--quite young, and very good-looking. He is a man of
+remarkable athletic build. He is calmer now, and I have left Matthew's
+wife with him while I slip out to see a couple of other patients."
+
+Lady Dorothy rose from her seat and stepped down out of the car.
+
+"I think I know your patient," she said. "In fact, I had taken the car
+to look for him, to ask him to lunch with us. Do you think I might see
+him for a minute? If it is the person I think it is I may be able to
+help you diagnose his illness."
+
+Together they walked up the path and entered the cottage. The doctor led
+the way upstairs and opened a door. A woman sitting by the bed rose and
+dropped a curtsey.
+
+Lady Dorothy smiled a greeting to her and crossed over to the bed.
+There, his face grey and drawn with exhaustion, with shadows round his
+closed eyes, lay Maynard; one hand lying on the counterpane opened and
+closed convulsively, his lips moved. The physician eyed the girl
+interrogatively.
+
+"Do you know him?" he asked.
+
+She nodded, and put her firm, cool hand over the twitching fingers.
+
+"Yes," she said. "And I warned him. Tell me, is he very ill?"
+
+"He requires rest, careful nursing, absolute quiet----"
+
+"All that he can have at the Manor," said the girl softly. She met the
+doctor's eyes and looked away, a faint colour tingeing her cheeks. "Will
+you go and telephone to father? I will take him back in the car now if
+he is well enough to be moved."
+
+"Yes, he is well enough to be moved," said the doctor. "It is very kind
+of you, Lady Dorothy, and I will go and telephone at once. Will you stay
+with him for a little while?"
+
+He left the room, and they heard his feet go down the narrow stairs. The
+cottage door opened and closed.
+
+The two women, the old and the young, peasant and peer's daughter,
+looked at each other, and there was in their glance that complete
+understanding which can only exist between women.
+
+"Do 'ee mind old Jarge Toms, my lady?"
+
+Lady Dorothy nodded.
+
+"I know, I know! And I warned him! They won't believe, these men! They
+think because they are so big and strong that there is nothing that can
+hurt them."
+
+"'Twas th' iron that saved un, my lady. 'Twas inside one of John's new
+tyres as was lyin' on the ground that us found un. Dogs barkin' wakened
+us up. But it'd ha' had un, else----" A sound downstairs sent her flying
+to the door. "'Tis the kettle, my lady. John's dinner spilin', an' I
+forgettin'."
+
+She hurried out of the room and closed the door.
+
+The sound of their voices seemed to have roused the occupant of the bed.
+His eyelids fluttered and opened; his eyes rested full on the girl's
+face. For a moment there was no consciousness in their gaze; then a
+whimsical ghost of a smile crept about his mouth.
+
+"Go on," he said in a weak voice. "Say it!"
+
+"Say what?" asked Lady Dorothy. She was suddenly aware that her hand was
+still on his, but the twitching fingers had closed about hers in a calm,
+firm grasp.
+
+"Say 'I told you so'!"
+
+She shook her head with a little smile.
+
+"I told you that cold iron----"
+
+"Cold iron saved me." He told her of the iron hoop on the ground outside
+the forge. "You saved me last night."
+
+She disengaged her hand gently.
+
+"I saved you last night--since you say so. But in future----"
+
+Someone was coming up the stairs. Maynard met her eyes with a long look.
+
+"I have no fear," he said. "I have found something better than cold
+iron."
+
+The door opened and the doctor came in. He glanced at Maynard's face and
+touched his pulse.
+
+"The case is yours, Lady Dorothy!" he said with a little bow.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+THE TRAGEDY AT THE "LOUP NOIR"
+
+
+The Boy at the corner of the table flicked the ash of his cigar into the
+fire.
+
+"Spiritualism is all rot!" he declared.
+
+"I don't know," the Host reflected thoughtfully. "One hears queer
+stories sometimes."
+
+"Which reminds me----" started the Bore.
+
+But before he could proceed any further the little French Judge
+ruthlessly cut him short.
+
+"Bah!" Contempt and geniality were mingled in his tone. "Who are we,
+poor ignorant worms, that we should dare to say 'is' or 'is not'? Your
+Shakespeare, he was right! 'There are more things in heaven and earth,
+Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy!'"
+
+The faces of the four Englishmen instantly assumed that peculiarly
+stolid expression always called forth by the mention of Shakespeare.
+
+"But Spiritualism----" started the Host.
+
+Again the little French Judge broke in:
+
+"I who you speak, I myself know of an experience, of the most
+remarkable, to this day unexplained save by Spiritualism, Occultism,
+what you will! You shall hear! The case is one I conducted
+professionally some two years ago, though, of course, the events which I
+now tell in their proper sequence, came out only in the trial. I string
+them together for you, yes?"
+
+The Bore, who fiercely resented any stories except his own, gave vent to
+a discontented grunt; the other three prepared to listen carefully. From
+the drawing-room, whither the ladies had retired after dinner, sounded
+the far-away strains of a piano. The little French Judge held out his
+glass for a crème de menthe; his eyes were sparkling with suppressed
+excitement; he gazed deep into the shining green liquid as if seeing
+therein a moving panorama of pictures, then he began:
+
+On a dusky autumn evening, a young man, tall, olive-skinned, tramps
+along the road leading from Paris to Longchamps. He is walking with a
+quick, even swing. Now and again a hidden anxiety darkens his face.
+
+Suddenly he branches off to the left; the path here is steep and muddy.
+He stops in front of a blurred circle of yellow light; by this can one
+faintly perceive the outlines of a building. Above the narrow doorway
+hangs a creaking sign which announces to all it may concern that this is
+the "Loup Noir," much sought after for its nearness to the racecourse
+and for its excellent _ménage_.
+
+"_Voilà!_" mutters our friend.
+
+On entering, he is met by the burly innkeeper, a shrewd enough fellow,
+who has seen something of life before settling down in Longchamps. The
+young man glances past him as if seeking some other face, then
+recollecting himself demands shelter for the night.
+
+"I greatly fear----" began the innkeeper, then pauses, struck by an
+idea. "Holà, Gaston! Have monsieur and madame from number fourteen yet
+departed?"
+
+"Yes, monsieur; already early this morning; you were at the market, so
+Mademoiselle settled the bill."
+
+"Mademoiselle Jehane?" the stranger looks up sharply.
+
+"My niece, monsieur; you have perhaps heard of her, for I see by your
+easel you are an artist. She is supposed to be of a rare beauty; I think
+it myself." Jean Potin keeps up a running flow of talk as he conducts
+his visitor down the long bare passages, past blistered yellow doors.
+
+"It is a double room I must give you, vacated, as you heard, but this
+very morning. They were going to stay longer, Monsieur and Madame
+Guillaumet, but of a sudden she changed her mind. Oh, she was of a
+temper!" Potin raises expressive eyes heavenwards. "It is ever so when
+May weds with December."
+
+"He was much older than his wife, then?" queries the artist, politely
+feigning an interest he is far from feeling.
+
+"_Mais non, parbleu!_ It was she who was the older--by some fifteen
+years; and not a beauty. But rich--he knew what he was about, giving his
+smooth cheek for her smooth louis!"
+
+Left alone, Lou Arnaud proceeds to unpack his knapsack; he lingers over
+it as long as possible; the task awaiting him below is no pleasant one.
+Finally he descends. The small smoky _salle à manger_ is full of people.
+There is much talk and laughter going on; the clatter of knives and
+forks. At the desk near the door, a young girl is busy with the
+accounts. Her very pale gold hair, parted and drawn loosely back over
+the ears, casts a faint shadow on her pure, white skin. Arnaud, as he
+chooses a seat, looks at her critically.
+
+"Bah, she is insignificant!" he thinks. "What can have possessed
+Claude?"
+
+Suddenly she raises her eyes. They meet his in a long, steady gaze. Then
+once again the lids are lowered.
+
+The artist sets down his glass with a hand that shakes. He is not
+imaginative, as a rule, but when one sees the soul of a mocking devil
+look out, dark and compelling, from the face of a Madonna, one is
+disconcerted.
+
+He wonders no more what had possessed Claude. On his way to the door a
+few moments later, he pauses at her desk.
+
+"Monsieur wishes to order breakfast for to-morrow morning?"
+
+"Monsieur wishes to speak with you."
+
+She smiles demurely. Many have wished to speak with her. Arnaud divines
+her thoughts.
+
+"My name is Lou Arnaud!" he adds meaningly.
+
+"Ah!" she ponders on this for an instant; then: "It is a warm night; if
+you will seat yourself at one of the little tables in the courtyard at
+the back of the house, I will try to join you, when these pigs have
+finished feeding." She indicates with contempt the noisily eating crowd.
+
+They sit long at that table, for the man has much to tell of his young
+brother Claude; of the ruin she has made of his life; of the little
+green devils that lurk in a glass of absinthe, and clutch their victim,
+and drag him down deeper, ever deeper, into the great, green abyss.
+
+But she only laughs, this Jehane of the wanton eyes.
+
+"But what do you want from me? I have no need of this Claude. He
+wearies me--now!"
+
+Arnaud springs to his feet, catching her roughly by the wrist. He loves
+his young brother much. His voice is raised, attracting the notice of
+two or three groups who take coffee at the iron tables.
+
+"You had need of him once. You never left him in peace till you had
+sucked him of all that makes life good. If I could----"
+
+Jean Potin appears in the doorway.
+
+"Jehane, what are you doing out here? You know I do not permit it that
+you speak with the visitors. Pardon her, monsieur, she is but a child."
+
+"A child?" The artist's brow is black as thunder. "She has wrecked a
+life, this child you speak of!"
+
+He strides past the amazed innkeeper, up the narrow flight of stairs,
+and down the passage to his room.
+
+Sitting on the edge of the huge curtained four-poster bed, he ponders on
+the events of the evening.
+
+But his thoughts are not all of Claude. That girl--that girl with her
+pale face and her pale hair, and eyes the grey of a storm cloud before
+it breaks, she haunts him! Her soft murmuring voice has stolen into his
+brain; he hears it in the drip, drip of the rain on the sill outside.
+
+Soon heavy feet are heard trooping up the stairs; doors are heard to
+bang; cheery voices wish each other good-night. Then gradually the
+sounds die away. They keep early hours at the "Loup Noir"; it is not yet
+ten o'clock.
+
+Still Arnaud remains sitting on the edge of the bed; the dark plush
+canopy overhead repels him, he does not feel inclined for sleep.
+Jehane! what a picture she would make! He _must_ paint her!
+
+Obsessed by this idea, he unpacks a roll of canvas, spreads it on the
+tripod easel, and prepares crayons and charcoal; he will start the
+picture as soon as it is day. He will paint her as Circe, mocking at her
+grovelling herd of swine!
+
+He creeps into bed and falls asleep.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Softly the rain patters against the window-pane.
+
+A distant clock booms out eleven strokes.
+
+Lou Arnaud raises his head. Then noiselessly he slides out of bed on the
+chill wooden boarding. As in a trance he crosses the room, seizes
+charcoal, and feverishly works at the blank canvas on the easel.
+
+For twenty minutes his hand never falters, then the charcoal drops from
+his nerveless fingers! Groping his way with half-closed eyes back to the
+bed, he falls again into a heavy, dreamless slumber.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The early morning sun chases away the raindrops of the night before.
+Signs of activity are abroad in the inn; the swish of brooms; the noisy
+clatter of pails. A warm aroma of coffee floats up the stairs and under
+the door of number fourteen, awaking Arnaud to pleasant thoughts of
+breakfast. He is partly dressed before his eye lights on the canvas he
+had prepared.
+
+"_Nom de Dieu!_"
+
+He falls back against the wall, staring stupefied at the picture before
+him. It is the picture of a girl, crouching in a kneeling position, all
+the agony of death showing clearly in her upturned eyes. At her throat,
+cruelly, relentlessly doing their murderous work, are a pair of
+hands--ugly, podgy hands, but with what power behind them!
+
+The face is the face of Jehane--a distorted, terrified Jehane! Arnaud
+recoils, covering his eyes with his hands. Who could have drawn this
+unspeakable thing? He looks again closely; the style is his own! There
+is no mistaking those bold, black lines, that peculiar way of indicating
+muscle beneath the tightly stretched skin--it _is_ his own work!
+Anywhere would he have known it!
+
+A knock at the door! Jean Potin enters, radiating cheerfulness.
+
+"Breakfast in your room, monsieur? We are busy this morning; I share in
+the work. Permit me to move the table and the easel--_Sacré-bleu!_"
+
+Suddenly his rosy lips grow stern. "This is Jehane. Did she sit for
+you--and when? You only came last night. What devil's work is this?"
+
+"That is what I would like to find out; I know no more about it than you
+yourself. When I awoke this morning the picture was there!"
+
+"Did you draw it?" suspiciously.
+
+"Yes. At least, no! Yes, I suppose I did. But I----"
+
+Potin clenches his fist: "I will have the truth from the girl herself!
+There is something here I do not like!" Roughly he pushes past the
+artist and mounts to Jehane's room.
+
+She is not there, neither is she at her desk. Nor yet down in the
+village. They search everywhere; there is a hue and cry; people rush to
+and fro.
+
+Then suddenly a shout; and a silence, a dreadful silence.
+
+Something is carried slowly into the "Loup Noir." Something that was
+found huddled up in the shadow of the wall that borders the courtyard.
+Something with ugly purple patches on the white throat.
+
+It is Jehane, and she is dead; strangled by a pair of hands that came
+from behind.
+
+The story of the picture is rapidly passed from mouth to mouth. People
+look strangely at Lou Arnaud; they remember his loud, strained voice and
+threatening gestures on the preceding night.
+
+Finally he is arrested on the charge of murder.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I was the judge, gentlemen, on the occasion of the Arnaud trial.
+
+The prisoner is questioned about the picture. He knows nothing; can tell
+nothing of how it came there. His fellow-artists testify to its being
+his work. From them also leaks out the tale of his brother Claude, of
+the latter's infatuation and ruin. No need now to explain the quarrel in
+the courtyard. The accused has good reason to hate the dead girl.
+
+The Avocat for the defence does his best. The picture is produced in
+court; it creates a sensation.
+
+If only Lou Arnaud could complete it--could sketch in the owner of those
+merciless hands. He is handed the charcoal; again and again he tries--in
+vain.
+
+The hands are not his own; but that is a small point in his favour. Why
+should he have incriminated himself by drawing his own hands? But again,
+why should he have drawn the picture at all?
+
+There is nobody else on whom falls a shadow of suspicion. I sum up
+impartially. The jury convict on circumstantial evidence, and I sentence
+the prisoner to death.
+
+A short time must elapse between the sentence and carrying it into
+force. The Avocat for the defence obtains for the prisoner a slight
+concession; he may have picture and charcoal in his cell. Perhaps he can
+yet free himself from the web which has inmeshed him!
+
+Arnaud tries to blot out thought by sketching in and erasing again
+fanciful figures twisted into a peculiar position; he cannot adjust the
+pose of the unknown murderer. So in despair he gives it up.
+
+One morning, three days before the execution, the innkeeper comes to
+visit him and finds him lying face downwards on the narrow pallet.
+Despite his own grief, he is sorry for the young man; nor is he
+convinced in his shrewd bourgeois mind of the latter's guilt.
+
+"You _must_ draw in the second figure," he repeats again and again. "It
+is your last, your only chance! Think of the faces you saw at the 'Loup
+Noir.' Do none of them recall anything to you? You quarrelled with
+Jehane in the garden about your brother. Then you went to your room. Oh,
+what did you think in your room?"
+
+"I thought of your niece," responds Arnaud wildly. "How very beautiful
+she was, and what a model she would make. Then I prepared a blank
+canvas for the morning, and went to bed. When I woke up the picture was
+there."
+
+"And you remember nothing more--nothing at all?" insists Jean Potin.
+"You fell asleep at once? You heard no sound?"
+
+Against the barred window of the cell the rain patters softly. A distant
+clock booms out eleven strokes.
+
+Something in the artist's brain seems to snap. He raises his head. He
+slides from the bed. As in a trance he crosses the cell, seizes a piece
+of charcoal, and feverishly works at the picture on the easel!
+
+Not daring to speak, Jean Potin watches him. The figure behind the hands
+grows and grows beneath Arnaud's fingers.
+
+A woman's figure!
+
+Then the face: a coarse, malignant face, distorted by evil passions.
+
+"Ah!"
+
+It is a cry of recognition from the breathless innkeeper. It breaks the
+spell. The charcoal drops, and the prisoner, passing his hand across his
+eyes, gazes bewildered at his own work.
+
+"Who? What?"
+
+"But I know her! It is the woman in whose room you slept! She was
+staying at the 'Loup Noir' the very night before you arrived, and she
+left that morning. She and her husband, Monsieur Guillaumet. But it is
+incredible if _she_ should have----"
+
+I will be short with you, gentlemen. Madame Guillaumet was traced to her
+flat in Paris. Arnaud's Avocat confronted her with the now completed
+picture. She was confounded--babbled like a mad woman--confessed!
+
+A reprieve for further inquiry was granted by the State. Finally Arnaud
+was cleared, and allowed to go free.
+
+The motive for the murder? A woman's jealousy. Monsieur and Madame
+Guillaumet had been married only ten months. Her age was forty-nine; his
+twenty-seven. Every second of their married life was to her weighted
+with intolerable suspicions; how soon would this young husband, so dear
+to her, forsake her for another, now that his debts were paid? It preyed
+upon her mind, distorting it, unbalancing it; each glance, each movement
+of his she exaggerated into an intrigue.
+
+On their way to Paris they stayed a few days at the "Loup Noir"; Charles
+Guillaumet was interested in racing. Also, he became interested in a
+certain Mdlle. Jehane. Madame, quick to see, insisted on an instant
+departure.
+
+The evening of the day of their departure she missed her husband, and
+found he had taken the car. Where should he have gone? Back to the inn,
+of course, only half-an-hour's run from Paris. She hired another car and
+followed him, driving it herself. It was not a pleasant journey. The
+first car she discovered forsaken, about half-a-mile distant from the
+inn. Her own car she left beside it, and trudged the remaining distance
+on foot.
+
+The rest was easy.
+
+Finding no sign of Guillaumet in front of the house, she stole round to
+the back. There she found a door in the wall of the courtyard--a door
+that led into the lane. That door was slightly ajar. She slipped in and
+crouched down in the shadow.
+
+Yes, there they were, her husband and Jehane; the latter was laughing,
+luring him on--and she was young; oh, so young!
+
+The woman watched, fascinated.
+
+Charles bade Jehane good-bye, promising to come again. He kissed her
+tenderly, passed through the gate; his steps were heard muffled along
+the lane.
+
+Jehane blew him a kiss, and then fastened the little door.
+
+A distant clock boomed out eleven strokes, and a pair of hands stole
+round the girl's throat, burying themselves deep, deep in the white
+flesh.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"And the husband, was he an accessory after the fact?" inquired the Boy.
+
+"Possibly he guessed at the deed, yes; but, being a weakling, said
+nothing for fear of implicating himself. It wasn't proved."
+
+The Host moved uneasily in his chair.
+
+"Do you mean to tell me that the mystery of the picture has never been
+cleared up?" he asked. "Could Arnaud have actually seen the murder from
+his window, and fixed it on the canvas?"
+
+The little French Judge shook his head.
+
+"Did I not tell you that his window faced front?" he replied. "No, that
+point has not yet been explained. It is beyond us!"
+
+He made a sweeping gesture, knocking over his liqueur glass; it fell
+with a crash on the parquet floor.
+
+The Bore woke with a start.
+
+"And did they marry?" he queried.
+
+"Who should marry?"
+
+"That artist-chap and the girl--what was her name?--Jehane."
+
+"Monsieur," quoth the little French Judge very gently and ironically, "I
+grieve to state that was impossible, Jehane being dead."
+
+The Boy at the corner of the table stood up and threw the stump of his
+cigar into the fire.
+
+"I think Spiritualism is all rot!" he declared.
+
+
+
+
+ MILLER, SON, & COMPY., LIMITED,
+            PRINTERS,
+       FAKENHAM AND LONDON.
+
+
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+
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+volumes for 2s. 5d., or six for 3s. 6d. from THE PUBLISHER, 17,
+Henrietta Street, London, W.C.
+
+
+THE MYSTERIES OF MODERN LONDON.
+
+                          By GEORGE R. SIMS,
+                _Author of "The Devil in London," &c._
+
+    "Full of fascinating interest and romance. Those who are interested
+    in the curious will find here much that is piquant and
+    stimulating."--_Daily News._
+
+    "Is as fascinating as its title and its author's name would lead one
+    to expect."--_T.P.'s Weekly._
+
+
+SEVENTY YEARS A SHOWMAN
+
+          MY ADVENTURES IN CAMP AND CARAVAN THE WORLD OVER.
+                       By "LORD" GEORGE SANGER.
+                            _Illustrated._
+
+    In this volume the famous Showman relates many exciting experiences
+    of his early days on the road, and recalls the trials and triumphs
+    of a career more interesting than many a work of fiction.
+
+
+QUEENS OF FRAILTY
+
+                      By C. L. MCCLUER STEVENS,
+            Author of "The Secret History of the Mormons."
+                     Illustrated picture wrapper.
+
+    This volume contains biographies of the following famous women: Nell
+    Gwyn, the Marchioness of Brinvilliers, the wicked Countess of
+    Shrewsbury, the Duchess of Kendal (the Maypole Duchess), Hannah
+    Lightfoot, Elizabeth Chudleigh (the bigamous Duchess), Jeanne de
+    Valois, Lady Hamilton, Jeanne du Barry, Mary Ann Clarke, the Lady
+    with the Camelias, Lola Montez, Cora Pearl, Adah Menken.
+
+
+THE SECRET HISTORY OF THE MORMONS
+
+              A TRUE NARRATIVE OF THE MOST EXTRAORDINARY
+                 RELIGIOUS IMPOSTURE OF MODERN TIMES.
+                      By C. L. MCCLUER STEVENS.
+
+
+FIFTY YEARS A FIGHTER
+
+                     THE LIFE STORY OF JEM MACE.
+                 (_Formerly Champion of the World._)
+                           TOLD BY HIMSELF.
+                            _Illustrated._
+
+    A record of the last of the old prizefighters, who fought to a
+    finish many battles in the old prize ring. A list of the notorious
+    champions Mace met and vanquished would fill many pages, but he has
+    here set on record the romance of as wonderful a life as was ever
+    lived.
+
+
+CONFESSIONS OF A POACHER
+
+                            By J. CONNELL.
+                 _With Illustrations by S. T. DADD._
+
+    _Field_: "The book is very remarkable, instructive in its
+    disclosures of the dubious ways of poachers, and an intending reader
+    cannot but be interested and amused."
+
+
+
+
+_BOOKS TO MAKE US MERRY_
+
+PRICE 1/- each net. (Postage, 3d. extra.)
+
+_In stiff pictorial paper boards._
+
+
+THE AMUSEMENT SERIES.
+
+AFTER-DINNER SLEIGHTS. By LANG NEIL. With many Photographs, showing
+tricks in actual operation.
+
+CARD TRICKS WITHOUT SLEIGHT OF HAND OR APPARATUS. By L. WIDDOP.
+Illustrated.
+
+CONJURING WITH COINS. Including Tricks by NELSON DOWNS and other Eminent
+Performers. Fully Illustrated with Photographs and Diagrams.
+
+FUN ON THE BILLIARD TABLE. A Collection of 75 Amusing Tricks. By
+STANCLIFFE. With Photographs.
+
+HAND SHADOWS. The Complete Art of Shadowgraphy. By LOUIS NIKOLA. Fully
+Illustrated.
+
+INDOOR GAMES FOR CHILDREN AND YOUNG PEOPLE. Edited by E. M. BAKER.
+Illustrated.
+
+MODERN CARD MANIPULATION. By C. LANG NEIL. Enlarged Edition. With many
+Photographs, showing Tricks in operation.
+
+THE NEW BOOK OF PUZZLES. Up-to-date and original. By A. CYRIL PEARSON.
+With upwards of 100 Illustrations.
+
+THE PEARSON PUZZLE BOOK. A Collection of over 100 of the Best Puzzles.
+Edited by J. K. BENSON.
+
+PEARSON'S BOOK OF FUN, MIRTH AND MYSTERY. Edited by Mr. X.
+
+PEARSON'S HUMOROUS RECITER AND READER.
+
+PLAYS FOR AMATEUR ACTORS. Containing Nine Original Plays. Six for
+Adults, two for Children, and one for Scouts.
+
+PLAYS AND DISPLAYS FOR SCOUT ENTERTAINMENTS. This volume contains six
+long plays, also several shorter plays, and recitations.
+
+PRACTICE STROKES AT BILLIARDS. For Tables of all Sizes. From the Match
+Play of John Roberts and other leading players.
+
+RECITATIONS FOR CHILDREN. Selected by JEAN BELFRAGE. With Three Original
+Plays for Children.
+
+SIMPLE CONJURING TRICKS THAT ANYBODY CAN PERFORM. By WILL GOLDSTON.
+
+TRICKS FOR EVERYONE. By DAVID DEVANT. Illustrated with 134 Photographs.
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+    Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. Dialect
+    spellings have been retained.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Uncanny Tales, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNCANNY TALES ***
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Uncanny Tales, by Various
+
+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: Uncanny Tales
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: C. Arthur Pearson
+
+Release Date: September 13, 2008 [EBook #26606]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNCANNY TALES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Clarke, Stephen Blundell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+       UNCANNY TALES
+
+
+           LONDON
+ C. ARTHUR PEARSON, LIMITED
+   HENRIETTA STREET, W.C.
+            1916
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+    Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. Dialect
+    spellings have been retained. The oe ligature has been transcribed
+    as [oe].
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+                                          PAGE
+
+    I. THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY                  7
+
+   II. THE ARMLESS MAN                      19
+
+  III. THE TOMTOM CLUE                      33
+
+   IV. THE CASE OF SIR ALISTER MOERAN       43
+
+    V. THE KISS                             63
+
+   VI. THE GOTH                             73
+
+  VII. THE LAST ASCENT                      88
+
+ VIII. THE TERROR BY NIGHT                  97
+
+   IX. THE TRAGEDY AT THE "LOUP NOIR"      113
+
+
+
+
+UNCANNY STORIES
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY
+
+
+Professor William James Maynard was in a singularly happy and contented
+mood as he strolled down the High Street after a long and satisfactory
+interview with the solicitor to his late cousin, whose sole heir he was.
+
+It was exactly a month by the calendar since he had murdered this
+cousin, and everything had gone most satisfactorily since. The fortune
+was proving quite as large as he had expected, and not even an inquest
+had been held upon the dead man. The coroner had decided that it was not
+necessary, and the Professor had agreed with him.
+
+At the funeral the Professor had been the principal mourner, and the
+local paper had commented sympathetically on his evident emotion. This
+had been quite genuine, for the Professor had been fond of his relative,
+who had always been very good to him. But still, when an old man remains
+obstinately healthy, when his doctor can say with confidence that he is
+good for another twenty years at least, and when he stands between you
+and a large fortune which you need, and of which you can make much
+better use in the cause of science and the pursuit of knowledge, what
+alternative is there? It becomes necessary to take steps. Therefore, the
+Professor had taken steps.
+
+Looking back to-day on that day a month ago, and the critical preceding
+week, the Professor felt that the steps he had taken had been as
+judicious as successful. He had set himself to solve a problem in higher
+mathematics. He had found it easier to solve than many he was obliged to
+grapple with in the course of his studies.
+
+A policeman saluted as the Professor passed, and he acknowledged it with
+the charming old world courtesy that made him so popular a figure in the
+town. Across the way was the doctor who had certified the cause of
+death. The Professor, passing benevolently on, was glad he had now
+enough money to carry out his projects. He would be able to publish at
+once his great work on "The Secondary Variation of the Differential
+Calculus," that hitherto had languished in manuscript. It would make a
+sensation, he thought; there was more than one generally accepted theory
+he had challenged or contradicted in it. And he would put in hand at
+once his great, his long projected work, "A History of the Higher
+Mathematics." It would take twenty years to complete, it would cost
+twenty thousand pounds or more, and it would breathe into mathematics
+the new, vivid life that Bergson's works have breathed into
+metaphysics.
+
+The Professor thought very kindly of the dead cousin, whose money would
+provide for this great work. He wished greatly the dead man could know
+to what high use his fortune was designed.
+
+Coming towards him he saw the wife of the vicar of his parish. The
+Professor was a regular church-goer. The vicar's wife saw him, too, and
+beamed. She and her husband were more than a little proud of having so
+well known a man in their congregation. She held out her hand and the
+Professor was about to take it when she drew it back with a startled
+movement.
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon!" she exclaimed, distressed, as she saw him raise
+his eyebrows. "There is blood on it."
+
+Her eyes were fixed on his right hand, which he was still holding out.
+In fact, on the palm a small drop of blood showed distinctly against the
+firm, pink flesh. Surprised, the Professor took out his handkerchief and
+wiped it away. He noticed that the vicar's wife was wearing white kid
+gloves.
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon!" she said again. "It--it startled me somehow. I
+thought you must have cut yourself. I hope it's not much?"
+
+"Some scratch, I suppose," he said. "It's nothing."
+
+The vicar's wife, still slightly discomposed, launched out into some
+parochial matter she had wished to mention to him. They chatted a few
+moments and then parted. The Professor took an opportunity to look at
+his hand. He could detect no sign of any cut or abrasion, the skin
+seemed whole everywhere. He looked at his handkerchief. There was still
+visible on it the stain where he had wiped his hand, and this stain
+seemed certainly blood.
+
+"Odd!" he muttered as he put the handkerchief back in his pocket. "Very
+odd!"
+
+His thoughts turned again to his projected "A History of the Higher
+Mathematics," and he forgot all about the incident till, as it happened
+that day month, the first of the month by the calendar, when he was
+sitting in his study with an eminent colleague to whom he was explaining
+his great scheme.
+
+"If you are able to carry it out," the colleague said slowly, "your book
+will mark an epoch in human thought. But the cost will be tremendous."
+
+"I estimate it at twenty thousand pounds," answered the Professor
+calmly. "I am fully prepared to spend twice as much. You know I have
+recently inherited forty thousand pounds from a relative?"
+
+The eminent colleague nodded and looked very impressed.
+
+"It is magnificent," he said warmly, "magnificent." He added: "You've
+cut yourself, do you know?"
+
+"Cut myself?" the Professor echoed, surprised.
+
+"Yes," answered the eminent colleague, "there is blood upon your
+hand--your right hand."
+
+In fact a spot of blood, slightly larger than that which had appeared
+before, showed plainly upon the Professor's right hand. He wiped it away
+with his handkerchief, and went on talking eagerly, for he was deeply
+interested. He did not think of the matter again till just as he was
+getting into bed, when he noticed a red stain upon his handkerchief. He
+frowned and examined his hand carefully. There was no sign of any wound
+or cut from which the blood could have come, and he frowned again.
+
+"Very odd!" he muttered.
+
+A calendar hanging on the wall reminded him that it was the first of the
+month.
+
+The days passed, the incident faded from his memory, and four weeks
+later he came down one morning to breakfast in an unusually good temper.
+There was a certain theory he had worked on the night before he meant to
+write to a friend about. It seemed to him his demonstration had been
+really brilliant, and then, also, he was already planning out with great
+success the details of the scheme for his great work.
+
+He was making an excellent breakfast, for his appetite was always good,
+and, needing some more cream, he rang the bell. The maid appeared, he
+showed her the empty jug, and as she took it she dropped it with a
+sudden cry, smashing it to pieces on the floor. Very pale, she stammered
+out:
+
+"Beg pardon, sir, your hand--there is blood upon your hand."
+
+In fact, on the Professor's right hand there showed a drop of blood,
+perceptibly larger this time than before. The Professor stared at it
+stupidly. He was sure it had not been there a moment before, and he
+noticed by the heading of the newspaper at the side of his plate that
+this was the first of the month.
+
+With a hasty movement of his napkin he wiped the drop of blood away. The
+maid, still apologising, began to pick up the pieces of the jug she had
+broken; but the Professor had no further appetite for his breakfast. He
+silenced her with a gesture, and, leaving a piece of toast half-eaten on
+his plate, he got up and went into his study.
+
+All this was trivial, absurd even. Yet somehow it disturbed him. He got
+out a magnifying glass and examined his hand under it. There was nothing
+to account for the presence of the drop of blood he and the maid had
+seen. It occurred to him that he might have cut himself in shaving; but
+when he looked in the mirror he could find no trace of even the
+slightest wound.
+
+He decided that, though he had not been aware of it, his nerves must be
+a little out of order. That was disconcerting. He had not taken his
+nerves into consideration for the simple reason that he had never known
+that he possessed any. He made up his mind to treat himself to a holiday
+in Switzerland. One or two difficult ascents might brace him up a bit.
+
+Three days later he was in Switzerland, and a few days later again he
+was on the summit of a minor but still difficult peak. It had been an
+exhilarating climb, and he had enjoyed it. He said something laughingly
+to the head guide to the effect that climbing was good sport and a fine
+test for the nerves. The head guide agreed, and added politely that if
+the nerves of monsieur the Professor had shown signs of failing on the
+lower glacier, for example, they might all have been in difficulties.
+The Professor thrilled with pleasure at the head guide's implied praise.
+He was glad to know on such good authority that his nerves were all
+right, and the incidents that had driven him there began to fade in his
+memory.
+
+Nevertheless, he found himself watching the calendar with a certain
+interest, and when he woke on the morning of the first day of the next
+month he glanced quickly at his right hand. There was nothing there.
+
+He dressed and spent, as he had planned, a quiet day, busy with his
+correspondence. His spirits rose as the day passed. He was still
+watchful, but more confident; and, after dinner, though he had meant to
+go straight to his room, he agreed to join in a suggested game of
+bridge. They were cutting for partners when one of the ladies who was to
+take part in the game dropped with a little cry the card she had just
+lifted.
+
+"Oh, there is blood upon your hand," she cried, "on your right hand,
+Professor!"
+
+Upon the Professor's right hand there showed now a drop of blood, larger
+still then those other three had been. Yet the very moment before it had
+not been there. The Professor put down his cards without a word, and
+left the room, going straight upstairs.
+
+The drop of blood was still standing on his hand. He soaked it up
+carefully with some cotton-wool he had, and was not surprised to find
+beneath no sign or trace of any cut or wound. The cotton-wool he made up
+carefully into a parcel and addressed it to an analytical chemist he
+knew, inclosing with it a short note.
+
+He rang the bell, sent the parcel to the post, and then he got out pen
+and paper and set himself to solve this problem, as in his life he had
+solved so many others.
+
+Only this time it seemed somehow as though the data were insufficient.
+
+Idly his pen traced upon the paper in front of him a large _X_, the sign
+of the unknown quantity.
+
+But how, in this case, to find out what was the unknown quantity? His
+hand, his firm and steady hand, shook so that he could no longer hold
+his pen. He rang the bell again and ordered a stiff whisky-and-soda. He
+was a man of almost ascetic habits, but to-night he felt that he needed
+some stimulant.
+
+Neither did he sleep very well.
+
+The next day he returned to England. Almost at once he went to see his
+friend, the analytical chemist, to whom he had sent the parcel from
+Switzerland.
+
+"Mammalian blood," pronounced the chemist, "probably human--rather a
+curious thing about it, too."
+
+"What's that?" asked the Professor.
+
+"Why," his friend answered, "I was able to identify the distinctive
+bacillus----" He named the rare bacillus of an unusual and obscure
+disease. And this disease was that from which the Professor's cousin had
+died.
+
+The professor was a man interested in all phenomena. In other
+circumstances he would have observed keenly that which now occurred,
+when the hair of his head underwent a curious involuntary stiffening and
+bristling process that in popular but sufficiently accurate terms, might
+be described as "standing on end." But at the moment he was in no state
+for scientific observations.
+
+He got out of the house somehow. He said he did not feel well, and his
+friend, the chemist, agreed that his holiday in Switzerland did not seem
+to have done him much good.
+
+The Professor went straight home and shut himself up in his study. It
+was a fine room, ranged all round with books. On the shelves nearest to
+his hand stood volumes on mathematics, the theory of mathematics, the
+study of mathematics, pure mathematics, applied mathematics. But there
+was not any one of these books that told him anything about such a thing
+as this. Though, it is true, there were many references in them, here
+and there, to _X_, the unknown quantity.
+
+The Professor took his pen and wrote a large _X_ upon the sheet of paper
+in front of him.
+
+"An unknown quantity!" he muttered. "An unknown--quantity!"
+
+The days passed peacefully. Nothing was out of the ordinary except that
+the Professor developed an odd trick of continually glancing at his
+right hand. He washed it a good deal, too. But the first of the month
+was not yet.
+
+On the last day of the month he told his housekeeper that he was feeling
+a little unwell. She was not surprised, for she had thought him looking
+ill for some time past. He told her he would probably spend the next day
+in bed for a thorough rest, and she agreed that that would be a very
+good idea. When he was in his own room and had undressed, he bandaged
+his right hand with care, tying it up carefully and thoroughly with
+three or four of his large linen handkerchiefs.
+
+"Whatever comes, shall now show," he said to himself.
+
+He stayed in bed accordingly the next day. His housekeeper was a little
+uneasy about him. He ate nothing and his eyes were strangely bright and
+feverish. She overheard him once muttering something to himself about
+"the unknown quantity," and that made her think that he had been working
+too hard.
+
+She decided he must see the doctor. The Professor refused peremptorily.
+He declared he would be quite well again in the morning. The
+housekeeper, an old servant, agreed, but sent for the doctor all the
+same; and when he had come the Professor felt he could not refuse to see
+him without appearing peculiar. And he did not wish to appear peculiar.
+So he saw the doctor, but declared there was nothing much the matter, he
+merely felt a little unwell and out of sorts and tired.
+
+"You have hurt your hand?" the doctor asked, noticing how it was
+bandaged.
+
+"I cut it slightly--a trifle," the Professor answered.
+
+"Yes," the doctor answered, "I see there is blood on it."
+
+"What?" the Professor stammered.
+
+"There is blood upon your hand," the doctor repeated.
+
+The Professor looked. In fact, a deep, wide stain showed crimson upon
+the bandages in which he had swathed his hand. Yet he knew that the
+moment before the linen had been fair and white and clean.
+
+"It is nothing," he said quickly, hiding his hand beneath the bed
+clothes.
+
+The doctor, a little puzzled, took his leave, but had not gone ten
+yards when the housekeeper flew screaming after him. It seemed she had
+heard a fall, and when she had gone into the Professor's bedroom she had
+found him lying there dead upon the hearthrug. There was a razor in his
+hand, and there was a ghastly gash across his throat.
+
+The doctor went back at a run, but there was nothing he or any man could
+do. One thing he noticed, with curiosity, was that the bandage had been
+torn away from the dead man's hand and that oddly enough there seemed to
+be on the hand no sign of any cut or wound. There was a large solitary
+drop of blood on the palm, at the root of the thumb; but, of course,
+that was no great wonder, for the wound the dead man had dealt himself
+had bled freely.
+
+Apparently death had not been quite instantaneous, for with a last
+effort the Professor seemed to have traced an _X_ upon the floor in his
+own blood with his forefinger. The doctor mentioned this at the
+inquest--the coroner had decided at once that in this case an inquest
+was certainly necessary--and he suggested that it showed the Professor
+had worked too hard and was suffering from overwork which had disturbed
+his mental balance.
+
+The coroner took the same view, and in his short address to the jury
+adduced the incident as proof of a passing mental disturbance.
+
+"Very probably," said the coroner, "there was some problem that had
+worried him, and that he was still endeavouring to work out. As you are
+aware, gentlemen, the sign _X_ is used to symbolise the unknown
+quantity."
+
+An appropriate verdict was accordingly returned, and the Professor was
+duly interred in the same family vault as that in which so short a time
+previously his cousin had been laid to rest.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+THE ARMLESS MAN
+
+
+I first met Bob Masters in the hotel at a place called Fourteen Streams,
+not very far from Kimberley.
+
+I had for some months been trying to find gold or diamonds by digging
+holes in the veldt. But since this has little or nothing to do with the
+story, I pass by my mining adventures and come back to the hotel. I came
+to it very readily that afternoon, for I was very thirsty.
+
+A tall man standing at the bar turned his head as I entered and said
+"Good-day" to me. I returned the compliment, but took no particular
+notice of him at first.
+
+Suddenly I heard the man say to the barman:
+
+"I'm ready for another drink."
+
+That surprised me, because his glass was still three-quarters full. But
+I was still more startled by the action of the barman who lifted up the
+glass and held it whilst the man drank.
+
+Then I saw the reason. The man had no arms.
+
+You know the easy way in which Englishmen chum together anywhere out of
+England, whilst in their native country nothing save a formal
+introduction will make them acquainted? I made some remark to Masters
+which led to another from him, and in five minutes' time we were
+chatting on all sorts of topics.
+
+I learnt that Masters, bound for England, had come in to Fourteen
+Streams to catch the train from Kimberley, and, having a few hours to
+wait, had strolled up to the collection of tin huts calling itself a
+town.
+
+I was going down to Kimberley too, so of course we went together, and
+were quite old friends by the time we reached that city.
+
+We had a wash and something to eat, and then we walked round to the
+post-office. I used to have my letters addressed there, _poste
+restante_, and call in for them when I happened to be in Kimberley.
+
+I found several letters, one of which altered the whole course of my
+life. This was from Messrs. Harvey, Filson, and Harvey, solicitors,
+Lincoln's Inn Fields. It informed me that the sudden death of my cousin
+had so affected my uncle's health that he had followed his only son
+within the month. The senior branch of the family being thus extinct the
+whole of the entailed estate had devolved on me.
+
+The first thing I did was to send off two cablegrams to say that I was
+coming home by the first available boat, one to the solicitors, the
+other to Nancy Milward.
+
+Masters and I arranged to come home together and eventually reached Cape
+Town. There we had considerable trouble at the shipping office. It was
+just about the time of year when people who live in Africa to make
+money, come over to England to spend it, and in consequence the boats
+were very crowded. Masters demanded a cabin to himself, a luxury which
+was not to be had, though there was one that he and I could share. He
+made a tremendous fuss about doing this, and I thought it very strange,
+because I had assisted him in many ways which his mutilation rendered
+necessary. However, he had to give way in the end, and we embarked on
+the Castle liner.
+
+On the voyage he told me how he had lost his arms. It seemed that he had
+been sent up country on some Government job or other, and had had the
+ill-fortune to be captured by the natives. They treated him quite well
+at first, but gave him to understand that he must not try to escape. I
+suppose that to most men such a warning would be a direct incitement to
+make the attempt. Masters made it and failed. They cut off his right arm
+as a punishment. He waited until the wound was healed and tried again.
+Again he failed. This time they cut off his other arm.
+
+"Good Lord," I cried. "What devils!"
+
+"Weren't they!" he said. "And yet, you know, they were quite
+good-tempered chaps when you didn't cross them. I wasn't going to be
+beaten by a lot of naked niggers though, and I made a third attempt.
+
+"I succeeded all right that time, though, of course, it was much more
+difficult. I really don't know at all how I managed to worry through.
+You see, I could only eat plants and leaves and such fruit as I came
+across; but I'd learnt as much as I could of the local botany in the
+intervals."
+
+"Was it worth while?" I asked. "I think the first failure and its result
+would have satisfied me."
+
+"Yes," he said slowly, "it was worth while. You see, my wife was waiting
+for me at home, and I wanted to see her again very badly--you don't
+know how badly."
+
+"I think I can imagine," I said. "Because there is a girl waiting for me
+too at home."
+
+"I saw her before she died," he continued.
+
+"Died?" I said.
+
+"Yes," he answered. "She was dying when I reached home at last, but I
+was with her at the end. That was something, wasn't it?"
+
+I do hate people to tell me this sort of thing. Not because I do not
+feel sorry for them; on the contrary, I feel so sorry that I absolutely
+fail to find words to express my sympathy. I tried, however, to show it
+in other ways, by the attentions I paid him and by anticipating his
+every wish.
+
+Yet there were many things that were astonishing about his actions,
+things that I wonder now I did not realise must have been impossible for
+him to do for himself, and that yet were done. But he was so
+surprisingly dexterous with his lips, and feet too, when he was in his
+cabin that I suppose I put them down to that.
+
+I remember waking up one night and looking out of my bunk to see him
+standing on the floor. The cabin was only faintly lit by a moonbeam
+which found its way through the porthole. I could not see clearly, but I
+fancied that he walked to the door and opened it, and closed it behind
+him. He did it all very quickly, as quickly as I could have done it. As
+I say, I was very sleepy, but the sight of the door opening and shutting
+like that woke me thoroughly. Sitting up I shouted at him.
+
+He heard me and opened the door again, easily, too, much more easily
+than he seemed to be able to shut it when he saw me looking at him.
+
+"Hullo! Awake, old chap?" he said. "What is it?"
+
+"Er--nothing," I said. "Or rather I suppose I was only half awake; but
+you seemed to open that door so easily that it quite startled me."
+
+"One does not always like to let others see the shifts to which one has
+to resort," was all the answer he gave me.
+
+But I worried over it. The thing bothered me, because he had made no
+attempt to explain.
+
+That was not the only thing I noticed.
+
+Two or three days later we were sitting together on deck. I had offered
+to read to him. I noticed that he got up out of his chair. Suddenly I
+saw the chair move. It gave me a great shock, for the chair twisted
+apparently of its own volition, so that when he sat down again the
+sunlight was at his back and not in his eyes, as I knew it had been
+previously. But I reasoned with myself and managed to satisfy myself
+that he must have turned the chair round with his foot. It was just
+possible that he could have done so, for it had one of those light
+wicker-work seats.
+
+We had a lovely voyage for three-quarters of the way, and the sea was as
+calm as any duck-pond. But that was all altered when we passed Cape
+Finisterre. I have done a lot of knocking about on the ocean one way and
+another, but I never saw the Bay of Biscay deserve its reputation
+better.
+
+I'd much rather see what is going on than be cooped up below, and after
+lunch I told Bob I was going up on deck.
+
+"I'll only stay there for a bit," I said. "You make yourself comfortable
+down here."
+
+I filled his pipe, put it in his mouth, and gave him a match; then I
+left him.
+
+I made my way up and down the deck for a time, clutching hold of
+everything handy, and rather enjoyed it, though the waves drenched me to
+the skin.
+
+Presently I saw Masters come out of the companion-way and make his way
+very skilfully towards me. Of course it was fearfully dangerous for him.
+
+I staggered towards him, and, putting my lips to his ear, shouted to him
+to go below at once.
+
+"Oh, I shall be all right!" he said, and laughed.
+
+"You'll be drowned--drowned," I screamed. "There was a wave just now
+that--well, if I hadn't been able to cling on with both hands like grim
+death, I should have gone overboard. Go below."
+
+He laughed again and shook his head.
+
+And then what I dreaded happened. A vast mountain of green water lifted
+up its bulk and fell upon us in a ravening cataract. I clutched at
+Masters, but trying to save him and myself handicapped me badly. The
+strength of that mass of water was terrible. It seemed to snatch at
+everything with giant hands, and drag all with it. It tossed a hen-coop
+high, and carried it through the rails.
+
+I felt the grip of my right hand loosen, and the next instant was
+carried, still clutching Masters with my left, towards that gap in the
+bulwark.
+
+I managed to seize the end of the broken rail. It held us for a moment,
+then gave, and for a moment I hung sheer over the vessel's side.
+
+In that instant I felt fingers tighten on my arm, tighten till they bit
+into the flesh, and I was pulled back into safety.
+
+Together we staggered back, and got below somehow. I was trembling like
+a leaf, and the sweat dripped from me. I almost screamed aloud.
+
+It was not that I was frightened of death. I've seen too much of that in
+many parts of the earth to dread it greatly. It was the thought of those
+fingers tightening on me where no fingers were.
+
+Masters did not speak a word, nor did I, until we found ourselves in the
+cabin.
+
+I tore the wet clothes off me and turned my arm to the mirror. I knew I
+could not have been mistaken when I felt them.
+
+There on the upper arm, above the line of sunburn that one gets from
+working with sleeves rolled up, there on the white skin showed _the red
+marks of four slender fingers and a thumb_! I sat down suddenly at sight
+of them, and pulling open a drawer, found a flask of neat brandy, and
+gulped it down, emptied it in one gulp.
+
+Then I turned to him and pointed to the marks.
+
+"In God's name, how came these here?" I said. "What--what happened up
+there on deck?"
+
+He looked at me very gravely.
+
+"I saved you," he said, "or rather I didn't, for I could not. But _she_
+did."
+
+"What do you mean?" I stammered.
+
+"Let me get these clothes off," he said, "and some dry ones on; and I'll
+tell you."
+
+Words fail to describe my feelings as I watched the clothes come off him
+and dry ones go on just as if hands were arranging them.
+
+I sat and shuddered. I tried to close my eyes, but the weird, unnatural
+sight drew them as a lodestone.
+
+"I'm sorry that you should have had this shock," he said. "I know what
+it must have been like, though it was not so bad for me when they seemed
+to come, for they came gradually as time went on."
+
+"What came gradually?" I asked.
+
+"Why, these arms! They're what I'm telling you about. You asked me to
+tell you, I thought?"
+
+"Did I?" I said. "I don't know what I'm saying or asking. I think I'm
+going mad, quite mad."
+
+"No," he said, "you're as sane as I am, only when you come across
+something strange, unique for that matter, you are naturally terrified.
+Well, it was like this. I told you about my adventures with the niggers
+up country. That was quite true. They cut off both my arms--you can see
+the stumps for that matter. And I told you that I came home to find my
+wife dying. Her heart had always been weak, I'd known that, and it had
+gradually grown more feeble. There must have been, indeed there was, a
+strange sort of telepathy between us. She had had fearful attacks of
+heart failure on both occasions when the niggers had mutilated me, I
+learnt on comparing notes.
+
+"But I had known too, somehow, that I must escape at all costs. It was
+the knowledge that made me try again after each failure. I should have
+gone on trying to escape as long as I had lived, or rather as long as
+she had lived. I knelt beside her bed and she put out her arms and laid
+them round my neck.
+
+"'So you have come back to me before I go,' she said. 'I knew you must,
+because I called you so. But you have been long in coming, almost too
+long. But I knew I had to see you again before I died.'
+
+"I broke down then. I was sorely tried. No arms even to put round her!
+
+"'Darling, stay with me for a little, only for a little while!' I
+sobbed.
+
+"She shook her head feebly. 'It is no use, my dear,' she said, 'I must
+go.'
+
+"'I'll come with you,' I said, 'I'll not live without you.'
+
+"She shook her head again.
+
+"'You must be brave, Bob. I shall be watching you afterwards just as
+much as if I still lived on earth. If only I could give you my arms! A
+poor, weak woman's arms, but better than none, dear.'
+
+"She died some weeks later. I spent all the time at her bedside, I
+hardly left her. Her arms were round me when she died. Shall I ever feel
+them round me again? I wonder! You see, they are mine now.
+
+"They came to me gradually. It was very strange at first to have arms
+and hands which one couldn't see. I used to keep my eyes shut as much as
+possible, and try to fancy that I had never lost my arms.
+
+"I got used to them in time. But I have always been careful not to let
+people see me do things that they would know to be impossible for an
+armless man. That was what took me to Africa again, because I could get
+lost there and do things for myself with these hands."
+
+"'And they twain shall be one flesh,'" I muttered.
+
+"Yes," he said, "I think the explanation must be something of that sort.
+There's more than that in it, though; these arms are other than flesh."
+
+He sat silent for a time with his head bowed on his chest. Then he spoke
+again:
+
+"I got sick of being alone at last, and was coming back when I met you
+at Fourteen Streams. I don't know what I shall do when I do get home. I
+can never rest. I have--what do they call it--_Wanderlust_?"
+
+"Does she ever speak to you from that other world?" I asked him.
+
+He shook his head sadly.
+
+"No, never. But I know she lives somewhere beyond this world of ours.
+She must, because these arms live. So I try always to act as if she
+watches everything. I always try to do the right thing, but, anyway,
+these arms and hands would do good of their own accord. Just now up on
+the deck I was very frightened. I'd have saved myself at any cost
+almost, and let you go. But I could not do that. The hands clutched you.
+It is her will, so much stronger and purer than mine, that still
+persists. It is only when she does not exert it that I control these
+arms."
+
+That was how I learnt the strangest tale that ever a man was told, and
+knew the miracle to which I owed my life.
+
+It may be that Bob Masters was a coward. He always said that he was.
+Personally I do not believe it, for he had the sweetest nature I ever
+met.
+
+He had nowhere to go to in England and seemed to have no friends. So I
+made him come down with me to Englehart, that dear old country seat of
+my family in the Western shires which was now mine.
+
+Nancy lived in that country, too.
+
+There was no reason why we should not get married at once. We had waited
+long enough.
+
+I can see again the old, ivy-grown church where Nancy and I were wed,
+and Bob Masters standing by my side as best man.
+
+I remember feeling in his pocket for the ring, and as I did so, I felt a
+hand grasp mine for a moment.
+
+Then there was the reception afterwards, and speech-making--the usual
+sort of thing.
+
+Later Nancy and I drove off to the station.
+
+We had not said good-bye to Bob, for he'd insisted on driving to the
+station with the luggage; said he was going to see the last of us there.
+
+He was waiting for us in the yard when we reached it, and walked with us
+on to the platform.
+
+We stood there chatting about one thing and another, when I noticed that
+Nancy was not talking much and seemed rather pale. I was just going to
+remark on it when we heard the whistle of the train. There is a sharp
+curve in the permanent way outside the station, so that a train is on
+you all of a sudden.
+
+Suddenly to my horror I saw Nancy sway backwards towards the edge of the
+platform. I tried vainly to catch her as she reeled and fell--right in
+front of the oncoming train. I sprang forward to leap after her, but
+hands grasped me and flung me back so violently that I fell down on the
+platform.
+
+It was Bob Masters who took the place that should have been mine, and
+leapt upon the metals.
+
+I could not see what happened then. The station-master says he saw Nancy
+lifted from before the engine when it was right upon her. He says it was
+as if she was lifted by the wind. She was quite close to Masters. "Near
+enough for him to have lifted her, sir, if he'd had arms." The two of
+them staggered for a moment, and together fell clear of the train.
+
+Nancy was little the worse for the awful accident, bruised, of course,
+but poor Masters was unconscious.
+
+We carried him into the waiting-room, laid him on the cushions there,
+and sent hot-foot for the doctor.
+
+He was a good country practitioner, and, I suppose, knew the ordinary
+routine of his work quite well. He fussed about, hummed and hawed a lot.
+
+"Yes, yes," he said, as if he were trying to persuade himself. "Shock,
+you know. He'll be better presently. Lucky, though, that he had no
+arms."
+
+I noticed then, for the first time, that the sleeves of the coat had
+been shorn away.
+
+"Doctor," I said, "how is he? Surely, if he isn't hurt he would not look
+like that. What exactly do you mean by shock?"
+
+"Hum--er," he hesitated, and applied his stethoscope to Masters' heart
+again.
+
+"The heart is very weak," he said at length. "Very weak. He's always
+very anæmic, I suppose?"
+
+"No," I answered. "He's anything but that. He's----Good Lord, he's
+bleeding to death! Put ligatures on his arms. Put ligatures on his
+arms."
+
+"Please keep quiet, Mr. Riverston," the doctor said. "It must have been
+a dreadful experience for you, and you are naturally very upset."
+
+I raved and cursed at him. I think I should have struck him, but the
+others held me. They said they would take me away if I did not keep
+quiet.
+
+Bob Masters opened his eyes presently, and saw them holding me.
+
+"Please let him go," he said. "It's all right, old man. It's no use your
+arguing with them, they would not understand. I could never explain to
+them now, and they would never believe you. Besides, it's all for the
+best. Yes, the train went over them and I'm armless for the second time.
+But--not for long!"
+
+I knelt by his side and sobbed. It all seemed so dreadful, and yet, I
+don't think that then I would have tried to stay his passing. I knew it
+was best for him.
+
+He looked at me very affectionately.
+
+"I'm so sorry that this should happen on your wedding-day," he said.
+"But it would have been so much worse for you if _she_ had not helped."
+
+His voice grew fainter and died away.
+
+There was a pause for a time, and his breath came in great sighing sobs.
+
+Then suddenly he raised himself on the cushions until he stood upright
+on his feet, and a smile broke over his face--a smile so sweet that I
+think the angels in Paradise must look like that.
+
+His voice came strong and loud from his lips.
+
+"Darling!" he cried. "Darling, your arms are round me once again! I
+come! I come!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"One of the most extraordinary cases I have ever met with," the doctor
+told the coroner at the inquest. "He seemed to have all the symptoms of
+excessive hæmorrhage."
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+THE TOMTOM CLUE
+
+
+I had just settled down for a comfortable evening over the fire in a
+saddle-bag chair drawn up as close to the hearth as the fender would
+allow, with a plentiful supply of literature and whisky, and pipe and
+tobacco, when the telephone bell rang loudly and insistently. With a
+sigh I rose and took up the receiver.
+
+"That you?" said a voice I recognised as that of Jack Bridges. "Can I
+come round and see you at once? It's most important. No, I can't tell
+you now. I'll be with you in a few minutes."
+
+I hung the receiver up again, wondering what business could fetch Jack
+Bridges round at that time of the evening to see me. We had been the
+greatest of pals at school and at the 'Varsity, and had kept the
+friendship up ever since, despite my intermittent wanderings over the
+face of the globe. But during the last few days or so Jack had become
+engaged to Miss Glanville, the daughter of old Glanville, of South
+African fame, and as a love-sick swain I naturally expected to see very
+little of him, until after the wedding at any rate.
+
+At this time of the evening, according to my ideas of engaged couples,
+he should be sitting in the stalls at some theatre, and not running
+round to see bachelor friends with cynical views on matrimony.
+
+I had not arrived at a satisfactory solution when the door opened and
+Jack walked in. One glance at his face told me that he was in trouble,
+and without a word I pushed him into my chair and handed him a drink.
+Then I sat down on the opposite side of the fire and waited for him to
+begin, for a man in need of sympathy does not want to be worried by
+questions.
+
+He gulped down half his whisky and sat for a moment gazing into the
+fire.
+
+"Jim, old man," he said at length, "I've had awful news."
+
+"Not connected with Miss Glanville?" I asked.
+
+"In a way, yes. It's broken off, but there's worse than that--far worse.
+I can hardly realise it; I feel numbed at present; it's too horrible.
+You remember that when you and I were at Winchester together my father
+was killed during the Matabele War?"
+
+I nodded.
+
+"Well," continued Jack, "I heard to-day that he was not killed by the
+Matabele, but was hanged in Bulawayo for murder. In other words, I am
+the son of a murderer."
+
+"Hanged for murder!" I exclaimed in horror. "Surely there's some
+mistake?"
+
+"No," groaned Jack, "it's true enough. I've seen the newspaper cutting
+of the time, and I'm the son of a murderer, who was also a forger, a
+thief, and a card-sharper. Old Glanville told me this evening. It was
+then that our engagement was broken off."
+
+"Your mother?" I asked. "Have you seen her?"
+
+Jack nodded.
+
+"Poor little woman!" he groaned. "She has known all along, and her one
+aim and object in life has been to keep the awful truth from me. That
+was why I was told he died an honourable death during the war. I've
+often wondered why the little mother was always so sad, and so weighed
+down by trouble. Now I know. Good God, what her life must have been!"
+
+He rose from his chair and paced up and down the room for a minute; then
+he stopped and stood in front of me, his face working with emotion.
+
+"But I don't believe it, Jim," he said, and there was a ring in his
+voice. "I don't believe it, and neither does the little mother. It's
+impossible to reconcile the big, bluff man with the heart of a child,
+that I remember as my father, with murder, forgery, or any other crime.
+And yet, according to Glanville and the old newspapers he showed me,
+Richard Bridges was one of the most unscrupulous ruffians in South
+Africa. In my heart of hearts I know he didn't do it, and though on the
+face of it there's no doubt, I'm going to try and clear his name. I am
+sailing for South Africa on Friday."
+
+"Sailing for South Africa!" I exclaimed. "What about your work?"
+
+"My work can go hang!" replied Jack heatedly. "I want to wipe away the
+stain from my father's name, and I mean to do it somehow. That's why
+I've run round to see you, old pal, for I want you to come with me.
+Knowing Rhodesia as you do, you're just the man to help me. Say you'll
+come?" he pleaded.
+
+It seemed quite the forlornest hope I had ever heard of, but Jack's
+distress was so acute that I hadn't the heart to refuse.
+
+"All right, Jack," I said, "I'm with you. But don't foster any vain
+hopes. Remember, it's twenty years ago. It will be a pretty tough job to
+prove anything after all these years."
+
+During the voyage out we had ample time to go through the small amount
+of information about the long-forgotten case that Jack had been able to
+collect from the family solicitors.
+
+In the year 1893, Richard Bridges, who was a mining engineer of some
+standing, had made a trip to Rhodesia with a view to gold and diamond
+prospecting. He had been accompanied by a friend, Thomas Symes, who, so
+far as we could ascertain, was an ex-naval officer; and the two, after a
+short stay at Bulawayo, had gone northward across the Guai river into
+what was in those days a practically unknown land. In a little over a
+year's time Bridges had returned alone--his companion having been, so he
+stated, killed by the Matabele, and for six months or so he led a
+dissolute life in Bulawayo and the district, which ended ultimately in
+his execution for murder. There was no doubt whatever about the murder,
+or the various thefts and forgeries that he was accused of, as he had
+made a confession at his trial, and we seemed to be on a wild-goose
+chase of the worst variety so far as I could see; but Jack, confident of
+his father's innocence, would not hear of failure.
+
+"It's impossible to make surmises at this stage," he said. "On the face
+of it there appears to be little room for doubt, but no one who knew my
+father could possibly connect him with any sort of crime. Somehow or
+other, Jim, I've got to clear his name."
+
+My memory went back to a tall, sunburnt man with a kindly manner who had
+come down to the school one day and put up a glorious feed at the tuck
+shop to Jack and his friends. Afterwards, at his son's urgent request,
+he had bared his chest to show us his tattooing of which Jack had,
+boy-like, often boasted to us. I recalled how we had gazed admiringly at
+the skilfully worked picture of Nelson with his empty sleeve and closed
+eye and the inscription underneath: "England expects that every man this
+day will do his duty." Jack had explained with considerable pride that
+this did not constitute all, as on his father's back was a wonderful
+representation of the _Victory_, and on other parts of his body a lion,
+a snake, and other _fauna_, but Richard Bridges had protested laughingly
+and refused to undress further for our delectation.
+
+We reached Bulawayo, but no one in the city appeared to recall the case
+at all; indeed, Bulawayo had grown out of all recognition since Richard
+Bridges had passed through it on his prospecting trip. It was difficult
+to know where to start. Even the police could not help, and had no
+knowledge of where the murderer had been buried. No one but an old
+saloon-keeper and a couple of miners could recollect the execution even,
+and they, so far as they could remember, had never met Richard Bridges
+in the flesh, though his unsavoury reputation was well known to them.
+
+In despair, Jack suggested a trek up country towards Barotseland, which
+was the district that Bridges and Symes had proposed to prospect,
+though, according to all accounts, Symes had been murdered by the
+Matabele before they reached the Guai river.
+
+For the next month we trekked steadily northwards, having very fair
+sport; but, as I expected, extracting no information whatever from the
+natives about the two prospectors who had passed that way years before.
+At length, Jack became more or less reconciled to failure, and realising
+the futility of further search suggested a return to Bulawayo. As our
+donkey caravan was beginning to suffer severely from the fly, I
+concurred, and we started to travel slowly back to Bulawayo, shooting by
+the way.
+
+One night after a particularly hard trek we inspanned at an old _kraal_,
+the painted walls of which told that at one time it had served as a
+royal residence, and as I had shot an eland cow that afternoon, which
+provided far more meat than we could consume, we invited the induna and
+his tribe to the feast. Not to be outdone in hospitality, the old chief
+produced the kaffir beer of the country, a liquid which has nothing to
+recommend it beyond the fact that it intoxicates rapidly.
+
+A meat feast and a beer drink is a great event in the average kaffir's
+life, and as the evening wore on a general jollification started to the
+thump of tomtoms and the squeak of kaffir fiddles. There was one very
+drunk old Barotse, who sat close to me, and, accompanying himself with
+thumps on his tomtom, sang in one droning key a song about a man who
+kept snakes and lions inside him, and from whose chest the evil eye
+looked out. At least, so far as I could gather that was roughly the gist
+of the song; but as his tomtom was particularly large and most obnoxious
+I politely took it away from him, and Jack and I used it as a table for
+our gourds of kaffir beer, which we were pretending to consume in large
+quantities.
+
+A gourd, however, is a top-heavy sort of drinking vessel, and in a very
+short time I had succeeded in spilling half a pint or so of my drink on
+the parchment of the drum. Not wishing to spoil the old gentleman's
+plaything, which he evidently valued above all things, I mopped up the
+beer with my handkerchief, and in doing so removed from the parchment a
+portion of the accumulated filth of ages.
+
+"Hullo!" said Jack, taking the instrument from me and holding it up to
+the firelight. "There's a picture of some sort here. It looks like a man
+in a cocked hat."
+
+He rubbed it hard with his pocket handkerchief, and the polishing
+brought more of the picture to light, till, plain enough in places and
+faded in others, there stood out, the portrait of a man in an
+old-fashioned naval uniform with stars on his breast, and underneath
+some letters in the form of a scroll.
+
+"That's not native work," I exclaimed. "These are English letters," for
+I could distinctly make out the word "man" followed by a "t" and an "h."
+"Rub it hard, Jack."
+
+The grease on the parchment refused to give way to further polishing,
+however, and remembering a bottle of ammonia I kept for insect bites, I
+mixed some with kaffir beer and poured it on the head of the tomtom. One
+touch of the handkerchief was sufficient once the strong alkali got to
+work, and out came the grand old face of Nelson and underneath his
+motto:
+
+"England expects that every man this day will do his duty."
+
+Jack dropped the drum as if it had bitten him.
+
+"What does it mean?" he gasped. "My father had this on his chest. I
+remember it well!"
+
+I was, however, too busy with the reverse end of the drum to heed him.
+On the other side the ammonia brought out a picture of the _Victory_,
+with the head of a roaring lion below it.
+
+"Good God!" exclaimed Jack. "My father had that on his back. Quick, Jim,
+rub hard! There should be the family crest to the right--an eagle with a
+snake in its talons and R. B. underneath."
+
+I rubbed in the spot indicated, and out came the crest and initials
+exactly as Jack had described them. There was something horribly uncanny
+and gruesome in finding the tattoo marks of the dead man on the
+parchment of a Barotse tomtom two hundred miles north of the Zambesi,
+and for a moment I was too overcome with astonishment to grasp exactly
+what it meant. Then it came to my mind in a flash that the parchment was
+nothing else than human skin, and Richard Bridges' skin at that. I put
+it down with sudden reverence, and, beckoning to its owner, demanded its
+full history. At first he showed signs of fear, but promising him a
+waist length of cloth if he told the truth, he squatted on his hams
+before us and began.
+
+"Many, many moons ago, before the white men came to trade across the Big
+Water as they do now, two white baases came into this country to look
+for white stones and gold. One baas was bigger than the other, and on
+his chest and on his body were pictures of birds, and beasts, and
+strange things. On his chest was a great inkoos with one eye covered,
+and on his back a hut with trees growing straight up into the air from
+it. On his loins was a lion of great fierceness, and coiled round his
+waist was a hissing mamba (snake). We were sore afraid, for the white
+baas told us he was bewitched, and that if harm came to either he would
+uncover the closed eye of the great inkoos upon his chest, which was the
+Evil Eye, and command him to blast the Barotse and their land for ever.
+
+"So the white men were suffered to come and go in peace, for we dreaded
+the Evil Eye of the great inkoos. They toiled, these white baases,
+digging in the hillside and searching the riverbed; and then one day it
+came to pass that they quarrelled and fought, and the baas with the
+pictures was slain. We knew then that his medicine was bad medicine,
+otherwise the white baas without the pictures could not have killed him.
+So we were wroth and made to slay the other baas, but he shot us down
+with a fire stick and returned to his own country in haste. Then did I
+take the skin from the dead baas, for I loved him for his pictures, and
+I made them into a tomtom. I have spoken."
+
+"Good heavens!" exclaimed Jack when I had translated the story. "Then my
+father was killed here in Barotseland, and it was Symes, his murderer,
+who went back to Bulawayo. It was that fiend Symes, also, who took my
+father's name, probably to draw any money that might have been left
+behind, and who, as Richard Bridges, was hanged for murder. Poor old
+dad," he added brokenly, "murdered, and his body mutilated by savages!
+But how glad I am to know that he died an honest man!"
+
+With the evidence at hand it was easy to prove the identity of the
+murderer of twenty years ago, and, having settled the matter
+satisfactorily and cleared the dead man's name, Jack and I returned to
+England, where a few weeks later I had to purchase wedding garments in
+order that I might play the part of best man at Jack's wedding.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+THE CASE OF SIR ALISTER MOERAN
+
+
+"Ethne?" My aunt looked at me with raised brows and smiled. "My dear
+Maurice, hadn't you heard? Ethne went abroad directly after Christmas,
+with the Wilmotts, for a trip to Egypt. She's having a glorious time!"
+
+I am afraid I looked as blank as I felt. I had only landed in England
+three days ago, after two years' service in India, and the one thing I
+had been looking forward to was seeing my cousin Ethne again.
+
+"Then, since you did not know she was away, you, of course, have not
+heard the other news?" went on my aunt.
+
+"No," I answered in a wooden voice. "I've heard nothing."
+
+She beamed. "The dear child is engaged to a Sir Alister Moeran, whom she
+met in Luxor. Everyone is delighted, as it is a splendid match for her.
+Lady Wilmott speaks most highly of him, a man of excellent family and
+position, and perfectly charming to boot."
+
+I believe I murmured something suitable, but it was absurd to pretend to
+be overjoyed at the news. The galling part of it was that Aunt Linda
+knew, and was chuckling, so to speak, over my discomfiture.
+
+"If you are going up to Wimberley Park," she went on sweetly, "you will
+probably meet them both, as your Uncle Bob has asked us all there for
+the February house-party. He cabled an invitation to Sir Alister as soon
+as he heard of the engagement. Wasn't it good of him?"
+
+I replied that it was; then, having heard quite enough for one day of
+the charms of Ethne's _fiancé_, I took my leave.
+
+That night, after cursing myself for a churl, I wrote and wished her
+good luck. The next morning I received a letter from Uncle Bob asking me
+to go to Wimberley; and early in the following week I travelled up to
+Cumberland. I received a warm welcome from the old General. As a boy I
+used to spend the greater part of my holidays with him, and being
+childless himself, he regarded me more or less as a son.
+
+On February 16th Ethne, her mother, and Sir Alister Moeran arrived. I
+motored to the station to meet them. The evening was cold and raw and so
+dark that it was almost impossible to distinguish people on the badly
+lighted little platform. However, as I groped my way along, I recognised
+Ethne's voice, and thus directed, hurried towards the group. As I did so
+two gleaming, golden eyes flashed out at me through the darkness.
+
+"Hullo!" I thought. "So she's carted along the faithful Pincher!" But
+the next moment I found I was mistaken, for Ethne was holding out both
+hands to me in greeting. There was no dog with her, and in the bustle
+that followed, I forgot to seek further for the solution of those two
+fiery lights.
+
+"It was good of you to come, Maurice," Ethne said with unmistakable
+pleasure, then, turning to the man at her side, "Alister, this is my
+cousin, Captain Kilvert, of whom you have heard me speak."
+
+We murmured the usual formalities in the usual manner, but as my fingers
+touched his, I experienced the most curious sensation down the region of
+my spine. It took me back to Burma and a certain very uncomfortable
+night that I once passed in the jungle. But the impression was so
+fleeting as to be indefinable, and soon I was busy getting everyone
+settled in the car.
+
+So far, except that he possessed an exceptionally charming voice, I had
+no chance of forming an opinion of my cousin's _fiancé_. It was
+half-past seven when we got back to the house, so we all went straight
+up to our rooms to dress for dinner.
+
+Everyone was assembled in the drawing-room when Sir Alister Moeran came
+in, and I shall never forget the effect his appearance made.
+Conversation ceased entirely for an instant. There was a kind of
+breathless pause, which was almost audible as my uncle rose to greet
+him. In all my life I had never seen a handsomer man, and I don't
+suppose anyone else there had either. It was the most startling,
+arresting style of beauty one could possibly imagine, and yet, even as I
+stared at him in admiration, the word "Black!" flashed into my mind.
+
+Black! I pulled myself up sharply. We English, who have lived out in the
+East, are far too prone to stigmatise thus anyone who shows the smallest
+trace of being a "half breed"; but in Sir Alister's case there was not
+even a suspicion of this. He was no darker than scores of men of my own
+nationality, and besides, he belonged, I knew, to a very old Scottish
+family. Yet, try as I would to strangle the idea, all through the
+evening the same horrible, unaccountable notion clung to me.
+
+That he was the personality of the gathering there was not the slightest
+doubt. Men and women alike seemed attracted by him, for his
+individuality was on a par with his looks.
+
+Several times during dinner I glanced at Ethne, but it was easy to see
+that all her attention was taken up by her lover. Yet, oddly enough, I
+was not jealous in the ordinary way. I saw the folly of imagining that I
+could stand a chance against a man like Moeran, and, moreover, he
+interested me too deeply. His knowledge of the East was extraordinary,
+and later, when the ladies had retired, he related many curious
+experiences.
+
+"Might I ask," said my uncle's friend, Major Faucett, suddenly, "whether
+you were in the Service, or had you a Government appointment out there?"
+
+Sir Alister smiled, and under his moustache I caught the gleam of
+strong, white teeth.
+
+"As a matter of fact, neither. I am almost ashamed to say I have no
+profession, unless I may call myself an explorer."
+
+"And why not?" put in Uncle Bob. "Provided your explorations were to
+some purpose and of benefit to the community in general, I consider you
+are doing something worth while."
+
+"Exactly," Sir Alister replied. "From my earliest boyhood I have always
+had the strangest hankering for the East. I say strange, because to my
+parents it was inexplicable, neither of them having the slightest
+leaning in that direction, though to me it seemed the most natural
+desire in the world. I was like an alien in a foreign land, longing to
+get home. I recollect, as a child, my nurse thought me a beastly uncanny
+kid because I loved to lie in bed and listen to the cats howling and
+fighting outside. I used to put my head half under the blankets and
+imagine I was in my lair in the jungle, and those were the jackals and
+panthers prowling around outside."
+
+"I suppose you'd been reading adventure books," Uncle Bob said, with a
+laugh. "I played at much the same game when I was a youngster, only in
+my case it was Redskins."
+
+"Possibly," Sir Alister answered with a slight shrug, "only mine wasn't
+a game that I played with any other boys, it was a gnawing desire, which
+simply had to be satisfied; and the opportunity came. When I was
+fourteen, the father of a school friend of mine, who was going out to
+India, asked me to go out with him and the boy for the trip. Of course,
+I went."
+
+"I wonder," the Major remarked, "that you ever came back once you got
+there, since you were so frightfully keen."
+
+"I was certain I should return," he replied grimly.
+
+A pause followed his last words, then Uncle Bob rose and led the way to
+the drawing-room, where for the remainder of the evening Sir Alister was
+chiefly monopolised by the ladies.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Well, Maurice," Uncle Bob said, when on the following evening I was
+sitting in his study having my usual before-dinner chat with him, "and
+how do you like Ethne's future husband?"
+
+I hesitated. "I--I really don't know," I replied.
+
+"Come, boy," he said, with his whimsical smile, "why not be frank and
+own to a very natural jealousy?"
+
+"Because," I answered simply, "the feeling Sir Alister Moeran inspires
+in me is not jealousy, curiously enough. It's something else, something
+indefinable that comes over me now and again. Dogs don't like him, and
+that's always a bad sign, to my thinking."
+
+My uncle's bushy eyebrows went up slightly.
+
+"When did you make this discovery?"
+
+"This morning," I replied. "You know I took him and Ethne round the
+place. Well, the first thing I noticed was that Mike refused to come
+with us, although both Ethne and I called him. As we passed through the
+hall he slunk away into the library. I thought it a bit strange, as he's
+usually so frantic to go out with me. Still, I didn't attach any
+significance to the matter until later, when we visited the kennels. I
+don't know why, but one takes it for granted that a man is keen on dogs
+somehow and----"
+
+"Isn't Sir Alister?"
+
+"They are not keen on him, anyhow," I answered grimly. "They had heard
+my voice as we approached and were all barking with delight, but
+directly we entered the place there was a dead silence, save for a few
+ominous growls from Argo. It was a most extraordinary sight. They all
+bristled up, so to speak, sniffing the air though on the scent of
+something. I let Bess and Fritz loose, but instead of jumping up, as
+they usually do, they hung back and showed the whites of their eyes in a
+way I've never seen before. I actually had to whistle to them sharply
+several times before they came, and then it was in a slinking manner,
+taking good care to put Ethne and me between themselves and Moeran, and
+looking askance at him the whole while."
+
+"H'm!" murmured the General with puckered brows. "That was certainly
+odd, very odd!"
+
+"It was," I agreed, warming to the subject, "but there's odder still to
+come. I dare say you'll think it all my fancy, but the minute those
+animals put their heads up and sniffed in that peculiar way, I
+distinctly smelt the musky, savage odour of wild beasts. You know it
+well, anyone who has been through a jungle does."
+
+Uncle Bob nodded. "I know it, too; 'Musky' is the very word--the smell
+of sun-warmed fur. Jove, how it carries me back! I remember once, years
+ago, coming upon a litter of lion cubs, in a cave, when I was out in
+Africa----"
+
+"Yes! Yes!" I cried eagerly. "And that is what I smelt this morning.
+Those dogs smelt it, too. They felt that there was something alien,
+abnormal in their midst."
+
+"That something being--Sir Alister Moeran?"
+
+I felt myself flush up under his gaze. I got up and walked about the
+room.
+
+"I don't understand it," I said doggedly. "I tell you plainly, Uncle
+Bob, I don't understand. My impression of the man last night was
+'black,' but he's not black, I know that perfectly well, no more than
+you or I are, and yet I can't get over the behaviour of those hounds.
+It wasn't only one of 'em, it was the whole lot. They seemed to regard
+him as their natural enemy! And that smell! I'm sure Ethne detected it
+too, for she kept glancing about her in a startled, mystified way."
+
+"And Sir Alister?" queried the General. "Do you mean to say he did not
+notice anything amiss?"
+
+I shrugged my shoulders. "He didn't appear to. I called attention myself
+to the singular attitude of the hounds, and he said quite casually:
+'Dogs never do take to me much.'"
+
+Uncle Bob gave a short laugh. "Our friend is evidently not sensitive."
+He paused and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then added: "It certainly is
+rather curious, but, for Heaven's sake, boy, don't get imagining all
+sorts of things!"
+
+This nettled me and made me wish I had held my tongue. I was quite aware
+that my story might have sounded somewhat fantastic from a stranger;
+still, he ought to have known me better than to accuse me of
+imagination. I abruptly changed the subject, and shortly after left the
+room.
+
+But I could not banish from my mind the incident of the morning. I could
+not forget the appealing faces of those dogs. Ethne and Sir Alister had
+left me there and returned to the house together, and, after their
+departure, those poor, dumb beasts had gathered round me in a way that
+was absolutely pathetic, licking and fondling my hands, as though
+apologising for their previous misconduct. Still, I understood. That
+bristling up their spines was precisely the same sensation I had
+experienced when I first met Sir Alister Moeran.
+
+As I was slowly mounting the stairs on my way up to dress, I heard
+someone running up after me, and turned round to find Ethne beside me.
+
+"Maurice," she said, rather breathlessly, "tell me, you did not punish
+Fritz and Bess for not coming at once when you called them this
+morning?"
+
+"No," I answered.
+
+She gave a nervous little laugh. "I'm glad of that. I thought
+perhaps----" She stopped short, then rushed on, "You know how queer
+mother is about cats--can't bear one in the room, and how they always
+fly out directly she comes in? Well, dogs are the same with Alister.
+He--he told me so himself. It seems funny to me, and I suppose to you,
+because we're so fond of all kinds of animals; but I don't really see
+why it should be any more extraordinary to have an antipathy for dogs
+than for cats, and no one thinks anything of it if you dislike cats."
+
+"That is so," I said thoughtfully.
+
+"Anyway," she went on, "it is not our own fault if a certain animal does
+not instinctively take to us."
+
+"Of course not," I replied stoutly. "You're surely not worrying about
+it, are you?"
+
+She hastened to assure me that she was not, but I could see that my
+indorsing her opinion was a great relief to her. She had been afraid
+that I should think it unnatural. I did for that matter, but I could
+not, of course, tell her so.
+
+That night Sir Alister and I sat up late talking after the other men had
+retired. We had got on the subject of India and had been comparing notes
+as to our different adventures. From this we went on to discussing
+perilous situations and escapes, and it was then that he narrated to me
+a very curious incident.
+
+"It happened when I was only twenty-one," he said, "the year after my
+father died. I think I told you that as soon as ever I became my own
+master, I packed up and was off to the East. I had a friend with me, a
+boy who had been my best pal at school. They used to call us 'Black and
+White.' He was fair and girlish-looking, and his name was Buchanan. He
+was just as keen on India as I was, and purposed writing a book
+afterwards on our experiences.
+
+"Our intention was to explore the wildest, most savage districts, and as
+a start we selected the province of Orissa. The forests there are
+wonderful, and it is there, if anywhere, that the almost extinct Indian
+lion is still to be found. We engaged two sturdy hillmen to accompany us
+and pushed our way downwards from Calcutta over mountains, rivers and
+through some of the densest jungles I've ever traversed. It was on the
+outskirts of one of the latter that the tragedy took place. We had
+pitched our tents one evening after a long, tiring day, and turned in
+early to sleep, Buchanan and I in one, and the two Bhils in the other."
+
+Sir Alister paused for a few moments, toying with his cigar in an
+abstracted manner, then continued in the same clear, even voice:
+
+"When I awoke next morning, I found my friend lying beside me dead, and
+blood all round us! His throat was torn open by the teeth of some wild
+beast, his breast was horribly mauled and lacerated, and his eyes were
+wide, staring open, and their expression was awful. He must have died a
+hideous death and known it!"
+
+Again he stopped, but I made no comment, only waited with breathless
+interest till he went on.
+
+"I called the two men. They came and looked, and for the first time I
+saw terror written on their faces. Their nostrils quivered as though
+scenting something; then 'Tiger!' they gasped simultaneously.
+
+"One of them said he had heard a stifled scream in the night, but had
+thought it merely some animal in the jungle. The whole thing was a
+mystery. How I came to sleep undisturbed through it all, how I escaped
+the same fate, and why the tiger did not carry off his prey----"
+
+"You are sure it was a tiger?" I put in.
+
+"I think there was no doubt of it," Sir Alister replied. "The Bhils
+swore the teeth-marks were unmistakable, and not only that, but I saw
+another case seven years later. The body of a young woman was found in
+the compound outside my bungalow, done to death in precisely the same
+way. And several of the natives testified as to there being a tiger in
+that vicinity, for they had found three or four young goats destroyed in
+similar fashion."
+
+"Who was the girl?" I asked.
+
+Moeran slowly turned his lucent, amber eyes upon me as he answered. "She
+was a German, a sort of nursery governess at the English doctor's. He
+was naturally frightfully upset about it, and a regular panic sprang up
+in the neighbourhood. The natives got a superstitious scare--thought
+one of their gods was wroth about something and demanded sacrifice; but
+the white people were simply out to kill the tiger."
+
+"And did they?" I queried eagerly.
+
+Sir Alister shook his head. "That I can't say, as I left the place very
+soon afterwards and went up to the mountains."
+
+A long silence followed, during which I stared at him in mute
+fascination. Then an unaccountable impulse made me say abruptly:
+"Moeran, how old are you?"
+
+His finely-marked eyebrows went up in surprise at the irrelevance of my
+question, but he smiled.
+
+"Funny you should ask! It so happens that it's my birthday to-morrow. I
+shall be thirty-five."
+
+"Thirty-five!" I repeated. Then with a shiver I rose from my seat. The
+room seemed to have turned suddenly cold.
+
+"Come," I said, "let's go to bed."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Next night at dinner I proposed Sir Alister's health, and we all drank
+to him and his "bride-to-be." They had that day definitely settled the
+date of their marriage for two months ahead; Ethne was looking radiant
+and everyone seemed in the best of spirits.
+
+We danced and romped and played rowdy games like a pack of children.
+Nothing was too silly for us to attempt. While a one-step was in full
+swing some would-be wag suddenly turned off all the lights. It was then
+that for a moment I caught sight of a pair of glowing, fiery eyes
+shining through the darkness. Instantly my thoughts flew back to that
+meeting at the station, when I had fancied that Ethne had her dog in her
+arms. A chill, sinister feeling crept over me, but I kept my gaze fixed
+steadily in the same direction. The next minute the lights went up, and
+I found myself staring straight at Sir Alister Moeran. His arm was round
+Ethne's waist and she was smiling up into his face. Almost immediately
+they took up the dance again, and I and my partner followed suit. But
+all my gaiety had departed. An indefinable oppression seized me and
+clung to me for the rest of the evening.
+
+As I emerged from my room next morning I saw old Giles, the butler,
+hurrying down the corridor towards me.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Maurice--Captain Kilvert, sir!" he burst out, consternation in
+every line of his usually stolid countenance. "A dreadful thing has
+happened! How it's come about I can't for the life of me say, and how
+we're going to tell the General, the Lord only knows!"
+
+"What?" I asked, seizing him by the arm. "What is it?"
+
+"The dawg, sir," he answered in a hoarse whisper, "Mike--in the
+study----"
+
+I waited to hear no more, but strode off down the stairs, Giles hobbling
+beside me as fast as he could, and together we entered the study.
+
+In the middle of the floor lay the body of Mike. A horrible foreboding
+gripped me, and I quickly knelt down and raised the dog's head. His neck
+was torn open, bitten right through to the windpipe, the blood still
+dripping from it into a dark pool on the carpet.
+
+A cold, numbing sensation stole down my spine and made my legs grow
+suddenly weak. Beads of perspiration gathered on my forehead as I
+slowly rose to my feet and faced Giles.
+
+"What's the meaning of it, sir?" he asked, passing his hand across his
+brow in utter bewilderment. "That dawg was as right as possible when I
+shut up last night, and he couldn't have got out."
+
+"No," I answered mechanically, "he couldn't have got out."
+
+"Looks like some wild beast had attacked him," muttered the old man, in
+awed tones, as he bent over the lifeless body. "D'ye see the teeth
+marks, sir? But it's not possible--not possible."
+
+"No," I said again, in the same wooden fashion. "It's not possible."
+
+"But how're we going to account for it to the General?" he cried
+brokenly. "Oh, Mr. Maurice, sir, it's dreadful!"
+
+I nodded. "You're right, Giles! Still, it isn't your fault, nor mine.
+Leave the matter to me. I'll break it to my uncle."
+
+It was a most unenviable task, but I did it. Poor Uncle Bob! I shall
+never forget his face when he saw the mutilated body of the dog that for
+years had been his faithful companion. He almost wept, only rage and
+resentment against the murderer were so strong in him that they thrust
+grief for the time into the background. The mysterious, incomprehensible
+manner of the dog's death only added to his anger, for there was
+apparently no one on whom to wreak his vengeance.
+
+The news caused general concern throughout the house, and Ethne was
+frightfully upset.
+
+"Oh, Alister, isn't it awful?" she exclaimed, tears standing in her
+pretty blue eyes. "Poor, darling Mike!"
+
+"Yes," he answered rather absently. "It's most unfortunate. Valuable
+dog, too, wasn't it?"
+
+I walked away. The man's calm, handsome face filled me suddenly with
+unspeakable revulsion. The atmosphere of the room seemed to become heavy
+and noisome. I felt compelled to get out into the open to breathe.
+
+I found the General tramping up and down the drive in the rain, his chin
+sunk deep into the collar of his overcoat, his hat pulled low down over
+his eyes. I joined him without speaking, and in silence we paced side by
+side for another quarter of an hour.
+
+"Uncle Bob," I said abruptly at last, "take my advice. Have one of the
+hounds indoors to-night--Princep, he's a good watch-dog."
+
+The General stopped short in his walk and looked at me.
+
+"You've something on your mind, boy. What is it?"
+
+"This," I answered grimly. "Whoever, or whatever killed Mike was in the
+house last night, or got in, after Giles shut up. It may still be there
+for all we know. In the dark, dark deeds are done, and--well, I think
+it's wise to take precautions."
+
+"Good God, Maurice, if there is any creature in hiding, we'll soon have
+it out! I'll have the place searched now. But the thing's impossible,
+absurd!"
+
+I shrugged my shoulders. "Then Mike died a natural death?"
+
+"Natural?" he echoed fiercely. "Don't talk rubbish!"
+
+"In that case," I said quietly, "you'll agree to let one of the dogs
+sleep in."
+
+He gave me a long, troubled, searching look, then said gruffly: "Very
+well, but don't make any fuss about it. Women are such nervous beings
+and we don't want to upset anyone."
+
+"You needn't be afraid of that," I replied, "I'll manage it all right."
+
+There was no further talk of Mike that day. The visitors, seeing how
+distressed the General was, by tacit consent avoided the subject, but
+everyone felt the dampening effect.
+
+That night, before I retired to my room, I took a lantern, went out to
+the kennels and brought in Princep, a pure-bred Irish setter. He was a
+dog of exceptional intelligence, and when I spoke to him, explaining the
+reason of his presence indoors, he seemed to know instinctively what was
+required of him.
+
+As I passed the study I noticed a light coming from under the door.
+Somewhat surprised, I turned the handle and looked in. My uncle was
+seated before his desk in the act of loading a revolver. He glanced up
+sharply as I entered.
+
+"Oh, it's you, is it? Got the dog in?"
+
+"Yes," I replied, "I've left him in the library with the door open."
+
+He regarded the revolver pensively for a few moments, then laid it down
+in front of him.
+
+"You've no theory as to this--this business?"
+
+I shook my head, I could offer no explanation. Yet all the while there
+lurked, deep down in my heart, a hideous suspicion, a suspicion so
+monstrous that had I voiced it, I should probably have been considered
+mad. And so I held my peace on the subject and merely wished my uncle
+good-night.
+
+It was about one o'clock when I got into bed, but my brain was far too
+agitated for sleep. Something I had heard years ago, some old wives'
+tales about a man's life changing every seven years, kept dinning in my
+head. I was striving to remember how the story went, when a slight sound
+outside caught my ear. In a second I was out of bed and had silently
+opened the door. As I did so, someone passed close by me down the
+corridor.
+
+Cautiously, with beating heart, I crept out and followed. However, I
+almost exclaimed aloud in my amazement, for the light from a window fell
+full on the figure ahead of me, and I recognised my cousin Ethne. She
+was sleep-walking, a habit she had had from her childhood, and which
+apparently she had never outgrown.
+
+For some minutes I stood there, undecided how to act, while she passed
+on down the stairs, out of sight. To wake her I knew would be wrong. I
+knew, also, that she had walked thus a score of times without coming to
+any harm. There was, therefore, no reason why I should not return to my
+room and leave her to her wandering, yet still I remained rooted to the
+spot, all my senses strained, alert. And then suddenly I heard Princep
+whine. A series of low, stertorous growls followed, growls that made my
+blood run cold! With swift, noiseless steps, I stole along to the
+minstrel's gallery which overlooked that portion of the hall that
+communicated with the library. As I did so, there arose from immediately
+below me a succession of sharp snarls, such as a dog gives when he is
+in deadly fear or pain.
+
+A shaft of moonlight fell across the polished floor, and by its aid I
+was just able to distinguish the form of Princep crouched against the
+wainscoting. He was breathing heavily, his head turned all the while
+towards the opposite side of the room. I looked in the same direction.
+Out of the darkness gleamed two fiery, golden orbs, two eyes that moved
+slowly to and fro, backwards and forwards, as though the Thing were
+prowling round and round. Now it seemed to crouch as though ready to
+spring, and I could hear the savage growling as of some beast of prey.
+
+As I watched, horrified, fascinated, a _portière_ close by was lifted,
+and the white-robed figure of Ethne appeared. All heedless of danger she
+came on across the hall, and the Thing, with soft, stealthy tread, came
+after her. I knew then that there was not an instant to be lost, and
+like a flash I darted along the gallery and down the stairs. But ere I
+gained the hall a piercing scream rent the air, and I was just in time
+to see Ethne borne to the ground by a great, dark form, which had sprung
+at her like a tiger.
+
+Half frantic, I dashed forward, snatching as I did so a rapier from the
+wall, the only weapon handy. But before I reached the spot, a voice from
+the study doorway called: "Stop!" and the next moment the report of a
+pistol rang out.
+
+"Good God!" I cried. "Who have you shot?"
+
+"Not the girl," answered the grim voice of my uncle, "you may trust my
+aim for that! I fired at the eyes of the Thing. Here, quick, get lights
+and let's see what has happened."
+
+But my one and only thought was for Ethne. Moving across to the dark
+mass on the floor, I stretched out my hand. My fingers touched a smooth,
+fabric-like cloth, but the smell was the smell of fur, the musky,
+sun-warmed fur of the jungle! With sickening repugnance, I seized the
+Thing by its two broad shoulders and rolled it over. Then I carefully
+raised Ethne from the ground. At that moment Giles and a footman
+appeared with candles. In silence my uncle took one and came towards me,
+the servants with scared, blanched countenances following.
+
+The light fell full upon the dead, upturned face of Sir Alister Moeran.
+His upper lip was drawn back, showing the strong, white teeth. The two
+front ones were tipped with blood. Instantly my eyes turned to Ethne's
+throat, and there I saw deep, horrible marks, like the marks of a
+tiger's fangs; but, thank God, they had not penetrated far enough to do
+any serious injury! My uncle's shot had come just in time to save her.
+
+"Merely fainted, hasn't she?" he asked anxiously.
+
+I nodded. My relief at finding this was so, was too great for words.
+
+"Heaven be praised!" I heard him mutter. Then lifting my beautiful,
+unconscious burden in my arms, I carried her upstairs to her room.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Can I explain, can anyone explain, the mysterious vagaries of atavism? I
+only know that there are amongst us, rare instances fortunately, but
+existent nevertheless--men with the souls of beasts. They may be
+cognisant of the fact or otherwise. In the case of Sir Alister I feel
+sure it was the latter. He had probably no more idea than I what
+far-reaching, evil strain it was that came out in his blood and turned
+him, every seven years, practically into a vampire.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+THE KISS
+
+
+The quiet of the deserted building incircled the little, glowing room as
+the velvet incircles the jewel in its case. Occasionally faint sounds
+came from the distance--the movements of cleaners at work, a raised
+voice, the slamming of a door.
+
+The man sat at his desk, as he had sat through the busy day, but he had
+turned sideways in his seat, the better to regard the other occupant of
+the room.
+
+She was not beautiful--had no need to be. Her call to him had been the
+saner call of mind to mind. That he desired, besides, the passing
+benediction of her hands, the fragrance of her corn-gold hair, the sight
+of her slenderness: this she had guessed and gloried in. Till now, he
+had touched her physical self neither in word nor deed. To-night, she
+knew, the barriers would be down; to-night they would kiss.
+
+Her quiet eyes, held by his during the spell that had bound them
+speechless, did not flinch at the breaking of it.
+
+"The Lord made the world and then He made this rotten old office," the
+man said quietly. "Into it He put you--and me. What, before that day,
+has gone to the making and marring of me, and the making and perfecting
+of you, is not to the point. It is enough that we have realised, heart,
+and soul, and body, that you are mine and I am yours."
+
+"Yes," she said.
+
+He fell silent again, his eyes on her hungrily. She felt them and longed
+for his touch. But there came only his voice.
+
+"I want you. The first moment I saw you I wanted you. I thought then
+that, whatever the cost, I would have you. That was in the early days of
+our talks here--before you made it so courageously clear to me that it
+would never be possible for you to ignore my marriage and come to me.
+That is still so, isn't it?"
+
+She moved slightly, like a dreamer in pain, as again she faced the creed
+she had hated through many a sleepless night.
+
+"It is so," she agreed. "And because it is so, you are going away
+to-morrow."
+
+"Yes."
+
+They looked at each other across the foot or two of intervening space.
+It was a look to bridge death with. But even beneath their suffering,
+her eyes voiced the tremulous waiting of her lips.
+
+At last he found words.
+
+"You are the most wonderful woman in the world--the pluckiest, the most
+completely understanding; you have the widest charity. I suppose I ought
+to thank you for it all; I can't--that's not my way. I have always
+demanded of you, demanded enormously, and received my measure pressed
+down and running over. Now I am going to ask this last thing of you:
+will you, of your goodness, go away--upstairs, anywhere--and come back
+in ten minutes' time? By then I shall have cleared out."
+
+She looked at him almost incredulously, lips parted. Suddenly she seemed
+a child.
+
+"You--I----" she stammered. Then rising to her feet, with a superb
+simplicity: "But, you must kiss me before you go. You must! You--simply
+_must_."
+
+For the space of a flaming moment it seemed that in one stride he would
+have crossed to her side, caught and held her.
+
+"For God's sake----!" he muttered, in almost ludicrous fear of himself.
+Then, with a big effort, he regained his self-control.
+
+"Listen," he said hoarsely. "I want to kiss you so much that I daren't
+even get to my feet. Do you understand what that means? Think of it,
+just for a moment, and then realise that _I am not going to kiss you_.
+And I have kissed many women in my time, too, and shall kiss more, no
+doubt."
+
+"But it's not because of that----?"
+
+"That I'm holding back? No. Neither is it because I funk the torture of
+kissing you once and letting you go. It's because I'm afraid--for
+_you_."
+
+"For me?"
+
+"Listen. You have unfolded your beliefs to me and, though I don't hold
+them--don't attempt to live up to your lights--the realisation of them
+has given me a reverence for you that you don't dream of. I have put you
+in a shrine and knelt to you; every time you have sat in that chair and
+talked with me, I have worshipped you."
+
+"It would not alter--all that," the girl said faintly, "if you kissed
+me."
+
+"I don't believe that; neither do you--no, you don't! In your heart of
+hearts you admit that a woman like you is not kissed for the first and
+last time by a man like me. Suppose I kissed you now? I should awaken
+something in you as yet half asleep. You're young and pulsing with life,
+and there are--thank Heaven!--few layers of that damnable young-girl
+shyness over you. The world would call you primitive, I suppose."
+
+"But I don't----"
+
+"Oh, Lord, you must see it's all or nothing! You surely understand that
+after I had left you you would not go against your morality, perhaps,
+but you would adjust it, in spite of yourself, to meet your desires! I
+cannot--safely--kiss you."
+
+"But you are going away for good!"
+
+"For good! Child, do you think my going will be your safeguard? If you
+wanted me so much that you came to think it was right and good to want
+me, wouldn't you find me, send for me, call for me? And I should come.
+God! I can see the look in your eyes now, when the want had been
+satisfied, and you could not drug your creed any more."
+
+Her breath came in a long sigh. Then she tried to speak; tried again.
+
+"It is so, isn't it?" he asked.
+
+She nodded. Speech was too difficult. With the movement a strand of the
+corn-gold hair came tumbling down the side of her face.
+
+"Then, that being the case," said the man, with infinite gentleness, his
+eyes on the little, tumbling lock, "I shall not attempt so much as to
+touch your hand before you leave the room."
+
+At the door she turned.
+
+"Tell me once again," she said. "You _want_ to kiss me?"
+
+He gripped the arms of his chair; from where she stood, she could see
+the veins standing out on his hands.
+
+"I want to kiss you," he said fiercely. "I want to kiss you. If there
+were any way of cutting off to-morrow--all the to-morrows--with the
+danger they hold for us--I would kiss you. I would kiss you, and kiss
+you, and kiss you!"
+
+
+II
+
+Where her feet took her during the thousand, thousand years that was his
+going she could never afterwards say; but she found herself at last at
+the top of the great building, at an open window, leaning out, with the
+rain beating into her eyes.
+
+Far below her the lights wavered and later she remembered that echoes of
+a far-off tumult had reached her as she sat. But her ears held only the
+memory of a man's footsteps--the eager tread that had never lingered so
+much as a second's space on its way to her; that had often stumbled
+slightly on the threshold of her presence; that she had heard and
+welcomed in her dreams; that would not come again.
+
+The raindrops lay like tears upon her face.
+
+She brushed them aside, and, rising, put up her hands to feel the wet
+lying heavy on her hair. The coldness of her limbs surprised her
+faintly. Downstairs she went again, the echoes mocking every step.
+
+She closed the door of the room behind her and idly cleared a scrap of
+paper from a chair. Mechanically her hands went to the litter on his
+desk and she had straightened it all before she realised that there was
+no longer any need. To-morrow would bring a voice she did not know;
+would usher a stranger into her room to take her measure from behind a
+barrier of formality. For the rest there would be work, and food, and
+sleep.
+
+These things would make life--life that had been love.
+
+She put on her hat and coat. The room seemed smaller somehow and
+shabbier. The shaded lights that had invited, now merely irritated; the
+whimsical disorder of books and papers spoke only of an uncompleted
+task. Gone was the glamour and the promise and the good comradeship. He
+had taken them all. She faced to-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow
+empty-handed--in her heart the memory of words that had seared and
+healed in a breath, and the dead dream of a kiss. Her throat ached with
+the pain of it.
+
+And then suddenly she heard him coming back!
+
+She stiffened. For one instant, mind and body, she was rigid with the
+sheer wonder of it. Then, as the atmosphere of the room surged back,
+tense with vitality, her mind leapt forward in welcome. He was coming
+back, coming back! The words hammered themselves out to the rhythm of
+the eager tread that never lingered so much as a second's space on its
+way to her, that stumbled slightly on the threshold of her presence.
+
+By some queer, reflex twist of memory, her hands brushed imaginary
+raindrops from her face and strayed uncertainly to where the wet had
+lain on her hair.
+
+The door opened and closed behind him.
+
+"I've come back. I've come back to kiss you. Dear--_dear_!"
+
+Her outflung hand checked him in his stride towards her. Words came
+stammering to her lips.
+
+"Why--but--this isn't--I don't understand! All you said--it was true,
+surely? It was cruel of you to make me know it was true and then come
+back!"
+
+"Let me kiss you--let me, let me!" He was overwhelming her, ignoring her
+resistance. "I must kiss you, I must kiss you." He said it again and
+again.
+
+"No, no, you shan't--you can't play with me! You said you were afraid
+for me, and you made me afraid, too--of my weakness--of the danger--of
+my longing for you----"
+
+"Let me kiss you! Yes, you shall let me; you _shall_ let me." His arms
+held her, his face touched hers.
+
+"Aren't you afraid any more? Has a miracle happened--may we kiss in
+spite of to-morrow?"
+
+Inch by inch she was relaxing. All thought was slipping away into a
+great white light that held no to-morrows, nor any fear of them, nor of
+herself, nor of anything. The light crept to her feet, rose to her
+heart, her head. Through the radiance came his words.
+
+"Yes, a miracle. Oh, my dear--my little child! I've come back to kiss
+you, little child."
+
+"Kiss me, then," she said against his lips.
+
+
+III
+
+Hazily she was aware that he had released her; that she had raised her
+head; that against the rough tweed of his shoulder there lay a long,
+corn-gold hair.
+
+She laughed shakily and her hand went up to remove it; but he caught her
+fingers and held them to his face. And with the movement and his look
+there came over her in a wave the shame of her surrender, a shame that
+was yet a glory, a diadem of pride. She turned blindly away.
+
+"Please," she heard herself saying, "let me go now. I want to be alone.
+I want to--please don't tell me to-night. To-morrow----"
+
+She was at the door, groping for the handle. Behind her she heard his
+voice; it was very tender.
+
+"I shall always kneel to you--in your shrine."
+
+Then she was outside, and the chilly passages were cooling her burning
+face. She had left him in the room behind her; and she knew he would
+wait there long enough to allow her to leave the building. Almost
+immediately, it seemed, she was downstairs in the hall, had reached the
+entrance.
+
+She confronted a group of white-faced, silent men.
+
+"Why, is anything the matter? What has happened? O'Dell?"
+
+The porter stood forward. He cleared his throat twice, but for all that,
+his words were barely audible.
+
+"Yes, Miss Carryll. Good-night, miss. You'd best be going on, miss, if
+you'll excuse----"
+
+Behind O'Dell stood a policeman; behind him again, a grave-eyed man
+stooped to an unusual task. It arrested her attention like the flash of
+red danger.
+
+"Why is the door of your room being locked, O'Dell?" She knew her
+curiosity was indecent, but some powerful premonition was stirring in
+her, and she could not pass on. "Has there been an accident? Who is in
+there?"
+
+Then, almost under her feet, she saw a dark pool lying sluggishly
+against the tiles; nearer the door another--on the pavement outside
+another--and yet another. She gasped, drew back, felt horribly sick;
+and, as she turned, she caught O'Dell's muttered aside to the policeman.
+
+"Young lady's 'is seccereterry--must be the last that seen 'im alive.
+All told, 'tain't more'n 'arf-an-'our since 'e left. 'Good-night,
+O'Dell,' sez 'e. 'Miss Carryll's still working--don't lock 'er in,' sez
+'e. Would 'ave 'is joke. Must 'ave gone round the corner an' slap inter
+the car. Wish to God the amberlance----"
+
+Her cry cut into his words as she flung herself forward. Her fingers
+wrenched at the key of the locked door and turned it, in spite of the
+detaining hands that seemed light as leaves upon her shoulder, and as
+easily shaken off. Unhearing, unheeding, she forced her way into the
+glare of electric light flooding the little room--beating down on to the
+table and its sheeted burden. Before she reached it, knowledge had
+dropped upon her like a mantle.
+
+Her face was grey as the one from which she drew the merciful coverings,
+but her eyes went fearlessly to that which she sought.
+
+Against the rough tweed of the shoulder lay a long, corn-gold hair.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+THE GOTH
+
+
+Young Cargill smiled as Mrs. Lardner finished her account.
+
+"And do you really think that the fact that the poor chap was drowned
+had anything to do with it?" he asked. "Why, you admit yourself that he
+was known to have been drinking just before he fell out of his boat!"
+
+"You may say what you like," returned his hostess impressively, "but
+since first we came to live at Tryn yr Wylfa only four people besides
+poor Roberts have defied the Fates, and each of them was drowned within
+the year.
+
+"They were all tourists," she added with something suspiciously like
+satisfaction.
+
+"I am not a superstitious man myself," supplemented the Major. "But you
+can't get away from the facts, you know, Cargill."
+
+Cargill said no more. He perceived that they had lived long enough in
+retirement in the little Welsh village to have acquired a pride in its
+legend.
+
+The legend and the mountains are the two attractions of Tryn yr
+Wylfa--the official guidebook devotes an equal amount of space to each.
+It will tell you that the bay, across which the quarry's tramp steamers
+now sail, was once dry land on which stood a village. Deep in the water
+the remains of this village can still be seen in clear weather. But
+whosoever dares to look upon them will be drowned within the year. A
+local publication gives full details of those who have looked--and
+perished.
+
+The legend had received an unexpected boom in the drowning of Roberts,
+which had just occurred. Roberts was a fisherman who had recently come
+from the South. One calm day in February he had rowed out into the bay
+in fulfilment of a drunken boast. He was drowned three days before
+Midsummer.
+
+After dinner young Cargill forgot about it. He forgot almost everything
+except Betty Lardner. But, oddly enough, as he walked back to the hotel
+it was just Betty Lardner who made him think again of the legend. He was
+in love, and, being very young, wanted to do something insanely heroic.
+To defy the Fates by looking on the sunken village was an obvious outlet
+for heroism.
+
+He must have thought a good deal about it before he fell asleep, for he
+remembered his resolution on the following morning.
+
+After breakfast he sauntered along the brief strip of asphalt which the
+villagers believe to be a promenade. He was not actually thinking of the
+legend; to be precise, he was thinking of Betty Lardner, but he was
+suddenly reminded of it by a boatman pressing him for his custom.
+
+"Yes," he said abruptly. "I will hire your boat if you will row me out
+to the sunken village. I want to look at it."
+
+The Welshman eyed him suspiciously, perceived that he was not joking,
+and shook his head.
+
+"Come," persisted Cargill, "I will make it a sovereign if you care to do
+it."
+
+"Thank you, but indeed, no, sir," replied the Welshman. "Not if it wass
+a hundred sofereigns!"
+
+"Surely you are not afraid?"
+
+"It iss not fit," retorted the Welshman, turning on his heel.
+
+It was probably this opposition that made young Cargill decide that it
+would be really worth while to defy the legend.
+
+He did not approach the only other boatman. He considered the question
+of swimming. The knowledge that the distance there and back was nearly
+five miles did not render the feat impossible, for he was a champion
+swimmer.
+
+But he soon thought of a better way. He went back to the hotel and
+sought out Bissett. Bissett was a fellow member of the Middle Temple, as
+contentedly briefless as himself. And Bissett possessed a motor-boat.
+
+Bissett was not exactly keen on the prospect.
+
+"Don't you think it is rather a silly thing to do?" he reasoned. "Of
+course it's all rot in a way--it must be. But isn't it just as well to
+treat that sort of thing with respect?"
+
+Eventually he agreed to take the motor-boat to within a few hundred
+yards of the spot. They would tow a dinghy, in which young Cargill could
+finish the journey.
+
+It took young Cargill half-an-hour to find the spot. But he did find it,
+and he did look upon, and actually see, all that remained of the sunken
+village.
+
+He felt vaguely ashamed of himself when he returned to dry land. He
+noticed that several of the villagers gave him unfriendly glances; and
+he resolved that he would say nothing of the matter to the Lardners.
+
+They were having tea on the lawn when he dropped in. He thought that
+Mrs. Lardner's welcome was a trifle chilly. After tea Betty executed a
+quite deliberate man[oe]uvre to avoid having him for a partner at
+tennis. But he ran her to earth later, when they were picking up the
+balls.
+
+"How _could_ you?" was all she said.
+
+"I--I didn't know you knew," he stammered weakly.
+
+"Of course everybody knows! It was all over the village before you
+returned.
+
+"Can't you see what that legend meant to us?" she went on. "It was a
+thing of beauty. And now you have spoilt it. It's like burning down the
+trees of the Fairy Glen. You--you _Goth_!"
+
+"But suppose I am drowned before the year is out--like Roberts?" he
+suggested jocularly.
+
+"Then I will forgive you," she said. And to Cargill it sounded exactly
+as if she meant what she said.
+
+A few days later he returned to town. For six months he thought little
+about the legend. Then he was reminded of it.
+
+He had been spending a week-end at Brighton. On the return journey he
+had a first-class smoker in the rear of the train to himself. Towards
+the end of the hour he dozed and dreamt of the day he had looked on the
+sunken village. He was awakened when the train made its usual stop on
+the bridge outside Victoria.
+
+It had been a pleasant dream, and he was still trying to preserve the
+illusion when his eye fell lazily on the window, and he noticed that
+there was a dense fog.
+
+"Bit rough on the legend that I happened to be a Londoner!" he mused.
+"It isn't easy to drown a man in town!"
+
+He stood up with the object of removing his dressing-case from the rack.
+But before he reached it there was the shriek of a whistle, a violent
+shock, and he was hurled heavily into the opposite seat.
+
+It was not a collision in the newspaper sense of the word. No one was
+hurt. A local train, creeping along at four miles an hour, had simply
+missed its signal in the fog and bumped the Brighton train.
+
+Young Cargill, in common with most other passengers put his head out of
+the window. He saw nothing--except the parapet of the bridge.
+
+"By God!" he muttered. "If that other train had been going a little
+faster----"
+
+He could just hear the river gurgling beneath him.
+
+He had got over his fright by the time he reached Victoria.
+
+"Just a common-place accident," he assured himself, as he drove in a
+taxi-cab to his chambers. "That's the worst of it! If I happened to be
+drowned in the ordinary way they'd swear it was the legend. I suppose,
+for that reason, I had better not take any risks. Anyhow, I needn't go
+near the sea until the year is out!"
+
+The superstitious would doubtless affirm that the Fates had sent him one
+warning and, angered at his refusal to accept it, had determined to
+drive home the lesson of his own impotence. For when he arrived at his
+chambers he found a cablegram from Paris awaiting him.
+
+"Hullo, this must be from Uncle Peter!" he exclaimed, as he tore open
+the envelope.
+
+"_Fear uncle dying. Come at once.--Machell._"
+
+Machell was the elder Cargill's secretary, and young Cargill was the old
+man's heir.
+
+It was not until he was in the boat-train that he realised that he was
+about to cross the sea.
+
+It was a coincidence--an odd coincidence. When the ship tossed in an
+unusually rough crossing he was prepared to admit to himself that it was
+an uncanny coincidence.
+
+He stayed a week in Paris for his uncle's funeral. When he made the
+return journey the Channel was like the proverbial mill pond. But it was
+not until the ship had actually put into Dover that he laughed at the
+failure of the Fates to take the opportunity to drown him.
+
+He laughed, to be exact, as he was stepping down the gangway. At the end
+of the gangway the fold of the rug which he was carrying on his arm,
+caught in the railings. He turned sharply to free it and stepping back,
+cannoned into an officer of the dock. It threw him off his balance on
+the edge of the dockside.
+
+Even if the official had not grabbed him, it is highly probable that he
+could have saved himself from falling into the water, because the
+gangway railing was in easy reach; and if you remember that he was a
+champion swimmer, you will agree that it is still more probable that he
+would not have been drowned, even if he had fallen.
+
+But the incident made its impression. His thoughts reverted to it
+constantly during the next few days. Then he told himself that his
+attendance at the last rites of his uncle had made him morbid, and was
+more or less successful in dismissing the affair from his mind.
+
+He had many friends in common with the Lardners. Early in February he
+was invited for a week's hunting to a house at which Betty Lardner was
+also a guest.
+
+She had not forgotten. She did her best to avoid him, and succeeded
+remarkably well, in spite of the fact that their hostess, knowing
+something of young Cargill's feelings, made several efforts to throw
+them together.
+
+One day at the end of the hunt he came alongside of her and they walked
+their horses home together. When he was sure that they were out of
+earshot he asked:
+
+"You haven't forgiven me yet?"
+
+"You know the conditions," she replied banteringly.
+
+"You leave me no alternative to suicide," he protested.
+
+"That would be cheating," she said. "You must be drowned honestly, or
+it's no good."
+
+Then he made a foolish reply. He thought her humour forced and it
+annoyed him. Remember that he was exasperated. He had looked forward to
+meeting her, and now she was treating him with studied coldness over
+what still seemed to him a comparatively trifling matter.
+
+"I am afraid," he said, "that that is hardly likely to occur. The fact
+of my being a townsman instead of a drunken boatman doesn't give your
+legend a fair chance!"
+
+Less than an hour afterwards he was having his bath before dressing for
+dinner. The water was deliciously hot, and the room was full of steam.
+As he lay in the bath a drowsiness stole over him. Enjoying the keen
+physical pleasure of it, he thought what a wholly delightful thing was a
+hot bath after a day's hard hunting. His mind, bordering on sleep, dwelt
+lazily on hot baths in general. And then with a startling suddenness
+came the thought that, before now, men had been drowned in their baths!
+
+With a shock he realised that he had almost fallen asleep. He tried to
+rouse himself, but a faintness had seized him. That steam--he could not
+breathe! He was certain he was going to faint.
+
+With a desperate effort of the will he hurled himself out of the bath
+and threw open the window.
+
+It must have been the bath episode that first aroused the sensation of
+positive fear in Cargill. For it was almost a month later when he
+surprised the secretary of that swimming club of which he was the main
+pillar by his refusal to take part in any events for the coming season.
+
+He was beginning to take precautions.
+
+Late one night, when taxi-cabs were scarce, he found that his quickest
+way to reach home would be by means of one of the tubes. He was in the
+descending lift when he suddenly remembered that that particular tube
+ran beneath the river. Suppose an accident should occur--a leakage!
+After all such a thing was within the bounds of possibility. Instantly
+there rose before him the vision of a black torrent roaring through the
+tunnel.
+
+Without waiting for the lift to ascend he rushed to the staircase, and
+sweating with terror gained the street and bribed a loafer to find him a
+cab.
+
+He made an effort to take himself seriously in hand after that. More
+than one acquaintance had lately told him that he was looking "nervy."
+In the last few weeks his sane and normal self seemed to have shrunk
+within him. But it was still capable of asserting itself under
+favourable conditions. It would talk aloud to the rest of him as if to a
+separate individual.
+
+"Look here, old man, this superstitious nonsense is becoming an
+obsession to you," it said one fine April morning. "Yes, I mean what I
+say--an obsession! You must pull yourself together or you'll go stark
+mad, and then you'll probably go and throw yourself over the Embankment.
+That legend is all bosh! You're in the twentieth century, and you're not
+a drunken fisherman----"
+
+"Hullo, young Cargill!"
+
+The door burst open and Stranack, oozing health and sanity, glared at
+him.
+
+"Jove! What a wreck you look!" continued Stranack. "You've been
+frousting too much. I'm glad I came. The car's outside, and we'll run
+down to Kingston, take a skiff and pull up to Molesey."
+
+The river! Young Cargill felt the blood singing in his ears.
+
+"I'm afraid I can't manage it. I--I've got an appointment this
+afternoon," he stammered.
+
+Stranack perceived that he was lying, and wondered. For a few minutes
+he gossiped, while young Cargill was repeating to himself:
+
+"You must pull yourself together. It's becoming an obsession. You must
+pull yourself together."
+
+He was vaguely conscious that Stranack was about to depart. Stranack was
+already in the doorway. His chance of killing the obsession was slipping
+from him! A special effort and then:
+
+"Stop!" cried Cargill. "I--I'll come with you, Stranack."
+
+Oddly enough, he felt much better when they were actually on the river.
+He had never been afraid of water, as such. And the familiar scenery,
+together with the wholesome exercise of sculling, acted as a tonic to
+his nerves.
+
+They pulled above Molesey lock. When they were returning, Stranack said:
+
+"You'll take her through the lock, won't you?"
+
+It was a needless remark, and if Stranack had not made it all might have
+been well. As a fact, it set Cargill asking himself why he should not
+take her through the lock. He was admitted to be a much better boatman
+than Stranack, and everyone knew that it required a certain amount of
+skill to manage a lock properly. Locks were dangerous if you played the
+fool. Before now people had been drowned in locks.
+
+The rest was inevitable. He lost his head as the lower gates swung open,
+and broke the rule of the river by pushing out in front of a launch. The
+launch was already under way, and young Cargill trying to avoid it
+better, thrust with his boat-hook at the side of the lock. The thrust
+was nervous and ill-calculated, and the next instant the skiff had
+blundered under the bows of the launch.
+
+It happened very quickly. The skiff was forced, broadside on, against
+the lock gates, and was splintered like firewood. Cargill fell
+backwards, struck his head heavily against the gates--and sank.
+
+He returned to consciousness in the lock-keeper's lodge. He had been
+under water a dangerously long time before Stranack, who had suffered no
+more than a wetting, had found him. It had been touch and go for his
+life, but artificial respiration had succeeded.
+
+He soon went to pieces after that.
+
+From one of the windows of his chambers the river was just visible. One
+morning he deliberately pulled the blind down. The action was important.
+It signified that he had definitely given up pretending that he had the
+power of shaking off the obsession.
+
+But if he could not shake it off, he could at least keep it temporarily
+at bay. He started a guerilla campaign against the obsession with the
+aid of the brandy bottle. He was rarely drunk, and as rarely sober.
+
+He was sober the day he was compelled to call on an aunt who lived in
+the still prosperous outskirts of Paddington. It was one of his good
+days and, in spite of his sobriety, he had himself in very good control
+when he left his aunt.
+
+In his search for a cab it became necessary for him to cross the canal.
+On the bridge he paused and, gripping the parapet, made a surprise
+attack upon his enemy.
+
+Some children, playing on the tow path, helped him considerably. Their
+delightful sanity in the presence of the water was worth more to him
+than the brandy. He was positively winning the battle, when one of the
+children fell into the water.
+
+For an instant he hesitated. Then, as on the night of the Tube episode,
+panic seized him. The next instant the man who was probably the best
+amateur swimmer in England, was running with all his might away from the
+canal.
+
+When he reached his chambers he waited, with the assistance of the
+brandy, until his man brought him the last edition of the evening paper.
+A tiny paragraph on the back sheet told him of the tragedy.
+
+An hour later his man found him face downwards on the hearthrug and,
+wrongly attributing his condition wholly to the brandy, put him to bed.
+
+He was in bed about three weeks. The doctor, who was also a personal
+friend, was shrewd enough to suspect that the brandy was the effect,
+rather than the cause of the nerve trouble.
+
+About the first week in June Cargill was allowed to get up.
+
+"You've got to go away," said the doctor one morning. "You are probably
+aware that your nerves have gone to pieces. The sea is the place for
+you!"
+
+The gasp that followed was scarcely audible, and the doctor missed it.
+
+"You went to Tryn yr Wylfa about this time last year," continued the
+doctor. "Go there again! Go for long walks on the mountains, and put up
+at a temperance hotel."
+
+He went to Tryn yr Wylfa.
+
+The train journey of six hours knocked him up for another week. By the
+time he was strong enough for the promenade it was the fourteenth of
+June. He noticed the date on the hotel calendar, and realised that the
+Fates had another ten days in which to drown him.
+
+He did not call on the Lardners. He felt that he couldn't--after the
+canal episode. Four of the ten days had passed before Betty Lardner ran
+across him on the promenade.
+
+She noticed at once the change in him, and was kinder than she had ever
+been before.
+
+"Next Saturday," he said, "is the anniversary!"
+
+For answer she smiled at him, and he might have smiled back if he had
+not remembered the canal.
+
+She met him each morning after that, so that she was with him on the day
+when he made his atonement.
+
+There had been a violent storm in the early morning. It had driven one
+of the quarry steamers on to the long sand-bank that lies submerged
+between Tryn yr Wylfa and Puffin Island. The gale still lasted, and the
+steamer was in momentary danger of becoming a complete wreck.
+
+There is no lifeboat service at Tryn yr Wylfa. It was impossible to
+launch an ordinary boat in such a sea.
+
+Colonel Denbigh, the owner of the quarry and local magnate, who had been
+superintending what feeble efforts had been made to effect a rescue,
+answered gloomily when Betty Lardner asked him if there were any hope.
+
+"It's a terrible thing," he jerked. "First time there has been a wreck
+hereabouts. It's hopeless trying to launch a boat----"
+
+"Suppose a fellow were to swim out to the wreck with a life-line in
+tow?"
+
+It was young Cargill who spoke.
+
+The Colonel glared at him contemptuously.
+
+"He would need to be a pretty fine swimmer," he returned.
+
+"I don't want to blow my own trumpet, but I am considered to be one of
+the best amateur swimmers in the country," replied Cargill calmly. "If
+you will tell your men to get the line ready, I will borrow a bathing
+suit from somewhere."
+
+They both stared at him in amazement.
+
+"But you are still an invalid," cried Betty Lardner. "You----"
+
+She stopped short and regarded him with fresh wonder. Somehow he no
+longer looked an invalid.
+
+Mechanically she walked by his side to the little bathing office.
+Suddenly she clutched his arm.
+
+"Jack," she said, "have you forgotten the--the legend?"
+
+"Betty," he replied, "have you forgotten the crew?"
+
+While he was undressing the attendant asked him some trivial question.
+He did not hear the man. His thoughts were far away. He was thinking of
+a group of children playing on the bank of a canal.
+
+To the accompaniment of the Colonel's protests they fixed a belt on him,
+to which was attached the life-line.
+
+He walked along the sloping wooden projection that is used as a landing
+stage for pleasure skiffs, walked until the water splashed over him.
+Then he dived into the boiling surf.
+
+Thus it was that he earned Betty Lardner's forgiveness.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+THE LAST ASCENT
+
+
+The extraordinary rapidity with which a successful airman may achieve
+fame was well shown in the case of my friend, Radcliffe Thorpe. One week
+known merely to a few friends as a clever young engineer, the next his
+name was on the lips of the civilised world. His first success was
+followed by a series of remarkable feats, of which his flight above the
+Atlantic, his race with the torpedo-boat-destroyers across the North
+Sea, and his sensational display during the military man[oe]uvres on
+Salisbury Plain, impressed his name and personality firmly upon the
+fickle mind of the public, and explains the tremendous excitement caused
+by his inexplicable disappearance during the great aviation meeting at
+Attercliffe, near London, towards the end of the summer.
+
+Few people, I suppose, have forgotten the facts. For some time
+previously he had been devoting himself more especially to ascending to
+as great a height as possible. He held all the records for height, and
+it was known that at Attercliffe he meant to endeavour to eclipse his
+own achievements.
+
+It was a lovely day, not a breath of wind stirring, not a cloud in the
+sky. We saw him start. We saw him fly up and up in great sweeping
+spirals. We saw him climb higher and ever higher into the azure space.
+We watched him, those of us whose eyes could bear the strain, as he
+dwindled to a dot and a speck, till at last he passed beyond sight.
+
+It was a stirring thing to see a man thus storm, as it were, the walls
+of Heaven and probe the very mysteries of space. I remember I felt quite
+annoyed with someone who was taking a cinematograph record. It seemed
+such a sordid, business-like thing to be doing at such a moment.
+
+Presently the aeroplane came into sight again and was greeted with a
+sudden roar of cheering.
+
+"He is doing a glide down," someone cried excitedly, and though someone
+else declared that a glide from such a height was unthinkable and
+impossible, yet it was soon plain that the first speaker was right.
+
+Down through unimaginable thousands of feet, straight and swift swept
+the machine, making such a sweep as the eagle in its pride would never
+have dared. People held their breath to watch, expecting every moment
+some catastrophe. But the machine kept on an even keel, and in a few
+moments I joined with the others in a wild rush to the field at a little
+distance where the machine, like a mighty bird, had alighted easily and
+safely.
+
+But when we reached it we doubted our own eyes, our own sanity. There
+was no sign anywhere of Radcliffe Thorpe!
+
+No one knew what to say; we looked blankly at our neighbours, and one
+man got down on his hands and knees and peered under the body of the
+machine as if he suspected Radcliffe of hiding there. Then the chairman
+of the meeting, Lord Fallowfield, made a curious discovery.
+
+"Look," he said in a high, shaken voice, "the steering wheel is jammed!"
+
+It was true. The steering wheel had been carefully fastened in one
+position, and the lever controlling the planes had also been fixed so as
+to hold them at the right angle for a downward glide. That was strange
+enough, but in face of the mystery of Radcliffe's disappearance little
+attention was paid it.
+
+Where, then, was its pilot? That was the question that was filling
+everybody's mind. He had vanished as utterly as vanishes the mist one
+sees rising in the sunshine.
+
+It was supposed he must have fallen from his seat, but as to how that
+had happened, how it was that no fragment of his body or his clothing
+was ever found, above all, how it was that his aeroplane had returned,
+the engine cut off, the planes secured in correct position, no even
+moderately plausible explanation was ever put forward.
+
+The loss to aeronautics was felt to be severe. From childhood Radcliffe
+had shown that, in addition to this, he had a marked aptitude for
+drawing, usually held at the service of his profession, but now and
+again exercised in producing sketches of his friends.
+
+Among those who knew him privately he was fairly popular, though not,
+perhaps, so much so as he deserved; certainly he had a way of talking
+"shop" which was a trifle tiring to those who did not figure the world
+as one vast engineering problem, while with women he was apt to be
+brusque and short-mannered.
+
+My surprise, then, can be imagined when, calling one afternoon on him
+and having to wait a little, I had noticed lying on his desk a crayon
+sketch of a woman's face. It was a very lovely face, the features almost
+perfect, and yet there was about it something unearthly and spectral
+that was curiously disturbing.
+
+"Smitten at last?" I asked jestingly, and yet aware of a certain odd
+discomfort.
+
+When, he saw what I was looking at he went very pale.
+
+"Who is it?" I asked.
+
+"Oh, just--someone!" he answered.
+
+He took the sketch from me, looked at it, frowned and locked it away. As
+he seemed unwilling to pursue the subject, I went on to talk of the
+business I had come about, and I congratulated him on his flight of the
+day before in which he had broken the record for height. As I was going
+he said:
+
+"By the way, that sketch--what did you think of it?"
+
+"Why, that you had better be careful," I answered, laughing; "or you'll
+be falling from your high estate of bachelordom."
+
+He gave so violent a start, his face expressed so much of apprehension
+and dismay, that I stared at him blankly. Recovering himself with an
+effort, he stammered out:
+
+"It's not--I mean--it's an imaginary portrait."
+
+"Then," I said, amazed in my turn, "you've a jolly sight more
+imagination than anyone ever credited you with."
+
+The incident remained in my mind. As a matter of fact, practical
+Radcliffe Thorpe, absorbed in questions of strain and ease, his head
+full of cylinders and wheels and ratchets and the Lord knows what else,
+would have seemed to me the last man on earth to create that haunting,
+strange, unearthly face, human in form, but not in expression.
+
+It was about this time that Radcliffe began to give so much attention to
+the making of very high flights. His favourite time was in the early
+morning, as soon as it was light. Then in the chill dawn he would rise
+and soar and wing his flight high and ever higher, up and up, till the
+eye could no longer follow his ascent.
+
+I remember he made one of these strange, solitary flights when I was
+spending the week-end with him at his cottage near the Attercliffe
+Aviation Grounds.
+
+I had come down from town somewhat late the night before, and I remember
+that just before we went to bed we went out for a few minutes to enjoy
+the beauty of a perfect night. The moon was shining in a clear sky, not
+a sound or a breath disturbed the sublime quietude; in the south one
+wondrous star gleamed low on the horizon. Neither of us spoke; it was
+enough to drink in the beauty of such rare perfection, and I noticed how
+Radcliffe kept his eyes fixed upwards on the dark blue vault of space.
+
+"Are you longing to be up there?" I asked him jestingly.
+
+He started and flushed, and he then went very pale, and to my surprise I
+saw that he was shivering.
+
+"You are getting cold," I said. "We had better go in."
+
+He nodded without answering, and, as we turned to go in, I heard quite
+plainly and distinctly a low, strange laugh, a laugh full of a honeyed
+sweetness that yet thrilled me with great fear.
+
+"What's that?" I said, stopping short.
+
+"What?" Radcliffe asked.
+
+"Someone laughed," I said, and I stared all round and then upwards. "I
+thought it came from up there," I said in a bewildered way, pointing
+upwards.
+
+He gave me an odd look and, without answering, went into the cottage. He
+had said nothing of having planned any flight for the next morning; but
+in the early morning, the chill and grey dawn, I was roused by the
+drumming of his engine. At once I jumped up out of bed and ran to the
+window.
+
+The machine was raising itself lightly and easily from the ground. I
+watched him wing his god-like way up through the still, soft air till he
+was lost to view. Then, after a time, I saw him emerge again from those
+immensities of space. He came down in one long majestic sweep, and
+alighted in a field a little way away from the house, leaving the
+aeroplane for his mechanics to fetch up presently.
+
+"Hullo!" I greeted him. "Why didn't you tell me you were going up?"
+
+As I spoke I heard plainly and distinctly, as plainly as ever I heard
+anything in my life, that low, strange laugh, that I had heard before,
+so silvery sweet and yet somehow so horrible.
+
+"What's that?" I said, stopping short and staring blankly upwards, for,
+absurd though it seems, that weird sound seemed to come floating down
+from an infinite height above us.
+
+"Not high enough," he muttered like a man in an ecstasy. "Not high
+enough yet."
+
+He walked away from me then without another word. When I entered the
+cottage he was seated at the table sketching a woman's face--the same
+face I had seen in that other sketch of his, spectral, unreal, and
+lovely.
+
+"What on earth----?" I began.
+
+"Nothing on earth," he answered in a strange voice. Then he laughed and
+jumped up, and tore his sketch across.
+
+He seemed quite his old self again, chatty and pleasant, and with his
+old passion for talking "shop." He launched into a long explanation of
+some scheme he had in mind for securing automatic balancing.
+
+I never told anyone about that strange, mocking laugh, in fact, I had
+almost forgotten the incident altogether when something brought every
+detail back to my memory. I had a letter from a person who signed
+himself "George Barnes."
+
+Barnes, it seemed, was the operator who had taken the pictures of that
+last ascent, and as he understood I had been Mr. Thorpe's greatest
+friend, he wanted to see me. Certain expressions in the letter aroused
+my curiosity. I replied. He asked for an appointment at a time that was
+not very convenient, and finally I arranged to call at his house one
+evening.
+
+It was one of those smart little six-room villas of which so many have
+been put up in the London suburbs of late. Barnes was buying it on the
+instalment system, and I quite won his heart by complimenting him on it.
+But for that, I doubt if anything would have come of my visit, for he
+was plainly nervous and ill at ease and very repentant of ever having
+said anything. But after my compliment to the house we got on better.
+
+"It's on my mind," he said; "I shan't be easy till someone else knows."
+
+We were in the front room where a good fire was burning--in my honour, I
+guessed, for the apartment had not the air of being much used. On the
+table were some photographs. Barnes showed them me. They were
+enlargements from those he had taken of poor Radcliffe's last ascent.
+
+"They've been shown all over the world," he said. "Millions of people
+have seen them."
+
+"Well?" I said.
+
+"But there's one no one has seen--no one except me."
+
+He produced another print and gave it to me. I glanced at it. It seemed
+much like the others, having been apparently one of the last of the
+series, taken when the aeroplane was at a great height. The only thing
+in which it differed from the others was that it seemed a trifle
+blurred.
+
+"A poor one," I said; "it's misty."
+
+"Look at the mist," he said.
+
+I did so. Slowly, very slowly, I began to see that that misty appearance
+had a shape, a form. Even as I looked I saw the features of a human
+countenance--and yet not human either, so spectral was it, so unreal and
+strange. I felt the blood run cold in my veins and the hair bristle on
+the scalp of my head, for I recognised beyond all doubt that this face
+on the photograph was the same as that Radcliffe had sketched. The
+resemblance was absolute, no one who had seen the one could mistake the
+other.
+
+"You see it?" Barnes muttered, and his face was almost as pale as mine.
+
+"There's a woman," I stammered, "a woman floating in the air by his
+side. Her arms are held out to him."
+
+"Yes," Barnes said. "Who was she?"
+
+The print slipped from my hands and fluttered to the ground. Barnes
+picked it up and put it in the fire. Was it fancy or, as it flared up,
+and burnt and was consumed, did I really hear a faint laugh floating
+downwards from the upper air?
+
+"I destroyed the negative," Barnes said, "and I told my boss something
+had gone wrong with it. No one has seen that photograph but you and me,
+and now no one ever will."
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+THE TERROR BY NIGHT
+
+
+Maynard disincumbered himself from his fishing-creel, stabbed the butt
+of his rod into the turf, and settled down in the heather to fill a
+pipe. All round him stretched the undulating moor, purple in the late
+summer sunlight. To the southward, low down, a faint haze told where the
+sea lay. The stream at his feet sang its queer, crooning moor-song as it
+rambled onward, chuckling to meet a bed of pebbles somewhere out of
+sight, whispering mysteriously to the rushes that fringed its banks of
+peat, deepening to a sudden contralto as it poured over granite boulders
+into a scum-flecked pool below.
+
+For a long time the man sat smoking. Occasionally he turned his head to
+watch with keen eyes the fretful movements of a fly hovering above the
+water. Then a sudden dimple in the smooth surface of the stream arrested
+his attention. A few concentric ripples widened, travelled towards him,
+and were absorbed in the current. His lips curved into a little smile
+and he reached for his rod. In the clear water he could see the origin
+of the ripples; a small trout, unconscious of his presence, was waiting
+in its hover for the next tit-bit to float downstream. Presently it rose
+again.
+
+"The odds are ten to one in your favour," said the man. "Let's see!"
+
+He dropped on one knee and the cast leapt out in feathery coils. Once,
+twice it swished; the third time it alighted like thistledown on the
+surface. There was a tiny splash, a laugh, and the little greenheart
+rod flicked a trout high over his head. It was the merest
+baby--half-an-ounce, perhaps--and it fell from the hook into the herbage
+some yards from the stream.
+
+"Little ass!" said Maynard. "That was meant for your big brother."
+
+He recovered his cast and began to look for his victim. Without avail he
+searched the heather, and as the fateful seconds sped, at last laid down
+his rod and dropped on hands and knees to probe among the grass-stems.
+
+For a while he hunted in vain, then the sunlight showed a golden sheen
+among some stones. Maynard gave a grunt of relief, but as his hand
+closed round it a tiny flutter passed through the fingerling; it gave a
+final gasp and was still. Knitting his brows in almost comical vexation,
+he hastened to restore it to the stream, holding it by the tail and
+striving to impart a life-like wriggle to its limpness.
+
+"Buck up, old thing!" he murmured encouragingly. "Oh, buck up! You're
+all right, really you are!"
+
+But the "old thing" was all wrong. In fact, it was dead.
+
+Standing in the wet shingle, Maynard regarded the speckled atom as it
+lay in the palm of his hand.
+
+"A matter of seconds, my son. One instant in all eternity would have
+made just the difference between life and death to you. And the high
+gods denied it you!"
+
+On the opposite side of the stream, set back about thirty paces from the
+brink, stood a granite boulder. It was as high as a man's chest, roughly
+cubical in shape; but the weather and clinging moss had rounded its
+edges, and in places segments had crumbled away, giving foothold to
+clumps of fern and starry moor-flowers. On three sides the surrounding
+ground rose steeply, forming an irregular horseshoe mound that opened to
+the west. Perhaps it was the queer amphitheatrical effect of this
+setting that connected up some whimsical train of thought in Maynard's
+brain.
+
+"It would seem as if the gods had claimed you," he mused, still holding
+the corpse. "You shall be a sacrifice--a burnt sacrifice to the God of
+Waste Places."
+
+He laughed at the conceit, half-ashamed of his own childishness, and
+crossing the stream by some boulders, he brushed away the earth and weed
+from the top of the great stone. Then he retraced his steps and gathered
+a handful of bleached twigs that the winter floods had left stranded
+along the margin of the stream. These he arranged methodically on the
+cleared space; on the top of the tiny pyre he placed the troutlet.
+
+"There!" he said, and smiling gravely struck a match. A faint column of
+smoke curled up into the still air, and as he spoke the lower rim of the
+setting sun met the edge of the moor. The evening seemed suddenly to
+become incredibly still, even the voice of the stream ceasing to be a
+sound distinct. A wagtail bobbing in the shallows fled into the waste.
+Overhead the smoke trembled upwards, a faint stain against a cloudless
+sky. The stillness seemed almost acute. It was as if the moor were
+waiting, and holding its breath while it waited. Then the twigs upon his
+altar crackled, and the pale flames blazed up. The man stepped back with
+artistic appreciation of the effect.
+
+"To be really impressive, there ought to be more smoke," he continued.
+
+Round the base of the stone were clumps of small flowers. They were
+crimson in colour and had thick, fleshy leaves. Hastily, he snatched a
+handful and piled it on the fire. The smoke darkened and rose in a thick
+column; there was a curious pungency in the air.
+
+Far off the church-bell in some unseen hamlet struck the hour. The
+distant sound, coming from the world of men and every-day affairs,
+seemed to break the spell. An ousel fluttered across the stream and
+dabbled in a puddle among some stones. Rabbits began to show themselves
+and frisk with lengthened shadows in the clear spaces. Maynard looked at
+his watch, half-mindful of a train to be caught somewhere miles away,
+and then, held by the peace of running water, stretched himself against
+the sloping ground.
+
+The glowing world seemed peopled by tiny folk, living out their timid,
+inscrutable lives around him. A water-rat, passing bright-eyed upon his
+lawful occasion, paused on the border of the stream to consider the
+stranger, and was lost to view. A stagnant pool among some reeds caught
+the reflection of the sunset and changed on the instant into raw gold.
+
+Maynard plucked a grass stem and chewed it reflectively, staring out
+across the purple moor and lazily watching the western sky turn from
+glory to glory. Over his head the smoke of the sacrifice still curled
+and eddied upwards. Then a sudden sound sent him on to one elbow--the
+thud of an approaching horse's hoofs.
+
+"Moor ponies!" he muttered, and, rising, stood expectant beside his
+smoking altar.
+
+Then he heard the sudden jingle of a bit, and presently a horse and
+rider climbed into view against the pure sky. A young girl, breeched,
+booted and spurred like a boy, drew rein, and sat looking down into the
+hollow.
+
+For a moment neither spoke; then Maynard acknowledged her presence by
+raising his tweed hat. She gave a little nod.
+
+"I thought it was somebody swaling--burning the heather." She considered
+the embers on the stone, and then her grey eyes travelled back to the
+spare, tweed-clad figure beside it.
+
+He smiled in his slow way--a rather attractive smile.
+
+"No. I've just concluded some pagan rites in connection with a small
+trout!" He nodded gravely at the stone. "That was a burnt sacrifice."
+With whimsical seriousness he told her of the trout's demise and high
+destiny.
+
+For a moment she looked doubtful; but the inflection of breeding in his
+voice, the wholesome, lean face and humorous eyes, reassured her. A
+smile hovered about the corners of her mouth.
+
+"Oh, is that it? I wondered ..."
+
+She gathered the reins and turned her horse's head.
+
+"Forgive me if I dragged you out of your way," said Maynard, never swift
+to conventionality, but touched by the tired shadows in her eyes. The
+faint droop of her mouth, too, betrayed intense fatigue. "You look
+fagged. I don't want to be a nuisance or bore you, but I wish you'd let
+me offer you a sandwich. I've some milk here, too."
+
+The girl looked round the ragged moor, brooding in the twilight, and
+half hesitated. Then she forced a wan little smile.
+
+"I am tired, and hungry, too. Have you enough for us both?"
+
+"Lots!" said Maynard. To himself he added: "And what's more, my child,
+you'll have a little fainting affair in a few minutes, if you don't have
+a feed."
+
+"Come and rest for a minute," he continued aloud.
+
+He spoke with pleasant, impersonal kindliness, and as he turned to his
+satchel she slipped out of the saddle and came towards him, leading her
+horse.
+
+"Drink that," he said, holding out the cup of his flask. She drank with
+a wry little face, and coughed. "I put a little whisky in it," he
+explained. "You needed it."
+
+She thanked him and sat down with the bridle linked over her arm. The
+colour crept back into her cheeks. Maynard produced a packet of
+sandwiches and a pasty.
+
+"I've been mooning about the moor all the afternoon and lost myself
+twice," she explained between frank mouthfuls. "I'm hopelessly late for
+dinner, and I've still got miles to go."
+
+"Do you know the way now?" he asked.
+
+"Oh, yes! It won't take me long. My family are sensible, too, and don't
+fuss." She looked at him, her long-lashed eyes a little serious. "But
+you--how are you going to get home? It's getting late to be out on the
+moor afoot."
+
+Maynard laughed.
+
+"Oh, I'm all right, thanks!" He sniffed the warm September night. "I
+think I shall sleep here, as a matter of fact. I'm a gipsy by instinct--
+
+    "'Give to me the life I love,
+    Let the lave go by me,
+    Give the jolly Heaven above----'"
+
+He broke off, arrested by her unsmiling eyes. She was silent a moment.
+
+"People don't as a rule sleep out--about here." The words came jerkily,
+as if she were forcing a natural tone into her voice.
+
+"No?" He was accustomed to being questioned on his unconventional mode
+of life, and was prepared for the usual expostulations. She looked
+abruptly towards him.
+
+"Are you superstitious?"
+
+He laughed and shook his head.
+
+"I don't think so. But what has that got to do with it?"
+
+She hesitated, flushing a little.
+
+"There is a legend--people about here say that the moor here is haunted.
+There is a Thing that hunts people to death!"
+
+He laughed outright, wondering how old she was. Seventeen or eighteen,
+perhaps. She had said her people "didn't fuss." That meant she was left
+to herself to pick up all these old wives' tales.
+
+"Really! Has anyone been caught?"
+
+She nodded, unsmiling.
+
+"Yes; old George Toms. He was one of Dad's tenants, a big purple-faced
+man, who drank a lot and never took much exercise. They found him in a
+ditch with his clothes all torn and covered with mud. He had been run to
+death; there was no wound on his body, but his heart was broken." Her
+thoughts recurred to the stone against which they leant, and his quaint
+conceit. "You were rather rash to go offering burnt sacrifices about
+here, don't you think? Dad says that stone is the remains of an old
+Ph[oe]nician altar, too."
+
+She was smiling now, but the seriousness lingered in her eyes.
+
+"And I have probably invoked some terrible heathen deity--Ashtoreth, or
+Pugm, or Baal! How awful!" he added, with mock gravity.
+
+The girl rose to her feet.
+
+"You are laughing at me. The people about here are superstitious, and I
+am a Celt, too. I belong here."
+
+He jumped up with a quick protest.
+
+"No, I'm not laughing at you. Please don't think that! But it's a little
+hard to believe in active evil when all around is so beautiful." He
+helped her to mount and walked to the top of the mound at her stirrup.
+"Tell me, is there any charm or incantation, in case----?" His eyes were
+twinkling, but she shook her fair head soberly.
+
+"They say iron--cold iron--is the only thing it cannot cross. But I must
+go!" She held out her hand with half-shy friendliness. "Thank you for
+your niceness to me." Her eyes grew suddenly wistful. "Really, though, I
+don't think I should stay there if I were you. Please!"
+
+He only laughed, however, and she moved off, shaking her impatient
+horse into a canter. Maynard stood looking after her till she was
+swallowed by the dusk and surrounding moor. Then, thoughtfully, he
+retraced his steps to the hollow.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A cloud lay across the face of the moon when Fear awoke Maynard. He
+rolled on to one elbow and stared round the hollow, filled with
+inexplicable dread. He was ordinarily a courageous man, and had no
+nerves to speak of; yet, as his eyes followed the line of the ridge
+against the sky, he experienced terror, the elementary, nauseating
+terror of childhood, when the skin tingles, and the heart beats at a
+suffocating gallop. It was very dark, but momentarily his eyes grew
+accustomed to it. He was conscious of a queer, pungent smell, horribly
+animal and corrupt.
+
+Suddenly the utter silence broke. He heard a rattle of stones, the
+splash of water about him, realised that it was the brook beneath his
+feet, and that he, Maynard, was running for his life.
+
+Neither then nor later did Reason assert herself. He ran without
+question or amazement. His brain--the part where human reasoning holds
+normal sway--was dominated by the purely primitive instinct of flight.
+And in that sudden rout of courage and self-respect one conscious
+thought alone remained. Whatever it was that was even then at his heels,
+he must not see it. At all costs it must be behind him, and, resisting
+the sudden terrified impulse to look over his shoulder, he unbuttoned
+his tweed jacket and disengaged himself from it as he ran. The faint
+haze that had gathered round the full moon dispersed, and he saw the
+moor stretching before him, grey and still, glistening with dew.
+
+He was of frugal and temperate habits, a wiry man at the height of his
+physical powers, with lean flanks and a deep chest.
+
+At Oxford they had said he was built to run for his life. He was running
+for it now, and he knew it.
+
+The ground sloped upwards after a while, and he tore up the incline,
+breathing deep and hard; down into a shallow valley, leaping gorse
+bushes, crashing through whortle and meadowsweet, stumbling over
+peat-cuttings and the workings of forgotten tin-mines. An idiotic
+popular tune raced through his brain. He found himself trying to frame
+the words, but they broke into incoherent prayers, still to the same
+grotesque tune.
+
+Then, as he breasted the flank of a boulder-strewn tor, he seemed to
+hear snuffling breathing behind him, and, redoubling his efforts,
+stepped into a rabbit hole. He was up and running again in the twinkling
+of an eye, limping from a twisted ankle as he ran.
+
+He sprinted over the crest of the hill and thought he heard the sound
+almost abreast of him, away to the right. In the dry bed of a
+watercourse some stones were dislodged and fell with a rattle in the
+stillness of the night; he bore away to the left. A moment later there
+was Something nearly at his left elbow, and he smelt again the nameless,
+f[oe]tid reek. He doubled, and the ghastly truth flashed upon him. The
+Thing was playing with him! He was being hunted for sport--the sport of
+a horror unthinkable. The sweat ran down into his eyes.
+
+He lost all count of time; his wrist watch was smashed on his wrist. He
+ran through a reeling eternity, sobbing for breath, stumbling, tripping,
+fighting a leaden weariness; and ever the same unreasoning terror urged
+him on. The moon and ragged skyline swam about him; the blood drummed
+deafeningly in his ears, and his eyeballs felt as if they would burst
+from their sockets. He had nearly bitten his swollen tongue in two
+falling over an unseen peat-cutting, and blood-flecked foam gathered on
+his lips.
+
+God, how he ran! But he was no longer among bog and heather. He was
+running--shambling now--along a road. The loping pursuit of that
+nameless, shapeless Something sounded like an echo in his head.
+
+He was nearing a village, but saw nothing save a red mist that swam
+before him like a fog. The road underfoot seemed to rise and fall in
+wavelike undulations. Still he ran, with sobbing gasps and limbs that
+swerved under his weight; at his elbow hung death unnamable, and the
+fear of it urged him on while every instinct of his exhausted body
+called out to him to fling up his hands and end it.
+
+Out of the mist ahead rose the rough outline of a building by the
+roadside; it was the village smithy, half workshop, half dwelling. The
+road here skirted a patch of grass, and the moonlight, glistening on the
+dew, showed the dark circular scars of the turf where, for a generation,
+the smith's peat fires had heated the great iron hoops that tyred the
+wheels of the wains. One of these was even then lying on the ground with
+the turves placed in readiness for firing in the morning, and in the
+throbbing darkness of Maynard's consciousness a voice seemed to speak
+faintly--the voice of a girl:
+
+"_There's a Thing that hunts people to death. But iron--cold iron--it
+cannot cross._"
+
+The sweat of death was already on his brow as he reeled sideways,
+plunging blindly across the uneven tufts of grass. His feet caught in
+some obstruction and he pitched forward into the sanctuary of the huge
+iron tyre--a spasm of cramp twisting his limbs up under him.
+
+As he fell a great blackness rose around him, and with it the bewildered
+clamour of awakened dogs.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dr. Stanmore came down the flagged path from the smith's cottage,
+pulling on his gloves. A big car was passing slowly up the village
+street, and as it came abreast the smithy the doctor raised his hat.
+
+The car stopped, and the driver, a fair-haired girl, leant sideways from
+her seat.
+
+"Good-morning, Dr. Stanmore! What's the matter here? Nothing wrong with
+any of Matthew's children, is there?"
+
+The Doctor shook his head gravely.
+
+"No, Lady Dorothy; they're all at school. This is no one belonging to
+the family--a stranger who was taken mysteriously ill last night just
+outside the forge, and they brought him in. It's a most queer case, and
+very difficult to diagnose--that is to say, to give a diagnosis in
+keeping with one's professional--er--conscience."
+
+The girl switched off the engine, and took her hand from the
+brake-lever. Something in the doctor's manner arrested her interest.
+
+"What is the matter with him?" she queried. "What diagnosis have you
+made, professional or otherwise?"
+
+"Shock, Lady Dorothy; severe exhaustion and shock, heart strained,
+superficial lesions, bruises, scratches, and so forth. Mentally he is in
+a great state of excitement and terror, lapsing into delirium at
+times--that is really the most serious feature. In fact, unless I can
+calm him I am afraid we may have some brain trouble on top of the other
+thing. It's most mysterious!"
+
+The girl nodded gravely, holding her underlip between her white teeth.
+
+"What does he look like--in appearance, I mean? Is he young?"
+
+The shadow of a smile crossed the doctor's eyes.
+
+"Yes, Lady Dorothy--quite young, and very good-looking. He is a man of
+remarkable athletic build. He is calmer now, and I have left Matthew's
+wife with him while I slip out to see a couple of other patients."
+
+Lady Dorothy rose from her seat and stepped down out of the car.
+
+"I think I know your patient," she said. "In fact, I had taken the car
+to look for him, to ask him to lunch with us. Do you think I might see
+him for a minute? If it is the person I think it is I may be able to
+help you diagnose his illness."
+
+Together they walked up the path and entered the cottage. The doctor led
+the way upstairs and opened a door. A woman sitting by the bed rose and
+dropped a curtsey.
+
+Lady Dorothy smiled a greeting to her and crossed over to the bed.
+There, his face grey and drawn with exhaustion, with shadows round his
+closed eyes, lay Maynard; one hand lying on the counterpane opened and
+closed convulsively, his lips moved. The physician eyed the girl
+interrogatively.
+
+"Do you know him?" he asked.
+
+She nodded, and put her firm, cool hand over the twitching fingers.
+
+"Yes," she said. "And I warned him. Tell me, is he very ill?"
+
+"He requires rest, careful nursing, absolute quiet----"
+
+"All that he can have at the Manor," said the girl softly. She met the
+doctor's eyes and looked away, a faint colour tingeing her cheeks. "Will
+you go and telephone to father? I will take him back in the car now if
+he is well enough to be moved."
+
+"Yes, he is well enough to be moved," said the doctor. "It is very kind
+of you, Lady Dorothy, and I will go and telephone at once. Will you stay
+with him for a little while?"
+
+He left the room, and they heard his feet go down the narrow stairs. The
+cottage door opened and closed.
+
+The two women, the old and the young, peasant and peer's daughter,
+looked at each other, and there was in their glance that complete
+understanding which can only exist between women.
+
+"Do 'ee mind old Jarge Toms, my lady?"
+
+Lady Dorothy nodded.
+
+"I know, I know! And I warned him! They won't believe, these men! They
+think because they are so big and strong that there is nothing that can
+hurt them."
+
+"'Twas th' iron that saved un, my lady. 'Twas inside one of John's new
+tyres as was lyin' on the ground that us found un. Dogs barkin' wakened
+us up. But it'd ha' had un, else----" A sound downstairs sent her flying
+to the door. "'Tis the kettle, my lady. John's dinner spilin', an' I
+forgettin'."
+
+She hurried out of the room and closed the door.
+
+The sound of their voices seemed to have roused the occupant of the bed.
+His eyelids fluttered and opened; his eyes rested full on the girl's
+face. For a moment there was no consciousness in their gaze; then a
+whimsical ghost of a smile crept about his mouth.
+
+"Go on," he said in a weak voice. "Say it!"
+
+"Say what?" asked Lady Dorothy. She was suddenly aware that her hand was
+still on his, but the twitching fingers had closed about hers in a calm,
+firm grasp.
+
+"Say 'I told you so'!"
+
+She shook her head with a little smile.
+
+"I told you that cold iron----"
+
+"Cold iron saved me." He told her of the iron hoop on the ground outside
+the forge. "You saved me last night."
+
+She disengaged her hand gently.
+
+"I saved you last night--since you say so. But in future----"
+
+Someone was coming up the stairs. Maynard met her eyes with a long look.
+
+"I have no fear," he said. "I have found something better than cold
+iron."
+
+The door opened and the doctor came in. He glanced at Maynard's face and
+touched his pulse.
+
+"The case is yours, Lady Dorothy!" he said with a little bow.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+THE TRAGEDY AT THE "LOUP NOIR"
+
+
+The Boy at the corner of the table flicked the ash of his cigar into the
+fire.
+
+"Spiritualism is all rot!" he declared.
+
+"I don't know," the Host reflected thoughtfully. "One hears queer
+stories sometimes."
+
+"Which reminds me----" started the Bore.
+
+But before he could proceed any further the little French Judge
+ruthlessly cut him short.
+
+"Bah!" Contempt and geniality were mingled in his tone. "Who are we,
+poor ignorant worms, that we should dare to say 'is' or 'is not'? Your
+Shakespeare, he was right! 'There are more things in heaven and earth,
+Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy!'"
+
+The faces of the four Englishmen instantly assumed that peculiarly
+stolid expression always called forth by the mention of Shakespeare.
+
+"But Spiritualism----" started the Host.
+
+Again the little French Judge broke in:
+
+"I who you speak, I myself know of an experience, of the most
+remarkable, to this day unexplained save by Spiritualism, Occultism,
+what you will! You shall hear! The case is one I conducted
+professionally some two years ago, though, of course, the events which I
+now tell in their proper sequence, came out only in the trial. I string
+them together for you, yes?"
+
+The Bore, who fiercely resented any stories except his own, gave vent to
+a discontented grunt; the other three prepared to listen carefully. From
+the drawing-room, whither the ladies had retired after dinner, sounded
+the far-away strains of a piano. The little French Judge held out his
+glass for a crème de menthe; his eyes were sparkling with suppressed
+excitement; he gazed deep into the shining green liquid as if seeing
+therein a moving panorama of pictures, then he began:
+
+On a dusky autumn evening, a young man, tall, olive-skinned, tramps
+along the road leading from Paris to Longchamps. He is walking with a
+quick, even swing. Now and again a hidden anxiety darkens his face.
+
+Suddenly he branches off to the left; the path here is steep and muddy.
+He stops in front of a blurred circle of yellow light; by this can one
+faintly perceive the outlines of a building. Above the narrow doorway
+hangs a creaking sign which announces to all it may concern that this is
+the "Loup Noir," much sought after for its nearness to the racecourse
+and for its excellent _ménage_.
+
+"_Voilà!_" mutters our friend.
+
+On entering, he is met by the burly innkeeper, a shrewd enough fellow,
+who has seen something of life before settling down in Longchamps. The
+young man glances past him as if seeking some other face, then
+recollecting himself demands shelter for the night.
+
+"I greatly fear----" began the innkeeper, then pauses, struck by an
+idea. "Holà, Gaston! Have monsieur and madame from number fourteen yet
+departed?"
+
+"Yes, monsieur; already early this morning; you were at the market, so
+Mademoiselle settled the bill."
+
+"Mademoiselle Jehane?" the stranger looks up sharply.
+
+"My niece, monsieur; you have perhaps heard of her, for I see by your
+easel you are an artist. She is supposed to be of a rare beauty; I think
+it myself." Jean Potin keeps up a running flow of talk as he conducts
+his visitor down the long bare passages, past blistered yellow doors.
+
+"It is a double room I must give you, vacated, as you heard, but this
+very morning. They were going to stay longer, Monsieur and Madame
+Guillaumet, but of a sudden she changed her mind. Oh, she was of a
+temper!" Potin raises expressive eyes heavenwards. "It is ever so when
+May weds with December."
+
+"He was much older than his wife, then?" queries the artist, politely
+feigning an interest he is far from feeling.
+
+"_Mais non, parbleu!_ It was she who was the older--by some fifteen
+years; and not a beauty. But rich--he knew what he was about, giving his
+smooth cheek for her smooth louis!"
+
+Left alone, Lou Arnaud proceeds to unpack his knapsack; he lingers over
+it as long as possible; the task awaiting him below is no pleasant one.
+Finally he descends. The small smoky _salle à manger_ is full of people.
+There is much talk and laughter going on; the clatter of knives and
+forks. At the desk near the door, a young girl is busy with the
+accounts. Her very pale gold hair, parted and drawn loosely back over
+the ears, casts a faint shadow on her pure, white skin. Arnaud, as he
+chooses a seat, looks at her critically.
+
+"Bah, she is insignificant!" he thinks. "What can have possessed
+Claude?"
+
+Suddenly she raises her eyes. They meet his in a long, steady gaze. Then
+once again the lids are lowered.
+
+The artist sets down his glass with a hand that shakes. He is not
+imaginative, as a rule, but when one sees the soul of a mocking devil
+look out, dark and compelling, from the face of a Madonna, one is
+disconcerted.
+
+He wonders no more what had possessed Claude. On his way to the door a
+few moments later, he pauses at her desk.
+
+"Monsieur wishes to order breakfast for to-morrow morning?"
+
+"Monsieur wishes to speak with you."
+
+She smiles demurely. Many have wished to speak with her. Arnaud divines
+her thoughts.
+
+"My name is Lou Arnaud!" he adds meaningly.
+
+"Ah!" she ponders on this for an instant; then: "It is a warm night; if
+you will seat yourself at one of the little tables in the courtyard at
+the back of the house, I will try to join you, when these pigs have
+finished feeding." She indicates with contempt the noisily eating crowd.
+
+They sit long at that table, for the man has much to tell of his young
+brother Claude; of the ruin she has made of his life; of the little
+green devils that lurk in a glass of absinthe, and clutch their victim,
+and drag him down deeper, ever deeper, into the great, green abyss.
+
+But she only laughs, this Jehane of the wanton eyes.
+
+"But what do you want from me? I have no need of this Claude. He
+wearies me--now!"
+
+Arnaud springs to his feet, catching her roughly by the wrist. He loves
+his young brother much. His voice is raised, attracting the notice of
+two or three groups who take coffee at the iron tables.
+
+"You had need of him once. You never left him in peace till you had
+sucked him of all that makes life good. If I could----"
+
+Jean Potin appears in the doorway.
+
+"Jehane, what are you doing out here? You know I do not permit it that
+you speak with the visitors. Pardon her, monsieur, she is but a child."
+
+"A child?" The artist's brow is black as thunder. "She has wrecked a
+life, this child you speak of!"
+
+He strides past the amazed innkeeper, up the narrow flight of stairs,
+and down the passage to his room.
+
+Sitting on the edge of the huge curtained four-poster bed, he ponders on
+the events of the evening.
+
+But his thoughts are not all of Claude. That girl--that girl with her
+pale face and her pale hair, and eyes the grey of a storm cloud before
+it breaks, she haunts him! Her soft murmuring voice has stolen into his
+brain; he hears it in the drip, drip of the rain on the sill outside.
+
+Soon heavy feet are heard trooping up the stairs; doors are heard to
+bang; cheery voices wish each other good-night. Then gradually the
+sounds die away. They keep early hours at the "Loup Noir"; it is not yet
+ten o'clock.
+
+Still Arnaud remains sitting on the edge of the bed; the dark plush
+canopy overhead repels him, he does not feel inclined for sleep.
+Jehane! what a picture she would make! He _must_ paint her!
+
+Obsessed by this idea, he unpacks a roll of canvas, spreads it on the
+tripod easel, and prepares crayons and charcoal; he will start the
+picture as soon as it is day. He will paint her as Circe, mocking at her
+grovelling herd of swine!
+
+He creeps into bed and falls asleep.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Softly the rain patters against the window-pane.
+
+A distant clock booms out eleven strokes.
+
+Lou Arnaud raises his head. Then noiselessly he slides out of bed on the
+chill wooden boarding. As in a trance he crosses the room, seizes
+charcoal, and feverishly works at the blank canvas on the easel.
+
+For twenty minutes his hand never falters, then the charcoal drops from
+his nerveless fingers! Groping his way with half-closed eyes back to the
+bed, he falls again into a heavy, dreamless slumber.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The early morning sun chases away the raindrops of the night before.
+Signs of activity are abroad in the inn; the swish of brooms; the noisy
+clatter of pails. A warm aroma of coffee floats up the stairs and under
+the door of number fourteen, awaking Arnaud to pleasant thoughts of
+breakfast. He is partly dressed before his eye lights on the canvas he
+had prepared.
+
+"_Nom de Dieu!_"
+
+He falls back against the wall, staring stupefied at the picture before
+him. It is the picture of a girl, crouching in a kneeling position, all
+the agony of death showing clearly in her upturned eyes. At her throat,
+cruelly, relentlessly doing their murderous work, are a pair of
+hands--ugly, podgy hands, but with what power behind them!
+
+The face is the face of Jehane--a distorted, terrified Jehane! Arnaud
+recoils, covering his eyes with his hands. Who could have drawn this
+unspeakable thing? He looks again closely; the style is his own! There
+is no mistaking those bold, black lines, that peculiar way of indicating
+muscle beneath the tightly stretched skin--it _is_ his own work!
+Anywhere would he have known it!
+
+A knock at the door! Jean Potin enters, radiating cheerfulness.
+
+"Breakfast in your room, monsieur? We are busy this morning; I share in
+the work. Permit me to move the table and the easel--_Sacré-bleu!_"
+
+Suddenly his rosy lips grow stern. "This is Jehane. Did she sit for
+you--and when? You only came last night. What devil's work is this?"
+
+"That is what I would like to find out; I know no more about it than you
+yourself. When I awoke this morning the picture was there!"
+
+"Did you draw it?" suspiciously.
+
+"Yes. At least, no! Yes, I suppose I did. But I----"
+
+Potin clenches his fist: "I will have the truth from the girl herself!
+There is something here I do not like!" Roughly he pushes past the
+artist and mounts to Jehane's room.
+
+She is not there, neither is she at her desk. Nor yet down in the
+village. They search everywhere; there is a hue and cry; people rush to
+and fro.
+
+Then suddenly a shout; and a silence, a dreadful silence.
+
+Something is carried slowly into the "Loup Noir." Something that was
+found huddled up in the shadow of the wall that borders the courtyard.
+Something with ugly purple patches on the white throat.
+
+It is Jehane, and she is dead; strangled by a pair of hands that came
+from behind.
+
+The story of the picture is rapidly passed from mouth to mouth. People
+look strangely at Lou Arnaud; they remember his loud, strained voice and
+threatening gestures on the preceding night.
+
+Finally he is arrested on the charge of murder.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I was the judge, gentlemen, on the occasion of the Arnaud trial.
+
+The prisoner is questioned about the picture. He knows nothing; can tell
+nothing of how it came there. His fellow-artists testify to its being
+his work. From them also leaks out the tale of his brother Claude, of
+the latter's infatuation and ruin. No need now to explain the quarrel in
+the courtyard. The accused has good reason to hate the dead girl.
+
+The Avocat for the defence does his best. The picture is produced in
+court; it creates a sensation.
+
+If only Lou Arnaud could complete it--could sketch in the owner of those
+merciless hands. He is handed the charcoal; again and again he tries--in
+vain.
+
+The hands are not his own; but that is a small point in his favour. Why
+should he have incriminated himself by drawing his own hands? But again,
+why should he have drawn the picture at all?
+
+There is nobody else on whom falls a shadow of suspicion. I sum up
+impartially. The jury convict on circumstantial evidence, and I sentence
+the prisoner to death.
+
+A short time must elapse between the sentence and carrying it into
+force. The Avocat for the defence obtains for the prisoner a slight
+concession; he may have picture and charcoal in his cell. Perhaps he can
+yet free himself from the web which has inmeshed him!
+
+Arnaud tries to blot out thought by sketching in and erasing again
+fanciful figures twisted into a peculiar position; he cannot adjust the
+pose of the unknown murderer. So in despair he gives it up.
+
+One morning, three days before the execution, the innkeeper comes to
+visit him and finds him lying face downwards on the narrow pallet.
+Despite his own grief, he is sorry for the young man; nor is he
+convinced in his shrewd bourgeois mind of the latter's guilt.
+
+"You _must_ draw in the second figure," he repeats again and again. "It
+is your last, your only chance! Think of the faces you saw at the 'Loup
+Noir.' Do none of them recall anything to you? You quarrelled with
+Jehane in the garden about your brother. Then you went to your room. Oh,
+what did you think in your room?"
+
+"I thought of your niece," responds Arnaud wildly. "How very beautiful
+she was, and what a model she would make. Then I prepared a blank
+canvas for the morning, and went to bed. When I woke up the picture was
+there."
+
+"And you remember nothing more--nothing at all?" insists Jean Potin.
+"You fell asleep at once? You heard no sound?"
+
+Against the barred window of the cell the rain patters softly. A distant
+clock booms out eleven strokes.
+
+Something in the artist's brain seems to snap. He raises his head. He
+slides from the bed. As in a trance he crosses the cell, seizes a piece
+of charcoal, and feverishly works at the picture on the easel!
+
+Not daring to speak, Jean Potin watches him. The figure behind the hands
+grows and grows beneath Arnaud's fingers.
+
+A woman's figure!
+
+Then the face: a coarse, malignant face, distorted by evil passions.
+
+"Ah!"
+
+It is a cry of recognition from the breathless innkeeper. It breaks the
+spell. The charcoal drops, and the prisoner, passing his hand across his
+eyes, gazes bewildered at his own work.
+
+"Who? What?"
+
+"But I know her! It is the woman in whose room you slept! She was
+staying at the 'Loup Noir' the very night before you arrived, and she
+left that morning. She and her husband, Monsieur Guillaumet. But it is
+incredible if _she_ should have----"
+
+I will be short with you, gentlemen. Madame Guillaumet was traced to her
+flat in Paris. Arnaud's Avocat confronted her with the now completed
+picture. She was confounded--babbled like a mad woman--confessed!
+
+A reprieve for further inquiry was granted by the State. Finally Arnaud
+was cleared, and allowed to go free.
+
+The motive for the murder? A woman's jealousy. Monsieur and Madame
+Guillaumet had been married only ten months. Her age was forty-nine; his
+twenty-seven. Every second of their married life was to her weighted
+with intolerable suspicions; how soon would this young husband, so dear
+to her, forsake her for another, now that his debts were paid? It preyed
+upon her mind, distorting it, unbalancing it; each glance, each movement
+of his she exaggerated into an intrigue.
+
+On their way to Paris they stayed a few days at the "Loup Noir"; Charles
+Guillaumet was interested in racing. Also, he became interested in a
+certain Mdlle. Jehane. Madame, quick to see, insisted on an instant
+departure.
+
+The evening of the day of their departure she missed her husband, and
+found he had taken the car. Where should he have gone? Back to the inn,
+of course, only half-an-hour's run from Paris. She hired another car and
+followed him, driving it herself. It was not a pleasant journey. The
+first car she discovered forsaken, about half-a-mile distant from the
+inn. Her own car she left beside it, and trudged the remaining distance
+on foot.
+
+The rest was easy.
+
+Finding no sign of Guillaumet in front of the house, she stole round to
+the back. There she found a door in the wall of the courtyard--a door
+that led into the lane. That door was slightly ajar. She slipped in and
+crouched down in the shadow.
+
+Yes, there they were, her husband and Jehane; the latter was laughing,
+luring him on--and she was young; oh, so young!
+
+The woman watched, fascinated.
+
+Charles bade Jehane good-bye, promising to come again. He kissed her
+tenderly, passed through the gate; his steps were heard muffled along
+the lane.
+
+Jehane blew him a kiss, and then fastened the little door.
+
+A distant clock boomed out eleven strokes, and a pair of hands stole
+round the girl's throat, burying themselves deep, deep in the white
+flesh.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"And the husband, was he an accessory after the fact?" inquired the Boy.
+
+"Possibly he guessed at the deed, yes; but, being a weakling, said
+nothing for fear of implicating himself. It wasn't proved."
+
+The Host moved uneasily in his chair.
+
+"Do you mean to tell me that the mystery of the picture has never been
+cleared up?" he asked. "Could Arnaud have actually seen the murder from
+his window, and fixed it on the canvas?"
+
+The little French Judge shook his head.
+
+"Did I not tell you that his window faced front?" he replied. "No, that
+point has not yet been explained. It is beyond us!"
+
+He made a sweeping gesture, knocking over his liqueur glass; it fell
+with a crash on the parquet floor.
+
+The Bore woke with a start.
+
+"And did they marry?" he queried.
+
+"Who should marry?"
+
+"That artist-chap and the girl--what was her name?--Jehane."
+
+"Monsieur," quoth the little French Judge very gently and ironically, "I
+grieve to state that was impossible, Jehane being dead."
+
+The Boy at the corner of the table stood up and threw the stump of his
+cigar into the fire.
+
+"I think Spiritualism is all rot!" he declared.
+
+
+
+
+ MILLER, SON, & COMPY., LIMITED,
+            PRINTERS,
+       FAKENHAM AND LONDON.
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+
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+                _Author of "The Devil in London," &c._
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+
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+SEVENTY YEARS A SHOWMAN
+
+          MY ADVENTURES IN CAMP AND CARAVAN THE WORLD OVER.
+                       By "LORD" GEORGE SANGER.
+                            _Illustrated._
+
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+
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+            Author of "The Secret History of the Mormons."
+                     Illustrated picture wrapper.
+
+    This volume contains biographies of the following famous women: Nell
+    Gwyn, the Marchioness of Brinvilliers, the wicked Countess of
+    Shrewsbury, the Duchess of Kendal (the Maypole Duchess), Hannah
+    Lightfoot, Elizabeth Chudleigh (the bigamous Duchess), Jeanne de
+    Valois, Lady Hamilton, Jeanne du Barry, Mary Ann Clarke, the Lady
+    with the Camelias, Lola Montez, Cora Pearl, Adah Menken.
+
+
+THE SECRET HISTORY OF THE MORMONS
+
+              A TRUE NARRATIVE OF THE MOST EXTRAORDINARY
+                 RELIGIOUS IMPOSTURE OF MODERN TIMES.
+                      By C. L. MCCLUER STEVENS.
+
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+FIFTY YEARS A FIGHTER
+
+                     THE LIFE STORY OF JEM MACE.
+                 (_Formerly Champion of the World._)
+                           TOLD BY HIMSELF.
+                            _Illustrated._
+
+    A record of the last of the old prizefighters, who fought to a
+    finish many battles in the old prize ring. A list of the notorious
+    champions Mace met and vanquished would fill many pages, but he has
+    here set on record the romance of as wonderful a life as was ever
+    lived.
+
+
+CONFESSIONS OF A POACHER
+
+                            By J. CONNELL.
+                 _With Illustrations by S. T. DADD._
+
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+_In stiff pictorial paper boards._
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+AFTER-DINNER SLEIGHTS. By LANG NEIL. With many Photographs, showing
+tricks in actual operation.
+
+CARD TRICKS WITHOUT SLEIGHT OF HAND OR APPARATUS. By L. WIDDOP.
+Illustrated.
+
+CONJURING WITH COINS. Including Tricks by NELSON DOWNS and other Eminent
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+
+FUN ON THE BILLIARD TABLE. A Collection of 75 Amusing Tricks. By
+STANCLIFFE. With Photographs.
+
+HAND SHADOWS. The Complete Art of Shadowgraphy. By LOUIS NIKOLA. Fully
+Illustrated.
+
+INDOOR GAMES FOR CHILDREN AND YOUNG PEOPLE. Edited by E. M. BAKER.
+Illustrated.
+
+MODERN CARD MANIPULATION. By C. LANG NEIL. Enlarged Edition. With many
+Photographs, showing Tricks in operation.
+
+THE NEW BOOK OF PUZZLES. Up-to-date and original. By A. CYRIL PEARSON.
+With upwards of 100 Illustrations.
+
+THE PEARSON PUZZLE BOOK. A Collection of over 100 of the Best Puzzles.
+Edited by J. K. BENSON.
+
+PEARSON'S BOOK OF FUN, MIRTH AND MYSTERY. Edited by Mr. X.
+
+PEARSON'S HUMOROUS RECITER AND READER.
+
+PLAYS FOR AMATEUR ACTORS. Containing Nine Original Plays. Six for
+Adults, two for Children, and one for Scouts.
+
+PLAYS AND DISPLAYS FOR SCOUT ENTERTAINMENTS. This volume contains six
+long plays, also several shorter plays, and recitations.
+
+PRACTICE STROKES AT BILLIARDS. For Tables of all Sizes. From the Match
+Play of John Roberts and other leading players.
+
+RECITATIONS FOR CHILDREN. Selected by JEAN BELFRAGE. With Three Original
+Plays for Children.
+
+SIMPLE CONJURING TRICKS THAT ANYBODY CAN PERFORM. By WILL GOLDSTON.
+
+TRICKS FOR EVERYONE. By DAVID DEVANT. Illustrated with 134 Photographs.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Uncanny Tales, by Various
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Uncanny Tales, by Various
+
+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: Uncanny Tales
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: C. Arthur Pearson
+
+Release Date: September 13, 2008 [EBook #26606]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNCANNY TALES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Clarke, Stephen Blundell and the Online
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+</pre>
+
+
+<h1><big>UNCANNY TALES</big></h1>
+
+<p class="p1">LONDON<br />
+C. ARTHUR PEARSON, LIMITED<br />
+HENRIETTA STREET, W.C.<br />
+1916</p>
+
+<hr />
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td class="td2" colspan="3"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2">I.</td><td class="td1">The Unknown Quantity</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2">II.</td><td class="td1">The Armless Man</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2">III.</td><td class="td1">The Tomtom Clue</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2">IV.</td><td class="td1">The Case of Sir Alister Moeran</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2">V.</td><td class="td1">The Kiss</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2">VI.</td><td class="td1">The Goth</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2">VII.</td><td class="td1">The Last Ascent</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2">VIII.</td><td class="td1">The Terror by Night</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2">IX.</td><td class="td1">The Tragedy at the "Loup Noir"</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p>
+<h1>UNCANNY STORIES</h1>
+
+<h2>I<br />
+THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Professor William James Maynard</span> was in
+a singularly happy and contented mood as
+he strolled down the High Street after a long
+and satisfactory interview with the solicitor to
+his late cousin, whose sole heir he was.</p>
+
+<p>It was exactly a month by the calendar since
+he had murdered this cousin, and everything
+had gone most satisfactorily since. The fortune
+was proving quite as large as he had expected,
+and not even an inquest had been held upon
+the dead man. The coroner had decided that
+it was not necessary, and the Professor had
+agreed with him.</p>
+
+<p>At the funeral the Professor had been the
+principal mourner, and the local paper had commented
+sympathetically on his evident emotion.
+This had been quite genuine, for the Professor
+had been fond of his relative, who had always
+been very good to him. But still, when an
+old man remains obstinately healthy, when
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>his doctor can say with confidence that he is
+good for another twenty years at least, and
+when he stands between you and a large fortune
+which you need, and of which you can make
+much better use in the cause of science and the
+pursuit of knowledge, what alternative is there?
+It becomes necessary to take steps. Therefore,
+the Professor had taken steps.</p>
+
+<p>Looking back to-day on that day a month
+ago, and the critical preceding week, the Professor
+felt that the steps he had taken had been
+as judicious as successful. He had set himself
+to solve a problem in higher mathematics. He
+had found it easier to solve than many he was
+obliged to grapple with in the course of his
+studies.</p>
+
+<p>A policeman saluted as the Professor passed,
+and he acknowledged it with the charming
+old world courtesy that made him so popular
+a figure in the town. Across the way was the
+doctor who had certified the cause of death.
+The Professor, passing benevolently on, was
+glad he had now enough money to carry out his
+projects. He would be able to publish at once
+his great work on "The Secondary Variation
+of the Differential Calculus," that hitherto had
+languished in manuscript. It would make a
+sensation, he thought; there was more than one
+generally accepted theory he had challenged
+or contradicted in it. And he would put in
+hand at once his great, his long projected work,
+"A History of the Higher Mathematics." It
+would take twenty years to complete, it would
+cost twenty thousand pounds or more, and it
+would breathe into mathematics the new,
+vivid life that Bergson's works have breathed
+into metaphysics.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Professor thought very kindly of the
+dead cousin, whose money would provide for
+this great work. He wished greatly the dead
+man could know to what high use his fortune
+was designed.</p>
+
+<p>Coming towards him he saw the wife of the
+vicar of his parish. The Professor was a regular
+church-goer. The vicar's wife saw him, too,
+and beamed. She and her husband were more
+than a little proud of having so well known a
+man in their congregation. She held out her
+hand and the Professor was about to take it
+when she drew it back with a startled movement.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I beg your pardon!" she exclaimed,
+distressed, as she saw him raise his eyebrows.
+"There is blood on it."</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes were fixed on his right hand, which
+he was still holding out. In fact, on the palm
+a small drop of blood showed distinctly against
+the firm, pink flesh. Surprised, the Professor
+took out his handkerchief and wiped it away.
+He noticed that the vicar's wife was wearing
+white kid gloves.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I beg your pardon!" she said again.
+"It&mdash;it startled me somehow. I thought you
+must have cut yourself. I hope it's not much?"</p>
+
+<p>"Some scratch, I suppose," he said. "It's
+nothing."</p>
+
+<p>The vicar's wife, still slightly discomposed,
+launched out into some parochial matter she
+had wished to mention to him. They chatted
+a few moments and then parted. The Professor
+took an opportunity to look at his hand. He
+could detect no sign of any cut or abrasion,
+the skin seemed whole everywhere. He looked
+at his handkerchief. There was still visible<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>
+on it the stain where he had wiped his hand,
+and this stain seemed certainly blood.</p>
+
+<p>"Odd!" he muttered as he put the handkerchief
+back in his pocket. "Very odd!"</p>
+
+<p>His thoughts turned again to his projected
+"A History of the Higher Mathematics," and
+he forgot all about the incident till, as it happened
+that day month, the first of the month by the
+calendar, when he was sitting in his study
+with an eminent colleague to whom he was
+explaining his great scheme.</p>
+
+<p>"If you are able to carry it out," the colleague
+said slowly, "your book will mark an epoch
+in human thought. But the cost will be tremendous."</p>
+
+<p>"I estimate it at twenty thousand pounds,"
+answered the Professor calmly. "I am fully
+prepared to spend twice as much. You know
+I have recently inherited forty thousand pounds
+from a relative?"</p>
+
+<p>The eminent colleague nodded and looked
+very impressed.</p>
+
+<p>"It is magnificent," he said warmly, "magnificent."
+He added: "You've cut yourself,
+do you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Cut myself?" the Professor echoed, surprised.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," answered the eminent colleague,
+"there is blood upon your hand&mdash;your right
+hand."</p>
+
+<p>In fact a spot of blood, slightly larger than
+that which had appeared before, showed plainly
+upon the Professor's right hand. He wiped
+it away with his handkerchief, and went on
+talking eagerly, for he was deeply interested.
+He did not think of the matter again till just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>
+as he was getting into bed, when he noticed a
+red stain upon his handkerchief. He frowned
+and examined his hand carefully. There was
+no sign of any wound or cut from which the
+blood could have come, and he frowned again.</p>
+
+<p>"Very odd!" he muttered.</p>
+
+<p>A calendar hanging on the wall reminded
+him that it was the first of the month.</p>
+
+<p>The days passed, the incident faded from his
+memory, and four weeks later he came down
+one morning to breakfast in an unusually good
+temper. There was a certain theory he had
+worked on the night before he meant to write
+to a friend about. It seemed to him his demonstration
+had been really brilliant, and then,
+also, he was already planning out with great
+success the details of the scheme for his great
+work.</p>
+
+<p>He was making an excellent breakfast, for
+his appetite was always good, and, needing
+some more cream, he rang the bell. The maid
+appeared, he showed her the empty jug, and as
+she took it she dropped it with a sudden cry,
+smashing it to pieces on the floor. Very pale,
+she stammered out:</p>
+
+<p>"Beg pardon, sir, your hand&mdash;there is blood
+upon your hand."</p>
+
+<p>In fact, on the Professor's right hand there
+showed a drop of blood, perceptibly larger this
+time than before. The Professor stared at it
+stupidly. He was sure it had not been there a
+moment before, and he noticed by the heading
+of the newspaper at the side of his plate that
+this was the first of the month.</p>
+
+<p>With a hasty movement of his napkin he
+wiped the drop of blood away. The maid, still<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>
+apologising, began to pick up the pieces of the
+jug she had broken; but the Professor had no
+further appetite for his breakfast. He silenced
+her with a gesture, and, leaving a piece of toast
+half-eaten on his plate, he got up and went into
+his study.</p>
+
+<p>All this was trivial, absurd even. Yet somehow
+it disturbed him. He got out a magnifying
+glass and examined his hand under it. There
+was nothing to account for the presence of the
+drop of blood he and the maid had seen. It
+occurred to him that he might have cut himself
+in shaving; but when he looked in the mirror
+he could find no trace of even the slightest
+wound.</p>
+
+<p>He decided that, though he had not been
+aware of it, his nerves must be a little out of
+order. That was disconcerting. He had not
+taken his nerves into consideration for the simple
+reason that he had never known that he possessed
+any. He made up his mind to treat himself
+to a holiday in Switzerland. One or two difficult
+ascents might brace him up a bit.</p>
+
+<p>Three days later he was in Switzerland, and
+a few days later again he was on the summit
+of a minor but still difficult peak. It had been
+an exhilarating climb, and he had enjoyed it.
+He said something laughingly to the head guide
+to the effect that climbing was good sport and
+a fine test for the nerves. The head guide agreed,
+and added politely that if the nerves of monsieur
+the Professor had shown signs of failing on the
+lower glacier, for example, they might all have
+been in difficulties. The Professor thrilled with
+pleasure at the head guide's implied praise.
+He was glad to know on such good authority<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>
+that his nerves were all right, and the incidents
+that had driven him there began to fade in his
+memory.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, he found himself watching the
+calendar with a certain interest, and when he
+woke on the morning of the first day of the
+next month he glanced quickly at his right
+hand. There was nothing there.</p>
+
+<p>He dressed and spent, as he had planned, a
+quiet day, busy with his correspondence. His
+spirits rose as the day passed. He was still
+watchful, but more confident; and, after dinner,
+though he had meant to go straight to his room,
+he agreed to join in a suggested game of bridge.
+They were cutting for partners when one of the
+ladies who was to take part in the game dropped
+with a little cry the card she had just lifted.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, there is blood upon your hand," she
+cried, "on your right hand, Professor!"</p>
+
+<p>Upon the Professor's right hand there showed
+now a drop of blood, larger still then those other
+three had been. Yet the very moment before
+it had not been there. The Professor put down
+his cards without a word, and left the room,
+going straight upstairs.</p>
+
+<p>The drop of blood was still standing on his
+hand. He soaked it up carefully with some
+cotton-wool he had, and was not surprised to
+find beneath no sign or trace of any cut or wound.
+The cotton-wool he made up carefully into a
+parcel and addressed it to an analytical chemist
+he knew, inclosing with it a short note.</p>
+
+<p>He rang the bell, sent the parcel to the post,
+and then he got out pen and paper and set
+himself to solve this problem, as in his life he
+had solved so many others.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Only this time it seemed somehow as though
+the data were insufficient.</p>
+
+<p>Idly his pen traced upon the paper in front
+of him a large <i>X</i>, the sign of the unknown
+quantity.</p>
+
+<p>But how, in this case, to find out what was
+the unknown quantity? His hand, his firm
+and steady hand, shook so that he could no
+longer hold his pen. He rang the bell again
+and ordered a stiff whisky-and-soda. He was
+a man of almost ascetic habits, but to-night
+he felt that he needed some stimulant.</p>
+
+<p>Neither did he sleep very well.</p>
+
+<p>The next day he returned to England. Almost
+at once he went to see his friend, the analytical
+chemist, to whom he had sent the parcel from
+Switzerland.</p>
+
+<p>"Mammalian blood," pronounced the chemist,
+"probably human&mdash;rather a curious thing about
+it, too."</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?" asked the Professor.</p>
+
+<p>"Why," his friend answered, "I was able
+to identify the distinctive bacillus&mdash;&mdash;" He
+named the rare bacillus of an unusual and obscure
+disease. And this disease was that from which
+the Professor's cousin had died.</p>
+
+<p>The professor was a man interested in all
+phenomena. In other circumstances he would
+have observed keenly that which now occurred,
+when the hair of his head underwent a curious
+involuntary stiffening and bristling process that
+in popular but sufficiently accurate terms, might
+be described as "standing on end." But at
+the moment he was in no state for scientific
+observations.</p>
+
+<p>He got out of the house somehow. He said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>
+he did not feel well, and his friend, the chemist,
+agreed that his holiday in Switzerland did not
+seem to have done him much good.</p>
+
+<p>The Professor went straight home and shut
+himself up in his study. It was a fine room,
+ranged all round with books. On the shelves
+nearest to his hand stood volumes on mathematics,
+the theory of mathematics, the study of mathematics,
+pure mathematics, applied mathematics.
+But there was not any one of these books that
+told him anything about such a thing as this.
+Though, it is true, there were many references
+in them, here and there, to <i>X</i>, the unknown
+quantity.</p>
+
+<p>The Professor took his pen and wrote a large
+<i>X</i> upon the sheet of paper in front of him.</p>
+
+<p>"An unknown quantity!" he muttered. "An
+unknown&mdash;quantity!"</p>
+
+<p>The days passed peacefully. Nothing was
+out of the ordinary except that the Professor
+developed an odd trick of continually glancing
+at his right hand. He washed it a good
+deal, too. But the first of the month was not
+yet.</p>
+
+<p>On the last day of the month he told his housekeeper
+that he was feeling a little unwell. She
+was not surprised, for she had thought him looking
+ill for some time past. He told her he would
+probably spend the next day in bed for a thorough
+rest, and she agreed that that would be a very
+good idea. When he was in his own room and
+had undressed, he bandaged his right hand with
+care, tying it up carefully and thoroughly with
+three or four of his large linen handkerchiefs.</p>
+
+<p>"Whatever comes, shall now show," he said
+to himself.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He stayed in bed accordingly the next day.
+His housekeeper was a little uneasy about him.
+He ate nothing and his eyes were strangely
+bright and feverish. She overheard him once
+muttering something to himself about "the
+unknown quantity," and that made her think
+that he had been working too hard.</p>
+
+<p>She decided he must see the doctor. The
+Professor refused peremptorily. He declared
+he would be quite well again in the morning.
+The housekeeper, an old servant, agreed, but
+sent for the doctor all the same; and when he
+had come the Professor felt he could not refuse
+to see him without appearing peculiar. And
+he did not wish to appear peculiar. So he saw
+the doctor, but declared there was nothing much
+the matter, he merely felt a little unwell and out
+of sorts and tired.</p>
+
+<p>"You have hurt your hand?" the doctor
+asked, noticing how it was bandaged.</p>
+
+<p>"I cut it slightly&mdash;a trifle," the Professor
+answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," the doctor answered, "I see there
+is blood on it."</p>
+
+<p>"What?" the Professor stammered.</p>
+
+<p>"There is blood upon your hand," the doctor
+repeated.</p>
+
+<p>The Professor looked. In fact, a deep, wide
+stain showed crimson upon the bandages in
+which he had swathed his hand. Yet he knew
+that the moment before the linen had been fair
+and white and clean.</p>
+
+<p>"It is nothing," he said quickly, hiding his
+hand beneath the bed clothes.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor, a little puzzled, took his leave,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>
+but had not gone ten yards when the housekeeper
+flew screaming after him. It seemed she
+had heard a fall, and when she had gone into
+the Professor's bedroom she had found him lying
+there dead upon the hearthrug. There was
+a razor in his hand, and there was a ghastly
+gash across his throat.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor went back at a run, but there was
+nothing he or any man could do. One thing
+he noticed, with curiosity, was that the bandage
+had been torn away from the dead man's hand
+and that oddly enough there seemed to be on
+the hand no sign of any cut or wound. There
+was a large solitary drop of blood on the palm,
+at the root of the thumb; but, of course, that
+was no great wonder, for the wound the dead
+man had dealt himself had bled freely.</p>
+
+<p>Apparently death had not been quite instantaneous,
+for with a last effort the Professor
+seemed to have traced an <i>X</i> upon the floor in
+his own blood with his forefinger. The doctor
+mentioned this at the inquest&mdash;the coroner
+had decided at once that in this case an inquest
+was certainly necessary&mdash;and he suggested that
+it showed the Professor had worked too hard
+and was suffering from overwork which had
+disturbed his mental balance.</p>
+
+<p>The coroner took the same view, and in his
+short address to the jury adduced the incident
+as proof of a passing mental disturbance.</p>
+
+<p>"Very probably," said the coroner, "there
+was some problem that had worried him, and that
+he was still endeavouring to work out. As
+you are aware, gentlemen, the sign <i>X</i> is used
+to symbolise the unknown quantity."</p>
+
+<p>An appropriate verdict was accordingly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>
+returned, and the Professor was duly interred
+in the same family vault as that in which so
+short a time previously his cousin had been
+laid to rest.</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p>
+<h2>II<br />
+THE ARMLESS MAN</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">I first</span> met Bob Masters in the hotel at a place
+called Fourteen Streams, not very far from
+Kimberley.</p>
+
+<p>I had for some months been trying to find gold
+or diamonds by digging holes in the veldt. But
+since this has little or nothing to do with the
+story, I pass by my mining adventures and come
+back to the hotel. I came to it very readily
+that afternoon, for I was very thirsty.</p>
+
+<p>A tall man standing at the bar turned his head
+as I entered and said "Good-day" to me. I
+returned the compliment, but took no particular
+notice of him at first.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly I heard the man say to the barman:</p>
+
+<p>"I'm ready for another drink."</p>
+
+<p>That surprised me, because his glass was
+still three-quarters full. But I was still more
+startled by the action of the barman who lifted
+up the glass and held it whilst the man drank.</p>
+
+<p>Then I saw the reason. The man had no arms.</p>
+
+<p>You know the easy way in which Englishmen
+chum together anywhere out of England, whilst
+in their native country nothing save a formal
+introduction will make them acquainted? I
+made some remark to Masters which led to
+another from him, and in five minutes' time we
+were chatting on all sorts of topics.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I learnt that Masters, bound for England,
+had come in to Fourteen Streams to catch the
+train from Kimberley, and, having a few hours
+to wait, had strolled up to the collection of tin
+huts calling itself a town.</p>
+
+<p>I was going down to Kimberley too, so of course
+we went together, and were quite old friends
+by the time we reached that city.</p>
+
+<p>We had a wash and something to eat, and then
+we walked round to the post-office. I used to
+have my letters addressed there, <i>poste restante</i>,
+and call in for them when I happened to be in
+Kimberley.</p>
+
+<p>I found several letters, one of which altered
+the whole course of my life. This was from
+Messrs. Harvey, Filson, and Harvey, solicitors,
+Lincoln's Inn Fields. It informed me that the
+sudden death of my cousin had so affected my
+uncle's health that he had followed his only son
+within the month. The senior branch of the
+family being thus extinct the whole of the entailed
+estate had devolved on me.</p>
+
+<p>The first thing I did was to send off two cablegrams
+to say that I was coming home by the
+first available boat, one to the solicitors, the other
+to Nancy Milward.</p>
+
+<p>Masters and I arranged to come home together
+and eventually reached Cape Town. There we
+had considerable trouble at the shipping office.
+It was just about the time of year when people
+who live in Africa to make money, come over
+to England to spend it, and in consequence the
+boats were very crowded. Masters demanded
+a cabin to himself, a luxury which was not to
+be had, though there was one that he and I
+could share. He made a tremendous fuss about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>
+doing this, and I thought it very strange, because
+I had assisted him in many ways which his mutilation
+rendered necessary. However, he had to
+give way in the end, and we embarked on the
+Castle liner.</p>
+
+<p>On the voyage he told me how he had lost
+his arms. It seemed that he had been sent
+up country on some Government job or other,
+and had had the ill-fortune to be captured by
+the natives. They treated him quite well at
+first, but gave him to understand that he must
+not try to escape. I suppose that to most men
+such a warning would be a direct incitement
+to make the attempt. Masters made it and failed.
+They cut off his right arm as a punishment.
+He waited until the wound was healed and tried
+again. Again he failed. This time they cut
+off his other arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Good Lord," I cried. "What devils!"</p>
+
+<p>"Weren't they!" he said. "And yet, you
+know, they were quite good-tempered chaps
+when you didn't cross them. I wasn't going
+to be beaten by a lot of naked niggers though,
+and I made a third attempt.</p>
+
+<p>"I succeeded all right that time, though, of
+course, it was much more difficult. I really
+don't know at all how I managed to worry
+through. You see, I could only eat plants and
+leaves and such fruit as I came across; but I'd
+learnt as much as I could of the local botany
+in the intervals."</p>
+
+<p>"Was it worth while?" I asked. "I think
+the first failure and its result would have satisfied
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said slowly, "it was worth while.
+You see, my wife was waiting for me at home,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>
+and I wanted to see her again very badly&mdash;you
+don't know how badly."</p>
+
+<p>"I think I can imagine," I said. "Because
+there is a girl waiting for me too at home."</p>
+
+<p>"I saw her before she died," he continued.</p>
+
+<p>"Died?" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he answered. "She was dying when
+I reached home at last, but I was with her at the
+end. That was something, wasn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>I do hate people to tell me this sort of thing.
+Not because I do not feel sorry for them; on the
+contrary, I feel so sorry that I absolutely fail
+to find words to express my sympathy. I
+tried, however, to show it in other ways, by the
+attentions I paid him and by anticipating his
+every wish.</p>
+
+<p>Yet there were many things that were astonishing
+about his actions, things that I wonder
+now I did not realise must have been impossible
+for him to do for himself, and that yet were done.
+But he was so surprisingly dexterous with his
+lips, and feet too, when he was in his cabin that
+I suppose I put them down to that.</p>
+
+<p>I remember waking up one night and looking
+out of my bunk to see him standing on the
+floor. The cabin was only faintly lit by a moonbeam
+which found its way through the porthole.
+I could not see clearly, but I fancied that he
+walked to the door and opened it, and closed
+it behind him. He did it all very quickly, as
+quickly as I could have done it. As I say,
+I was very sleepy, but the sight of the door
+opening and shutting like that woke me
+thoroughly. Sitting up I shouted at him.</p>
+
+<p>He heard me and opened the door again, easily,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>
+too, much more easily than he seemed to be able
+to shut it when he saw me looking at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo! Awake, old chap?" he said.
+"What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Er&mdash;nothing," I said. "Or rather I suppose
+I was only half awake; but you seemed to open
+that door so easily that it quite startled me."</p>
+
+<p>"One does not always like to let others see
+the shifts to which one has to resort," was all
+the answer he gave me.</p>
+
+<p>But I worried over it. The thing bothered me,
+because he had made no attempt to explain.</p>
+
+<p>That was not the only thing I noticed.</p>
+
+<p>Two or three days later we were sitting together
+on deck. I had offered to read to him. I
+noticed that he got up out of his chair. Suddenly
+I saw the chair move. It gave me a great shock,
+for the chair twisted apparently of its own
+volition, so that when he sat down again the
+sunlight was at his back and not in his eyes,
+as I knew it had been previously. But I reasoned
+with myself and managed to satisfy myself that
+he must have turned the chair round with his
+foot. It was just possible that he could have
+done so, for it had one of those light wicker-work
+seats.</p>
+
+<p>We had a lovely voyage for three-quarters
+of the way, and the sea was as calm as any duck-pond.
+But that was all altered when we passed
+Cape Finisterre. I have done a lot of knocking
+about on the ocean one way and another, but
+I never saw the Bay of Biscay deserve its reputation
+better.</p>
+
+<p>I'd much rather see what is going on than be
+cooped up below, and after lunch I told Bob
+I was going up on deck.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I'll only stay there for a bit," I said. "You
+make yourself comfortable down here."</p>
+
+<p>I filled his pipe, put it in his mouth, and gave
+him a match; then I left him.</p>
+
+<p>I made my way up and down the deck for a
+time, clutching hold of everything handy, and
+rather enjoyed it, though the waves drenched
+me to the skin.</p>
+
+<p>Presently I saw Masters come out of the companion-way
+and make his way very skilfully
+towards me. Of course it was fearfully dangerous
+for him.</p>
+
+<p>I staggered towards him, and, putting my
+lips to his ear, shouted to him to go below at
+once.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I shall be all right!" he said, and
+laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll be drowned&mdash;drowned," I screamed.
+"There was a wave just now that&mdash;well, if I
+hadn't been able to cling on with both hands
+like grim death, I should have gone overboard.
+Go below."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed again and shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>And then what I dreaded happened. A vast
+mountain of green water lifted up its bulk and
+fell upon us in a ravening cataract. I clutched
+at Masters, but trying to save him and myself
+handicapped me badly. The strength of that
+mass of water was terrible. It seemed to snatch
+at everything with giant hands, and drag all
+with it. It tossed a hen-coop high, and carried
+it through the rails.</p>
+
+<p>I felt the grip of my right hand loosen, and the
+next instant was carried, still clutching Masters
+with my left, towards that gap in the bulwark.</p>
+
+<p>I managed to seize the end of the broken rail.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>
+It held us for a moment, then gave, and for a
+moment I hung sheer over the vessel's side.</p>
+
+<p>In that instant I felt fingers tighten on my
+arm, tighten till they bit into the flesh, and I
+was pulled back into safety.</p>
+
+<p>Together we staggered back, and got below
+somehow. I was trembling like a leaf, and the
+sweat dripped from me. I almost screamed aloud.</p>
+
+<p>It was not that I was frightened of death.
+I've seen too much of that in many parts of the
+earth to dread it greatly. It was the thought
+of those fingers tightening on me where no
+fingers were.</p>
+
+<p>Masters did not speak a word, nor did I, until
+we found ourselves in the cabin.</p>
+
+<p>I tore the wet clothes off me and turned my
+arm to the mirror. I knew I could not have
+been mistaken when I felt them.</p>
+
+<p>There on the upper arm, above the line of
+sunburn that one gets from working with sleeves
+rolled up, there on the white skin showed <i>the
+red marks of four slender fingers and a thumb</i>!
+I sat down suddenly at sight of them, and
+pulling open a drawer, found a flask of neat
+brandy, and gulped it down, emptied it in one
+gulp.</p>
+
+<p>Then I turned to him and pointed to the marks.</p>
+
+<p>"In God's name, how came these here?"
+I said. "What&mdash;what happened up there
+on deck?"</p>
+
+<p>He looked at me very gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"I saved you," he said, "or rather I didn't,
+for I could not. But <i>she</i> did."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" I stammered.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me get these clothes off," he said, "and
+some dry ones on; and I'll tell you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Words fail to describe my feelings as I
+watched the clothes come off him and dry ones
+go on just as if hands were arranging them.</p>
+
+<p>I sat and shuddered. I tried to close my eyes,
+but the weird, unnatural sight drew them as
+a lodestone.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry that you should have had this
+shock," he said. "I know what it must have
+been like, though it was not so bad for me when
+they seemed to come, for they came gradually
+as time went on."</p>
+
+<p>"What came gradually?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, these arms! They're what I'm telling
+you about. You asked me to tell you, I
+thought?"</p>
+
+<p>"Did I?" I said. "I don't know what I'm
+saying or asking. I think I'm going mad,
+quite mad."</p>
+
+<p>"No," he said, "you're as sane as I am, only
+when you come across something strange, unique
+for that matter, you are naturally terrified.
+Well, it was like this. I told you about my
+adventures with the niggers up country. That
+was quite true. They cut off both my arms&mdash;you
+can see the stumps for that matter. And I
+told you that I came home to find my wife dying.
+Her heart had always been weak, I'd known
+that, and it had gradually grown more feeble.
+There must have been, indeed there was, a strange
+sort of telepathy between us. She had had
+fearful attacks of heart failure on both occasions
+when the niggers had mutilated me, I learnt
+on comparing notes.</p>
+
+<p>"But I had known too, somehow, that I must
+escape at all costs. It was the knowledge that
+made me try again after each failure. I should<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>
+have gone on trying to escape as long as I had
+lived, or rather as long as she had lived. I knelt
+beside her bed and she put out her arms and
+laid them round my neck.</p>
+
+<p>"'So you have come back to me before I
+go,' she said. 'I knew you must, because I
+called you so. But you have been long in coming,
+almost too long. But I knew I had to see you
+again before I died.'</p>
+
+<p>"I broke down then. I was sorely tried.
+No arms even to put round her!</p>
+
+<p>"'Darling, stay with me for a little, only for
+a little while!' I sobbed.</p>
+
+<p>"She shook her head feebly. 'It is no use,
+my dear,' she said, 'I must go.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I'll come with you,' I said, 'I'll not live
+without you.'</p>
+
+<p>"She shook her head again.</p>
+
+<p>"'You must be brave, Bob. I shall be
+watching you afterwards just as much as if I
+still lived on earth. If only I could give you
+my arms! A poor, weak woman's arms, but
+better than none, dear.'</p>
+
+<p>"She died some weeks later. I spent all the
+time at her bedside, I hardly left her. Her
+arms were round me when she died. Shall I
+ever feel them round me again? I wonder!
+You see, they are mine now.</p>
+
+<p>"They came to me gradually. It was very
+strange at first to have arms and hands which
+one couldn't see. I used to keep my eyes shut
+as much as possible, and try to fancy that I
+had never lost my arms.</p>
+
+<p>"I got used to them in time. But I have
+always been careful not to let people see me
+do things that they would know to be impossible<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>
+for an armless man. That was what took me
+to Africa again, because I could get lost there
+and do things for myself with these hands."</p>
+
+<p>"'And they twain shall be one flesh,'" I
+muttered.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, "I think the explanation
+must be something of that sort. There's more
+than that in it, though; these arms are other
+than flesh."</p>
+
+<p>He sat silent for a time with his head bowed
+on his chest. Then he spoke again:</p>
+
+<p>"I got sick of being alone at last, and was
+coming back when I met you at Fourteen Streams.
+I don't know what I shall do when I do get
+home. I can never rest. I have&mdash;what do
+they call it&mdash;<i>Wanderlust</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"Does she ever speak to you from that other
+world?" I asked him.</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head sadly.</p>
+
+<p>"No, never. But I know she lives somewhere
+beyond this world of ours. She must,
+because these arms live. So I try always to
+act as if she watches everything. I always
+try to do the right thing, but, anyway, these
+arms and hands would do good of their own
+accord. Just now up on the deck I was very
+frightened. I'd have saved myself at any cost
+almost, and let you go. But I could not do
+that. The hands clutched you. It is her will,
+so much stronger and purer than mine, that
+still persists. It is only when she does not
+exert it that I control these arms."</p>
+
+<p>That was how I learnt the strangest tale that
+ever a man was told, and knew the miracle to
+which I owed my life.</p>
+
+<p>It may be that Bob Masters was a coward.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>
+He always said that he was. Personally I do
+not believe it, for he had the sweetest nature
+I ever met.</p>
+
+<p>He had nowhere to go to in England and
+seemed to have no friends. So I made him come
+down with me to Englehart, that dear old country
+seat of my family in the Western shires which
+was now mine.</p>
+
+<p>Nancy lived in that country, too.</p>
+
+<p>There was no reason why we should not get
+married at once. We had waited long enough.</p>
+
+<p>I can see again the old, ivy-grown church
+where Nancy and I were wed, and Bob Masters
+standing by my side as best man.</p>
+
+<p>I remember feeling in his pocket for the ring,
+and as I did so, I felt a hand grasp mine for a
+moment.</p>
+
+<p>Then there was the reception afterwards, and
+speech-making&mdash;the usual sort of thing.</p>
+
+<p>Later Nancy and I drove off to the station.</p>
+
+<p>We had not said good-bye to Bob, for he'd
+insisted on driving to the station with the luggage;
+said he was going to see the last of us there.</p>
+
+<p>He was waiting for us in the yard when we
+reached it, and walked with us on to the platform.</p>
+
+<p>We stood there chatting about one thing
+and another, when I noticed that Nancy was
+not talking much and seemed rather pale. I
+was just going to remark on it when we
+heard the whistle of the train. There is a sharp
+curve in the permanent way outside the station,
+so that a train is on you all of a sudden.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly to my horror I saw Nancy sway
+backwards towards the edge of the platform.
+I tried vainly to catch her as she reeled and
+fell&mdash;right in front of the oncoming train. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>
+sprang forward to leap after her, but hands
+grasped me and flung me back so violently
+that I fell down on the platform.</p>
+
+<p>It was Bob Masters who took the place that
+should have been mine, and leapt upon the
+metals.</p>
+
+<p>I could not see what happened then. The
+station-master says he saw Nancy lifted from
+before the engine when it was right upon her.
+He says it was as if she was lifted by the wind.
+She was quite close to Masters. "Near enough
+for him to have lifted her, sir, if he'd had arms."
+The two of them staggered for a moment, and
+together fell clear of the train.</p>
+
+<p>Nancy was little the worse for the awful
+accident, bruised, of course, but poor Masters
+was unconscious.</p>
+
+<p>We carried him into the waiting-room, laid him
+on the cushions there, and sent hot-foot
+for the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>He was a good country practitioner, and, I
+suppose, knew the ordinary routine of his work
+quite well. He fussed about, hummed and
+hawed a lot.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes," he said, as if he were trying to
+persuade himself. "Shock, you know. He'll
+be better presently. Lucky, though, that he
+had no arms."</p>
+
+<p>I noticed then, for the first time, that the
+sleeves of the coat had been shorn away.</p>
+
+<p>"Doctor," I said, "how is he? Surely,
+if he isn't hurt he would not look like that.
+What exactly do you mean by shock?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hum&mdash;er," he hesitated, and applied his
+stethoscope to Masters' heart again.</p>
+
+<p>"The heart is very weak," he said at length.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>
+"Very weak. He's always very an&aelig;mic, I
+suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," I answered. "He's anything but that.
+He's&mdash;&mdash;Good Lord, he's bleeding to death!
+Put ligatures on his arms. Put ligatures on
+his arms."</p>
+
+<p>"Please keep quiet, Mr. Riverston," the
+doctor said. "It must have been a dreadful
+experience for you, and you are naturally very
+upset."</p>
+
+<p>I raved and cursed at him. I think I should
+have struck him, but the others held me. They
+said they would take me away if I did not keep
+quiet.</p>
+
+<p>Bob Masters opened his eyes presently, and
+saw them holding me.</p>
+
+<p>"Please let him go," he said. "It's all right,
+old man. It's no use your arguing with them,
+they would not understand. I could never
+explain to them now, and they would never
+believe you. Besides, it's all for the best. Yes,
+the train went over them and I'm armless for
+the second time. But&mdash;not for long!"</p>
+
+<p>I knelt by his side and sobbed. It all seemed
+so dreadful, and yet, I don't think that then
+I would have tried to stay his passing. I knew
+it was best for him.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at me very affectionately.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm so sorry that this should happen on
+your wedding-day," he said. "But it would
+have been so much worse for you if <i>she</i> had
+not helped."</p>
+
+<p>His voice grew fainter and died away.</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause for a time, and his breath
+came in great sighing sobs.</p>
+
+<p>Then suddenly he raised himself on the cushions<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>
+until he stood upright on his feet, and a smile
+broke over his face&mdash;a smile so sweet that I
+think the angels in Paradise must look like that.</p>
+
+<p>His voice came strong and loud from his lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Darling!" he cried. "Darling, your arms
+are round me once again! I come! I come!"</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>"One of the most extraordinary cases I have
+ever met with," the doctor told the coroner at
+the inquest. "He seemed to have all the
+symptoms of excessive h&aelig;morrhage."</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p>
+<h2>III<br />
+THE TOMTOM CLUE</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">I had</span> just settled down for a comfortable
+evening over the fire in a saddle-bag chair drawn
+up as close to the hearth as the fender would
+allow, with a plentiful supply of literature and
+whisky, and pipe and tobacco, when the telephone
+bell rang loudly and insistently. With a
+sigh I rose and took up the receiver.</p>
+
+<p>"That you?" said a voice I recognised as
+that of Jack Bridges. "Can I come round and
+see you at once? It's most important. No,
+I can't tell you now. I'll be with you in a few
+minutes."</p>
+
+<p>I hung the receiver up again, wondering
+what business could fetch Jack Bridges round
+at that time of the evening to see me. We
+had been the greatest of pals at school and at
+the 'Varsity, and had kept the friendship up
+ever since, despite my intermittent wanderings
+over the face of the globe. But during the
+last few days or so Jack had become engaged
+to Miss Glanville, the daughter of old Glanville,
+of South African fame, and as a love-sick swain I
+naturally expected to see very little of him,
+until after the wedding at any rate.</p>
+
+<p>At this time of the evening, according to my
+ideas of engaged couples, he should be sitting
+in the stalls at some theatre, and not running<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>
+round to see bachelor friends with cynical views
+on matrimony.</p>
+
+<p>I had not arrived at a satisfactory solution
+when the door opened and Jack walked in.
+One glance at his face told me that he was in
+trouble, and without a word I pushed him into
+my chair and handed him a drink. Then I
+sat down on the opposite side of the fire and
+waited for him to begin, for a man in need of
+sympathy does not want to be worried by
+questions.</p>
+
+<p>He gulped down half his whisky and sat for
+a moment gazing into the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"Jim, old man," he said at length, "I've had
+awful news."</p>
+
+<p>"Not connected with Miss Glanville?" I
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>"In a way, yes. It's broken off, but there's
+worse than that&mdash;far worse. I can hardly
+realise it; I feel numbed at present; it's too
+horrible. You remember that when you and
+I were at Winchester together my father was
+killed during the Matabele War?"</p>
+
+<p>I nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," continued Jack, "I heard to-day
+that he was not killed by the Matabele, but was
+hanged in Bulawayo for murder. In other
+words, I am the son of a murderer."</p>
+
+<p>"Hanged for murder!" I exclaimed in horror.
+"Surely there's some mistake?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," groaned Jack, "it's true enough. I've
+seen the newspaper cutting of the time, and I'm
+the son of a murderer, who was also a forger,
+a thief, and a card-sharper. Old Glanville
+told me this evening. It was then that our
+engagement was broken off."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Your mother?" I asked. "Have you seen
+her?"</p>
+
+<p>Jack nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor little woman!" he groaned. "She
+has known all along, and her one aim and
+object in life has been to keep the awful truth
+from me. That was why I was told he died
+an honourable death during the war. I've
+often wondered why the little mother was always
+so sad, and so weighed down by trouble. Now
+I know. Good God, what her life must have
+been!"</p>
+
+<p>He rose from his chair and paced up and
+down the room for a minute; then he stopped
+and stood in front of me, his face working with
+emotion.</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't believe it, Jim," he said, and
+there was a ring in his voice. "I don't believe
+it, and neither does the little mother. It's
+impossible to reconcile the big, bluff man with
+the heart of a child, that I remember as my
+father, with murder, forgery, or any other crime.
+And yet, according to Glanville and the old
+newspapers he showed me, Richard Bridges
+was one of the most unscrupulous ruffians in
+South Africa. In my heart of hearts I know he
+didn't do it, and though on the face of it there's
+no doubt, I'm going to try and clear his name.
+I am sailing for South Africa on Friday."</p>
+
+<p>"Sailing for South Africa!" I exclaimed.
+"What about your work?"</p>
+
+<p>"My work can go hang!" replied Jack heatedly.
+"I want to wipe away the stain from my father's
+name, and I mean to do it somehow. That's
+why I've run round to see you, old pal, for I
+want you to come with me. Knowing Rhodesia<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>
+as you do, you're just the man to help me.
+Say you'll come?" he pleaded.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed quite the forlornest hope I had
+ever heard of, but Jack's distress was so acute
+that I hadn't the heart to refuse.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, Jack," I said, "I'm with you.
+But don't foster any vain hopes. Remember,
+it's twenty years ago. It will be a pretty tough
+job to prove anything after all these years."</p>
+
+<p>During the voyage out we had ample time
+to go through the small amount of information
+about the long-forgotten case that Jack had
+been able to collect from the family solicitors.</p>
+
+<p>In the year 1893, Richard Bridges, who was
+a mining engineer of some standing, had made
+a trip to Rhodesia with a view to gold and
+diamond prospecting. He had been accompanied
+by a friend, Thomas Symes, who, so far
+as we could ascertain, was an ex-naval officer;
+and the two, after a short stay at Bulawayo,
+had gone northward across the Guai river into
+what was in those days a practically unknown
+land. In a little over a year's time Bridges
+had returned alone&mdash;his companion having been,
+so he stated, killed by the Matabele, and for
+six months or so he led a dissolute life in Bulawayo
+and the district, which ended ultimately in
+his execution for murder. There was no doubt
+whatever about the murder, or the various
+thefts and forgeries that he was accused of,
+as he had made a confession at his trial, and we
+seemed to be on a wild-goose chase of the worst
+variety so far as I could see; but Jack, confident
+of his father's innocence, would not hear
+of failure.</p>
+
+<p>"It's impossible to make surmises at this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>
+stage," he said. "On the face of it there appears
+to be little room for doubt, but no one who
+knew my father could possibly connect him
+with any sort of crime. Somehow or other,
+Jim, I've got to clear his name."</p>
+
+<p>My memory went back to a tall, sunburnt
+man with a kindly manner who had come down
+to the school one day and put up a glorious feed
+at the tuck shop to Jack and his friends. Afterwards,
+at his son's urgent request, he had bared
+his chest to show us his tattooing of which
+Jack had, boy-like, often boasted to us. I
+recalled how we had gazed admiringly at the
+skilfully worked picture of Nelson with his
+empty sleeve and closed eye and the inscription
+underneath: "England expects that every man
+this day will do his duty." Jack had explained
+with considerable pride that this did not constitute
+all, as on his father's back was a wonderful
+representation of the <i>Victory</i>, and on other parts
+of his body a lion, a snake, and other <i>fauna</i>,
+but Richard Bridges had protested laughingly
+and refused to undress further for our delectation.</p>
+
+<p>We reached Bulawayo, but no one in the
+city appeared to recall the case at all; indeed,
+Bulawayo had grown out of all recognition
+since Richard Bridges had passed through it
+on his prospecting trip. It was difficult to know
+where to start. Even the police could not help,
+and had no knowledge of where the murderer
+had been buried. No one but an old saloon-keeper
+and a couple of miners could recollect
+the execution even, and they, so far as they
+could remember, had never met Richard Bridges
+in the flesh, though his unsavoury reputation
+was well known to them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>In despair, Jack suggested a trek up country
+towards Barotseland, which was the district
+that Bridges and Symes had proposed to prospect,
+though, according to all accounts, Symes had
+been murdered by the Matabele before they
+reached the Guai river.</p>
+
+<p>For the next month we trekked steadily
+northwards, having very fair sport; but, as
+I expected, extracting no information whatever
+from the natives about the two prospectors
+who had passed that way years before. At
+length, Jack became more or less reconciled to
+failure, and realising the futility of further
+search suggested a return to Bulawayo. As
+our donkey caravan was beginning to suffer
+severely from the fly, I concurred, and we started
+to travel slowly back to Bulawayo, shooting
+by the way.</p>
+
+<p>One night after a particularly hard trek we
+inspanned at an old <i>kraal</i>, the painted walls
+of which told that at one time it had served as
+a royal residence, and as I had shot an eland
+cow that afternoon, which provided far more
+meat than we could consume, we invited the
+induna and his tribe to the feast. Not to be
+outdone in hospitality, the old chief produced
+the kaffir beer of the country, a liquid which
+has nothing to recommend it beyond the fact
+that it intoxicates rapidly.</p>
+
+<p>A meat feast and a beer drink is a great event
+in the average kaffir's life, and as the evening
+wore on a general jollification started to the
+thump of tomtoms and the squeak of kaffir
+fiddles. There was one very drunk old Barotse,
+who sat close to me, and, accompanying himself
+with thumps on his tomtom, sang in one droning<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>
+key a song about a man who kept snakes and
+lions inside him, and from whose chest the
+evil eye looked out. At least, so far as I could
+gather that was roughly the gist of the song;
+but as his tomtom was particularly large and
+most obnoxious I politely took it away from him,
+and Jack and I used it as a table for our gourds
+of kaffir beer, which we were pretending to consume
+in large quantities.</p>
+
+<p>A gourd, however, is a top-heavy sort of drinking
+vessel, and in a very short time I had succeeded
+in spilling half a pint or so of my drink on the
+parchment of the drum. Not wishing to spoil
+the old gentleman's plaything, which he evidently
+valued above all things, I mopped up the beer
+with my handkerchief, and in doing so removed
+from the parchment a portion of the accumulated
+filth of ages.</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo!" said Jack, taking the instrument
+from me and holding it up to the firelight.
+"There's a picture of some sort here. It looks
+like a man in a cocked hat."</p>
+
+<p>He rubbed it hard with his pocket handkerchief,
+and the polishing brought more of the
+picture to light, till, plain enough in places
+and faded in others, there stood out, the portrait
+of a man in an old-fashioned naval uniform
+with stars on his breast, and underneath some
+letters in the form of a scroll.</p>
+
+<p>"That's not native work," I exclaimed.
+"These are English letters," for I could distinctly
+make out the word "man" followed
+by a "t" and an "h." "Rub it hard, Jack."</p>
+
+<p>The grease on the parchment refused to give
+way to further polishing, however, and remembering
+a bottle of ammonia I kept for insect bites,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>
+I mixed some with kaffir beer and poured it
+on the head of the tomtom. One touch of the
+handkerchief was sufficient once the strong
+alkali got to work, and out came the grand old
+face of Nelson and underneath his motto:</p>
+
+<p>"England expects that every man this day
+will do his duty."</p>
+
+<p>Jack dropped the drum as if it had bitten him.</p>
+
+<p>"What does it mean?" he gasped. "My
+father had this on his chest. I remember it
+well!"</p>
+
+<p>I was, however, too busy with the reverse
+end of the drum to heed him. On the other
+side the ammonia brought out a picture of the
+<i>Victory</i>, with the head of a roaring lion below it.</p>
+
+<p>"Good God!" exclaimed Jack. "My father
+had that on his back. Quick, Jim, rub hard!
+There should be the family crest to the right&mdash;an
+eagle with a snake in its talons and R. B.
+underneath."</p>
+
+<p>I rubbed in the spot indicated, and out came
+the crest and initials exactly as Jack had described
+them. There was something horribly uncanny
+and gruesome in finding the tattoo marks of
+the dead man on the parchment of a Barotse
+tomtom two hundred miles north of the Zambesi,
+and for a moment I was too overcome with astonishment
+to grasp exactly what it meant. Then
+it came to my mind in a flash that the parchment
+was nothing else than human skin, and Richard
+Bridges' skin at that. I put it down with sudden
+reverence, and, beckoning to its owner, demanded
+its full history. At first he showed signs of
+fear, but promising him a waist length of cloth
+if he told the truth, he squatted on his hams
+before us and began.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Many, many moons ago, before the white
+men came to trade across the Big Water as they
+do now, two white baases came into this country
+to look for white stones and gold. One baas
+was bigger than the other, and on his chest and
+on his body were pictures of birds, and beasts,
+and strange things. On his chest was a great
+inkoos with one eye covered, and on his back
+a hut with trees growing straight up into the air
+from it. On his loins was a lion of great fierceness,
+and coiled round his waist was a hissing
+mamba (snake). We were sore afraid, for the
+white baas told us he was bewitched, and that if
+harm came to either he would uncover the closed
+eye of the great inkoos upon his chest, which was
+the Evil Eye, and command him to blast the
+Barotse and their land for ever.</p>
+
+<p>"So the white men were suffered to come and
+go in peace, for we dreaded the Evil Eye of the
+great inkoos. They toiled, these white baases,
+digging in the hillside and searching the riverbed;
+and then one day it came to pass that they
+quarrelled and fought, and the baas with the
+pictures was slain. We knew then that his
+medicine was bad medicine, otherwise the white
+baas without the pictures could not have killed
+him. So we were wroth and made to slay the
+other baas, but he shot us down with a fire stick
+and returned to his own country in haste. Then
+did I take the skin from the dead baas, for I
+loved him for his pictures, and I made them
+into a tomtom. I have spoken."</p>
+
+<p>"Good heavens!" exclaimed Jack when I
+had translated the story. "Then my father
+was killed here in Barotseland, and it was Symes,
+his murderer, who went back to Bulawayo. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>
+was that fiend Symes, also, who took my father's
+name, probably to draw any money that might
+have been left behind, and who, as Richard
+Bridges, was hanged for murder. Poor old
+dad," he added brokenly, "murdered, and his
+body mutilated by savages! But how glad I
+am to know that he died an honest man!"</p>
+
+<p>With the evidence at hand it was easy to prove
+the identity of the murderer of twenty years
+ago, and, having settled the matter satisfactorily
+and cleared the dead man's name, Jack and I
+returned to England, where a few weeks later
+I had to purchase wedding garments in order
+that I might play the part of best man at Jack's
+wedding.</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p>
+<h2>IV<br />
+THE CASE OF SIR ALISTER MOERAN</h2>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Ethne</span>?" My aunt looked at me with raised
+brows and smiled. "My dear Maurice, hadn't
+you heard? Ethne went abroad directly after
+Christmas, with the Wilmotts, for a trip to
+Egypt. She's having a glorious time!"</p>
+
+<p>I am afraid I looked as blank as I felt. I had
+only landed in England three days ago, after
+two years' service in India, and the one thing
+I had been looking forward to was seeing my
+cousin Ethne again.</p>
+
+<p>"Then, since you did not know she was away,
+you, of course, have not heard the other news?"
+went on my aunt.</p>
+
+<p>"No," I answered in a wooden voice. "I've
+heard nothing."</p>
+
+<p>She beamed. "The dear child is engaged to
+a Sir Alister Moeran, whom she met in Luxor.
+Everyone is delighted, as it is a splendid match
+for her. Lady Wilmott speaks most highly
+of him, a man of excellent family and position,
+and perfectly charming to boot."</p>
+
+<p>I believe I murmured something suitable,
+but it was absurd to pretend to be overjoyed at
+the news. The galling part of it was that Aunt
+Linda knew, and was chuckling, so to speak,
+over my discomfiture.</p>
+
+<p>"If you are going up to Wimberley Park,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>
+she went on sweetly, "you will probably meet
+them both, as your Uncle Bob has asked us all
+there for the February house-party. He cabled
+an invitation to Sir Alister as soon as he heard
+of the engagement. Wasn't it good of him?"</p>
+
+<p>I replied that it was; then, having heard quite
+enough for one day of the charms of Ethne's
+<i>fianc&eacute;</i>, I took my leave.</p>
+
+<p>That night, after cursing myself for a churl,
+I wrote and wished her good luck. The next
+morning I received a letter from Uncle Bob
+asking me to go to Wimberley; and early in
+the following week I travelled up to Cumberland.
+I received a warm welcome from the old General.
+As a boy I used to spend the greater part of my
+holidays with him, and being childless himself,
+he regarded me more or less as a son.</p>
+
+<p>On February 16th Ethne, her mother, and Sir
+Alister Moeran arrived. I motored to the
+station to meet them. The evening was cold
+and raw and so dark that it was almost impossible
+to distinguish people on the badly lighted little
+platform. However, as I groped my way along,
+I recognised Ethne's voice, and thus directed,
+hurried towards the group. As I did so two
+gleaming, golden eyes flashed out at me through
+the darkness.</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo!" I thought. "So she's carted along
+the faithful Pincher!" But the next moment I
+found I was mistaken, for Ethne was holding
+out both hands to me in greeting. There was
+no dog with her, and in the bustle that followed,
+I forgot to seek further for the solution of those
+two fiery lights.</p>
+
+<p>"It was good of you to come, Maurice," Ethne
+said with unmistakable pleasure, then, turning<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>
+to the man at her side, "Alister, this is my
+cousin, Captain Kilvert, of whom you have heard
+me speak."</p>
+
+<p>We murmured the usual formalities in the
+usual manner, but as my fingers touched his,
+I experienced the most curious sensation down
+the region of my spine. It took me back to
+Burma and a certain very uncomfortable night
+that I once passed in the jungle. But the
+impression was so fleeting as to be indefinable,
+and soon I was busy getting everyone settled
+in the car.</p>
+
+<p>So far, except that he possessed an exceptionally
+charming voice, I had no chance of forming
+an opinion of my cousin's <i>fianc&eacute;</i>. It was
+half-past seven when we got back to the house,
+so we all went straight up to our rooms to dress
+for dinner.</p>
+
+<p>Everyone was assembled in the drawing-room
+when Sir Alister Moeran came in, and I shall
+never forget the effect his appearance made.
+Conversation ceased entirely for an instant.
+There was a kind of breathless pause, which was
+almost audible as my uncle rose to greet him.
+In all my life I had never seen a handsomer man,
+and I don't suppose anyone else there had either.
+It was the most startling, arresting style of
+beauty one could possibly imagine, and yet,
+even as I stared at him in admiration, the word
+"Black!" flashed into my mind.</p>
+
+<p>Black! I pulled myself up sharply. We
+English, who have lived out in the East, are far
+too prone to stigmatise thus anyone who shows
+the smallest trace of being a "half breed";
+but in Sir Alister's case there was not even a
+suspicion of this. He was no darker than scores<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>
+of men of my own nationality, and besides, he
+belonged, I knew, to a very old Scottish family.
+Yet, try as I would to strangle the idea, all through
+the evening the same horrible, unaccountable
+notion clung to me.</p>
+
+<p>That he was the personality of the gathering
+there was not the slightest doubt. Men and
+women alike seemed attracted by him, for his
+individuality was on a par with his looks.</p>
+
+<p>Several times during dinner I glanced at
+Ethne, but it was easy to see that all her attention
+was taken up by her lover. Yet, oddly
+enough, I was not jealous in the ordinary way.
+I saw the folly of imagining that I could stand
+a chance against a man like Moeran, and, moreover,
+he interested me too deeply. His knowledge
+of the East was extraordinary, and later,
+when the ladies had retired, he related many
+curious experiences.</p>
+
+<p>"Might I ask," said my uncle's friend, Major
+Faucett, suddenly, "whether you were in the
+Service, or had you a Government appointment
+out there?"</p>
+
+<p>Sir Alister smiled, and under his moustache
+I caught the gleam of strong, white teeth.</p>
+
+<p>"As a matter of fact, neither. I am almost
+ashamed to say I have no profession, unless I
+may call myself an explorer."</p>
+
+<p>"And why not?" put in Uncle Bob. "Provided
+your explorations were to some purpose
+and of benefit to the community in general,
+I consider you are doing something worth while."</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly," Sir Alister replied. "From my
+earliest boyhood I have always had the strangest
+hankering for the East. I say strange, because
+to my parents it was inexplicable, neither of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>
+them having the slightest leaning in that direction,
+though to me it seemed the most natural desire
+in the world. I was like an alien in a foreign
+land, longing to get home. I recollect, as a
+child, my nurse thought me a beastly uncanny
+kid because I loved to lie in bed and listen to
+the cats howling and fighting outside. I
+used to put my head half under the blankets
+and imagine I was in my lair in the jungle,
+and those were the jackals and panthers prowling
+around outside."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you'd been reading adventure
+books," Uncle Bob said, with a laugh. "I
+played at much the same game when I was a
+youngster, only in my case it was Redskins."</p>
+
+<p>"Possibly," Sir Alister answered with a
+slight shrug, "only mine wasn't a game that I
+played with any other boys, it was a gnawing
+desire, which simply had to be satisfied; and the
+opportunity came. When I was fourteen, the
+father of a school friend of mine, who was going
+out to India, asked me to go out with him and
+the boy for the trip. Of course, I went."</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder," the Major remarked, "that you
+ever came back once you got there, since you
+were so frightfully keen."</p>
+
+<p>"I was certain I should return," he replied
+grimly.</p>
+
+<p>A pause followed his last words, then Uncle
+Bob rose and led the way to the drawing-room,
+where for the remainder of the evening Sir Alister
+was chiefly monopolised by the ladies.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>"Well, Maurice," Uncle Bob said, when on
+the following evening I was sitting in his study<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>
+having my usual before-dinner chat with him,
+"and how do you like Ethne's future husband?"</p>
+
+<p>I hesitated. "I&mdash;I really don't know," I
+replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, boy," he said, with his whimsical
+smile, "why not be frank and own to a very
+natural jealousy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because," I answered simply, "the feeling
+Sir Alister Moeran inspires in me is not jealousy,
+curiously enough. It's something else, something
+indefinable that comes over me now and
+again. Dogs don't like him, and that's always
+a bad sign, to my thinking."</p>
+
+<p>My uncle's bushy eyebrows went up slightly.</p>
+
+<p>"When did you make this discovery?"</p>
+
+<p>"This morning," I replied. "You know I
+took him and Ethne round the place. Well,
+the first thing I noticed was that Mike refused
+to come with us, although both Ethne and I
+called him. As we passed through the hall he
+slunk away into the library. I thought it a
+bit strange, as he's usually so frantic to go out
+with me. Still, I didn't attach any significance
+to the matter until later, when we visited the
+kennels. I don't know why, but one takes it
+for granted that a man is keen on dogs somehow
+and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't Sir Alister?"</p>
+
+<p>"They are not keen on him, anyhow," I
+answered grimly. "They had heard my voice
+as we approached and were all barking with
+delight, but directly we entered the place there
+was a dead silence, save for a few ominous growls
+from Argo. It was a most extraordinary sight.
+They all bristled up, so to speak, sniffing the air
+though on the scent of something. I let<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>
+Bess and Fritz loose, but instead of jumping
+up, as they usually do, they hung back and showed
+the whites of their eyes in a way I've never seen
+before. I actually had to whistle to them
+sharply several times before they came, and
+then it was in a slinking manner, taking good
+care to put Ethne and me between themselves
+and Moeran, and looking askance at him the
+whole while."</p>
+
+<p>"H'm!" murmured the General with puckered
+brows. "That was certainly odd, very odd!"</p>
+
+<p>"It was," I agreed, warming to the subject,
+"but there's odder still to come. I dare say
+you'll think it all my fancy, but the minute
+those animals put their heads up and sniffed
+in that peculiar way, I distinctly smelt the
+musky, savage odour of wild beasts. You
+know it well, anyone who has been through
+a jungle does."</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Bob nodded. "I know it, too; 'Musky'
+is the very word&mdash;the smell of sun-warmed
+fur. Jove, how it carries me back! I remember
+once, years ago, coming upon a litter of lion
+cubs, in a cave, when I was out in Africa&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes! Yes!" I cried eagerly. "And that
+is what I smelt this morning. Those dogs
+smelt it, too. They felt that there was something
+alien, abnormal in their midst."</p>
+
+<p>"That something being&mdash;Sir Alister Moeran?"</p>
+
+<p>I felt myself flush up under his gaze. I got
+up and walked about the room.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't understand it," I said doggedly.
+"I tell you plainly, Uncle Bob, I don't understand.
+My impression of the man last night
+was 'black,' but he's not black, I know that
+perfectly well, no more than you or I are, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>
+yet I can't get over the behaviour of those
+hounds. It wasn't only one of 'em, it was
+the whole lot. They seemed to regard him as
+their natural enemy! And that smell! I'm
+sure Ethne detected it too, for she kept glancing
+about her in a startled, mystified way."</p>
+
+<p>"And Sir Alister?" queried the General.
+"Do you mean to say he did not notice anything
+amiss?"</p>
+
+<p>I shrugged my shoulders. "He didn't appear
+to. I called attention myself to the singular
+attitude of the hounds, and he said quite casually:
+'Dogs never do take to me much.'"</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Bob gave a short laugh. "Our friend
+is evidently not sensitive." He paused and
+rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then added:
+"It certainly is rather curious, but, for Heaven's
+sake, boy, don't get imagining all sorts of
+things!"</p>
+
+<p>This nettled me and made me wish I had held
+my tongue. I was quite aware that my story
+might have sounded somewhat fantastic from
+a stranger; still, he ought to have known me
+better than to accuse me of imagination. I
+abruptly changed the subject, and shortly after
+left the room.</p>
+
+<p>But I could not banish from my mind the
+incident of the morning. I could not forget
+the appealing faces of those dogs. Ethne and
+Sir Alister had left me there and returned to
+the house together, and, after their departure,
+those poor, dumb beasts had gathered round
+me in a way that was absolutely pathetic, licking
+and fondling my hands, as though apologising
+for their previous misconduct. Still, I understood.
+That bristling up their spines was precisely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>
+the same sensation I had experienced
+when I first met Sir Alister Moeran.</p>
+
+<p>As I was slowly mounting the stairs on my
+way up to dress, I heard someone running up
+after me, and turned round to find Ethne beside
+me.</p>
+
+<p>"Maurice," she said, rather breathlessly, "tell
+me, you did not punish Fritz and Bess for
+not coming at once when you called them this
+morning?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," I answered.</p>
+
+<p>She gave a nervous little laugh. "I'm glad
+of that. I thought perhaps&mdash;&mdash;" She stopped
+short, then rushed on, "You know how queer
+mother is about cats&mdash;can't bear one in the
+room, and how they always fly out directly
+she comes in? Well, dogs are the same with
+Alister. He&mdash;he told me so himself. It seems
+funny to me, and I suppose to you, because
+we're so fond of all kinds of animals; but I don't
+really see why it should be any more extraordinary
+to have an antipathy for dogs than for cats,
+and no one thinks anything of it if you dislike
+cats."</p>
+
+<p>"That is so," I said thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Anyway," she went on, "it is not our own
+fault if a certain animal does not instinctively
+take to us."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course not," I replied stoutly. "You're
+surely not worrying about it, are you?"</p>
+
+<p>She hastened to assure me that she was not,
+but I could see that my indorsing her opinion
+was a great relief to her. She had been afraid
+that I should think it unnatural. I did for
+that matter, but I could not, of course, tell her
+so.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>That night Sir Alister and I sat up late talking
+after the other men had retired. We had got
+on the subject of India and had been comparing
+notes as to our different adventures. From
+this we went on to discussing perilous situations
+and escapes, and it was then that he narrated
+to me a very curious incident.</p>
+
+<p>"It happened when I was only twenty-one,"
+he said, "the year after my father died.
+I think I told you that as soon as ever I became
+my own master, I packed up and was off to the
+East. I had a friend with me, a boy who had
+been my best pal at school. They used to
+call us 'Black and White.' He was fair and
+girlish-looking, and his name was Buchanan.
+He was just as keen on India as I was, and
+purposed writing a book afterwards on our
+experiences.</p>
+
+<p>"Our intention was to explore the wildest,
+most savage districts, and as a start we selected
+the province of Orissa. The forests there are
+wonderful, and it is there, if anywhere, that
+the almost extinct Indian lion is still to be
+found. We engaged two sturdy hillmen to
+accompany us and pushed our way downwards
+from Calcutta over mountains, rivers and through
+some of the densest jungles I've ever traversed.
+It was on the outskirts of one of the latter that
+the tragedy took place. We had pitched our
+tents one evening after a long, tiring day, and
+turned in early to sleep, Buchanan and I in one,
+and the two Bhils in the other."</p>
+
+<p>Sir Alister paused for a few moments, toying
+with his cigar in an abstracted manner, then
+continued in the same clear, even voice:</p>
+
+<p>"When I awoke next morning, I found my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>
+friend lying beside me dead, and blood all round
+us! His throat was torn open by the teeth of
+some wild beast, his breast was horribly mauled
+and lacerated, and his eyes were wide, staring
+open, and their expression was awful. He must
+have died a hideous death and known it!"</p>
+
+<p>Again he stopped, but I made no comment,
+only waited with breathless interest till he went on.</p>
+
+<p>"I called the two men. They came and
+looked, and for the first time I saw terror written
+on their faces. Their nostrils quivered as though
+scenting something; then 'Tiger!' they gasped
+simultaneously.</p>
+
+<p>"One of them said he had heard a stifled
+scream in the night, but had thought it merely
+some animal in the jungle. The whole thing was
+a mystery. How I came to sleep undisturbed
+through it all, how I escaped the same fate, and
+why the tiger did not carry off his prey&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You are sure it was a tiger?" I put in.</p>
+
+<p>"I think there was no doubt of it," Sir Alister
+replied. "The Bhils swore the teeth-marks were
+unmistakable, and not only that, but I saw
+another case seven years later. The body of a
+young woman was found in the compound outside
+my bungalow, done to death in precisely the same
+way. And several of the natives testified as to
+there being a tiger in that vicinity, for they had
+found three or four young goats destroyed in
+similar fashion."</p>
+
+<p>"Who was the girl?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>Moeran slowly turned his lucent, amber eyes
+upon me as he answered. "She was a German,
+a sort of nursery governess at the English doctor's.
+He was naturally frightfully upset about it, and a
+regular panic sprang up in the neighbourhood.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>
+The natives got a superstitious scare&mdash;thought one
+of their gods was wroth about something and
+demanded sacrifice; but the white people were
+simply out to kill the tiger."</p>
+
+<p>"And did they?" I queried eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Alister shook his head. "That I can't say,
+as I left the place very soon afterwards and went
+up to the mountains."</p>
+
+<p>A long silence followed, during which I stared
+at him in mute fascination. Then an unaccountable
+impulse made me say abruptly: "Moeran,
+how old are you?"</p>
+
+<p>His finely-marked eyebrows went up in surprise
+at the irrelevance of my question, but he smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Funny you should ask! It so happens that
+it's my birthday to-morrow. I shall be thirty-five."</p>
+
+<p>"Thirty-five!" I repeated. Then with a
+shiver I rose from my seat. The room seemed to
+have turned suddenly cold.</p>
+
+<p>"Come," I said, "let's go to bed."</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>Next night at dinner I proposed Sir Alister's
+health, and we all drank to him and his "bride-to-be."
+They had that day definitely settled the
+date of their marriage for two months ahead;
+Ethne was looking radiant and everyone seemed
+in the best of spirits.</p>
+
+<p>We danced and romped and played rowdy
+games like a pack of children. Nothing was too
+silly for us to attempt. While a one-step was in
+full swing some would-be wag suddenly turned
+off all the lights. It was then that for a moment
+I caught sight of a pair of glowing, fiery eyes
+shining through the darkness. Instantly my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>
+thoughts flew back to that meeting at the station,
+when I had fancied that Ethne had her dog in
+her arms. A chill, sinister feeling crept over me,
+but I kept my gaze fixed steadily in the same
+direction. The next minute the lights went up,
+and I found myself staring straight at Sir Alister
+Moeran. His arm was round Ethne's waist and
+she was smiling up into his face. Almost immediately
+they took up the dance again, and I and
+my partner followed suit. But all my gaiety
+had departed. An indefinable oppression seized
+me and clung to me for the rest of the evening.</p>
+
+<p>As I emerged from my room next morning I
+saw old Giles, the butler, hurrying down the
+corridor towards me.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mr. Maurice&mdash;Captain Kilvert, sir!" he
+burst out, consternation in every line of his usually
+stolid countenance. "A dreadful thing has
+happened! How it's come about I can't for the
+life of me say, and how we're going to tell the
+General, the Lord only knows!"</p>
+
+<p>"What?" I asked, seizing him by the arm.
+"What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"The dawg, sir," he answered in a hoarse
+whisper, "Mike&mdash;in the study&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>I waited to hear no more, but strode off down
+the stairs, Giles hobbling beside me as fast as he
+could, and together we entered the study.</p>
+
+<p>In the middle of the floor lay the body of Mike.
+A horrible foreboding gripped me, and I quickly
+knelt down and raised the dog's head. His neck
+was torn open, bitten right through to the windpipe,
+the blood still dripping from it into a dark
+pool on the carpet.</p>
+
+<p>A cold, numbing sensation stole down my
+spine and made my legs grow suddenly weak.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>
+Beads of perspiration gathered on my forehead
+as I slowly rose to my feet and faced Giles.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the meaning of it, sir?" he asked,
+passing his hand across his brow in utter bewilderment.
+"That dawg was as right as possible
+when I shut up last night, and he couldn't
+have got out."</p>
+
+<p>"No," I answered mechanically, "he couldn't
+have got out."</p>
+
+<p>"Looks like some wild beast had attacked
+him," muttered the old man, in awed tones,
+as he bent over the lifeless body. "D'ye see
+the teeth marks, sir? But it's not possible&mdash;not
+possible."</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said again, in the same wooden
+fashion. "It's not possible."</p>
+
+<p>"But how're we going to account for it to
+the General?" he cried brokenly. "Oh, Mr.
+Maurice, sir, it's dreadful!"</p>
+
+<p>I nodded. "You're right, Giles! Still, it
+isn't your fault, nor mine. Leave the matter
+to me. I'll break it to my uncle."</p>
+
+<p>It was a most unenviable task, but I did it.
+Poor Uncle Bob! I shall never forget his face
+when he saw the mutilated body of the dog
+that for years had been his faithful companion.
+He almost wept, only rage and resentment
+against the murderer were so strong in him that
+they thrust grief for the time into the background.
+The mysterious, incomprehensible manner of
+the dog's death only added to his anger, for there
+was apparently no one on whom to wreak his
+vengeance.</p>
+
+<p>The news caused general concern throughout
+the house, and Ethne was frightfully upset.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Alister, isn't it awful?" she exclaimed,
+tears standing in her pretty blue eyes. "Poor,
+darling Mike!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he answered rather absently. "It's
+most unfortunate. Valuable dog, too, wasn't
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>I walked away. The man's calm, handsome
+face filled me suddenly with unspeakable revulsion.
+The atmosphere of the room seemed to
+become heavy and noisome. I felt compelled
+to get out into the open to breathe.</p>
+
+<p>I found the General tramping up and down
+the drive in the rain, his chin sunk deep into
+the collar of his overcoat, his hat pulled low
+down over his eyes. I joined him without
+speaking, and in silence we paced side by side
+for another quarter of an hour.</p>
+
+<p>"Uncle Bob," I said abruptly at last, "take
+my advice. Have one of the hounds indoors
+to-night&mdash;Princep, he's a good watch-dog."</p>
+
+<p>The General stopped short in his walk and
+looked at me.</p>
+
+<p>"You've something on your mind, boy. What
+is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"This," I answered grimly. "Whoever, or
+whatever killed Mike was in the house last night,
+or got in, after Giles shut up. It may still be
+there for all we know. In the dark, dark deeds
+are done, and&mdash;well, I think it's wise to take
+precautions."</p>
+
+<p>"Good God, Maurice, if there is any creature
+in hiding, we'll soon have it out! I'll have the
+place searched now. But the thing's impossible,
+absurd!"</p>
+
+<p>I shrugged my shoulders. "Then Mike died
+a natural death?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Natural?" he echoed fiercely. "Don't talk
+rubbish!"</p>
+
+<p>"In that case," I said quietly, "you'll agree
+to let one of the dogs sleep in."</p>
+
+<p>He gave me a long, troubled, searching look,
+then said gruffly: "Very well, but don't make
+any fuss about it. Women are such nervous
+beings and we don't want to upset anyone."</p>
+
+<p>"You needn't be afraid of that," I replied,
+"I'll manage it all right."</p>
+
+<p>There was no further talk of Mike that day.
+The visitors, seeing how distressed the General
+was, by tacit consent avoided the subject, but
+everyone felt the dampening effect.</p>
+
+<p>That night, before I retired to my room, I
+took a lantern, went out to the kennels and
+brought in Princep, a pure-bred Irish setter.
+He was a dog of exceptional intelligence, and when
+I spoke to him, explaining the reason of his
+presence indoors, he seemed to know instinctively
+what was required of him.</p>
+
+<p>As I passed the study I noticed a light coming
+from under the door. Somewhat surprised, I
+turned the handle and looked in. My uncle
+was seated before his desk in the act of loading
+a revolver. He glanced up sharply as I entered.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it's you, is it? Got the dog in?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I replied, "I've left him in the library
+with the door open."</p>
+
+<p>He regarded the revolver pensively for a few
+moments, then laid it down in front of him.</p>
+
+<p>"You've no theory as to this&mdash;this business?"</p>
+
+<p>I shook my head, I could offer no explanation.
+Yet all the while there lurked, deep down in
+my heart, a hideous suspicion, a suspicion so
+monstrous that had I voiced it, I should probably<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>
+have been considered mad. And so I held my
+peace on the subject and merely wished my
+uncle good-night.</p>
+
+<p>It was about one o'clock when I got into bed,
+but my brain was far too agitated for sleep.
+Something I had heard years ago, some old wives'
+tales about a man's life changing every seven
+years, kept dinning in my head. I was striving
+to remember how the story went, when a slight
+sound outside caught my ear. In a second I
+was out of bed and had silently opened the door.
+As I did so, someone passed close by me down the
+corridor.</p>
+
+<p>Cautiously, with beating heart, I crept out and
+followed. However, I almost exclaimed aloud
+in my amazement, for the light from a window
+fell full on the figure ahead of me, and I recognised
+my cousin Ethne. She was sleep-walking,
+a habit she had had from her childhood, and
+which apparently she had never outgrown.</p>
+
+<p>For some minutes I stood there, undecided how
+to act, while she passed on down the stairs, out
+of sight. To wake her I knew would be wrong.
+I knew, also, that she had walked thus a score
+of times without coming to any harm. There
+was, therefore, no reason why I should not return
+to my room and leave her to her wandering,
+yet still I remained rooted to the spot, all my
+senses strained, alert. And then suddenly I
+heard Princep whine. A series of low, stertorous
+growls followed, growls that made my blood
+run cold! With swift, noiseless steps, I stole
+along to the minstrel's gallery which overlooked
+that portion of the hall that communicated
+with the library. As I did so, there arose from
+immediately below me a succession of sharp<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>
+snarls, such as a dog gives when he is in deadly
+fear or pain.</p>
+
+<p>A shaft of moonlight fell across the polished
+floor, and by its aid I was just able to distinguish
+the form of Princep crouched against the wainscoting.
+He was breathing heavily, his head
+turned all the while towards the opposite side
+of the room. I looked in the same direction.
+Out of the darkness gleamed two fiery, golden
+orbs, two eyes that moved slowly to and fro,
+backwards and forwards, as though the Thing
+were prowling round and round. Now it seemed
+to crouch as though ready to spring, and I could
+hear the savage growling as of some beast of
+prey.</p>
+
+<p>As I watched, horrified, fascinated, a <i>porti&egrave;re</i>
+close by was lifted, and the white-robed figure
+of Ethne appeared. All heedless of danger
+she came on across the hall, and the Thing, with
+soft, stealthy tread, came after her. I knew
+then that there was not an instant to be lost,
+and like a flash I darted along the gallery and
+down the stairs. But ere I gained the hall
+a piercing scream rent the air, and I was just
+in time to see Ethne borne to the ground by a
+great, dark form, which had sprung at her like
+a tiger.</p>
+
+<p>Half frantic, I dashed forward, snatching as
+I did so a rapier from the wall, the only weapon
+handy. But before I reached the spot, a voice
+from the study doorway called: "Stop!" and
+the next moment the report of a pistol rang out.</p>
+
+<p>"Good God!" I cried. "Who have you
+shot?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not the girl," answered the grim voice of
+my uncle, "you may trust my aim for that!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>
+I fired at the eyes of the Thing. Here, quick,
+get lights and let's see what has happened."</p>
+
+<p>But my one and only thought was for Ethne.
+Moving across to the dark mass on the floor,
+I stretched out my hand. My fingers touched
+a smooth, fabric-like cloth, but the smell was the
+smell of fur, the musky, sun-warmed fur of the
+jungle! With sickening repugnance, I seized
+the Thing by its two broad shoulders and rolled
+it over. Then I carefully raised Ethne from the
+ground. At that moment Giles and a footman
+appeared with candles. In silence my uncle
+took one and came towards me, the servants
+with scared, blanched countenances following.</p>
+
+<p>The light fell full upon the dead, upturned face
+of Sir Alister Moeran. His upper lip was drawn
+back, showing the strong, white teeth. The
+two front ones were tipped with blood. Instantly
+my eyes turned to Ethne's throat, and there
+I saw deep, horrible marks, like the marks of
+a tiger's fangs; but, thank God, they had not
+penetrated far enough to do any serious injury!
+My uncle's shot had come just in time to save her.</p>
+
+<p>"Merely fainted, hasn't she?" he asked
+anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>I nodded. My relief at finding this was so,
+was too great for words.</p>
+
+<p>"Heaven be praised!" I heard him mutter.
+Then lifting my beautiful, unconscious burden
+in my arms, I carried her upstairs to her room.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>Can I explain, can anyone explain, the
+mysterious vagaries of atavism? I only know
+that there are amongst us, rare instances fortunately,
+but existent nevertheless&mdash;men with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>
+the souls of beasts. They may be cognisant
+of the fact or otherwise. In the case of Sir Alister
+I feel sure it was the latter. He had probably
+no more idea than I what far-reaching, evil
+strain it was that came out in his blood and turned
+him, every seven years, practically into a vampire.</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p>
+<h2>V<br />
+THE KISS</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> quiet of the deserted building incircled
+the little, glowing room as the velvet incircles
+the jewel in its case. Occasionally faint sounds
+came from the distance&mdash;the movements of
+cleaners at work, a raised voice, the slamming
+of a door.</p>
+
+<p>The man sat at his desk, as he had sat through
+the busy day, but he had turned sideways in
+his seat, the better to regard the other occupant
+of the room.</p>
+
+<p>She was not beautiful&mdash;had no need to be.
+Her call to him had been the saner call of mind
+to mind. That he desired, besides, the passing
+benediction of her hands, the fragrance of her
+corn-gold hair, the sight of her slenderness:
+this she had guessed and gloried in. Till now,
+he had touched her physical self neither in
+word nor deed. To-night, she knew, the barriers
+would be down; to-night they would kiss.</p>
+
+<p>Her quiet eyes, held by his during the spell
+that had bound them speechless, did not flinch
+at the breaking of it.</p>
+
+<p>"The Lord made the world and then He
+made this rotten old office," the man said quietly.
+"Into it He put you&mdash;and me. What, before
+that day, has gone to the making and marring
+of me, and the making and perfecting of you,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>
+is not to the point. It is enough that we have
+realised, heart, and soul, and body, that you
+are mine and I am yours."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said.</p>
+
+<p>He fell silent again, his eyes on her hungrily.
+She felt them and longed for his touch. But
+there came only his voice.</p>
+
+<p>"I want you. The first moment I saw you
+I wanted you. I thought then that, whatever
+the cost, I would have you. That was in
+the early days of our talks here&mdash;before you
+made it so courageously clear to me that it
+would never be possible for you to ignore my
+marriage and come to me. That is still so,
+isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>She moved slightly, like a dreamer in pain,
+as again she faced the creed she had hated
+through many a sleepless night.</p>
+
+<p>"It is so," she agreed. "And because it
+is so, you are going away to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>They looked at each other across the foot
+or two of intervening space. It was a look to
+bridge death with. But even beneath their
+suffering, her eyes voiced the tremulous waiting
+of her lips.</p>
+
+<p>At last he found words.</p>
+
+<p>"You are the most wonderful woman in
+the world&mdash;the pluckiest, the most completely
+understanding; you have the widest charity.
+I suppose I ought to thank you for it all;
+I can't&mdash;that's not my way. I have always
+demanded of you, demanded enormously, and
+received my measure pressed down and running
+over. Now I am going to ask this last thing
+of you: will you, of your goodness, go away&mdash;upstairs,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>
+anywhere&mdash;and come back in ten
+minutes' time? By then I shall have cleared
+out."</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him almost incredulously,
+lips parted. Suddenly she seemed a child.</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;I&mdash;&mdash;" she stammered. Then
+rising to her feet, with a superb simplicity:
+"But, you must kiss me before you go. You
+must! You&mdash;simply <i>must</i>."</p>
+
+<p>For the space of a flaming moment it seemed
+that in one stride he would have crossed to her
+side, caught and held her.</p>
+
+<p>"For God's sake&mdash;&mdash;!" he muttered, in
+almost ludicrous fear of himself. Then, with
+a big effort, he regained his self-control.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen," he said hoarsely. "I want to
+kiss you so much that I daren't even get to my
+feet. Do you understand what that means?
+Think of it, just for a moment, and then realise
+that <i>I am not going to kiss you</i>. And I have
+kissed many women in my time, too, and shall
+kiss more, no doubt."</p>
+
+<p>"But it's not because of that&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"That I'm holding back? No. Neither is
+it because I funk the torture of kissing you
+once and letting you go. It's because I'm
+afraid&mdash;for <i>you</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"For me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Listen. You have unfolded your beliefs
+to me and, though I don't hold them&mdash;don't
+attempt to live up to your lights&mdash;the realisation
+of them has given me a reverence for you that
+you don't dream of. I have put you in a shrine
+and knelt to you; every time you have sat in
+that chair and talked with me, I have worshipped
+you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It would not alter&mdash;all that," the girl said
+faintly, "if you kissed me."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe that; neither do you&mdash;no,
+you don't! In your heart of hearts you admit
+that a woman like you is not kissed for the first
+and last time by a man like me. Suppose I
+kissed you now? I should awaken something
+in you as yet half asleep. You're young and
+pulsing with life, and there are&mdash;thank Heaven!&mdash;few
+layers of that damnable young-girl shyness
+over you. The world would call you primitive,
+I suppose."</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Lord, you must see it's all or nothing!
+You surely understand that after I had left you
+you would not go against your morality, perhaps,
+but you would adjust it, in spite of yourself,
+to meet your desires! I cannot&mdash;safely&mdash;kiss
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"But you are going away for good!"</p>
+
+<p>"For good! Child, do you think my going
+will be your safeguard? If you wanted me
+so much that you came to think it was right
+and good to want me, wouldn't you find me,
+send for me, call for me? And I should come.
+God! I can see the look in your eyes now,
+when the want had been satisfied, and you
+could not drug your creed any more."</p>
+
+<p>Her breath came in a long sigh. Then she
+tried to speak; tried again.</p>
+
+<p>"It is so, isn't it?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>She nodded. Speech was too difficult. With
+the movement a strand of the corn-gold hair
+came tumbling down the side of her face.</p>
+
+<p>"Then, that being the case," said the man,
+with infinite gentleness, his eyes on the little,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>
+tumbling lock, "I shall not attempt so much
+as to touch your hand before you leave the room."</p>
+
+<p>At the door she turned.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me once again," she said. "You
+<i>want</i> to kiss me?"</p>
+
+<p>He gripped the arms of his chair; from where
+she stood, she could see the veins standing out
+on his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to kiss you," he said fiercely. "I
+want to kiss you. If there were any way of
+cutting off to-morrow&mdash;all the to-morrows&mdash;with
+the danger they hold for us&mdash;I would kiss
+you. I would kiss you, and kiss you, and kiss
+you!"</p>
+
+<h3>II</h3>
+
+<p>Where her feet took her during the thousand,
+thousand years that was his going she could
+never afterwards say; but she found herself
+at last at the top of the great building, at an
+open window, leaning out, with the rain beating
+into her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Far below her the lights wavered and later
+she remembered that echoes of a far-off tumult
+had reached her as she sat. But her ears held
+only the memory of a man's footsteps&mdash;the
+eager tread that had never lingered so much
+as a second's space on its way to her; that
+had often stumbled slightly on the threshold
+of her presence; that she had heard and welcomed
+in her dreams; that would not come
+again.</p>
+
+<p>The raindrops lay like tears upon her face.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She brushed them aside, and, rising, put up
+her hands to feel the wet lying heavy on her
+hair. The coldness of her limbs surprised her
+faintly. Downstairs she went again, the echoes
+mocking every step.</p>
+
+<p>She closed the door of the room behind her
+and idly cleared a scrap of paper from a chair.
+Mechanically her hands went to the litter on
+his desk and she had straightened it all before
+she realised that there was no longer any need.
+To-morrow would bring a voice she did not know;
+would usher a stranger into her room to take
+her measure from behind a barrier of formality.
+For the rest there would be work, and food,
+and sleep.</p>
+
+<p>These things would make life&mdash;life that had
+been love.</p>
+
+<p>She put on her hat and coat. The room
+seemed smaller somehow and shabbier. The
+shaded lights that had invited, now merely irritated;
+the whimsical disorder of books and papers
+spoke only of an uncompleted task. Gone
+was the glamour and the promise and the good
+comradeship. He had taken them all. She
+faced to-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow
+empty-handed&mdash;in her heart the memory of
+words that had seared and healed in a breath,
+and the dead dream of a kiss. Her throat
+ached with the pain of it.</p>
+
+<p>And then suddenly she heard him coming
+back!</p>
+
+<p>She stiffened. For one instant, mind and
+body, she was rigid with the sheer wonder of
+it. Then, as the atmosphere of the room surged
+back, tense with vitality, her mind leapt forward
+in welcome. He was coming back, coming<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>
+back! The words hammered themselves out
+to the rhythm of the eager tread that never
+lingered so much as a second's space on its way
+to her, that stumbled slightly on the threshold
+of her presence.</p>
+
+<p>By some queer, reflex twist of memory,
+her hands brushed imaginary raindrops from
+her face and strayed uncertainly to where the
+wet had lain on her hair.</p>
+
+<p>The door opened and closed behind him.</p>
+
+<p>"I've come back. I've come back to kiss
+you. Dear&mdash;<i>dear</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>Her outflung hand checked him in his stride
+towards her. Words came stammering to her
+lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Why&mdash;but&mdash;this isn't&mdash;I don't understand!
+All you said&mdash;it was true, surely?
+It was cruel of you to make me know it was
+true and then come back!"</p>
+
+<p>"Let me kiss you&mdash;let me, let me!" He
+was overwhelming her, ignoring her resistance.
+"I must kiss you, I must kiss you." He said
+it again and again.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, you shan't&mdash;you can't play with
+me! You said you were afraid for me, and
+you made me afraid, too&mdash;of my weakness&mdash;of
+the danger&mdash;of my longing for you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Let me kiss you! Yes, you shall let me;
+you <i>shall</i> let me." His arms held her, his
+face touched hers.</p>
+
+<p>"Aren't you afraid any more? Has a miracle
+happened&mdash;may we kiss in spite of to-morrow?"</p>
+
+<p>Inch by inch she was relaxing. All thought
+was slipping away into a great white light that
+held no to-morrows, nor any fear of them, nor
+of herself, nor of anything. The light crept<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>
+to her feet, rose to her heart, her head. Through
+the radiance came his words.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, a miracle. Oh, my dear&mdash;my little
+child! I've come back to kiss you, little child."</p>
+
+<p>"Kiss me, then," she said against his lips.</p>
+
+<h3>III</h3>
+
+<p>Hazily she was aware that he had released
+her; that she had raised her head; that against
+the rough tweed of his shoulder there lay a
+long, corn-gold hair.</p>
+
+<p>She laughed shakily and her hand went up
+to remove it; but he caught her fingers and
+held them to his face. And with the movement
+and his look there came over her in a wave the
+shame of her surrender, a shame that was yet
+a glory, a diadem of pride. She turned blindly
+away.</p>
+
+<p>"Please," she heard herself saying, "let me
+go now. I want to be alone. I want to&mdash;please
+don't tell me to-night. To-morrow&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She was at the door, groping for the handle.
+Behind her she heard his voice; it was very
+tender.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall always kneel to you&mdash;in your shrine."</p>
+
+<p>Then she was outside, and the chilly passages
+were cooling her burning face. She had left
+him in the room behind her; and she knew
+he would wait there long enough to allow her
+to leave the building. Almost immediately,
+it seemed, she was downstairs in the hall, had
+reached the entrance.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She confronted a group of white-faced, silent
+men.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, is anything the matter? What has
+happened? O'Dell?"</p>
+
+<p>The porter stood forward. He cleared his
+throat twice, but for all that, his words were
+barely audible.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Miss Carryll. Good-night, miss. You'd
+best be going on, miss, if you'll excuse&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Behind O'Dell stood a policeman; behind
+him again, a grave-eyed man stooped to an
+unusual task. It arrested her attention like
+the flash of red danger.</p>
+
+<p>"Why is the door of your room being locked,
+O'Dell?" She knew her curiosity was indecent,
+but some powerful premonition was stirring
+in her, and she could not pass on. "Has there
+been an accident? Who is in there?"</p>
+
+<p>Then, almost under her feet, she saw a dark
+pool lying sluggishly against the tiles; nearer
+the door another&mdash;on the pavement outside
+another&mdash;and yet another. She gasped, drew
+back, felt horribly sick; and, as she turned,
+she caught O'Dell's muttered aside to the policeman.</p>
+
+<p>"Young lady's 'is seccereterry&mdash;must be the
+last that seen 'im alive. All told, 'tain't more'n
+'arf-an-'our since 'e left. 'Good-night, O'Dell,'
+sez 'e. 'Miss Carryll's still working&mdash;don't
+lock 'er in,' sez 'e. Would 'ave 'is joke. Must
+'ave gone round the corner an' slap inter the
+car. Wish to God the amberlance&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Her cry cut into his words as she flung herself
+forward. Her fingers wrenched at the key
+of the locked door and turned it, in spite of
+the detaining hands that seemed light as leaves<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>
+upon her shoulder, and as easily shaken off.
+Unhearing, unheeding, she forced her way into
+the glare of electric light flooding the little room&mdash;beating
+down on to the table and its sheeted
+burden. Before she reached it, knowledge had
+dropped upon her like a mantle.</p>
+
+<p>Her face was grey as the one from which she
+drew the merciful coverings, but her eyes went
+fearlessly to that which she sought.</p>
+
+<p>Against the rough tweed of the shoulder lay
+a long, corn-gold hair.</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p>
+<h2>VI<br />
+THE GOTH</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Young</span> Cargill smiled as Mrs. Lardner finished
+her account.</p>
+
+<p>"And do you really think that the fact that
+the poor chap was drowned had anything to do
+with it?" he asked. "Why, you admit yourself
+that he was known to have been drinking
+just before he fell out of his boat!"</p>
+
+<p>"You may say what you like," returned his
+hostess impressively, "but since first we came
+to live at Tryn yr Wylfa only four people besides
+poor Roberts have defied the Fates, and each
+of them was drowned within the year.</p>
+
+<p>"They were all tourists," she added with something
+suspiciously like satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not a superstitious man myself," supplemented
+the Major. "But you can't get away
+from the facts, you know, Cargill."</p>
+
+<p>Cargill said no more. He perceived that they
+had lived long enough in retirement in the little
+Welsh village to have acquired a pride in its
+legend.</p>
+
+<p>The legend and the mountains are the two
+attractions of Tryn yr Wylfa&mdash;the official guidebook
+devotes an equal amount of space to each.
+It will tell you that the bay, across which the
+quarry's tramp steamers now sail, was once
+dry land on which stood a village. Deep in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>
+water the remains of this village can still be seen
+in clear weather. But whosoever dares to look
+upon them will be drowned within the year.
+A local publication gives full details of those
+who have looked&mdash;and perished.</p>
+
+<p>The legend had received an unexpected boom
+in the drowning of Roberts, which had just
+occurred. Roberts was a fisherman who had
+recently come from the South. One calm day
+in February he had rowed out into the bay in
+fulfilment of a drunken boast. He was drowned
+three days before Midsummer.</p>
+
+<p>After dinner young Cargill forgot about it.
+He forgot almost everything except Betty
+Lardner. But, oddly enough, as he walked back
+to the hotel it was just Betty Lardner who made
+him think again of the legend. He was in love,
+and, being very young, wanted to do something
+insanely heroic. To defy the Fates by looking
+on the sunken village was an obvious outlet for
+heroism.</p>
+
+<p>He must have thought a good deal about it
+before he fell asleep, for he remembered his
+resolution on the following morning.</p>
+
+<p>After breakfast he sauntered along the brief
+strip of asphalt which the villagers believe to be
+a promenade. He was not actually thinking
+of the legend; to be precise, he was thinking of
+Betty Lardner, but he was suddenly reminded
+of it by a boatman pressing him for his custom.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said abruptly. "I will hire your
+boat if you will row me out to the sunken village.
+I want to look at it."</p>
+
+<p>The Welshman eyed him suspiciously,
+perceived that he was not joking, and shook
+his head.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Come," persisted Cargill, "I will make it
+a sovereign if you care to do it."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, but indeed, no, sir," replied
+the Welshman. "Not if it wass a hundred
+sofereigns!"</p>
+
+<p>"Surely you are not afraid?"</p>
+
+<p>"It iss not fit," retorted the Welshman,
+turning on his heel.</p>
+
+<p>It was probably this opposition that made
+young Cargill decide that it would be really
+worth while to defy the legend.</p>
+
+<p>He did not approach the only other boatman.
+He considered the question of swimming. The
+knowledge that the distance there and back
+was nearly five miles did not render the feat
+impossible, for he was a champion swimmer.</p>
+
+<p>But he soon thought of a better way. He went
+back to the hotel and sought out Bissett. Bissett
+was a fellow member of the Middle Temple,
+as contentedly briefless as himself. And Bissett
+possessed a motor-boat.</p>
+
+<p>Bissett was not exactly keen on the prospect.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you think it is rather a silly thing
+to do?" he reasoned. "Of course it's all rot
+in a way&mdash;it must be. But isn't it just as well
+to treat that sort of thing with respect?"</p>
+
+<p>Eventually he agreed to take the motor-boat
+to within a few hundred yards of the spot. They
+would tow a dinghy, in which young Cargill
+could finish the journey.</p>
+
+<p>It took young Cargill half-an-hour to find the
+spot. But he did find it, and he did look upon,
+and actually see, all that remained of the sunken
+village.</p>
+
+<p>He felt vaguely ashamed of himself when he
+returned to dry land. He noticed that several<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>
+of the villagers gave him unfriendly glances;
+and he resolved that he would say nothing of the
+matter to the Lardners.</p>
+
+<p>They were having tea on the lawn when he
+dropped in. He thought that Mrs. Lardner's
+welcome was a trifle chilly. After tea Betty
+executed a quite deliberate man&#339;uvre to avoid
+having him for a partner at tennis. But he ran
+her to earth later, when they were picking up
+the balls.</p>
+
+<p>"How <i>could</i> you?" was all she said.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I didn't know you knew," he stammered
+weakly.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course everybody knows! It was all
+over the village before you returned.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't you see what that legend meant to
+us?" she went on. "It was a thing of beauty.
+And now you have spoilt it. It's like burning
+down the trees of the Fairy Glen. You&mdash;you
+<i>Goth</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"But suppose I am drowned before the year
+is out&mdash;like Roberts?" he suggested jocularly.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I will forgive you," she said. And to
+Cargill it sounded exactly as if she meant what
+she said.</p>
+
+<p>A few days later he returned to town. For
+six months he thought little about the legend.
+Then he was reminded of it.</p>
+
+<p>He had been spending a week-end at Brighton.
+On the return journey he had a first-class smoker
+in the rear of the train to himself. Towards
+the end of the hour he dozed and dreamt of the
+day he had looked on the sunken village. He
+was awakened when the train made its usual
+stop on the bridge outside Victoria.</p>
+
+<p>It had been a pleasant dream, and he was still<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>
+trying to preserve the illusion when his eye
+fell lazily on the window, and he noticed that
+there was a dense fog.</p>
+
+<p>"Bit rough on the legend that I happened
+to be a Londoner!" he mused. "It isn't easy
+to drown a man in town!"</p>
+
+<p>He stood up with the object of removing his
+dressing-case from the rack. But before he
+reached it there was the shriek of a whistle, a
+violent shock, and he was hurled heavily into
+the opposite seat.</p>
+
+<p>It was not a collision in the newspaper sense
+of the word. No one was hurt. A local train,
+creeping along at four miles an hour, had simply
+missed its signal in the fog and bumped the
+Brighton train.</p>
+
+<p>Young Cargill, in common with most other
+passengers put his head out of the window. He
+saw nothing&mdash;except the parapet of the bridge.</p>
+
+<p>"By God!" he muttered. "If that other
+train had been going a little faster&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He could just hear the river gurgling beneath
+him.</p>
+
+<p>He had got over his fright by the time he
+reached Victoria.</p>
+
+<p>"Just a common-place accident," he assured
+himself, as he drove in a taxi-cab to his chambers.
+"That's the worst of it! If I happened to be
+drowned in the ordinary way they'd swear it
+was the legend. I suppose, for that reason,
+I had better not take any risks. Anyhow,
+I needn't go near the sea until the year is
+out!"</p>
+
+<p>The superstitious would doubtless affirm that
+the Fates had sent him one warning and, angered
+at his refusal to accept it, had determined to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>
+drive home the lesson of his own impotence.
+For when he arrived at his chambers he found
+a cablegram from Paris awaiting him.</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo, this must be from Uncle Peter!"
+he exclaimed, as he tore open the envelope.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Fear uncle dying. Come at once.&mdash;Machell.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Machell was the elder Cargill's secretary, and
+young Cargill was the old man's heir.</p>
+
+<p>It was not until he was in the boat-train that
+he realised that he was about to cross the sea.</p>
+
+<p>It was a coincidence&mdash;an odd coincidence.
+When the ship tossed in an unusually rough crossing
+he was prepared to admit to himself that
+it was an uncanny coincidence.</p>
+
+<p>He stayed a week in Paris for his uncle's funeral.
+When he made the return journey the Channel
+was like the proverbial mill pond. But it was
+not until the ship had actually put into Dover
+that he laughed at the failure of the Fates to
+take the opportunity to drown him.</p>
+
+<p>He laughed, to be exact, as he was stepping
+down the gangway. At the end of the gangway
+the fold of the rug which he was carrying on his
+arm, caught in the railings. He turned sharply
+to free it and stepping back, cannoned into an
+officer of the dock. It threw him off his balance
+on the edge of the dockside.</p>
+
+<p>Even if the official had not grabbed him, it
+is highly probable that he could have saved
+himself from falling into the water, because
+the gangway railing was in easy reach; and if
+you remember that he was a champion swimmer,
+you will agree that it is still more probable that
+he would not have been drowned, even if he had
+fallen.</p>
+
+<p>But the incident made its impression. His<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>
+thoughts reverted to it constantly during the next
+few days. Then he told himself that his attendance
+at the last rites of his uncle had made him
+morbid, and was more or less successful in dismissing
+the affair from his mind.</p>
+
+<p>He had many friends in common with the
+Lardners. Early in February he was invited
+for a week's hunting to a house at which Betty
+Lardner was also a guest.</p>
+
+<p>She had not forgotten. She did her best
+to avoid him, and succeeded remarkably well,
+in spite of the fact that their hostess, knowing
+something of young Cargill's feelings, made
+several efforts to throw them together.</p>
+
+<p>One day at the end of the hunt he came alongside
+of her and they walked their horses home
+together. When he was sure that they were
+out of earshot he asked:</p>
+
+<p>"You haven't forgiven me yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"You know the conditions," she replied
+banteringly.</p>
+
+<p>"You leave me no alternative to suicide,"
+he protested.</p>
+
+<p>"That would be cheating," she said. "You
+must be drowned honestly, or it's no good."</p>
+
+<p>Then he made a foolish reply. He thought
+her humour forced and it annoyed him. Remember
+that he was exasperated. He had
+looked forward to meeting her, and now she
+was treating him with studied coldness over
+what still seemed to him a comparatively trifling
+matter.</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid," he said, "that that is hardly
+likely to occur. The fact of my being a townsman
+instead of a drunken boatman doesn't
+give your legend a fair chance!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Less than an hour afterwards he was having
+his bath before dressing for dinner. The water
+was deliciously hot, and the room was full of
+steam. As he lay in the bath a drowsiness
+stole over him. Enjoying the keen physical
+pleasure of it, he thought what a wholly delightful
+thing was a hot bath after a day's hard hunting.
+His mind, bordering on sleep, dwelt lazily
+on hot baths in general. And then with a
+startling suddenness came the thought that,
+before now, men had been drowned in their
+baths!</p>
+
+<p>With a shock he realised that he had almost
+fallen asleep. He tried to rouse himself, but
+a faintness had seized him. That steam&mdash;he
+could not breathe! He was certain he was
+going to faint.</p>
+
+<p>With a desperate effort of the will he hurled
+himself out of the bath and threw open the
+window.</p>
+
+<p>It must have been the bath episode that
+first aroused the sensation of positive fear
+in Cargill. For it was almost a month later
+when he surprised the secretary of that swimming
+club of which he was the main pillar by
+his refusal to take part in any events for the
+coming season.</p>
+
+<p>He was beginning to take precautions.</p>
+
+<p>Late one night, when taxi-cabs were scarce,
+he found that his quickest way to reach home
+would be by means of one of the tubes. He
+was in the descending lift when he suddenly
+remembered that that particular tube ran beneath
+the river. Suppose an accident should
+occur&mdash;a leakage! After all such a thing was
+within the bounds of possibility. Instantly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>
+there rose before him the vision of a black torrent
+roaring through the tunnel.</p>
+
+<p>Without waiting for the lift to ascend he rushed
+to the staircase, and sweating with terror gained
+the street and bribed a loafer to find him a
+cab.</p>
+
+<p>He made an effort to take himself seriously
+in hand after that. More than one acquaintance
+had lately told him that he was looking "nervy."
+In the last few weeks his sane and normal self
+seemed to have shrunk within him. But it was
+still capable of asserting itself under favourable
+conditions. It would talk aloud to the rest of
+him as if to a separate individual.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, old man, this superstitious
+nonsense is becoming an obsession to you," it
+said one fine April morning. "Yes, I mean
+what I say&mdash;an obsession! You must pull
+yourself together or you'll go stark mad, and
+then you'll probably go and throw yourself over
+the Embankment. That legend is all bosh!
+You're in the twentieth century, and you're
+not a drunken fisherman&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo, young Cargill!"</p>
+
+<p>The door burst open and Stranack, oozing
+health and sanity, glared at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Jove! What a wreck you look!" continued
+Stranack. "You've been frousting too much.
+I'm glad I came. The car's outside, and we'll
+run down to Kingston, take a skiff and pull
+up to Molesey."</p>
+
+<p>The river! Young Cargill felt the blood
+singing in his ears.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid I can't manage it. I&mdash;I've got
+an appointment this afternoon," he stammered.</p>
+
+<p>Stranack perceived that he was lying, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>
+wondered. For a few minutes he gossiped,
+while young Cargill was repeating to himself:</p>
+
+<p>"You must pull yourself together. It's
+becoming an obsession. You must pull yourself
+together."</p>
+
+<p>He was vaguely conscious that Stranack
+was about to depart. Stranack was already
+in the doorway. His chance of killing the
+obsession was slipping from him! A special
+effort and then:</p>
+
+<p>"Stop!" cried Cargill. "I&mdash;I'll come with
+you, Stranack."</p>
+
+<p>Oddly enough, he felt much better when they
+were actually on the river. He had never
+been afraid of water, as such. And the familiar
+scenery, together with the wholesome exercise
+of sculling, acted as a tonic to his nerves.</p>
+
+<p>They pulled above Molesey lock. When they
+were returning, Stranack said:</p>
+
+<p>"You'll take her through the lock, won't
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>It was a needless remark, and if Stranack
+had not made it all might have been well. As
+a fact, it set Cargill asking himself why he should
+not take her through the lock. He was admitted
+to be a much better boatman than Stranack,
+and everyone knew that it required a certain
+amount of skill to manage a lock properly.
+Locks were dangerous if you played the fool.
+Before now people had been drowned in locks.</p>
+
+<p>The rest was inevitable. He lost his head
+as the lower gates swung open, and broke the
+rule of the river by pushing out in front of a
+launch. The launch was already under way,
+and young Cargill trying to avoid it better,
+thrust with his boat-hook at the side of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>
+lock. The thrust was nervous and ill-calculated,
+and the next instant the skiff had blundered
+under the bows of the launch.</p>
+
+<p>It happened very quickly. The skiff was forced,
+broadside on, against the lock gates, and was
+splintered like firewood. Cargill fell backwards,
+struck his head heavily against the gates&mdash;and
+sank.</p>
+
+<p>He returned to consciousness in the lock-keeper's
+lodge. He had been under water a
+dangerously long time before Stranack, who had
+suffered no more than a wetting, had found
+him. It had been touch and go for his life,
+but artificial respiration had succeeded.</p>
+
+<p>He soon went to pieces after that.</p>
+
+<p>From one of the windows of his chambers
+the river was just visible. One morning he
+deliberately pulled the blind down. The action
+was important. It signified that he had definitely
+given up pretending that he had the power
+of shaking off the obsession.</p>
+
+<p>But if he could not shake it off, he could at
+least keep it temporarily at bay. He started
+a guerilla campaign against the obsession with
+the aid of the brandy bottle. He was rarely
+drunk, and as rarely sober.</p>
+
+<p>He was sober the day he was compelled to
+call on an aunt who lived in the still prosperous
+outskirts of Paddington. It was one of his
+good days and, in spite of his sobriety, he had
+himself in very good control when he left his
+aunt.</p>
+
+<p>In his search for a cab it became necessary
+for him to cross the canal. On the bridge he
+paused and, gripping the parapet, made a surprise
+attack upon his enemy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Some children, playing on the tow path, helped
+him considerably. Their delightful sanity in
+the presence of the water was worth more to
+him than the brandy. He was positively winning
+the battle, when one of the children fell into
+the water.</p>
+
+<p>For an instant he hesitated. Then, as on the
+night of the Tube episode, panic seized him.
+The next instant the man who was probably
+the best amateur swimmer in England, was
+running with all his might away from the canal.</p>
+
+<p>When he reached his chambers he waited,
+with the assistance of the brandy, until his
+man brought him the last edition of the evening
+paper. A tiny paragraph on the back sheet
+told him of the tragedy.</p>
+
+<p>An hour later his man found him face downwards
+on the hearthrug and, wrongly attributing
+his condition wholly to the brandy, put him to
+bed.</p>
+
+<p>He was in bed about three weeks. The doctor,
+who was also a personal friend, was shrewd
+enough to suspect that the brandy was the
+effect, rather than the cause of the nerve trouble.</p>
+
+<p>About the first week in June Cargill was allowed
+to get up.</p>
+
+<p>"You've got to go away," said the doctor
+one morning. "You are probably aware that
+your nerves have gone to pieces. The sea is
+the place for you!"</p>
+
+<p>The gasp that followed was scarcely audible,
+and the doctor missed it.</p>
+
+<p>"You went to Tryn yr Wylfa about this
+time last year," continued the doctor. "Go
+there again! Go for long walks on the mountains,
+and put up at a temperance hotel."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He went to Tryn yr Wylfa.</p>
+
+<p>The train journey of six hours knocked him
+up for another week. By the time he was
+strong enough for the promenade it was the
+fourteenth of June. He noticed the date on
+the hotel calendar, and realised that the Fates
+had another ten days in which to drown him.</p>
+
+<p>He did not call on the Lardners. He felt
+that he couldn't&mdash;after the canal episode. Four
+of the ten days had passed before Betty Lardner
+ran across him on the promenade.</p>
+
+<p>She noticed at once the change in him, and
+was kinder than she had ever been before.</p>
+
+<p>"Next Saturday," he said, "is the anniversary!"</p>
+
+<p>For answer she smiled at him, and he might
+have smiled back if he had not remembered
+the canal.</p>
+
+<p>She met him each morning after that, so that
+she was with him on the day when he made his
+atonement.</p>
+
+<p>There had been a violent storm in the early
+morning. It had driven one of the quarry
+steamers on to the long sand-bank that lies
+submerged between Tryn yr Wylfa and Puffin
+Island. The gale still lasted, and the steamer
+was in momentary danger of becoming a complete
+wreck.</p>
+
+<p>There is no lifeboat service at Tryn yr Wylfa.
+It was impossible to launch an ordinary boat
+in such a sea.</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Denbigh, the owner of the quarry
+and local magnate, who had been superintending
+what feeble efforts had been made to effect
+a rescue, answered gloomily when Betty Lardner
+asked him if there were any hope.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It's a terrible thing," he jerked. "First
+time there has been a wreck hereabouts. It's
+hopeless trying to launch a boat&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose a fellow were to swim out to the
+wreck with a life-line in tow?"</p>
+
+<p>It was young Cargill who spoke.</p>
+
+<p>The Colonel glared at him contemptuously.</p>
+
+<p>"He would need to be a pretty fine swimmer,"
+he returned.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to blow my own trumpet, but
+I am considered to be one of the best amateur
+swimmers in the country," replied Cargill calmly.
+"If you will tell your men to get the line ready,
+I will borrow a bathing suit from somewhere."</p>
+
+<p>They both stared at him in amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"But you are still an invalid," cried Betty
+Lardner. "You&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She stopped short and regarded him with
+fresh wonder. Somehow he no longer looked
+an invalid.</p>
+
+<p>Mechanically she walked by his side to the
+little bathing office. Suddenly she clutched
+his arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Jack," she said, "have you forgotten the&mdash;the
+legend?"</p>
+
+<p>"Betty," he replied, "have you forgotten
+the crew?"</p>
+
+<p>While he was undressing the attendant asked
+him some trivial question. He did not hear the
+man. His thoughts were far away. He was
+thinking of a group of children playing on the
+bank of a canal.</p>
+
+<p>To the accompaniment of the Colonel's protests
+they fixed a belt on him, to which was attached
+the life-line.</p>
+
+<p>He walked along the sloping wooden projection<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>
+that is used as a landing stage for pleasure
+skiffs, walked until the water splashed over
+him. Then he dived into the boiling surf.</p>
+
+<p>Thus it was that he earned Betty Lardner's
+forgiveness.</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p>
+<h2>VII<br />
+THE LAST ASCENT</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> extraordinary rapidity with which a successful
+airman may achieve fame was well shown
+in the case of my friend, Radcliffe Thorpe.
+One week known merely to a few friends as a
+clever young engineer, the next his name was
+on the lips of the civilised world. His first
+success was followed by a series of remarkable
+feats, of which his flight above the Atlantic,
+his race with the torpedo-boat-destroyers across
+the North Sea, and his sensational display
+during the military man&#339;uvres on Salisbury
+Plain, impressed his name and personality firmly
+upon the fickle mind of the public, and explains
+the tremendous excitement caused by his inexplicable
+disappearance during the great aviation
+meeting at Attercliffe, near London, towards
+the end of the summer.</p>
+
+<p>Few people, I suppose, have forgotten the
+facts. For some time previously he had been
+devoting himself more especially to ascending
+to as great a height as possible. He held all
+the records for height, and it was known that
+at Attercliffe he meant to endeavour to eclipse
+his own achievements.</p>
+
+<p>It was a lovely day, not a breath of wind<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>
+stirring, not a cloud in the sky. We saw him
+start. We saw him fly up and up in great
+sweeping spirals. We saw him climb higher
+and ever higher into the azure space. We watched
+him, those of us whose eyes could bear the strain,
+as he dwindled to a dot and a speck, till at last
+he passed beyond sight.</p>
+
+<p>It was a stirring thing to see a man thus storm,
+as it were, the walls of Heaven and probe the
+very mysteries of space. I remember I felt
+quite annoyed with someone who was taking
+a cinematograph record. It seemed such a
+sordid, business-like thing to be doing at such
+a moment.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the aeroplane came into sight again
+and was greeted with a sudden roar of cheering.</p>
+
+<p>"He is doing a glide down," someone cried
+excitedly, and though someone else declared
+that a glide from such a height was unthinkable
+and impossible, yet it was soon plain that the
+first speaker was right.</p>
+
+<p>Down through unimaginable thousands of
+feet, straight and swift swept the machine,
+making such a sweep as the eagle in its pride
+would never have dared. People held their
+breath to watch, expecting every moment some
+catastrophe. But the machine kept on an even
+keel, and in a few moments I joined with the
+others in a wild rush to the field at a little distance
+where the machine, like a mighty bird,
+had alighted easily and safely.</p>
+
+<p>But when we reached it we doubted our
+own eyes, our own sanity. There was no sign
+anywhere of Radcliffe Thorpe!</p>
+
+<p>No one knew what to say; we looked blankly
+at our neighbours, and one man got down on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>
+his hands and knees and peered under the body
+of the machine as if he suspected Radcliffe of
+hiding there. Then the chairman of the meeting,
+Lord Fallowfield, made a curious discovery.</p>
+
+<p>"Look," he said in a high, shaken voice,
+"the steering wheel is jammed!"</p>
+
+<p>It was true. The steering wheel had been
+carefully fastened in one position, and the lever
+controlling the planes had also been fixed so
+as to hold them at the right angle for a downward
+glide. That was strange enough, but in
+face of the mystery of Radcliffe's disappearance
+little attention was paid it.</p>
+
+<p>Where, then, was its pilot? That was the
+question that was filling everybody's mind.
+He had vanished as utterly as vanishes the
+mist one sees rising in the sunshine.</p>
+
+<p>It was supposed he must have fallen from his
+seat, but as to how that had happened, how it
+was that no fragment of his body or his clothing
+was ever found, above all, how it was that his
+aeroplane had returned, the engine cut off, the
+planes secured in correct position, no even
+moderately plausible explanation was ever put
+forward.</p>
+
+<p>The loss to aeronautics was felt to be severe.
+From childhood Radcliffe had shown that, in
+addition to this, he had a marked aptitude
+for drawing, usually held at the service of his
+profession, but now and again exercised in
+producing sketches of his friends.</p>
+
+<p>Among those who knew him privately he
+was fairly popular, though not, perhaps, so
+much so as he deserved; certainly he had a way
+of talking "shop" which was a trifle tiring to those<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>
+who did not figure the world as one vast engineering
+problem, while with women he was apt
+to be brusque and short-mannered.</p>
+
+<p>My surprise, then, can be imagined when,
+calling one afternoon on him and having to
+wait a little, I had noticed lying on his desk
+a crayon sketch of a woman's face. It was
+a very lovely face, the features almost perfect,
+and yet there was about it something unearthly
+and spectral that was curiously disturbing.</p>
+
+<p>"Smitten at last?" I asked jestingly, and yet
+aware of a certain odd discomfort.</p>
+
+<p>When, he saw what I was looking at he went
+very pale.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is it?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, just&mdash;someone!" he answered.</p>
+
+<p>He took the sketch from me, looked at it,
+frowned and locked it away. As he seemed
+unwilling to pursue the subject, I went on to
+talk of the business I had come about, and I
+congratulated him on his flight of the day before
+in which he had broken the record for height.
+As I was going he said:</p>
+
+<p>"By the way, that sketch&mdash;what did you
+think of it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, that you had better be careful," I
+answered, laughing; "or you'll be falling from
+your high estate of bachelordom."</p>
+
+<p>He gave so violent a start, his face expressed
+so much of apprehension and dismay, that I
+stared at him blankly. Recovering himself with
+an effort, he stammered out:</p>
+
+<p>"It's not&mdash;I mean&mdash;it's an imaginary portrait."</p>
+
+<p>"Then," I said, amazed in my turn, "you've
+a jolly sight more imagination than anyone
+ever credited you with."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The incident remained in my mind. As a
+matter of fact, practical Radcliffe Thorpe, absorbed
+in questions of strain and ease, his head
+full of cylinders and wheels and ratchets and
+the Lord knows what else, would have seemed
+to me the last man on earth to create that haunting,
+strange, unearthly face, human in form, but
+not in expression.</p>
+
+<p>It was about this time that Radcliffe began
+to give so much attention to the making of
+very high flights. His favourite time was in
+the early morning, as soon as it was light.
+Then in the chill dawn he would rise and soar
+and wing his flight high and ever higher, up
+and up, till the eye could no longer follow his
+ascent.</p>
+
+<p>I remember he made one of these strange,
+solitary flights when I was spending the week-end
+with him at his cottage near the Attercliffe
+Aviation Grounds.</p>
+
+<p>I had come down from town somewhat late the
+night before, and I remember that just before
+we went to bed we went out for a few minutes to
+enjoy the beauty of a perfect night. The moon
+was shining in a clear sky, not a sound or a breath
+disturbed the sublime quietude; in the south one
+wondrous star gleamed low on the horizon.
+Neither of us spoke; it was enough to drink in the
+beauty of such rare perfection, and I noticed how
+Radcliffe kept his eyes fixed upwards on the dark
+blue vault of space.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you longing to be up there?" I asked
+him jestingly.</p>
+
+<p>He started and flushed, and he then went very
+pale, and to my surprise I saw that he was
+shivering.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You are getting cold," I said. "We had
+better go in."</p>
+
+<p>He nodded without answering, and, as we
+turned to go in, I heard quite plainly and distinctly
+a low, strange laugh, a laugh full of a honeyed
+sweetness that yet thrilled me with great fear.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?" I said, stopping short.</p>
+
+<p>"What?" Radcliffe asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Someone laughed," I said, and I stared all
+round and then upwards. "I thought it came
+from up there," I said in a bewildered way,
+pointing upwards.</p>
+
+<p>He gave me an odd look and, without answering,
+went into the cottage. He had said nothing of
+having planned any flight for the next morning;
+but in the early morning, the chill and grey dawn,
+I was roused by the drumming of his engine. At
+once I jumped up out of bed and ran to the
+window.</p>
+
+<p>The machine was raising itself lightly and
+easily from the ground. I watched him wing his
+god-like way up through the still, soft air till he
+was lost to view. Then, after a time, I saw him
+emerge again from those immensities of space.
+He came down in one long majestic sweep, and
+alighted in a field a little way away from the house,
+leaving the aeroplane for his mechanics to fetch
+up presently.</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo!" I greeted him. "Why didn't you
+tell me you were going up?"</p>
+
+<p>As I spoke I heard plainly and distinctly, as
+plainly as ever I heard anything in my life, that
+low, strange laugh, that I had heard before, so
+silvery sweet and yet somehow so horrible.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?" I said, stopping short and
+staring blankly upwards, for, absurd though it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>
+seems, that weird sound seemed to come floating
+down from an infinite height above us.</p>
+
+<p>"Not high enough," he muttered like a man in
+an ecstasy. "Not high enough yet."</p>
+
+<p>He walked away from me then without another
+word. When I entered the cottage he was seated
+at the table sketching a woman's face&mdash;the same
+face I had seen in that other sketch of his, spectral,
+unreal, and lovely.</p>
+
+<p>"What on earth&mdash;&mdash;?" I began.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing on earth," he answered in a strange
+voice. Then he laughed and jumped up, and
+tore his sketch across.</p>
+
+<p>He seemed quite his old self again, chatty and
+pleasant, and with his old passion for talking
+"shop." He launched into a long explanation of
+some scheme he had in mind for securing automatic
+balancing.</p>
+
+<p>I never told anyone about that strange, mocking
+laugh, in fact, I had almost forgotten the incident
+altogether when something brought every detail
+back to my memory. I had a letter from a person
+who signed himself "George Barnes."</p>
+
+<p>Barnes, it seemed, was the operator who had
+taken the pictures of that last ascent, and as he
+understood I had been Mr. Thorpe's greatest
+friend, he wanted to see me. Certain expressions
+in the letter aroused my curiosity. I replied.
+He asked for an appointment at a time that was
+not very convenient, and finally I arranged to call
+at his house one evening.</p>
+
+<p>It was one of those smart little six-room villas
+of which so many have been put up in the London
+suburbs of late. Barnes was buying it on the
+instalment system, and I quite won his heart by
+complimenting him on it. But for that, I doubt<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>
+if anything would have come of my visit, for he
+was plainly nervous and ill at ease and very
+repentant of ever having said anything. But
+after my compliment to the house we got on
+better.</p>
+
+<p>"It's on my mind," he said; "I shan't be easy
+till someone else knows."</p>
+
+<p>We were in the front room where a good fire
+was burning&mdash;in my honour, I guessed, for the
+apartment had not the air of being much used.
+On the table were some photographs. Barnes
+showed them me. They were enlargements from
+those he had taken of poor Radcliffe's last ascent.</p>
+
+<p>"They've been shown all over the world," he
+said. "Millions of people have seen them."</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"But there's one no one has seen&mdash;no one
+except me."</p>
+
+<p>He produced another print and gave it to
+me. I glanced at it. It seemed much like the
+others, having been apparently one of the last
+of the series, taken when the aeroplane was at
+a great height. The only thing in which it
+differed from the others was that it seemed a
+trifle blurred.</p>
+
+<p>"A poor one," I said; "it's misty."</p>
+
+<p>"Look at the mist," he said.</p>
+
+<p>I did so. Slowly, very slowly, I began to
+see that that misty appearance had a shape, a
+form. Even as I looked I saw the features of
+a human countenance&mdash;and yet not human
+either, so spectral was it, so unreal and strange.
+I felt the blood run cold in my veins and the
+hair bristle on the scalp of my head, for I
+recognised beyond all doubt that this face on
+the photograph was the same as that Radcliffe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>
+had sketched. The resemblance was absolute,
+no one who had seen the one could mistake the
+other.</p>
+
+<p>"You see it?" Barnes muttered, and his
+face was almost as pale as mine.</p>
+
+<p>"There's a woman," I stammered, "a woman
+floating in the air by his side. Her arms are
+held out to him."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," Barnes said. "Who was she?"</p>
+
+<p>The print slipped from my hands and fluttered
+to the ground. Barnes picked it up and put
+it in the fire. Was it fancy or, as it flared up,
+and burnt and was consumed, did I really
+hear a faint laugh floating downwards from the
+upper air?</p>
+
+<p>"I destroyed the negative," Barnes said,
+"and I told my boss something had gone wrong
+with it. No one has seen that photograph but
+you and me, and now no one ever will."</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p>
+<h2>VIII<br />
+THE TERROR BY NIGHT</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Maynard</span> disincumbered himself from his fishing-creel,
+stabbed the butt of his rod into the turf,
+and settled down in the heather to fill a pipe.
+All round him stretched the undulating moor,
+purple in the late summer sunlight. To the
+southward, low down, a faint haze told where
+the sea lay. The stream at his feet sang its
+queer, crooning moor-song as it rambled onward,
+chuckling to meet a bed of pebbles somewhere
+out of sight, whispering mysteriously to the
+rushes that fringed its banks of peat, deepening
+to a sudden contralto as it poured over granite
+boulders into a scum-flecked pool below.</p>
+
+<p>For a long time the man sat smoking. Occasionally
+he turned his head to watch with keen
+eyes the fretful movements of a fly hovering
+above the water. Then a sudden dimple in
+the smooth surface of the stream arrested his
+attention. A few concentric ripples widened,
+travelled towards him, and were absorbed in
+the current. His lips curved into a little smile
+and he reached for his rod. In the clear water
+he could see the origin of the ripples; a small
+trout, unconscious of his presence, was waiting
+in its hover for the next tit-bit to float downstream.
+Presently it rose again.</p>
+
+<p>"The odds are ten to one in your favour,"
+said the man. "Let's see!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He dropped on one knee and the cast leapt
+out in feathery coils. Once, twice it swished;
+the third time it alighted like thistledown on
+the surface. There was a tiny splash, a laugh,
+and the little greenheart rod flicked a trout
+high over his head. It was the merest baby&mdash;half-an-ounce,
+perhaps&mdash;and it fell from the hook
+into the herbage some yards from the stream.</p>
+
+<p>"Little ass!" said Maynard. "That was
+meant for your big brother."</p>
+
+<p>He recovered his cast and began to look for
+his victim. Without avail he searched the
+heather, and as the fateful seconds sped, at last
+laid down his rod and dropped on hands and knees
+to probe among the grass-stems.</p>
+
+<p>For a while he hunted in vain, then the sunlight
+showed a golden sheen among some stones.
+Maynard gave a grunt of relief, but as his hand
+closed round it a tiny flutter passed through the
+fingerling; it gave a final gasp and was still.
+Knitting his brows in almost comical vexation,
+he hastened to restore it to the stream, holding
+it by the tail and striving to impart a life-like
+wriggle to its limpness.</p>
+
+<p>"Buck up, old thing!" he murmured encouragingly.
+"Oh, buck up! You're all right,
+really you are!"</p>
+
+<p>But the "old thing" was all wrong. In
+fact, it was dead.</p>
+
+<p>Standing in the wet shingle, Maynard regarded
+the speckled atom as it lay in the palm of his
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>"A matter of seconds, my son. One instant
+in all eternity would have made just the difference
+between life and death to you. And the high
+gods denied it you!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>On the opposite side of the stream, set back
+about thirty paces from the brink, stood a granite
+boulder. It was as high as a man's chest, roughly
+cubical in shape; but the weather and clinging
+moss had rounded its edges, and in places segments
+had crumbled away, giving foothold to clumps
+of fern and starry moor-flowers. On three sides
+the surrounding ground rose steeply, forming
+an irregular horseshoe mound that opened to
+the west. Perhaps it was the queer amphitheatrical
+effect of this setting that connected
+up some whimsical train of thought in Maynard's
+brain.</p>
+
+<p>"It would seem as if the gods had claimed
+you," he mused, still holding the corpse. "You
+shall be a sacrifice&mdash;a burnt sacrifice to the God
+of Waste Places."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed at the conceit, half-ashamed of
+his own childishness, and crossing the stream
+by some boulders, he brushed away the earth
+and weed from the top of the great stone. Then
+he retraced his steps and gathered a handful
+of bleached twigs that the winter floods had left
+stranded along the margin of the stream. These
+he arranged methodically on the cleared space;
+on the top of the tiny pyre he placed the troutlet.</p>
+
+<p>"There!" he said, and smiling gravely struck
+a match. A faint column of smoke curled up
+into the still air, and as he spoke the lower rim
+of the setting sun met the edge of the moor.
+The evening seemed suddenly to become incredibly
+still, even the voice of the stream ceasing
+to be a sound distinct. A wagtail bobbing in
+the shallows fled into the waste. Overhead the
+smoke trembled upwards, a faint stain against
+a cloudless sky. The stillness seemed almost<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>
+acute. It was as if the moor were waiting, and
+holding its breath while it waited. Then the
+twigs upon his altar crackled, and the pale flames
+blazed up. The man stepped back with artistic
+appreciation of the effect.</p>
+
+<p>"To be really impressive, there ought to be
+more smoke," he continued.</p>
+
+<p>Round the base of the stone were clumps of
+small flowers. They were crimson in colour and
+had thick, fleshy leaves. Hastily, he snatched
+a handful and piled it on the fire. The smoke
+darkened and rose in a thick column; there was
+a curious pungency in the air.</p>
+
+<p>Far off the church-bell in some unseen hamlet
+struck the hour. The distant sound, coming
+from the world of men and every-day affairs,
+seemed to break the spell. An ousel fluttered
+across the stream and dabbled in a puddle among
+some stones. Rabbits began to show themselves
+and frisk with lengthened shadows in the clear
+spaces. Maynard looked at his watch, half-mindful
+of a train to be caught somewhere miles
+away, and then, held by the peace of running
+water, stretched himself against the sloping
+ground.</p>
+
+<p>The glowing world seemed peopled by tiny
+folk, living out their timid, inscrutable lives
+around him. A water-rat, passing bright-eyed
+upon his lawful occasion, paused on the border
+of the stream to consider the stranger, and was
+lost to view. A stagnant pool among some reeds
+caught the reflection of the sunset and changed
+on the instant into raw gold.</p>
+
+<p>Maynard plucked a grass stem and chewed
+it reflectively, staring out across the purple
+moor and lazily watching the western sky turn<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>
+from glory to glory. Over his head the smoke
+of the sacrifice still curled and eddied upwards.
+Then a sudden sound sent him on to one elbow&mdash;the
+thud of an approaching horse's hoofs.</p>
+
+<p>"Moor ponies!" he muttered, and, rising,
+stood expectant beside his smoking altar.</p>
+
+<p>Then he heard the sudden jingle of a bit, and
+presently a horse and rider climbed into view
+against the pure sky. A young girl, breeched,
+booted and spurred like a boy, drew rein, and sat
+looking down into the hollow.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment neither spoke; then Maynard
+acknowledged her presence by raising his tweed
+hat. She gave a little nod.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought it was somebody swaling&mdash;burning
+the heather." She considered the embers on
+the stone, and then her grey eyes travelled back
+to the spare, tweed-clad figure beside it.</p>
+
+<p>He smiled in his slow way&mdash;a rather attractive
+smile.</p>
+
+<p>"No. I've just concluded some pagan rites
+in connection with a small trout!" He nodded
+gravely at the stone. "That was a burnt sacrifice."
+With whimsical seriousness he told her
+of the trout's demise and high destiny.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment she looked doubtful; but the
+inflection of breeding in his voice, the wholesome,
+lean face and humorous eyes, reassured her.
+A smile hovered about the corners of her mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, is that it? I wondered ..."</p>
+
+<p>She gathered the reins and turned her horse's
+head.</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me if I dragged you out of your way,"
+said Maynard, never swift to conventionality,
+but touched by the tired shadows in her eyes.
+The faint droop of her mouth, too, betrayed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>
+intense fatigue. "You look fagged. I don't
+want to be a nuisance or bore you, but I wish
+you'd let me offer you a sandwich. I've some
+milk here, too."</p>
+
+<p>The girl looked round the ragged moor, brooding
+in the twilight, and half hesitated. Then
+she forced a wan little smile.</p>
+
+<p>"I am tired, and hungry, too. Have you
+enough for us both?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lots!" said Maynard. To himself he
+added: "And what's more, my child, you'll
+have a little fainting affair in a few minutes, if
+you don't have a feed."</p>
+
+<p>"Come and rest for a minute," he continued
+aloud.</p>
+
+<p>He spoke with pleasant, impersonal kindliness,
+and as he turned to his satchel she slipped out of
+the saddle and came towards him, leading her
+horse.</p>
+
+<p>"Drink that," he said, holding out the cup
+of his flask. She drank with a wry little face,
+and coughed. "I put a little whisky in it,"
+he explained. "You needed it."</p>
+
+<p>She thanked him and sat down with the
+bridle linked over her arm. The colour crept
+back into her cheeks. Maynard produced a
+packet of sandwiches and a pasty.</p>
+
+<p>"I've been mooning about the moor all the
+afternoon and lost myself twice," she explained
+between frank mouthfuls. "I'm hopelessly
+late for dinner, and I've still got miles to go."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know the way now?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes! It won't take me long. My
+family are sensible, too, and don't fuss." She
+looked at him, her long-lashed eyes a little
+serious. "But you&mdash;how are you going to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>
+get home? It's getting late to be out on the
+moor afoot."</p>
+
+<p>Maynard laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm all right, thanks!" He sniffed
+the warm September night. "I think I shall
+sleep here, as a matter of fact. I'm a gipsy
+by instinct&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<span class="i0">"'Give to me the life I love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let the lave go by me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Give the jolly Heaven above&mdash;&mdash;'"<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p>He broke off, arrested by her unsmiling eyes.
+She was silent a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"People don't as a rule sleep out&mdash;about
+here." The words came jerkily, as if she were
+forcing a natural tone into her voice.</p>
+
+<p>"No?" He was accustomed to being questioned
+on his unconventional mode of life, and
+was prepared for the usual expostulations.
+She looked abruptly towards him.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you superstitious?"</p>
+
+<p>He laughed and shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think so. But what has that got
+to do with it?"</p>
+
+<p>She hesitated, flushing a little.</p>
+
+<p>"There is a legend&mdash;people about here say
+that the moor here is haunted. There is a
+Thing that hunts people to death!"</p>
+
+<p>He laughed outright, wondering how old
+she was. Seventeen or eighteen, perhaps.
+She had said her people "didn't fuss." That
+meant she was left to herself to pick up all
+these old wives' tales.</p>
+
+<p>"Really! Has anyone been caught?"</p>
+
+<p>She nodded, unsmiling.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; old George Toms. He was one of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>
+Dad's tenants, a big purple-faced man, who
+drank a lot and never took much exercise.
+They found him in a ditch with his clothes all
+torn and covered with mud. He had been run
+to death; there was no wound on his body,
+but his heart was broken." Her thoughts
+recurred to the stone against which they leant,
+and his quaint conceit. "You were rather
+rash to go offering burnt sacrifices about here,
+don't you think? Dad says that stone is the
+remains of an old Ph&#339;nician altar, too."</p>
+
+<p>She was smiling now, but the seriousness
+lingered in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"And I have probably invoked some terrible
+heathen deity&mdash;Ashtoreth, or Pugm, or Baal!
+How awful!" he added, with mock gravity.</p>
+
+<p>The girl rose to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>"You are laughing at me. The people about
+here are superstitious, and I am a Celt, too.
+I belong here."</p>
+
+<p>He jumped up with a quick protest.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I'm not laughing at you. Please don't
+think that! But it's a little hard to believe
+in active evil when all around is so beautiful."
+He helped her to mount and walked to the
+top of the mound at her stirrup. "Tell me, is
+there any charm or incantation, in case&mdash;&mdash;?"
+His eyes were twinkling, but she shook her fair
+head soberly.</p>
+
+<p>"They say iron&mdash;cold iron&mdash;is the only thing
+it cannot cross. But I must go!" She held
+out her hand with half-shy friendliness. "Thank
+you for your niceness to me." Her eyes grew
+suddenly wistful. "Really, though, I don't
+think I should stay there if I were you. Please!"</p>
+
+<p>He only laughed, however, and she moved<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>
+off, shaking her impatient horse into a canter.
+Maynard stood looking after her till she was
+swallowed by the dusk and surrounding moor.
+Then, thoughtfully, he retraced his steps to the
+hollow.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>A cloud lay across the face of the moon when
+Fear awoke Maynard. He rolled on to one
+elbow and stared round the hollow, filled with
+inexplicable dread. He was ordinarily a courageous
+man, and had no nerves to speak of;
+yet, as his eyes followed the line of the ridge
+against the sky, he experienced terror, the
+elementary, nauseating terror of childhood,
+when the skin tingles, and the heart beats at
+a suffocating gallop. It was very dark, but
+momentarily his eyes grew accustomed to it.
+He was conscious of a queer, pungent smell,
+horribly animal and corrupt.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the utter silence broke. He heard
+a rattle of stones, the splash of water about
+him, realised that it was the brook beneath
+his feet, and that he, Maynard, was running
+for his life.</p>
+
+<p>Neither then nor later did Reason assert
+herself. He ran without question or amazement.
+His brain&mdash;the part where human
+reasoning holds normal sway&mdash;was dominated
+by the purely primitive instinct of flight. And
+in that sudden rout of courage and self-respect
+one conscious thought alone remained. Whatever
+it was that was even then at his heels, he
+must not see it. At all costs it must be behind
+him, and, resisting the sudden terrified impulse
+to look over his shoulder, he unbuttoned his tweed
+jacket and disengaged himself from it as he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>
+ran. The faint haze that had gathered round
+the full moon dispersed, and he saw the moor
+stretching before him, grey and still, glistening
+with dew.</p>
+
+<p>He was of frugal and temperate habits, a
+wiry man at the height of his physical powers,
+with lean flanks and a deep chest.</p>
+
+<p>At Oxford they had said he was built to run
+for his life. He was running for it now, and he
+knew it.</p>
+
+<p>The ground sloped upwards after a while,
+and he tore up the incline, breathing deep and
+hard; down into a shallow valley, leaping gorse
+bushes, crashing through whortle and meadowsweet,
+stumbling over peat-cuttings and the
+workings of forgotten tin-mines. An idiotic popular
+tune raced through his brain. He found
+himself trying to frame the words, but they
+broke into incoherent prayers, still to the same
+grotesque tune.</p>
+
+<p>Then, as he breasted the flank of a boulder-strewn
+tor, he seemed to hear snuffling breathing
+behind him, and, redoubling his efforts, stepped
+into a rabbit hole. He was up and running
+again in the twinkling of an eye, limping from
+a twisted ankle as he ran.</p>
+
+<p>He sprinted over the crest of the hill and
+thought he heard the sound almost abreast of
+him, away to the right. In the dry bed of a
+watercourse some stones were dislodged and
+fell with a rattle in the stillness of the night;
+he bore away to the left. A moment later
+there was Something nearly at his left elbow,
+and he smelt again the nameless, f&#339;tid reek.
+He doubled, and the ghastly truth flashed
+upon him. The Thing was playing with him!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>
+He was being hunted for sport&mdash;the sport of a
+horror unthinkable. The sweat ran down into
+his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>He lost all count of time; his wrist watch
+was smashed on his wrist. He ran through a
+reeling eternity, sobbing for breath, stumbling,
+tripping, fighting a leaden weariness; and ever
+the same unreasoning terror urged him on.
+The moon and ragged skyline swam about him;
+the blood drummed deafeningly in his ears,
+and his eyeballs felt as if they would burst
+from their sockets. He had nearly bitten his
+swollen tongue in two falling over an unseen
+peat-cutting, and blood-flecked foam gathered
+on his lips.</p>
+
+<p>God, how he ran! But he was no longer
+among bog and heather. He was running&mdash;shambling
+now&mdash;along a road. The loping pursuit
+of that nameless, shapeless Something sounded
+like an echo in his head.</p>
+
+<p>He was nearing a village, but saw nothing
+save a red mist that swam before him like a
+fog. The road underfoot seemed to rise and
+fall in wavelike undulations. Still he ran,
+with sobbing gasps and limbs that swerved
+under his weight; at his elbow hung death
+unnamable, and the fear of it urged him on
+while every instinct of his exhausted body called
+out to him to fling up his hands and end it.</p>
+
+<p>Out of the mist ahead rose the rough outline of
+a building by the roadside; it was the village
+smithy, half workshop, half dwelling. The
+road here skirted a patch of grass, and the
+moonlight, glistening on the dew, showed the
+dark circular scars of the turf where, for a
+generation, the smith's peat fires had heated<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>
+the great iron hoops that tyred the wheels of
+the wains. One of these was even then lying
+on the ground with the turves placed in readiness
+for firing in the morning, and in the throbbing
+darkness of Maynard's consciousness a voice
+seemed to speak faintly&mdash;the voice of a girl:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>There's a Thing that hunts people to death.
+But iron&mdash;cold iron&mdash;it cannot cross.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>The sweat of death was already on his brow
+as he reeled sideways, plunging blindly across
+the uneven tufts of grass. His feet caught in
+some obstruction and he pitched forward into
+the sanctuary of the huge iron tyre&mdash;a spasm
+of cramp twisting his limbs up under him.</p>
+
+<p>As he fell a great blackness rose around him,
+and with it the bewildered clamour of awakened
+dogs.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>Dr. Stanmore came down the flagged path
+from the smith's cottage, pulling on his gloves.
+A big car was passing slowly up the village
+street, and as it came abreast the smithy the
+doctor raised his hat.</p>
+
+<p>The car stopped, and the driver, a fair-haired
+girl, leant sideways from her seat.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-morning, Dr. Stanmore! What's the
+matter here? Nothing wrong with any of
+Matthew's children, is there?"</p>
+
+<p>The Doctor shook his head gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"No, Lady Dorothy; they're all at school.
+This is no one belonging to the family&mdash;a stranger
+who was taken mysteriously ill last night just
+outside the forge, and they brought him in.
+It's a most queer case, and very difficult to
+diagnose&mdash;that is to say, to give a diagnosis in
+keeping with one's professional&mdash;er&mdash;conscience."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The girl switched off the engine, and took
+her hand from the brake-lever. Something in
+the doctor's manner arrested her interest.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter with him?" she queried.
+"What diagnosis have you made, professional
+or otherwise?"</p>
+
+<p>"Shock, Lady Dorothy; severe exhaustion
+and shock, heart strained, superficial lesions,
+bruises, scratches, and so forth. Mentally he
+is in a great state of excitement and terror,
+lapsing into delirium at times&mdash;that is really
+the most serious feature. In fact, unless I can
+calm him I am afraid we may have some brain
+trouble on top of the other thing. It's most
+mysterious!"</p>
+
+<p>The girl nodded gravely, holding her underlip
+between her white teeth.</p>
+
+<p>"What does he look like&mdash;in appearance,
+I mean? Is he young?"</p>
+
+<p>The shadow of a smile crossed the doctor's
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Lady Dorothy&mdash;quite young, and very
+good-looking. He is a man of remarkable
+athletic build. He is calmer now, and I have
+left Matthew's wife with him while I slip out
+to see a couple of other patients."</p>
+
+<p>Lady Dorothy rose from her seat and stepped
+down out of the car.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I know your patient," she said.
+"In fact, I had taken the car to look for him,
+to ask him to lunch with us. Do you think
+I might see him for a minute? If it is the person
+I think it is I may be able to help you diagnose
+his illness."</p>
+
+<p>Together they walked up the path and entered
+the cottage. The doctor led the way<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>
+upstairs and opened a door. A woman sitting
+by the bed rose and dropped a curtsey.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Dorothy smiled a greeting to her and
+crossed over to the bed. There, his face grey
+and drawn with exhaustion, with shadows
+round his closed eyes, lay Maynard; one hand
+lying on the counterpane opened and closed
+convulsively, his lips moved. The physician
+eyed the girl interrogatively.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know him?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>She nodded, and put her firm, cool hand
+over the twitching fingers.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said. "And I warned him.
+Tell me, is he very ill?"</p>
+
+<p>"He requires rest, careful nursing, absolute
+quiet&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"All that he can have at the Manor," said
+the girl softly. She met the doctor's eyes and
+looked away, a faint colour tingeing her cheeks.
+"Will you go and telephone to father? I
+will take him back in the car now if he is well
+enough to be moved."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he is well enough to be moved," said
+the doctor. "It is very kind of you, Lady
+Dorothy, and I will go and telephone at once.
+Will you stay with him for a little while?"</p>
+
+<p>He left the room, and they heard his feet go
+down the narrow stairs. The cottage door opened
+and closed.</p>
+
+<p>The two women, the old and the young, peasant
+and peer's daughter, looked at each other, and
+there was in their glance that complete understanding
+which can only exist between women.</p>
+
+<p>"Do 'ee mind old Jarge Toms, my lady?"</p>
+
+<p>Lady Dorothy nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"I know, I know! And I warned him!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>
+They won't believe, these men! They think
+because they are so big and strong that there
+is nothing that can hurt them."</p>
+
+<p>"'Twas th' iron that saved un, my lady.
+'Twas inside one of John's new tyres as was
+lyin' on the ground that us found un. Dogs
+barkin' wakened us up. But it'd ha' had un,
+else&mdash;&mdash;" A sound downstairs sent her flying
+to the door. "'Tis the kettle, my lady. John's
+dinner spilin', an' I forgettin'."</p>
+
+<p>She hurried out of the room and closed the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>The sound of their voices seemed to have
+roused the occupant of the bed. His eyelids
+fluttered and opened; his eyes rested full on the
+girl's face. For a moment there was no consciousness
+in their gaze; then a whimsical ghost
+of a smile crept about his mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"Go on," he said in a weak voice. "Say it!"</p>
+
+<p>"Say what?" asked Lady Dorothy. She
+was suddenly aware that her hand was still on
+his, but the twitching fingers had closed about
+hers in a calm, firm grasp.</p>
+
+<p>"Say 'I told you so'!"</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head with a little smile.</p>
+
+<p>"I told you that cold iron&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Cold iron saved me." He told her of the
+iron hoop on the ground outside the forge. "You
+saved me last night."</p>
+
+<p>She disengaged her hand gently.</p>
+
+<p>"I saved you last night&mdash;since you say so.
+But in future&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Someone was coming up the stairs. Maynard
+met her eyes with a long look.</p>
+
+<p>"I have no fear," he said. "I have found
+something better than cold iron."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The door opened and the doctor came in.
+He glanced at Maynard's face and touched his
+pulse.</p>
+
+<p>"The case is yours, Lady Dorothy!" he said
+with a little bow.</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p>
+<h2>IX<br />
+THE TRAGEDY AT THE "LOUP NOIR"</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Boy at the corner of the table flicked the
+ash of his cigar into the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"Spiritualism is all rot!" he declared.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," the Host reflected thoughtfully.
+"One hears queer stories sometimes."</p>
+
+<p>"Which reminds me&mdash;&mdash;" started the Bore.</p>
+
+<p>But before he could proceed any further the
+little French Judge ruthlessly cut him short.</p>
+
+<p>"Bah!" Contempt and geniality were mingled
+in his tone. "Who are we, poor ignorant worms,
+that we should dare to say 'is' or 'is not'?
+Your Shakespeare, he was right! 'There are
+more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than
+are dreamt of in your philosophy!'"</p>
+
+<p>The faces of the four Englishmen instantly
+assumed that peculiarly stolid expression always
+called forth by the mention of Shakespeare.</p>
+
+<p>"But Spiritualism&mdash;&mdash;" started the Host.</p>
+
+<p>Again the little French Judge broke in:</p>
+
+<p>"I who you speak, I myself know of an experience,
+of the most remarkable, to this day unexplained
+save by Spiritualism, Occultism, what
+you will! You shall hear! The case is one I conducted
+professionally some two years ago, though,
+of course, the events which I now tell in their
+proper sequence, came out only in the trial. I
+string them together for you, yes?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Bore, who fiercely resented any stories
+except his own, gave vent to a discontented
+grunt; the other three prepared to listen carefully.
+From the drawing-room, whither the
+ladies had retired after dinner, sounded the far-away
+strains of a piano. The little French
+Judge held out his glass for a cr&egrave;me de menthe;
+his eyes were sparkling with suppressed excitement;
+he gazed deep into the shining green
+liquid as if seeing therein a moving panorama
+of pictures, then he began:</p>
+
+<p>On a dusky autumn evening, a young man,
+tall, olive-skinned, tramps along the road leading
+from Paris to Longchamps. He is walking
+with a quick, even swing. Now and again a
+hidden anxiety darkens his face.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly he branches off to the left; the path
+here is steep and muddy. He stops in front of
+a blurred circle of yellow light; by this can one
+faintly perceive the outlines of a building. Above
+the narrow doorway hangs a creaking sign which
+announces to all it may concern that this is the
+"Loup Noir," much sought after for its nearness
+to the racecourse and for its excellent <i>m&eacute;nage</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Voil&agrave;!</i>" mutters our friend.</p>
+
+<p>On entering, he is met by the burly innkeeper,
+a shrewd enough fellow, who has seen something
+of life before settling down in Longchamps.
+The young man glances past him as if seeking
+some other face, then recollecting himself demands
+shelter for the night.</p>
+
+<p>"I greatly fear&mdash;&mdash;" began the innkeeper,
+then pauses, struck by an idea. "Hol&agrave;, Gaston!
+Have monsieur and madame from number fourteen
+yet departed?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, monsieur; already early this morning;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>
+you were at the market, so Mademoiselle settled
+the bill."</p>
+
+<p>"Mademoiselle Jehane?" the stranger looks
+up sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"My niece, monsieur; you have perhaps heard
+of her, for I see by your easel you are an artist.
+She is supposed to be of a rare beauty; I think it
+myself." Jean Potin keeps up a running flow
+of talk as he conducts his visitor down the long
+bare passages, past blistered yellow doors.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a double room I must give you, vacated,
+as you heard, but this very morning. They
+were going to stay longer, Monsieur and Madame
+Guillaumet, but of a sudden she changed her
+mind. Oh, she was of a temper!" Potin
+raises expressive eyes heavenwards. "It is ever
+so when May weds with December."</p>
+
+<p>"He was much older than his wife, then?"
+queries the artist, politely feigning an interest
+he is far from feeling.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Mais non, parbleu!</i> It was she who was the
+older&mdash;by some fifteen years; and not a beauty.
+But rich&mdash;he knew what he was about, giving
+his smooth cheek for her smooth louis!"</p>
+
+<p>Left alone, Lou Arnaud proceeds to unpack
+his knapsack; he lingers over it as long as possible;
+the task awaiting him below is no pleasant one.
+Finally he descends. The small smoky <i>salle
+&agrave; manger</i> is full of people. There is much talk
+and laughter going on; the clatter of knives
+and forks. At the desk near the door, a young
+girl is busy with the accounts. Her very pale
+gold hair, parted and drawn loosely back over
+the ears, casts a faint shadow on her pure, white
+skin. Arnaud, as he chooses a seat, looks at
+her critically.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Bah, she is insignificant!" he thinks.
+"What can have possessed Claude?"</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly she raises her eyes. They meet his
+in a long, steady gaze. Then once again the lids
+are lowered.</p>
+
+<p>The artist sets down his glass with a hand
+that shakes. He is not imaginative, as a rule,
+but when one sees the soul of a mocking devil
+look out, dark and compelling, from the face
+of a Madonna, one is disconcerted.</p>
+
+<p>He wonders no more what had possessed Claude.
+On his way to the door a few moments later, he
+pauses at her desk.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur wishes to order breakfast for to-morrow
+morning?"</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur wishes to speak with you."</p>
+
+<p>She smiles demurely. Many have wished to
+speak with her. Arnaud divines her thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>"My name is Lou Arnaud!" he adds
+meaningly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" she ponders on this for an instant;
+then: "It is a warm night; if you will seat
+yourself at one of the little tables in the courtyard
+at the back of the house, I will try to join
+you, when these pigs have finished feeding."
+She indicates with contempt the noisily eating
+crowd.</p>
+
+<p>They sit long at that table, for the man has
+much to tell of his young brother Claude; of the
+ruin she has made of his life; of the little green
+devils that lurk in a glass of absinthe, and clutch
+their victim, and drag him down deeper, ever
+deeper, into the great, green abyss.</p>
+
+<p>But she only laughs, this Jehane of the wanton
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"But what do you want from me? I have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>
+no need of this Claude. He wearies me&mdash;now!"</p>
+
+<p>Arnaud springs to his feet, catching her roughly
+by the wrist. He loves his young brother much.
+His voice is raised, attracting the notice of two
+or three groups who take coffee at the iron tables.</p>
+
+<p>"You had need of him once. You never left
+him in peace till you had sucked him of all that
+makes life good. If I could&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Jean Potin appears in the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>"Jehane, what are you doing out here? You
+know I do not permit it that you speak with the
+visitors. Pardon her, monsieur, she is but a
+child."</p>
+
+<p>"A child?" The artist's brow is black as
+thunder. "She has wrecked a life, this child
+you speak of!"</p>
+
+<p>He strides past the amazed innkeeper, up
+the narrow flight of stairs, and down the passage
+to his room.</p>
+
+<p>Sitting on the edge of the huge curtained
+four-poster bed, he ponders on the events of
+the evening.</p>
+
+<p>But his thoughts are not all of Claude. That
+girl&mdash;that girl with her pale face and her pale
+hair, and eyes the grey of a storm cloud before
+it breaks, she haunts him! Her soft murmuring
+voice has stolen into his brain; he hears
+it in the drip, drip of the rain on the sill outside.</p>
+
+<p>Soon heavy feet are heard trooping up the
+stairs; doors are heard to bang; cheery voices
+wish each other good-night. Then gradually
+the sounds die away. They keep early hours
+at the "Loup Noir"; it is not yet ten o'clock.</p>
+
+<p>Still Arnaud remains sitting on the edge of
+the bed; the dark plush canopy overhead repels
+him, he does not feel inclined for sleep. Jehane!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>
+what a picture she would make! He <i>must</i>
+paint her!</p>
+
+<p>Obsessed by this idea, he unpacks a roll of
+canvas, spreads it on the tripod easel, and prepares
+crayons and charcoal; he will start the picture
+as soon as it is day. He will paint her as Circe,
+mocking at her grovelling herd of swine!</p>
+
+<p>He creeps into bed and falls asleep.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>Softly the rain patters against the window-pane.</p>
+
+<p>A distant clock booms out eleven strokes.</p>
+
+<p>Lou Arnaud raises his head. Then noiselessly
+he slides out of bed on the chill wooden boarding.
+As in a trance he crosses the room, seizes charcoal,
+and feverishly works at the blank canvas on
+the easel.</p>
+
+<p>For twenty minutes his hand never falters,
+then the charcoal drops from his nerveless fingers!
+Groping his way with half-closed eyes back to
+the bed, he falls again into a heavy, dreamless
+slumber.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>The early morning sun chases away the raindrops
+of the night before. Signs of activity
+are abroad in the inn; the swish of brooms;
+the noisy clatter of pails. A warm aroma of
+coffee floats up the stairs and under the door of
+number fourteen, awaking Arnaud to pleasant
+thoughts of breakfast. He is partly dressed
+before his eye lights on the canvas he had prepared.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Nom de Dieu!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>He falls back against the wall, staring stupefied
+at the picture before him. It is the picture
+of a girl, crouching in a kneeling position, all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>
+the agony of death showing clearly in her upturned
+eyes. At her throat, cruelly, relentlessly
+doing their murderous work, are a pair of hands&mdash;ugly,
+podgy hands, but with what power
+behind them!</p>
+
+<p>The face is the face of Jehane&mdash;a distorted,
+terrified Jehane! Arnaud recoils, covering his
+eyes with his hands. Who could have drawn
+this unspeakable thing? He looks again closely;
+the style is his own! There is no mistaking
+those bold, black lines, that peculiar way of
+indicating muscle beneath the tightly stretched
+skin&mdash;it <i>is</i> his own work! Anywhere would
+he have known it!</p>
+
+<p>A knock at the door! Jean Potin enters,
+radiating cheerfulness.</p>
+
+<p>"Breakfast in your room, monsieur? We
+are busy this morning; I share in the work.
+Permit me to move the table and the easel&mdash;<i>Sacr&eacute;-bleu!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly his rosy lips grow stern. "This
+is Jehane. Did she sit for you&mdash;and when?
+You only came last night. What devil's work
+is this?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is what I would like to find out; I
+know no more about it than you yourself. When
+I awoke this morning the picture was there!"</p>
+
+<p>"Did you draw it?" suspiciously.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. At least, no! Yes, I suppose I did.
+But I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Potin clenches his fist: "I will have the truth
+from the girl herself! There is something
+here I do not like!" Roughly he pushes past
+the artist and mounts to Jehane's room.</p>
+
+<p>She is not there, neither is she at her desk.
+Nor yet down in the village. They search<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>
+everywhere; there is a hue and cry; people rush
+to and fro.</p>
+
+<p>Then suddenly a shout; and a silence, a
+dreadful silence.</p>
+
+<p>Something is carried slowly into the "Loup
+Noir." Something that was found huddled up
+in the shadow of the wall that borders the courtyard.
+Something with ugly purple patches on
+the white throat.</p>
+
+<p>It is Jehane, and she is dead; strangled by
+a pair of hands that came from behind.</p>
+
+<p>The story of the picture is rapidly passed
+from mouth to mouth. People look strangely
+at Lou Arnaud; they remember his loud, strained
+voice and threatening gestures on the preceding
+night.</p>
+
+<p>Finally he is arrested on the charge of murder.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>I was the judge, gentlemen, on the occasion
+of the Arnaud trial.</p>
+
+<p>The prisoner is questioned about the picture.
+He knows nothing; can tell nothing of how it
+came there. His fellow-artists testify to its
+being his work. From them also leaks out the
+tale of his brother Claude, of the latter's infatuation
+and ruin. No need now to explain
+the quarrel in the courtyard. The accused has
+good reason to hate the dead girl.</p>
+
+<p>The Avocat for the defence does his best.
+The picture is produced in court; it creates a
+sensation.</p>
+
+<p>If only Lou Arnaud could complete it&mdash;could
+sketch in the owner of those merciless
+hands. He is handed the charcoal; again and
+again he tries&mdash;in vain.</p>
+
+<p>The hands are not his own; but that is a small<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>
+point in his favour. Why should he have incriminated
+himself by drawing his own hands?
+But again, why should he have drawn the picture
+at all?</p>
+
+<p>There is nobody else on whom falls a shadow
+of suspicion. I sum up impartially. The jury
+convict on circumstantial evidence, and I sentence
+the prisoner to death.</p>
+
+<p>A short time must elapse between the sentence
+and carrying it into force. The Avocat for
+the defence obtains for the prisoner a slight
+concession; he may have picture and charcoal
+in his cell. Perhaps he can yet free himself
+from the web which has inmeshed him!</p>
+
+<p>Arnaud tries to blot out thought by sketching
+in and erasing again fanciful figures twisted
+into a peculiar position; he cannot adjust the
+pose of the unknown murderer. So in despair
+he gives it up.</p>
+
+<p>One morning, three days before the execution,
+the innkeeper comes to visit him and finds
+him lying face downwards on the narrow pallet.
+Despite his own grief, he is sorry for the young
+man; nor is he convinced in his shrewd bourgeois
+mind of the latter's guilt.</p>
+
+<p>"You <i>must</i> draw in the second figure," he
+repeats again and again. "It is your last,
+your only chance! Think of the faces you
+saw at the 'Loup Noir.' Do none of them
+recall anything to you? You quarrelled with
+Jehane in the garden about your brother. Then
+you went to your room. Oh, what did you
+think in your room?"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought of your niece," responds Arnaud
+wildly. "How very beautiful she was, and what
+a model she would make. Then I prepared<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>
+a blank canvas for the morning, and went
+to bed. When I woke up the picture was there."</p>
+
+<p>"And you remember nothing more&mdash;nothing
+at all?" insists Jean Potin. "You fell asleep
+at once? You heard no sound?"</p>
+
+<p>Against the barred window of the cell the rain
+patters softly. A distant clock booms out
+eleven strokes.</p>
+
+<p>Something in the artist's brain seems to snap.
+He raises his head. He slides from the bed.
+As in a trance he crosses the cell, seizes a piece
+of charcoal, and feverishly works at the picture
+on the easel!</p>
+
+<p>Not daring to speak, Jean Potin watches
+him. The figure behind the hands grows and
+grows beneath Arnaud's fingers.</p>
+
+<p>A woman's figure!</p>
+
+<p>Then the face: a coarse, malignant face,
+distorted by evil passions.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!"</p>
+
+<p>It is a cry of recognition from the breathless
+innkeeper. It breaks the spell. The charcoal
+drops, and the prisoner, passing his hand across
+his eyes, gazes bewildered at his own work.</p>
+
+<p>"Who? What?"</p>
+
+<p>"But I know her! It is the woman in whose
+room you slept! She was staying at the 'Loup
+Noir' the very night before you arrived, and
+she left that morning. She and her husband,
+Monsieur Guillaumet. But it is incredible if
+<i>she</i> should have&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>I will be short with you, gentlemen. Madame
+Guillaumet was traced to her flat in Paris.
+Arnaud's Avocat confronted her with the
+now completed picture. She was confounded&mdash;babbled
+like a mad woman&mdash;confessed!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>A reprieve for further inquiry was granted
+by the State. Finally Arnaud was cleared, and
+allowed to go free.</p>
+
+<p>The motive for the murder? A woman's
+jealousy. Monsieur and Madame Guillaumet
+had been married only ten months. Her age
+was forty-nine; his twenty-seven. Every second
+of their married life was to her weighted with
+intolerable suspicions; how soon would this
+young husband, so dear to her, forsake her for
+another, now that his debts were paid? It
+preyed upon her mind, distorting it, unbalancing
+it; each glance, each movement of his she
+exaggerated into an intrigue.</p>
+
+<p>On their way to Paris they stayed a few days
+at the "Loup Noir"; Charles Guillaumet was
+interested in racing. Also, he became interested
+in a certain Mdlle. Jehane. Madame, quick
+to see, insisted on an instant departure.</p>
+
+<p>The evening of the day of their departure
+she missed her husband, and found he had taken
+the car. Where should he have gone? Back
+to the inn, of course, only half-an-hour's run
+from Paris. She hired another car and followed
+him, driving it herself. It was not a pleasant
+journey. The first car she discovered forsaken,
+about half-a-mile distant from the inn. Her
+own car she left beside it, and trudged the
+remaining distance on foot.</p>
+
+<p>The rest was easy.</p>
+
+<p>Finding no sign of Guillaumet in front of the
+house, she stole round to the back. There she
+found a door in the wall of the courtyard&mdash;a
+door that led into the lane. That door was
+slightly ajar. She slipped in and crouched down
+in the shadow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Yes, there they were, her husband and Jehane;
+the latter was laughing, luring him on&mdash;and she
+was young; oh, so young!</p>
+
+<p>The woman watched, fascinated.</p>
+
+<p>Charles bade Jehane good-bye, promising to
+come again. He kissed her tenderly, passed
+through the gate; his steps were heard muffled
+along the lane.</p>
+
+<p>Jehane blew him a kiss, and then fastened the
+little door.</p>
+
+<p>A distant clock boomed out eleven strokes,
+and a pair of hands stole round the girl's throat,
+burying themselves deep, deep in the white flesh.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>"And the husband, was he an accessory after
+the fact?" inquired the Boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Possibly he guessed at the deed, yes; but,
+being a weakling, said nothing for fear of implicating
+himself. It wasn't proved."</p>
+
+<p>The Host moved uneasily in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean to tell me that the mystery
+of the picture has never been cleared up?"
+he asked. "Could Arnaud have actually seen
+the murder from his window, and fixed it on
+the canvas?"</p>
+
+<p>The little French Judge shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Did I not tell you that his window faced
+front?" he replied. "No, that point has not
+yet been explained. It is beyond us!"</p>
+
+<p>He made a sweeping gesture, knocking over
+his liqueur glass; it fell with a crash on the parquet
+floor.</p>
+
+<p>The Bore woke with a start.</p>
+
+<p>"And did they marry?" he queried.</p>
+
+<p>"Who should marry?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"That artist-chap and the girl&mdash;what was her
+name?&mdash;Jehane."</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur," quoth the little French Judge
+very gently and ironically, "I grieve to state
+that was impossible, Jehane being dead."</p>
+
+<p>The Boy at the corner of the table stood up
+and threw the stump of his cigar into the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"I think Spiritualism is all rot!" he declared.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="center"><small>MILLER, SON, &amp; COMPY., LIMITED,<br />
+PRINTERS,<br />
+FAKENHAM AND LONDON.</small></p>
+
+<hr />
+<p class="p3"><b><span class="p4">SOME NOTABLE SIXPENNY BOOKS</span></b></p>
+
+<p class="center"><b>To be had of all Booksellers, or post free (Inland) 8d. each; four<br />
+volumes for 2s. 5d., or six for 3s. 6d. from THE PUBLISHER,<br />
+17, Henrietta Street, London, W.C.</b></p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p class="p2">THE MYSTERIES OF MODERN LONDON.</p>
+
+<p class="p3"><big>By GEORGE R. SIMS,</big></p>
+<p class="p3"><i>Author of "The Devil in London," &amp;c.</i></p>
+
+<div class="bk1"><p>"Full of fascinating interest and romance. Those who are interested in
+the curious will find here much that is piquant and stimulating."&mdash;<i>Daily
+News.</i></p>
+
+<p>"Is as fascinating as its title and its author's name would lead one to
+expect."&mdash;<i>T.P.'s Weekly.</i></p></div>
+
+<p class="p2">SEVENTY YEARS A SHOWMAN</p>
+
+<p class="p3"><span class="smcap"><big>My Adventures in Camp and Caravan the World Over.</big></span></p>
+<p class="p3"><big>By "LORD" GEORGE SANGER.</big></p>
+<p class="p3"><i>Illustrated.</i></p>
+
+<div class="bk1"><p>In this volume the famous Showman relates many exciting experiences
+of his early days on the road, and recalls the trials and triumphs of a
+career more interesting than many a work of fiction.</p></div>
+
+<p class="p2">QUEENS OF FRAILTY</p>
+
+<p class="p3"><big>By C. L. <span class="smcap">McCLUER</span> STEVENS,</big></p>
+<p class="p3">Author of "The Secret History of the Mormons."<br />
+Illustrated picture wrapper.</p>
+
+<div class="bk1"><p>This volume contains biographies of the following famous women: Nell
+Gwyn, the Marchioness of Brinvilliers, the wicked Countess of Shrewsbury,
+the Duchess of Kendal (the Maypole Duchess), Hannah Lightfoot,
+Elizabeth Chudleigh (the bigamous Duchess), Jeanne de Valois, Lady
+Hamilton, Jeanne du Barry, Mary Ann Clarke, the Lady with the Camelias,
+Lola Montez, Cora Pearl, Adah Menken.</p></div>
+
+<p class="p2">THE SECRET HISTORY OF THE MORMONS</p>
+
+<p class="p3">A TRUE NARRATIVE OF THE MOST EXTRAORDINARY<br />
+RELIGIOUS IMPOSTURE OF MODERN TIMES.</p>
+<p class="p3"><big>By C. L. <span class="smcap">McCLUER</span> STEVENS.</big></p>
+
+<p class="p2">FIFTY YEARS A FIGHTER</p>
+
+<p class="p3"><big><span class="smcap">The Life Story of JEM MACE.</span></big></p>
+<p class="p3">(<i>Formerly Champion of the World.</i>)</p>
+<p class="p3"><big>TOLD BY HIMSELF.</big><br />
+<i>Illustrated.</i></p>
+
+<div class="bk1"><p>A record of the last of the old prizefighters, who fought to a finish many
+battles in the old prize ring. A list of the notorious champions Mace met
+and vanquished would fill many pages, but he has here set on record the
+romance of as wonderful a life as was ever lived.</p></div>
+
+<p class="p2">CONFESSIONS OF A POACHER</p>
+
+<p class="p3"><big>By J. CONNELL.</big></p>
+<p class="p3"><i>With Illustrations by S. T. DADD.</i></p>
+
+<div class="bk1"><p><i>Field</i>: "The book is very remarkable, instructive in its disclosures of
+the dubious ways of poachers, and an intending reader cannot but be interested
+and amused."</p></div>
+
+<hr />
+<p class="p3"><i><span class="p4">BOOKS TO MAKE US MERRY</span></i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><b>PRICE 1/- each net. (Postage, 3d. extra.)</b></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i><small>In stiff pictorial paper boards.</small></i></p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p class="p3"><b><big><big>THE AMUSEMENT SERIES.</big></big></b></p>
+
+<div class="bk2"><p><b><big>After-Dinner Sleights.</big></b> By <span class="smcap">Lang Neil</span>. With many Photographs,
+showing tricks in actual operation.</p>
+
+<p><b><big>Card Tricks without Sleight of Hand or Apparatus.</big></b>
+By <span class="smcap">L. Widdop</span>. Illustrated.</p>
+
+<p><b><big>Conjuring with Coins.</big></b> Including Tricks by <span class="smcap">Nelson Downs</span>
+and other Eminent Performers. Fully Illustrated with Photographs
+and Diagrams.</p>
+
+<p><b><big>Fun on the Billiard Table.</big></b> A Collection of 75 Amusing
+Tricks. By <span class="smcap">Stancliffe</span>. With Photographs.</p>
+
+<p><b><big>Hand Shadows.</big></b> The Complete Art of Shadowgraphy. By
+<span class="smcap">Louis Nikola</span>. Fully Illustrated.</p>
+
+<p><b><big>Indoor Games for Children and Young People.</big></b> Edited
+by <span class="smcap">E. M. Baker</span>. Illustrated.</p>
+
+<p><b><big>Modern Card Manipulation.</big></b> By <span class="smcap">C. Lang Neil</span>. Enlarged
+Edition. With many Photographs, showing Tricks in
+operation.</p>
+
+<p><b><big>The New Book of Puzzles.</big></b> Up-to-date and original. By
+<span class="smcap">A. Cyril Pearson</span>. With upwards of 100 Illustrations.</p>
+
+<p><b><big>The Pearson Puzzle Book.</big></b> A Collection of over 100 of the
+Best Puzzles. Edited by <span class="smcap">J. K. Benson</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b><big>Pearson's Book of Fun, Mirth and Mystery.</big></b> Edited
+by Mr. X.</p>
+
+<p><b><big>Pearson's Humorous Reciter and Reader.</big></b></p>
+
+<p><b><big>Plays for Amateur Actors.</big></b> Containing Nine Original
+Plays. Six for Adults, two for Children, and one for Scouts.</p>
+
+<p><b><big>Plays and Displays for Scout Entertainments.</big></b> This
+volume contains six long plays, also several shorter plays, and
+recitations.</p>
+
+<p><b><big>Practice Strokes at Billiards.</big></b> For Tables of all Sizes.
+From the Match Play of John Roberts and other leading
+players.</p>
+
+<p><b><big>Recitations for Children.</big></b> Selected by <span class="smcap">Jean Belfrage</span>.
+With Three Original Plays for Children.</p>
+
+<p><b><big>Simple Conjuring Tricks that Anybody Can Perform.</big></b>
+By <span class="smcap">Will Goldston</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b><big>Tricks for Everyone.</big></b> By <span class="smcap">David Devant</span>. Illustrated with
+134 Photographs.</p></div>
+
+<div class="trn"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b>
+Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note.
+Dialect spellings have been retained.</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Uncanny Tales, by Various
+
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+</pre>
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+</body>
+</html>
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@@ -0,0 +1,4246 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Uncanny Tales, by Various
+
+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: Uncanny Tales
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: C. Arthur Pearson
+
+Release Date: September 13, 2008 [EBook #26606]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNCANNY TALES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Clarke, Stephen Blundell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+       UNCANNY TALES
+
+
+           LONDON
+ C. ARTHUR PEARSON, LIMITED
+   HENRIETTA STREET, W.C.
+            1916
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+    Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. Dialect
+    spellings have been retained. The oe ligature has been transcribed
+    as [oe].
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+                                          PAGE
+
+    I. THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY                  7
+
+   II. THE ARMLESS MAN                      19
+
+  III. THE TOMTOM CLUE                      33
+
+   IV. THE CASE OF SIR ALISTER MOERAN       43
+
+    V. THE KISS                             63
+
+   VI. THE GOTH                             73
+
+  VII. THE LAST ASCENT                      88
+
+ VIII. THE TERROR BY NIGHT                  97
+
+   IX. THE TRAGEDY AT THE "LOUP NOIR"      113
+
+
+
+
+UNCANNY STORIES
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY
+
+
+Professor William James Maynard was in a singularly happy and contented
+mood as he strolled down the High Street after a long and satisfactory
+interview with the solicitor to his late cousin, whose sole heir he was.
+
+It was exactly a month by the calendar since he had murdered this
+cousin, and everything had gone most satisfactorily since. The fortune
+was proving quite as large as he had expected, and not even an inquest
+had been held upon the dead man. The coroner had decided that it was not
+necessary, and the Professor had agreed with him.
+
+At the funeral the Professor had been the principal mourner, and the
+local paper had commented sympathetically on his evident emotion. This
+had been quite genuine, for the Professor had been fond of his relative,
+who had always been very good to him. But still, when an old man remains
+obstinately healthy, when his doctor can say with confidence that he is
+good for another twenty years at least, and when he stands between you
+and a large fortune which you need, and of which you can make much
+better use in the cause of science and the pursuit of knowledge, what
+alternative is there? It becomes necessary to take steps. Therefore, the
+Professor had taken steps.
+
+Looking back to-day on that day a month ago, and the critical preceding
+week, the Professor felt that the steps he had taken had been as
+judicious as successful. He had set himself to solve a problem in higher
+mathematics. He had found it easier to solve than many he was obliged to
+grapple with in the course of his studies.
+
+A policeman saluted as the Professor passed, and he acknowledged it with
+the charming old world courtesy that made him so popular a figure in the
+town. Across the way was the doctor who had certified the cause of
+death. The Professor, passing benevolently on, was glad he had now
+enough money to carry out his projects. He would be able to publish at
+once his great work on "The Secondary Variation of the Differential
+Calculus," that hitherto had languished in manuscript. It would make a
+sensation, he thought; there was more than one generally accepted theory
+he had challenged or contradicted in it. And he would put in hand at
+once his great, his long projected work, "A History of the Higher
+Mathematics." It would take twenty years to complete, it would cost
+twenty thousand pounds or more, and it would breathe into mathematics
+the new, vivid life that Bergson's works have breathed into
+metaphysics.
+
+The Professor thought very kindly of the dead cousin, whose money would
+provide for this great work. He wished greatly the dead man could know
+to what high use his fortune was designed.
+
+Coming towards him he saw the wife of the vicar of his parish. The
+Professor was a regular church-goer. The vicar's wife saw him, too, and
+beamed. She and her husband were more than a little proud of having so
+well known a man in their congregation. She held out her hand and the
+Professor was about to take it when she drew it back with a startled
+movement.
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon!" she exclaimed, distressed, as she saw him raise
+his eyebrows. "There is blood on it."
+
+Her eyes were fixed on his right hand, which he was still holding out.
+In fact, on the palm a small drop of blood showed distinctly against the
+firm, pink flesh. Surprised, the Professor took out his handkerchief and
+wiped it away. He noticed that the vicar's wife was wearing white kid
+gloves.
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon!" she said again. "It--it startled me somehow. I
+thought you must have cut yourself. I hope it's not much?"
+
+"Some scratch, I suppose," he said. "It's nothing."
+
+The vicar's wife, still slightly discomposed, launched out into some
+parochial matter she had wished to mention to him. They chatted a few
+moments and then parted. The Professor took an opportunity to look at
+his hand. He could detect no sign of any cut or abrasion, the skin
+seemed whole everywhere. He looked at his handkerchief. There was still
+visible on it the stain where he had wiped his hand, and this stain
+seemed certainly blood.
+
+"Odd!" he muttered as he put the handkerchief back in his pocket. "Very
+odd!"
+
+His thoughts turned again to his projected "A History of the Higher
+Mathematics," and he forgot all about the incident till, as it happened
+that day month, the first of the month by the calendar, when he was
+sitting in his study with an eminent colleague to whom he was explaining
+his great scheme.
+
+"If you are able to carry it out," the colleague said slowly, "your book
+will mark an epoch in human thought. But the cost will be tremendous."
+
+"I estimate it at twenty thousand pounds," answered the Professor
+calmly. "I am fully prepared to spend twice as much. You know I have
+recently inherited forty thousand pounds from a relative?"
+
+The eminent colleague nodded and looked very impressed.
+
+"It is magnificent," he said warmly, "magnificent." He added: "You've
+cut yourself, do you know?"
+
+"Cut myself?" the Professor echoed, surprised.
+
+"Yes," answered the eminent colleague, "there is blood upon your
+hand--your right hand."
+
+In fact a spot of blood, slightly larger than that which had appeared
+before, showed plainly upon the Professor's right hand. He wiped it away
+with his handkerchief, and went on talking eagerly, for he was deeply
+interested. He did not think of the matter again till just as he was
+getting into bed, when he noticed a red stain upon his handkerchief. He
+frowned and examined his hand carefully. There was no sign of any wound
+or cut from which the blood could have come, and he frowned again.
+
+"Very odd!" he muttered.
+
+A calendar hanging on the wall reminded him that it was the first of the
+month.
+
+The days passed, the incident faded from his memory, and four weeks
+later he came down one morning to breakfast in an unusually good temper.
+There was a certain theory he had worked on the night before he meant to
+write to a friend about. It seemed to him his demonstration had been
+really brilliant, and then, also, he was already planning out with great
+success the details of the scheme for his great work.
+
+He was making an excellent breakfast, for his appetite was always good,
+and, needing some more cream, he rang the bell. The maid appeared, he
+showed her the empty jug, and as she took it she dropped it with a
+sudden cry, smashing it to pieces on the floor. Very pale, she stammered
+out:
+
+"Beg pardon, sir, your hand--there is blood upon your hand."
+
+In fact, on the Professor's right hand there showed a drop of blood,
+perceptibly larger this time than before. The Professor stared at it
+stupidly. He was sure it had not been there a moment before, and he
+noticed by the heading of the newspaper at the side of his plate that
+this was the first of the month.
+
+With a hasty movement of his napkin he wiped the drop of blood away. The
+maid, still apologising, began to pick up the pieces of the jug she had
+broken; but the Professor had no further appetite for his breakfast. He
+silenced her with a gesture, and, leaving a piece of toast half-eaten on
+his plate, he got up and went into his study.
+
+All this was trivial, absurd even. Yet somehow it disturbed him. He got
+out a magnifying glass and examined his hand under it. There was nothing
+to account for the presence of the drop of blood he and the maid had
+seen. It occurred to him that he might have cut himself in shaving; but
+when he looked in the mirror he could find no trace of even the
+slightest wound.
+
+He decided that, though he had not been aware of it, his nerves must be
+a little out of order. That was disconcerting. He had not taken his
+nerves into consideration for the simple reason that he had never known
+that he possessed any. He made up his mind to treat himself to a holiday
+in Switzerland. One or two difficult ascents might brace him up a bit.
+
+Three days later he was in Switzerland, and a few days later again he
+was on the summit of a minor but still difficult peak. It had been an
+exhilarating climb, and he had enjoyed it. He said something laughingly
+to the head guide to the effect that climbing was good sport and a fine
+test for the nerves. The head guide agreed, and added politely that if
+the nerves of monsieur the Professor had shown signs of failing on the
+lower glacier, for example, they might all have been in difficulties.
+The Professor thrilled with pleasure at the head guide's implied praise.
+He was glad to know on such good authority that his nerves were all
+right, and the incidents that had driven him there began to fade in his
+memory.
+
+Nevertheless, he found himself watching the calendar with a certain
+interest, and when he woke on the morning of the first day of the next
+month he glanced quickly at his right hand. There was nothing there.
+
+He dressed and spent, as he had planned, a quiet day, busy with his
+correspondence. His spirits rose as the day passed. He was still
+watchful, but more confident; and, after dinner, though he had meant to
+go straight to his room, he agreed to join in a suggested game of
+bridge. They were cutting for partners when one of the ladies who was to
+take part in the game dropped with a little cry the card she had just
+lifted.
+
+"Oh, there is blood upon your hand," she cried, "on your right hand,
+Professor!"
+
+Upon the Professor's right hand there showed now a drop of blood, larger
+still then those other three had been. Yet the very moment before it had
+not been there. The Professor put down his cards without a word, and
+left the room, going straight upstairs.
+
+The drop of blood was still standing on his hand. He soaked it up
+carefully with some cotton-wool he had, and was not surprised to find
+beneath no sign or trace of any cut or wound. The cotton-wool he made up
+carefully into a parcel and addressed it to an analytical chemist he
+knew, inclosing with it a short note.
+
+He rang the bell, sent the parcel to the post, and then he got out pen
+and paper and set himself to solve this problem, as in his life he had
+solved so many others.
+
+Only this time it seemed somehow as though the data were insufficient.
+
+Idly his pen traced upon the paper in front of him a large _X_, the sign
+of the unknown quantity.
+
+But how, in this case, to find out what was the unknown quantity? His
+hand, his firm and steady hand, shook so that he could no longer hold
+his pen. He rang the bell again and ordered a stiff whisky-and-soda. He
+was a man of almost ascetic habits, but to-night he felt that he needed
+some stimulant.
+
+Neither did he sleep very well.
+
+The next day he returned to England. Almost at once he went to see his
+friend, the analytical chemist, to whom he had sent the parcel from
+Switzerland.
+
+"Mammalian blood," pronounced the chemist, "probably human--rather a
+curious thing about it, too."
+
+"What's that?" asked the Professor.
+
+"Why," his friend answered, "I was able to identify the distinctive
+bacillus----" He named the rare bacillus of an unusual and obscure
+disease. And this disease was that from which the Professor's cousin had
+died.
+
+The professor was a man interested in all phenomena. In other
+circumstances he would have observed keenly that which now occurred,
+when the hair of his head underwent a curious involuntary stiffening and
+bristling process that in popular but sufficiently accurate terms, might
+be described as "standing on end." But at the moment he was in no state
+for scientific observations.
+
+He got out of the house somehow. He said he did not feel well, and his
+friend, the chemist, agreed that his holiday in Switzerland did not seem
+to have done him much good.
+
+The Professor went straight home and shut himself up in his study. It
+was a fine room, ranged all round with books. On the shelves nearest to
+his hand stood volumes on mathematics, the theory of mathematics, the
+study of mathematics, pure mathematics, applied mathematics. But there
+was not any one of these books that told him anything about such a thing
+as this. Though, it is true, there were many references in them, here
+and there, to _X_, the unknown quantity.
+
+The Professor took his pen and wrote a large _X_ upon the sheet of paper
+in front of him.
+
+"An unknown quantity!" he muttered. "An unknown--quantity!"
+
+The days passed peacefully. Nothing was out of the ordinary except that
+the Professor developed an odd trick of continually glancing at his
+right hand. He washed it a good deal, too. But the first of the month
+was not yet.
+
+On the last day of the month he told his housekeeper that he was feeling
+a little unwell. She was not surprised, for she had thought him looking
+ill for some time past. He told her he would probably spend the next day
+in bed for a thorough rest, and she agreed that that would be a very
+good idea. When he was in his own room and had undressed, he bandaged
+his right hand with care, tying it up carefully and thoroughly with
+three or four of his large linen handkerchiefs.
+
+"Whatever comes, shall now show," he said to himself.
+
+He stayed in bed accordingly the next day. His housekeeper was a little
+uneasy about him. He ate nothing and his eyes were strangely bright and
+feverish. She overheard him once muttering something to himself about
+"the unknown quantity," and that made her think that he had been working
+too hard.
+
+She decided he must see the doctor. The Professor refused peremptorily.
+He declared he would be quite well again in the morning. The
+housekeeper, an old servant, agreed, but sent for the doctor all the
+same; and when he had come the Professor felt he could not refuse to see
+him without appearing peculiar. And he did not wish to appear peculiar.
+So he saw the doctor, but declared there was nothing much the matter, he
+merely felt a little unwell and out of sorts and tired.
+
+"You have hurt your hand?" the doctor asked, noticing how it was
+bandaged.
+
+"I cut it slightly--a trifle," the Professor answered.
+
+"Yes," the doctor answered, "I see there is blood on it."
+
+"What?" the Professor stammered.
+
+"There is blood upon your hand," the doctor repeated.
+
+The Professor looked. In fact, a deep, wide stain showed crimson upon
+the bandages in which he had swathed his hand. Yet he knew that the
+moment before the linen had been fair and white and clean.
+
+"It is nothing," he said quickly, hiding his hand beneath the bed
+clothes.
+
+The doctor, a little puzzled, took his leave, but had not gone ten
+yards when the housekeeper flew screaming after him. It seemed she had
+heard a fall, and when she had gone into the Professor's bedroom she had
+found him lying there dead upon the hearthrug. There was a razor in his
+hand, and there was a ghastly gash across his throat.
+
+The doctor went back at a run, but there was nothing he or any man could
+do. One thing he noticed, with curiosity, was that the bandage had been
+torn away from the dead man's hand and that oddly enough there seemed to
+be on the hand no sign of any cut or wound. There was a large solitary
+drop of blood on the palm, at the root of the thumb; but, of course,
+that was no great wonder, for the wound the dead man had dealt himself
+had bled freely.
+
+Apparently death had not been quite instantaneous, for with a last
+effort the Professor seemed to have traced an _X_ upon the floor in his
+own blood with his forefinger. The doctor mentioned this at the
+inquest--the coroner had decided at once that in this case an inquest
+was certainly necessary--and he suggested that it showed the Professor
+had worked too hard and was suffering from overwork which had disturbed
+his mental balance.
+
+The coroner took the same view, and in his short address to the jury
+adduced the incident as proof of a passing mental disturbance.
+
+"Very probably," said the coroner, "there was some problem that had
+worried him, and that he was still endeavouring to work out. As you are
+aware, gentlemen, the sign _X_ is used to symbolise the unknown
+quantity."
+
+An appropriate verdict was accordingly returned, and the Professor was
+duly interred in the same family vault as that in which so short a time
+previously his cousin had been laid to rest.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+THE ARMLESS MAN
+
+
+I first met Bob Masters in the hotel at a place called Fourteen Streams,
+not very far from Kimberley.
+
+I had for some months been trying to find gold or diamonds by digging
+holes in the veldt. But since this has little or nothing to do with the
+story, I pass by my mining adventures and come back to the hotel. I came
+to it very readily that afternoon, for I was very thirsty.
+
+A tall man standing at the bar turned his head as I entered and said
+"Good-day" to me. I returned the compliment, but took no particular
+notice of him at first.
+
+Suddenly I heard the man say to the barman:
+
+"I'm ready for another drink."
+
+That surprised me, because his glass was still three-quarters full. But
+I was still more startled by the action of the barman who lifted up the
+glass and held it whilst the man drank.
+
+Then I saw the reason. The man had no arms.
+
+You know the easy way in which Englishmen chum together anywhere out of
+England, whilst in their native country nothing save a formal
+introduction will make them acquainted? I made some remark to Masters
+which led to another from him, and in five minutes' time we were
+chatting on all sorts of topics.
+
+I learnt that Masters, bound for England, had come in to Fourteen
+Streams to catch the train from Kimberley, and, having a few hours to
+wait, had strolled up to the collection of tin huts calling itself a
+town.
+
+I was going down to Kimberley too, so of course we went together, and
+were quite old friends by the time we reached that city.
+
+We had a wash and something to eat, and then we walked round to the
+post-office. I used to have my letters addressed there, _poste
+restante_, and call in for them when I happened to be in Kimberley.
+
+I found several letters, one of which altered the whole course of my
+life. This was from Messrs. Harvey, Filson, and Harvey, solicitors,
+Lincoln's Inn Fields. It informed me that the sudden death of my cousin
+had so affected my uncle's health that he had followed his only son
+within the month. The senior branch of the family being thus extinct the
+whole of the entailed estate had devolved on me.
+
+The first thing I did was to send off two cablegrams to say that I was
+coming home by the first available boat, one to the solicitors, the
+other to Nancy Milward.
+
+Masters and I arranged to come home together and eventually reached Cape
+Town. There we had considerable trouble at the shipping office. It was
+just about the time of year when people who live in Africa to make
+money, come over to England to spend it, and in consequence the boats
+were very crowded. Masters demanded a cabin to himself, a luxury which
+was not to be had, though there was one that he and I could share. He
+made a tremendous fuss about doing this, and I thought it very strange,
+because I had assisted him in many ways which his mutilation rendered
+necessary. However, he had to give way in the end, and we embarked on
+the Castle liner.
+
+On the voyage he told me how he had lost his arms. It seemed that he had
+been sent up country on some Government job or other, and had had the
+ill-fortune to be captured by the natives. They treated him quite well
+at first, but gave him to understand that he must not try to escape. I
+suppose that to most men such a warning would be a direct incitement to
+make the attempt. Masters made it and failed. They cut off his right arm
+as a punishment. He waited until the wound was healed and tried again.
+Again he failed. This time they cut off his other arm.
+
+"Good Lord," I cried. "What devils!"
+
+"Weren't they!" he said. "And yet, you know, they were quite
+good-tempered chaps when you didn't cross them. I wasn't going to be
+beaten by a lot of naked niggers though, and I made a third attempt.
+
+"I succeeded all right that time, though, of course, it was much more
+difficult. I really don't know at all how I managed to worry through.
+You see, I could only eat plants and leaves and such fruit as I came
+across; but I'd learnt as much as I could of the local botany in the
+intervals."
+
+"Was it worth while?" I asked. "I think the first failure and its result
+would have satisfied me."
+
+"Yes," he said slowly, "it was worth while. You see, my wife was waiting
+for me at home, and I wanted to see her again very badly--you don't
+know how badly."
+
+"I think I can imagine," I said. "Because there is a girl waiting for me
+too at home."
+
+"I saw her before she died," he continued.
+
+"Died?" I said.
+
+"Yes," he answered. "She was dying when I reached home at last, but I
+was with her at the end. That was something, wasn't it?"
+
+I do hate people to tell me this sort of thing. Not because I do not
+feel sorry for them; on the contrary, I feel so sorry that I absolutely
+fail to find words to express my sympathy. I tried, however, to show it
+in other ways, by the attentions I paid him and by anticipating his
+every wish.
+
+Yet there were many things that were astonishing about his actions,
+things that I wonder now I did not realise must have been impossible for
+him to do for himself, and that yet were done. But he was so
+surprisingly dexterous with his lips, and feet too, when he was in his
+cabin that I suppose I put them down to that.
+
+I remember waking up one night and looking out of my bunk to see him
+standing on the floor. The cabin was only faintly lit by a moonbeam
+which found its way through the porthole. I could not see clearly, but I
+fancied that he walked to the door and opened it, and closed it behind
+him. He did it all very quickly, as quickly as I could have done it. As
+I say, I was very sleepy, but the sight of the door opening and shutting
+like that woke me thoroughly. Sitting up I shouted at him.
+
+He heard me and opened the door again, easily, too, much more easily
+than he seemed to be able to shut it when he saw me looking at him.
+
+"Hullo! Awake, old chap?" he said. "What is it?"
+
+"Er--nothing," I said. "Or rather I suppose I was only half awake; but
+you seemed to open that door so easily that it quite startled me."
+
+"One does not always like to let others see the shifts to which one has
+to resort," was all the answer he gave me.
+
+But I worried over it. The thing bothered me, because he had made no
+attempt to explain.
+
+That was not the only thing I noticed.
+
+Two or three days later we were sitting together on deck. I had offered
+to read to him. I noticed that he got up out of his chair. Suddenly I
+saw the chair move. It gave me a great shock, for the chair twisted
+apparently of its own volition, so that when he sat down again the
+sunlight was at his back and not in his eyes, as I knew it had been
+previously. But I reasoned with myself and managed to satisfy myself
+that he must have turned the chair round with his foot. It was just
+possible that he could have done so, for it had one of those light
+wicker-work seats.
+
+We had a lovely voyage for three-quarters of the way, and the sea was as
+calm as any duck-pond. But that was all altered when we passed Cape
+Finisterre. I have done a lot of knocking about on the ocean one way and
+another, but I never saw the Bay of Biscay deserve its reputation
+better.
+
+I'd much rather see what is going on than be cooped up below, and after
+lunch I told Bob I was going up on deck.
+
+"I'll only stay there for a bit," I said. "You make yourself comfortable
+down here."
+
+I filled his pipe, put it in his mouth, and gave him a match; then I
+left him.
+
+I made my way up and down the deck for a time, clutching hold of
+everything handy, and rather enjoyed it, though the waves drenched me to
+the skin.
+
+Presently I saw Masters come out of the companion-way and make his way
+very skilfully towards me. Of course it was fearfully dangerous for him.
+
+I staggered towards him, and, putting my lips to his ear, shouted to him
+to go below at once.
+
+"Oh, I shall be all right!" he said, and laughed.
+
+"You'll be drowned--drowned," I screamed. "There was a wave just now
+that--well, if I hadn't been able to cling on with both hands like grim
+death, I should have gone overboard. Go below."
+
+He laughed again and shook his head.
+
+And then what I dreaded happened. A vast mountain of green water lifted
+up its bulk and fell upon us in a ravening cataract. I clutched at
+Masters, but trying to save him and myself handicapped me badly. The
+strength of that mass of water was terrible. It seemed to snatch at
+everything with giant hands, and drag all with it. It tossed a hen-coop
+high, and carried it through the rails.
+
+I felt the grip of my right hand loosen, and the next instant was
+carried, still clutching Masters with my left, towards that gap in the
+bulwark.
+
+I managed to seize the end of the broken rail. It held us for a moment,
+then gave, and for a moment I hung sheer over the vessel's side.
+
+In that instant I felt fingers tighten on my arm, tighten till they bit
+into the flesh, and I was pulled back into safety.
+
+Together we staggered back, and got below somehow. I was trembling like
+a leaf, and the sweat dripped from me. I almost screamed aloud.
+
+It was not that I was frightened of death. I've seen too much of that in
+many parts of the earth to dread it greatly. It was the thought of those
+fingers tightening on me where no fingers were.
+
+Masters did not speak a word, nor did I, until we found ourselves in the
+cabin.
+
+I tore the wet clothes off me and turned my arm to the mirror. I knew I
+could not have been mistaken when I felt them.
+
+There on the upper arm, above the line of sunburn that one gets from
+working with sleeves rolled up, there on the white skin showed _the red
+marks of four slender fingers and a thumb_! I sat down suddenly at sight
+of them, and pulling open a drawer, found a flask of neat brandy, and
+gulped it down, emptied it in one gulp.
+
+Then I turned to him and pointed to the marks.
+
+"In God's name, how came these here?" I said. "What--what happened up
+there on deck?"
+
+He looked at me very gravely.
+
+"I saved you," he said, "or rather I didn't, for I could not. But _she_
+did."
+
+"What do you mean?" I stammered.
+
+"Let me get these clothes off," he said, "and some dry ones on; and I'll
+tell you."
+
+Words fail to describe my feelings as I watched the clothes come off him
+and dry ones go on just as if hands were arranging them.
+
+I sat and shuddered. I tried to close my eyes, but the weird, unnatural
+sight drew them as a lodestone.
+
+"I'm sorry that you should have had this shock," he said. "I know what
+it must have been like, though it was not so bad for me when they seemed
+to come, for they came gradually as time went on."
+
+"What came gradually?" I asked.
+
+"Why, these arms! They're what I'm telling you about. You asked me to
+tell you, I thought?"
+
+"Did I?" I said. "I don't know what I'm saying or asking. I think I'm
+going mad, quite mad."
+
+"No," he said, "you're as sane as I am, only when you come across
+something strange, unique for that matter, you are naturally terrified.
+Well, it was like this. I told you about my adventures with the niggers
+up country. That was quite true. They cut off both my arms--you can see
+the stumps for that matter. And I told you that I came home to find my
+wife dying. Her heart had always been weak, I'd known that, and it had
+gradually grown more feeble. There must have been, indeed there was, a
+strange sort of telepathy between us. She had had fearful attacks of
+heart failure on both occasions when the niggers had mutilated me, I
+learnt on comparing notes.
+
+"But I had known too, somehow, that I must escape at all costs. It was
+the knowledge that made me try again after each failure. I should have
+gone on trying to escape as long as I had lived, or rather as long as
+she had lived. I knelt beside her bed and she put out her arms and laid
+them round my neck.
+
+"'So you have come back to me before I go,' she said. 'I knew you must,
+because I called you so. But you have been long in coming, almost too
+long. But I knew I had to see you again before I died.'
+
+"I broke down then. I was sorely tried. No arms even to put round her!
+
+"'Darling, stay with me for a little, only for a little while!' I
+sobbed.
+
+"She shook her head feebly. 'It is no use, my dear,' she said, 'I must
+go.'
+
+"'I'll come with you,' I said, 'I'll not live without you.'
+
+"She shook her head again.
+
+"'You must be brave, Bob. I shall be watching you afterwards just as
+much as if I still lived on earth. If only I could give you my arms! A
+poor, weak woman's arms, but better than none, dear.'
+
+"She died some weeks later. I spent all the time at her bedside, I
+hardly left her. Her arms were round me when she died. Shall I ever feel
+them round me again? I wonder! You see, they are mine now.
+
+"They came to me gradually. It was very strange at first to have arms
+and hands which one couldn't see. I used to keep my eyes shut as much as
+possible, and try to fancy that I had never lost my arms.
+
+"I got used to them in time. But I have always been careful not to let
+people see me do things that they would know to be impossible for an
+armless man. That was what took me to Africa again, because I could get
+lost there and do things for myself with these hands."
+
+"'And they twain shall be one flesh,'" I muttered.
+
+"Yes," he said, "I think the explanation must be something of that sort.
+There's more than that in it, though; these arms are other than flesh."
+
+He sat silent for a time with his head bowed on his chest. Then he spoke
+again:
+
+"I got sick of being alone at last, and was coming back when I met you
+at Fourteen Streams. I don't know what I shall do when I do get home. I
+can never rest. I have--what do they call it--_Wanderlust_?"
+
+"Does she ever speak to you from that other world?" I asked him.
+
+He shook his head sadly.
+
+"No, never. But I know she lives somewhere beyond this world of ours.
+She must, because these arms live. So I try always to act as if she
+watches everything. I always try to do the right thing, but, anyway,
+these arms and hands would do good of their own accord. Just now up on
+the deck I was very frightened. I'd have saved myself at any cost
+almost, and let you go. But I could not do that. The hands clutched you.
+It is her will, so much stronger and purer than mine, that still
+persists. It is only when she does not exert it that I control these
+arms."
+
+That was how I learnt the strangest tale that ever a man was told, and
+knew the miracle to which I owed my life.
+
+It may be that Bob Masters was a coward. He always said that he was.
+Personally I do not believe it, for he had the sweetest nature I ever
+met.
+
+He had nowhere to go to in England and seemed to have no friends. So I
+made him come down with me to Englehart, that dear old country seat of
+my family in the Western shires which was now mine.
+
+Nancy lived in that country, too.
+
+There was no reason why we should not get married at once. We had waited
+long enough.
+
+I can see again the old, ivy-grown church where Nancy and I were wed,
+and Bob Masters standing by my side as best man.
+
+I remember feeling in his pocket for the ring, and as I did so, I felt a
+hand grasp mine for a moment.
+
+Then there was the reception afterwards, and speech-making--the usual
+sort of thing.
+
+Later Nancy and I drove off to the station.
+
+We had not said good-bye to Bob, for he'd insisted on driving to the
+station with the luggage; said he was going to see the last of us there.
+
+He was waiting for us in the yard when we reached it, and walked with us
+on to the platform.
+
+We stood there chatting about one thing and another, when I noticed that
+Nancy was not talking much and seemed rather pale. I was just going to
+remark on it when we heard the whistle of the train. There is a sharp
+curve in the permanent way outside the station, so that a train is on
+you all of a sudden.
+
+Suddenly to my horror I saw Nancy sway backwards towards the edge of the
+platform. I tried vainly to catch her as she reeled and fell--right in
+front of the oncoming train. I sprang forward to leap after her, but
+hands grasped me and flung me back so violently that I fell down on the
+platform.
+
+It was Bob Masters who took the place that should have been mine, and
+leapt upon the metals.
+
+I could not see what happened then. The station-master says he saw Nancy
+lifted from before the engine when it was right upon her. He says it was
+as if she was lifted by the wind. She was quite close to Masters. "Near
+enough for him to have lifted her, sir, if he'd had arms." The two of
+them staggered for a moment, and together fell clear of the train.
+
+Nancy was little the worse for the awful accident, bruised, of course,
+but poor Masters was unconscious.
+
+We carried him into the waiting-room, laid him on the cushions there,
+and sent hot-foot for the doctor.
+
+He was a good country practitioner, and, I suppose, knew the ordinary
+routine of his work quite well. He fussed about, hummed and hawed a lot.
+
+"Yes, yes," he said, as if he were trying to persuade himself. "Shock,
+you know. He'll be better presently. Lucky, though, that he had no
+arms."
+
+I noticed then, for the first time, that the sleeves of the coat had
+been shorn away.
+
+"Doctor," I said, "how is he? Surely, if he isn't hurt he would not look
+like that. What exactly do you mean by shock?"
+
+"Hum--er," he hesitated, and applied his stethoscope to Masters' heart
+again.
+
+"The heart is very weak," he said at length. "Very weak. He's always
+very anaemic, I suppose?"
+
+"No," I answered. "He's anything but that. He's----Good Lord, he's
+bleeding to death! Put ligatures on his arms. Put ligatures on his
+arms."
+
+"Please keep quiet, Mr. Riverston," the doctor said. "It must have been
+a dreadful experience for you, and you are naturally very upset."
+
+I raved and cursed at him. I think I should have struck him, but the
+others held me. They said they would take me away if I did not keep
+quiet.
+
+Bob Masters opened his eyes presently, and saw them holding me.
+
+"Please let him go," he said. "It's all right, old man. It's no use your
+arguing with them, they would not understand. I could never explain to
+them now, and they would never believe you. Besides, it's all for the
+best. Yes, the train went over them and I'm armless for the second time.
+But--not for long!"
+
+I knelt by his side and sobbed. It all seemed so dreadful, and yet, I
+don't think that then I would have tried to stay his passing. I knew it
+was best for him.
+
+He looked at me very affectionately.
+
+"I'm so sorry that this should happen on your wedding-day," he said.
+"But it would have been so much worse for you if _she_ had not helped."
+
+His voice grew fainter and died away.
+
+There was a pause for a time, and his breath came in great sighing sobs.
+
+Then suddenly he raised himself on the cushions until he stood upright
+on his feet, and a smile broke over his face--a smile so sweet that I
+think the angels in Paradise must look like that.
+
+His voice came strong and loud from his lips.
+
+"Darling!" he cried. "Darling, your arms are round me once again! I
+come! I come!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"One of the most extraordinary cases I have ever met with," the doctor
+told the coroner at the inquest. "He seemed to have all the symptoms of
+excessive haemorrhage."
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+THE TOMTOM CLUE
+
+
+I had just settled down for a comfortable evening over the fire in a
+saddle-bag chair drawn up as close to the hearth as the fender would
+allow, with a plentiful supply of literature and whisky, and pipe and
+tobacco, when the telephone bell rang loudly and insistently. With a
+sigh I rose and took up the receiver.
+
+"That you?" said a voice I recognised as that of Jack Bridges. "Can I
+come round and see you at once? It's most important. No, I can't tell
+you now. I'll be with you in a few minutes."
+
+I hung the receiver up again, wondering what business could fetch Jack
+Bridges round at that time of the evening to see me. We had been the
+greatest of pals at school and at the 'Varsity, and had kept the
+friendship up ever since, despite my intermittent wanderings over the
+face of the globe. But during the last few days or so Jack had become
+engaged to Miss Glanville, the daughter of old Glanville, of South
+African fame, and as a love-sick swain I naturally expected to see very
+little of him, until after the wedding at any rate.
+
+At this time of the evening, according to my ideas of engaged couples,
+he should be sitting in the stalls at some theatre, and not running
+round to see bachelor friends with cynical views on matrimony.
+
+I had not arrived at a satisfactory solution when the door opened and
+Jack walked in. One glance at his face told me that he was in trouble,
+and without a word I pushed him into my chair and handed him a drink.
+Then I sat down on the opposite side of the fire and waited for him to
+begin, for a man in need of sympathy does not want to be worried by
+questions.
+
+He gulped down half his whisky and sat for a moment gazing into the
+fire.
+
+"Jim, old man," he said at length, "I've had awful news."
+
+"Not connected with Miss Glanville?" I asked.
+
+"In a way, yes. It's broken off, but there's worse than that--far worse.
+I can hardly realise it; I feel numbed at present; it's too horrible.
+You remember that when you and I were at Winchester together my father
+was killed during the Matabele War?"
+
+I nodded.
+
+"Well," continued Jack, "I heard to-day that he was not killed by the
+Matabele, but was hanged in Bulawayo for murder. In other words, I am
+the son of a murderer."
+
+"Hanged for murder!" I exclaimed in horror. "Surely there's some
+mistake?"
+
+"No," groaned Jack, "it's true enough. I've seen the newspaper cutting
+of the time, and I'm the son of a murderer, who was also a forger, a
+thief, and a card-sharper. Old Glanville told me this evening. It was
+then that our engagement was broken off."
+
+"Your mother?" I asked. "Have you seen her?"
+
+Jack nodded.
+
+"Poor little woman!" he groaned. "She has known all along, and her one
+aim and object in life has been to keep the awful truth from me. That
+was why I was told he died an honourable death during the war. I've
+often wondered why the little mother was always so sad, and so weighed
+down by trouble. Now I know. Good God, what her life must have been!"
+
+He rose from his chair and paced up and down the room for a minute; then
+he stopped and stood in front of me, his face working with emotion.
+
+"But I don't believe it, Jim," he said, and there was a ring in his
+voice. "I don't believe it, and neither does the little mother. It's
+impossible to reconcile the big, bluff man with the heart of a child,
+that I remember as my father, with murder, forgery, or any other crime.
+And yet, according to Glanville and the old newspapers he showed me,
+Richard Bridges was one of the most unscrupulous ruffians in South
+Africa. In my heart of hearts I know he didn't do it, and though on the
+face of it there's no doubt, I'm going to try and clear his name. I am
+sailing for South Africa on Friday."
+
+"Sailing for South Africa!" I exclaimed. "What about your work?"
+
+"My work can go hang!" replied Jack heatedly. "I want to wipe away the
+stain from my father's name, and I mean to do it somehow. That's why
+I've run round to see you, old pal, for I want you to come with me.
+Knowing Rhodesia as you do, you're just the man to help me. Say you'll
+come?" he pleaded.
+
+It seemed quite the forlornest hope I had ever heard of, but Jack's
+distress was so acute that I hadn't the heart to refuse.
+
+"All right, Jack," I said, "I'm with you. But don't foster any vain
+hopes. Remember, it's twenty years ago. It will be a pretty tough job to
+prove anything after all these years."
+
+During the voyage out we had ample time to go through the small amount
+of information about the long-forgotten case that Jack had been able to
+collect from the family solicitors.
+
+In the year 1893, Richard Bridges, who was a mining engineer of some
+standing, had made a trip to Rhodesia with a view to gold and diamond
+prospecting. He had been accompanied by a friend, Thomas Symes, who, so
+far as we could ascertain, was an ex-naval officer; and the two, after a
+short stay at Bulawayo, had gone northward across the Guai river into
+what was in those days a practically unknown land. In a little over a
+year's time Bridges had returned alone--his companion having been, so he
+stated, killed by the Matabele, and for six months or so he led a
+dissolute life in Bulawayo and the district, which ended ultimately in
+his execution for murder. There was no doubt whatever about the murder,
+or the various thefts and forgeries that he was accused of, as he had
+made a confession at his trial, and we seemed to be on a wild-goose
+chase of the worst variety so far as I could see; but Jack, confident of
+his father's innocence, would not hear of failure.
+
+"It's impossible to make surmises at this stage," he said. "On the face
+of it there appears to be little room for doubt, but no one who knew my
+father could possibly connect him with any sort of crime. Somehow or
+other, Jim, I've got to clear his name."
+
+My memory went back to a tall, sunburnt man with a kindly manner who had
+come down to the school one day and put up a glorious feed at the tuck
+shop to Jack and his friends. Afterwards, at his son's urgent request,
+he had bared his chest to show us his tattooing of which Jack had,
+boy-like, often boasted to us. I recalled how we had gazed admiringly at
+the skilfully worked picture of Nelson with his empty sleeve and closed
+eye and the inscription underneath: "England expects that every man this
+day will do his duty." Jack had explained with considerable pride that
+this did not constitute all, as on his father's back was a wonderful
+representation of the _Victory_, and on other parts of his body a lion,
+a snake, and other _fauna_, but Richard Bridges had protested laughingly
+and refused to undress further for our delectation.
+
+We reached Bulawayo, but no one in the city appeared to recall the case
+at all; indeed, Bulawayo had grown out of all recognition since Richard
+Bridges had passed through it on his prospecting trip. It was difficult
+to know where to start. Even the police could not help, and had no
+knowledge of where the murderer had been buried. No one but an old
+saloon-keeper and a couple of miners could recollect the execution even,
+and they, so far as they could remember, had never met Richard Bridges
+in the flesh, though his unsavoury reputation was well known to them.
+
+In despair, Jack suggested a trek up country towards Barotseland, which
+was the district that Bridges and Symes had proposed to prospect,
+though, according to all accounts, Symes had been murdered by the
+Matabele before they reached the Guai river.
+
+For the next month we trekked steadily northwards, having very fair
+sport; but, as I expected, extracting no information whatever from the
+natives about the two prospectors who had passed that way years before.
+At length, Jack became more or less reconciled to failure, and realising
+the futility of further search suggested a return to Bulawayo. As our
+donkey caravan was beginning to suffer severely from the fly, I
+concurred, and we started to travel slowly back to Bulawayo, shooting by
+the way.
+
+One night after a particularly hard trek we inspanned at an old _kraal_,
+the painted walls of which told that at one time it had served as a
+royal residence, and as I had shot an eland cow that afternoon, which
+provided far more meat than we could consume, we invited the induna and
+his tribe to the feast. Not to be outdone in hospitality, the old chief
+produced the kaffir beer of the country, a liquid which has nothing to
+recommend it beyond the fact that it intoxicates rapidly.
+
+A meat feast and a beer drink is a great event in the average kaffir's
+life, and as the evening wore on a general jollification started to the
+thump of tomtoms and the squeak of kaffir fiddles. There was one very
+drunk old Barotse, who sat close to me, and, accompanying himself with
+thumps on his tomtom, sang in one droning key a song about a man who
+kept snakes and lions inside him, and from whose chest the evil eye
+looked out. At least, so far as I could gather that was roughly the gist
+of the song; but as his tomtom was particularly large and most obnoxious
+I politely took it away from him, and Jack and I used it as a table for
+our gourds of kaffir beer, which we were pretending to consume in large
+quantities.
+
+A gourd, however, is a top-heavy sort of drinking vessel, and in a very
+short time I had succeeded in spilling half a pint or so of my drink on
+the parchment of the drum. Not wishing to spoil the old gentleman's
+plaything, which he evidently valued above all things, I mopped up the
+beer with my handkerchief, and in doing so removed from the parchment a
+portion of the accumulated filth of ages.
+
+"Hullo!" said Jack, taking the instrument from me and holding it up to
+the firelight. "There's a picture of some sort here. It looks like a man
+in a cocked hat."
+
+He rubbed it hard with his pocket handkerchief, and the polishing
+brought more of the picture to light, till, plain enough in places and
+faded in others, there stood out, the portrait of a man in an
+old-fashioned naval uniform with stars on his breast, and underneath
+some letters in the form of a scroll.
+
+"That's not native work," I exclaimed. "These are English letters," for
+I could distinctly make out the word "man" followed by a "t" and an "h."
+"Rub it hard, Jack."
+
+The grease on the parchment refused to give way to further polishing,
+however, and remembering a bottle of ammonia I kept for insect bites, I
+mixed some with kaffir beer and poured it on the head of the tomtom. One
+touch of the handkerchief was sufficient once the strong alkali got to
+work, and out came the grand old face of Nelson and underneath his
+motto:
+
+"England expects that every man this day will do his duty."
+
+Jack dropped the drum as if it had bitten him.
+
+"What does it mean?" he gasped. "My father had this on his chest. I
+remember it well!"
+
+I was, however, too busy with the reverse end of the drum to heed him.
+On the other side the ammonia brought out a picture of the _Victory_,
+with the head of a roaring lion below it.
+
+"Good God!" exclaimed Jack. "My father had that on his back. Quick, Jim,
+rub hard! There should be the family crest to the right--an eagle with a
+snake in its talons and R. B. underneath."
+
+I rubbed in the spot indicated, and out came the crest and initials
+exactly as Jack had described them. There was something horribly uncanny
+and gruesome in finding the tattoo marks of the dead man on the
+parchment of a Barotse tomtom two hundred miles north of the Zambesi,
+and for a moment I was too overcome with astonishment to grasp exactly
+what it meant. Then it came to my mind in a flash that the parchment was
+nothing else than human skin, and Richard Bridges' skin at that. I put
+it down with sudden reverence, and, beckoning to its owner, demanded its
+full history. At first he showed signs of fear, but promising him a
+waist length of cloth if he told the truth, he squatted on his hams
+before us and began.
+
+"Many, many moons ago, before the white men came to trade across the Big
+Water as they do now, two white baases came into this country to look
+for white stones and gold. One baas was bigger than the other, and on
+his chest and on his body were pictures of birds, and beasts, and
+strange things. On his chest was a great inkoos with one eye covered,
+and on his back a hut with trees growing straight up into the air from
+it. On his loins was a lion of great fierceness, and coiled round his
+waist was a hissing mamba (snake). We were sore afraid, for the white
+baas told us he was bewitched, and that if harm came to either he would
+uncover the closed eye of the great inkoos upon his chest, which was the
+Evil Eye, and command him to blast the Barotse and their land for ever.
+
+"So the white men were suffered to come and go in peace, for we dreaded
+the Evil Eye of the great inkoos. They toiled, these white baases,
+digging in the hillside and searching the riverbed; and then one day it
+came to pass that they quarrelled and fought, and the baas with the
+pictures was slain. We knew then that his medicine was bad medicine,
+otherwise the white baas without the pictures could not have killed him.
+So we were wroth and made to slay the other baas, but he shot us down
+with a fire stick and returned to his own country in haste. Then did I
+take the skin from the dead baas, for I loved him for his pictures, and
+I made them into a tomtom. I have spoken."
+
+"Good heavens!" exclaimed Jack when I had translated the story. "Then my
+father was killed here in Barotseland, and it was Symes, his murderer,
+who went back to Bulawayo. It was that fiend Symes, also, who took my
+father's name, probably to draw any money that might have been left
+behind, and who, as Richard Bridges, was hanged for murder. Poor old
+dad," he added brokenly, "murdered, and his body mutilated by savages!
+But how glad I am to know that he died an honest man!"
+
+With the evidence at hand it was easy to prove the identity of the
+murderer of twenty years ago, and, having settled the matter
+satisfactorily and cleared the dead man's name, Jack and I returned to
+England, where a few weeks later I had to purchase wedding garments in
+order that I might play the part of best man at Jack's wedding.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+THE CASE OF SIR ALISTER MOERAN
+
+
+"Ethne?" My aunt looked at me with raised brows and smiled. "My dear
+Maurice, hadn't you heard? Ethne went abroad directly after Christmas,
+with the Wilmotts, for a trip to Egypt. She's having a glorious time!"
+
+I am afraid I looked as blank as I felt. I had only landed in England
+three days ago, after two years' service in India, and the one thing I
+had been looking forward to was seeing my cousin Ethne again.
+
+"Then, since you did not know she was away, you, of course, have not
+heard the other news?" went on my aunt.
+
+"No," I answered in a wooden voice. "I've heard nothing."
+
+She beamed. "The dear child is engaged to a Sir Alister Moeran, whom she
+met in Luxor. Everyone is delighted, as it is a splendid match for her.
+Lady Wilmott speaks most highly of him, a man of excellent family and
+position, and perfectly charming to boot."
+
+I believe I murmured something suitable, but it was absurd to pretend to
+be overjoyed at the news. The galling part of it was that Aunt Linda
+knew, and was chuckling, so to speak, over my discomfiture.
+
+"If you are going up to Wimberley Park," she went on sweetly, "you will
+probably meet them both, as your Uncle Bob has asked us all there for
+the February house-party. He cabled an invitation to Sir Alister as soon
+as he heard of the engagement. Wasn't it good of him?"
+
+I replied that it was; then, having heard quite enough for one day of
+the charms of Ethne's _fiance_, I took my leave.
+
+That night, after cursing myself for a churl, I wrote and wished her
+good luck. The next morning I received a letter from Uncle Bob asking me
+to go to Wimberley; and early in the following week I travelled up to
+Cumberland. I received a warm welcome from the old General. As a boy I
+used to spend the greater part of my holidays with him, and being
+childless himself, he regarded me more or less as a son.
+
+On February 16th Ethne, her mother, and Sir Alister Moeran arrived. I
+motored to the station to meet them. The evening was cold and raw and so
+dark that it was almost impossible to distinguish people on the badly
+lighted little platform. However, as I groped my way along, I recognised
+Ethne's voice, and thus directed, hurried towards the group. As I did so
+two gleaming, golden eyes flashed out at me through the darkness.
+
+"Hullo!" I thought. "So she's carted along the faithful Pincher!" But
+the next moment I found I was mistaken, for Ethne was holding out both
+hands to me in greeting. There was no dog with her, and in the bustle
+that followed, I forgot to seek further for the solution of those two
+fiery lights.
+
+"It was good of you to come, Maurice," Ethne said with unmistakable
+pleasure, then, turning to the man at her side, "Alister, this is my
+cousin, Captain Kilvert, of whom you have heard me speak."
+
+We murmured the usual formalities in the usual manner, but as my fingers
+touched his, I experienced the most curious sensation down the region of
+my spine. It took me back to Burma and a certain very uncomfortable
+night that I once passed in the jungle. But the impression was so
+fleeting as to be indefinable, and soon I was busy getting everyone
+settled in the car.
+
+So far, except that he possessed an exceptionally charming voice, I had
+no chance of forming an opinion of my cousin's _fiance_. It was
+half-past seven when we got back to the house, so we all went straight
+up to our rooms to dress for dinner.
+
+Everyone was assembled in the drawing-room when Sir Alister Moeran came
+in, and I shall never forget the effect his appearance made.
+Conversation ceased entirely for an instant. There was a kind of
+breathless pause, which was almost audible as my uncle rose to greet
+him. In all my life I had never seen a handsomer man, and I don't
+suppose anyone else there had either. It was the most startling,
+arresting style of beauty one could possibly imagine, and yet, even as I
+stared at him in admiration, the word "Black!" flashed into my mind.
+
+Black! I pulled myself up sharply. We English, who have lived out in the
+East, are far too prone to stigmatise thus anyone who shows the smallest
+trace of being a "half breed"; but in Sir Alister's case there was not
+even a suspicion of this. He was no darker than scores of men of my own
+nationality, and besides, he belonged, I knew, to a very old Scottish
+family. Yet, try as I would to strangle the idea, all through the
+evening the same horrible, unaccountable notion clung to me.
+
+That he was the personality of the gathering there was not the slightest
+doubt. Men and women alike seemed attracted by him, for his
+individuality was on a par with his looks.
+
+Several times during dinner I glanced at Ethne, but it was easy to see
+that all her attention was taken up by her lover. Yet, oddly enough, I
+was not jealous in the ordinary way. I saw the folly of imagining that I
+could stand a chance against a man like Moeran, and, moreover, he
+interested me too deeply. His knowledge of the East was extraordinary,
+and later, when the ladies had retired, he related many curious
+experiences.
+
+"Might I ask," said my uncle's friend, Major Faucett, suddenly, "whether
+you were in the Service, or had you a Government appointment out there?"
+
+Sir Alister smiled, and under his moustache I caught the gleam of
+strong, white teeth.
+
+"As a matter of fact, neither. I am almost ashamed to say I have no
+profession, unless I may call myself an explorer."
+
+"And why not?" put in Uncle Bob. "Provided your explorations were to
+some purpose and of benefit to the community in general, I consider you
+are doing something worth while."
+
+"Exactly," Sir Alister replied. "From my earliest boyhood I have always
+had the strangest hankering for the East. I say strange, because to my
+parents it was inexplicable, neither of them having the slightest
+leaning in that direction, though to me it seemed the most natural
+desire in the world. I was like an alien in a foreign land, longing to
+get home. I recollect, as a child, my nurse thought me a beastly uncanny
+kid because I loved to lie in bed and listen to the cats howling and
+fighting outside. I used to put my head half under the blankets and
+imagine I was in my lair in the jungle, and those were the jackals and
+panthers prowling around outside."
+
+"I suppose you'd been reading adventure books," Uncle Bob said, with a
+laugh. "I played at much the same game when I was a youngster, only in
+my case it was Redskins."
+
+"Possibly," Sir Alister answered with a slight shrug, "only mine wasn't
+a game that I played with any other boys, it was a gnawing desire, which
+simply had to be satisfied; and the opportunity came. When I was
+fourteen, the father of a school friend of mine, who was going out to
+India, asked me to go out with him and the boy for the trip. Of course,
+I went."
+
+"I wonder," the Major remarked, "that you ever came back once you got
+there, since you were so frightfully keen."
+
+"I was certain I should return," he replied grimly.
+
+A pause followed his last words, then Uncle Bob rose and led the way to
+the drawing-room, where for the remainder of the evening Sir Alister was
+chiefly monopolised by the ladies.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Well, Maurice," Uncle Bob said, when on the following evening I was
+sitting in his study having my usual before-dinner chat with him, "and
+how do you like Ethne's future husband?"
+
+I hesitated. "I--I really don't know," I replied.
+
+"Come, boy," he said, with his whimsical smile, "why not be frank and
+own to a very natural jealousy?"
+
+"Because," I answered simply, "the feeling Sir Alister Moeran inspires
+in me is not jealousy, curiously enough. It's something else, something
+indefinable that comes over me now and again. Dogs don't like him, and
+that's always a bad sign, to my thinking."
+
+My uncle's bushy eyebrows went up slightly.
+
+"When did you make this discovery?"
+
+"This morning," I replied. "You know I took him and Ethne round the
+place. Well, the first thing I noticed was that Mike refused to come
+with us, although both Ethne and I called him. As we passed through the
+hall he slunk away into the library. I thought it a bit strange, as he's
+usually so frantic to go out with me. Still, I didn't attach any
+significance to the matter until later, when we visited the kennels. I
+don't know why, but one takes it for granted that a man is keen on dogs
+somehow and----"
+
+"Isn't Sir Alister?"
+
+"They are not keen on him, anyhow," I answered grimly. "They had heard
+my voice as we approached and were all barking with delight, but
+directly we entered the place there was a dead silence, save for a few
+ominous growls from Argo. It was a most extraordinary sight. They all
+bristled up, so to speak, sniffing the air though on the scent of
+something. I let Bess and Fritz loose, but instead of jumping up, as
+they usually do, they hung back and showed the whites of their eyes in a
+way I've never seen before. I actually had to whistle to them sharply
+several times before they came, and then it was in a slinking manner,
+taking good care to put Ethne and me between themselves and Moeran, and
+looking askance at him the whole while."
+
+"H'm!" murmured the General with puckered brows. "That was certainly
+odd, very odd!"
+
+"It was," I agreed, warming to the subject, "but there's odder still to
+come. I dare say you'll think it all my fancy, but the minute those
+animals put their heads up and sniffed in that peculiar way, I
+distinctly smelt the musky, savage odour of wild beasts. You know it
+well, anyone who has been through a jungle does."
+
+Uncle Bob nodded. "I know it, too; 'Musky' is the very word--the smell
+of sun-warmed fur. Jove, how it carries me back! I remember once, years
+ago, coming upon a litter of lion cubs, in a cave, when I was out in
+Africa----"
+
+"Yes! Yes!" I cried eagerly. "And that is what I smelt this morning.
+Those dogs smelt it, too. They felt that there was something alien,
+abnormal in their midst."
+
+"That something being--Sir Alister Moeran?"
+
+I felt myself flush up under his gaze. I got up and walked about the
+room.
+
+"I don't understand it," I said doggedly. "I tell you plainly, Uncle
+Bob, I don't understand. My impression of the man last night was
+'black,' but he's not black, I know that perfectly well, no more than
+you or I are, and yet I can't get over the behaviour of those hounds.
+It wasn't only one of 'em, it was the whole lot. They seemed to regard
+him as their natural enemy! And that smell! I'm sure Ethne detected it
+too, for she kept glancing about her in a startled, mystified way."
+
+"And Sir Alister?" queried the General. "Do you mean to say he did not
+notice anything amiss?"
+
+I shrugged my shoulders. "He didn't appear to. I called attention myself
+to the singular attitude of the hounds, and he said quite casually:
+'Dogs never do take to me much.'"
+
+Uncle Bob gave a short laugh. "Our friend is evidently not sensitive."
+He paused and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then added: "It certainly is
+rather curious, but, for Heaven's sake, boy, don't get imagining all
+sorts of things!"
+
+This nettled me and made me wish I had held my tongue. I was quite aware
+that my story might have sounded somewhat fantastic from a stranger;
+still, he ought to have known me better than to accuse me of
+imagination. I abruptly changed the subject, and shortly after left the
+room.
+
+But I could not banish from my mind the incident of the morning. I could
+not forget the appealing faces of those dogs. Ethne and Sir Alister had
+left me there and returned to the house together, and, after their
+departure, those poor, dumb beasts had gathered round me in a way that
+was absolutely pathetic, licking and fondling my hands, as though
+apologising for their previous misconduct. Still, I understood. That
+bristling up their spines was precisely the same sensation I had
+experienced when I first met Sir Alister Moeran.
+
+As I was slowly mounting the stairs on my way up to dress, I heard
+someone running up after me, and turned round to find Ethne beside me.
+
+"Maurice," she said, rather breathlessly, "tell me, you did not punish
+Fritz and Bess for not coming at once when you called them this
+morning?"
+
+"No," I answered.
+
+She gave a nervous little laugh. "I'm glad of that. I thought
+perhaps----" She stopped short, then rushed on, "You know how queer
+mother is about cats--can't bear one in the room, and how they always
+fly out directly she comes in? Well, dogs are the same with Alister.
+He--he told me so himself. It seems funny to me, and I suppose to you,
+because we're so fond of all kinds of animals; but I don't really see
+why it should be any more extraordinary to have an antipathy for dogs
+than for cats, and no one thinks anything of it if you dislike cats."
+
+"That is so," I said thoughtfully.
+
+"Anyway," she went on, "it is not our own fault if a certain animal does
+not instinctively take to us."
+
+"Of course not," I replied stoutly. "You're surely not worrying about
+it, are you?"
+
+She hastened to assure me that she was not, but I could see that my
+indorsing her opinion was a great relief to her. She had been afraid
+that I should think it unnatural. I did for that matter, but I could
+not, of course, tell her so.
+
+That night Sir Alister and I sat up late talking after the other men had
+retired. We had got on the subject of India and had been comparing notes
+as to our different adventures. From this we went on to discussing
+perilous situations and escapes, and it was then that he narrated to me
+a very curious incident.
+
+"It happened when I was only twenty-one," he said, "the year after my
+father died. I think I told you that as soon as ever I became my own
+master, I packed up and was off to the East. I had a friend with me, a
+boy who had been my best pal at school. They used to call us 'Black and
+White.' He was fair and girlish-looking, and his name was Buchanan. He
+was just as keen on India as I was, and purposed writing a book
+afterwards on our experiences.
+
+"Our intention was to explore the wildest, most savage districts, and as
+a start we selected the province of Orissa. The forests there are
+wonderful, and it is there, if anywhere, that the almost extinct Indian
+lion is still to be found. We engaged two sturdy hillmen to accompany us
+and pushed our way downwards from Calcutta over mountains, rivers and
+through some of the densest jungles I've ever traversed. It was on the
+outskirts of one of the latter that the tragedy took place. We had
+pitched our tents one evening after a long, tiring day, and turned in
+early to sleep, Buchanan and I in one, and the two Bhils in the other."
+
+Sir Alister paused for a few moments, toying with his cigar in an
+abstracted manner, then continued in the same clear, even voice:
+
+"When I awoke next morning, I found my friend lying beside me dead, and
+blood all round us! His throat was torn open by the teeth of some wild
+beast, his breast was horribly mauled and lacerated, and his eyes were
+wide, staring open, and their expression was awful. He must have died a
+hideous death and known it!"
+
+Again he stopped, but I made no comment, only waited with breathless
+interest till he went on.
+
+"I called the two men. They came and looked, and for the first time I
+saw terror written on their faces. Their nostrils quivered as though
+scenting something; then 'Tiger!' they gasped simultaneously.
+
+"One of them said he had heard a stifled scream in the night, but had
+thought it merely some animal in the jungle. The whole thing was a
+mystery. How I came to sleep undisturbed through it all, how I escaped
+the same fate, and why the tiger did not carry off his prey----"
+
+"You are sure it was a tiger?" I put in.
+
+"I think there was no doubt of it," Sir Alister replied. "The Bhils
+swore the teeth-marks were unmistakable, and not only that, but I saw
+another case seven years later. The body of a young woman was found in
+the compound outside my bungalow, done to death in precisely the same
+way. And several of the natives testified as to there being a tiger in
+that vicinity, for they had found three or four young goats destroyed in
+similar fashion."
+
+"Who was the girl?" I asked.
+
+Moeran slowly turned his lucent, amber eyes upon me as he answered. "She
+was a German, a sort of nursery governess at the English doctor's. He
+was naturally frightfully upset about it, and a regular panic sprang up
+in the neighbourhood. The natives got a superstitious scare--thought
+one of their gods was wroth about something and demanded sacrifice; but
+the white people were simply out to kill the tiger."
+
+"And did they?" I queried eagerly.
+
+Sir Alister shook his head. "That I can't say, as I left the place very
+soon afterwards and went up to the mountains."
+
+A long silence followed, during which I stared at him in mute
+fascination. Then an unaccountable impulse made me say abruptly:
+"Moeran, how old are you?"
+
+His finely-marked eyebrows went up in surprise at the irrelevance of my
+question, but he smiled.
+
+"Funny you should ask! It so happens that it's my birthday to-morrow. I
+shall be thirty-five."
+
+"Thirty-five!" I repeated. Then with a shiver I rose from my seat. The
+room seemed to have turned suddenly cold.
+
+"Come," I said, "let's go to bed."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Next night at dinner I proposed Sir Alister's health, and we all drank
+to him and his "bride-to-be." They had that day definitely settled the
+date of their marriage for two months ahead; Ethne was looking radiant
+and everyone seemed in the best of spirits.
+
+We danced and romped and played rowdy games like a pack of children.
+Nothing was too silly for us to attempt. While a one-step was in full
+swing some would-be wag suddenly turned off all the lights. It was then
+that for a moment I caught sight of a pair of glowing, fiery eyes
+shining through the darkness. Instantly my thoughts flew back to that
+meeting at the station, when I had fancied that Ethne had her dog in her
+arms. A chill, sinister feeling crept over me, but I kept my gaze fixed
+steadily in the same direction. The next minute the lights went up, and
+I found myself staring straight at Sir Alister Moeran. His arm was round
+Ethne's waist and she was smiling up into his face. Almost immediately
+they took up the dance again, and I and my partner followed suit. But
+all my gaiety had departed. An indefinable oppression seized me and
+clung to me for the rest of the evening.
+
+As I emerged from my room next morning I saw old Giles, the butler,
+hurrying down the corridor towards me.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Maurice--Captain Kilvert, sir!" he burst out, consternation in
+every line of his usually stolid countenance. "A dreadful thing has
+happened! How it's come about I can't for the life of me say, and how
+we're going to tell the General, the Lord only knows!"
+
+"What?" I asked, seizing him by the arm. "What is it?"
+
+"The dawg, sir," he answered in a hoarse whisper, "Mike--in the
+study----"
+
+I waited to hear no more, but strode off down the stairs, Giles hobbling
+beside me as fast as he could, and together we entered the study.
+
+In the middle of the floor lay the body of Mike. A horrible foreboding
+gripped me, and I quickly knelt down and raised the dog's head. His neck
+was torn open, bitten right through to the windpipe, the blood still
+dripping from it into a dark pool on the carpet.
+
+A cold, numbing sensation stole down my spine and made my legs grow
+suddenly weak. Beads of perspiration gathered on my forehead as I
+slowly rose to my feet and faced Giles.
+
+"What's the meaning of it, sir?" he asked, passing his hand across his
+brow in utter bewilderment. "That dawg was as right as possible when I
+shut up last night, and he couldn't have got out."
+
+"No," I answered mechanically, "he couldn't have got out."
+
+"Looks like some wild beast had attacked him," muttered the old man, in
+awed tones, as he bent over the lifeless body. "D'ye see the teeth
+marks, sir? But it's not possible--not possible."
+
+"No," I said again, in the same wooden fashion. "It's not possible."
+
+"But how're we going to account for it to the General?" he cried
+brokenly. "Oh, Mr. Maurice, sir, it's dreadful!"
+
+I nodded. "You're right, Giles! Still, it isn't your fault, nor mine.
+Leave the matter to me. I'll break it to my uncle."
+
+It was a most unenviable task, but I did it. Poor Uncle Bob! I shall
+never forget his face when he saw the mutilated body of the dog that for
+years had been his faithful companion. He almost wept, only rage and
+resentment against the murderer were so strong in him that they thrust
+grief for the time into the background. The mysterious, incomprehensible
+manner of the dog's death only added to his anger, for there was
+apparently no one on whom to wreak his vengeance.
+
+The news caused general concern throughout the house, and Ethne was
+frightfully upset.
+
+"Oh, Alister, isn't it awful?" she exclaimed, tears standing in her
+pretty blue eyes. "Poor, darling Mike!"
+
+"Yes," he answered rather absently. "It's most unfortunate. Valuable
+dog, too, wasn't it?"
+
+I walked away. The man's calm, handsome face filled me suddenly with
+unspeakable revulsion. The atmosphere of the room seemed to become heavy
+and noisome. I felt compelled to get out into the open to breathe.
+
+I found the General tramping up and down the drive in the rain, his chin
+sunk deep into the collar of his overcoat, his hat pulled low down over
+his eyes. I joined him without speaking, and in silence we paced side by
+side for another quarter of an hour.
+
+"Uncle Bob," I said abruptly at last, "take my advice. Have one of the
+hounds indoors to-night--Princep, he's a good watch-dog."
+
+The General stopped short in his walk and looked at me.
+
+"You've something on your mind, boy. What is it?"
+
+"This," I answered grimly. "Whoever, or whatever killed Mike was in the
+house last night, or got in, after Giles shut up. It may still be there
+for all we know. In the dark, dark deeds are done, and--well, I think
+it's wise to take precautions."
+
+"Good God, Maurice, if there is any creature in hiding, we'll soon have
+it out! I'll have the place searched now. But the thing's impossible,
+absurd!"
+
+I shrugged my shoulders. "Then Mike died a natural death?"
+
+"Natural?" he echoed fiercely. "Don't talk rubbish!"
+
+"In that case," I said quietly, "you'll agree to let one of the dogs
+sleep in."
+
+He gave me a long, troubled, searching look, then said gruffly: "Very
+well, but don't make any fuss about it. Women are such nervous beings
+and we don't want to upset anyone."
+
+"You needn't be afraid of that," I replied, "I'll manage it all right."
+
+There was no further talk of Mike that day. The visitors, seeing how
+distressed the General was, by tacit consent avoided the subject, but
+everyone felt the dampening effect.
+
+That night, before I retired to my room, I took a lantern, went out to
+the kennels and brought in Princep, a pure-bred Irish setter. He was a
+dog of exceptional intelligence, and when I spoke to him, explaining the
+reason of his presence indoors, he seemed to know instinctively what was
+required of him.
+
+As I passed the study I noticed a light coming from under the door.
+Somewhat surprised, I turned the handle and looked in. My uncle was
+seated before his desk in the act of loading a revolver. He glanced up
+sharply as I entered.
+
+"Oh, it's you, is it? Got the dog in?"
+
+"Yes," I replied, "I've left him in the library with the door open."
+
+He regarded the revolver pensively for a few moments, then laid it down
+in front of him.
+
+"You've no theory as to this--this business?"
+
+I shook my head, I could offer no explanation. Yet all the while there
+lurked, deep down in my heart, a hideous suspicion, a suspicion so
+monstrous that had I voiced it, I should probably have been considered
+mad. And so I held my peace on the subject and merely wished my uncle
+good-night.
+
+It was about one o'clock when I got into bed, but my brain was far too
+agitated for sleep. Something I had heard years ago, some old wives'
+tales about a man's life changing every seven years, kept dinning in my
+head. I was striving to remember how the story went, when a slight sound
+outside caught my ear. In a second I was out of bed and had silently
+opened the door. As I did so, someone passed close by me down the
+corridor.
+
+Cautiously, with beating heart, I crept out and followed. However, I
+almost exclaimed aloud in my amazement, for the light from a window fell
+full on the figure ahead of me, and I recognised my cousin Ethne. She
+was sleep-walking, a habit she had had from her childhood, and which
+apparently she had never outgrown.
+
+For some minutes I stood there, undecided how to act, while she passed
+on down the stairs, out of sight. To wake her I knew would be wrong. I
+knew, also, that she had walked thus a score of times without coming to
+any harm. There was, therefore, no reason why I should not return to my
+room and leave her to her wandering, yet still I remained rooted to the
+spot, all my senses strained, alert. And then suddenly I heard Princep
+whine. A series of low, stertorous growls followed, growls that made my
+blood run cold! With swift, noiseless steps, I stole along to the
+minstrel's gallery which overlooked that portion of the hall that
+communicated with the library. As I did so, there arose from immediately
+below me a succession of sharp snarls, such as a dog gives when he is
+in deadly fear or pain.
+
+A shaft of moonlight fell across the polished floor, and by its aid I
+was just able to distinguish the form of Princep crouched against the
+wainscoting. He was breathing heavily, his head turned all the while
+towards the opposite side of the room. I looked in the same direction.
+Out of the darkness gleamed two fiery, golden orbs, two eyes that moved
+slowly to and fro, backwards and forwards, as though the Thing were
+prowling round and round. Now it seemed to crouch as though ready to
+spring, and I could hear the savage growling as of some beast of prey.
+
+As I watched, horrified, fascinated, a _portiere_ close by was lifted,
+and the white-robed figure of Ethne appeared. All heedless of danger she
+came on across the hall, and the Thing, with soft, stealthy tread, came
+after her. I knew then that there was not an instant to be lost, and
+like a flash I darted along the gallery and down the stairs. But ere I
+gained the hall a piercing scream rent the air, and I was just in time
+to see Ethne borne to the ground by a great, dark form, which had sprung
+at her like a tiger.
+
+Half frantic, I dashed forward, snatching as I did so a rapier from the
+wall, the only weapon handy. But before I reached the spot, a voice from
+the study doorway called: "Stop!" and the next moment the report of a
+pistol rang out.
+
+"Good God!" I cried. "Who have you shot?"
+
+"Not the girl," answered the grim voice of my uncle, "you may trust my
+aim for that! I fired at the eyes of the Thing. Here, quick, get lights
+and let's see what has happened."
+
+But my one and only thought was for Ethne. Moving across to the dark
+mass on the floor, I stretched out my hand. My fingers touched a smooth,
+fabric-like cloth, but the smell was the smell of fur, the musky,
+sun-warmed fur of the jungle! With sickening repugnance, I seized the
+Thing by its two broad shoulders and rolled it over. Then I carefully
+raised Ethne from the ground. At that moment Giles and a footman
+appeared with candles. In silence my uncle took one and came towards me,
+the servants with scared, blanched countenances following.
+
+The light fell full upon the dead, upturned face of Sir Alister Moeran.
+His upper lip was drawn back, showing the strong, white teeth. The two
+front ones were tipped with blood. Instantly my eyes turned to Ethne's
+throat, and there I saw deep, horrible marks, like the marks of a
+tiger's fangs; but, thank God, they had not penetrated far enough to do
+any serious injury! My uncle's shot had come just in time to save her.
+
+"Merely fainted, hasn't she?" he asked anxiously.
+
+I nodded. My relief at finding this was so, was too great for words.
+
+"Heaven be praised!" I heard him mutter. Then lifting my beautiful,
+unconscious burden in my arms, I carried her upstairs to her room.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Can I explain, can anyone explain, the mysterious vagaries of atavism? I
+only know that there are amongst us, rare instances fortunately, but
+existent nevertheless--men with the souls of beasts. They may be
+cognisant of the fact or otherwise. In the case of Sir Alister I feel
+sure it was the latter. He had probably no more idea than I what
+far-reaching, evil strain it was that came out in his blood and turned
+him, every seven years, practically into a vampire.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+THE KISS
+
+
+The quiet of the deserted building incircled the little, glowing room as
+the velvet incircles the jewel in its case. Occasionally faint sounds
+came from the distance--the movements of cleaners at work, a raised
+voice, the slamming of a door.
+
+The man sat at his desk, as he had sat through the busy day, but he had
+turned sideways in his seat, the better to regard the other occupant of
+the room.
+
+She was not beautiful--had no need to be. Her call to him had been the
+saner call of mind to mind. That he desired, besides, the passing
+benediction of her hands, the fragrance of her corn-gold hair, the sight
+of her slenderness: this she had guessed and gloried in. Till now, he
+had touched her physical self neither in word nor deed. To-night, she
+knew, the barriers would be down; to-night they would kiss.
+
+Her quiet eyes, held by his during the spell that had bound them
+speechless, did not flinch at the breaking of it.
+
+"The Lord made the world and then He made this rotten old office," the
+man said quietly. "Into it He put you--and me. What, before that day,
+has gone to the making and marring of me, and the making and perfecting
+of you, is not to the point. It is enough that we have realised, heart,
+and soul, and body, that you are mine and I am yours."
+
+"Yes," she said.
+
+He fell silent again, his eyes on her hungrily. She felt them and longed
+for his touch. But there came only his voice.
+
+"I want you. The first moment I saw you I wanted you. I thought then
+that, whatever the cost, I would have you. That was in the early days of
+our talks here--before you made it so courageously clear to me that it
+would never be possible for you to ignore my marriage and come to me.
+That is still so, isn't it?"
+
+She moved slightly, like a dreamer in pain, as again she faced the creed
+she had hated through many a sleepless night.
+
+"It is so," she agreed. "And because it is so, you are going away
+to-morrow."
+
+"Yes."
+
+They looked at each other across the foot or two of intervening space.
+It was a look to bridge death with. But even beneath their suffering,
+her eyes voiced the tremulous waiting of her lips.
+
+At last he found words.
+
+"You are the most wonderful woman in the world--the pluckiest, the most
+completely understanding; you have the widest charity. I suppose I ought
+to thank you for it all; I can't--that's not my way. I have always
+demanded of you, demanded enormously, and received my measure pressed
+down and running over. Now I am going to ask this last thing of you:
+will you, of your goodness, go away--upstairs, anywhere--and come back
+in ten minutes' time? By then I shall have cleared out."
+
+She looked at him almost incredulously, lips parted. Suddenly she seemed
+a child.
+
+"You--I----" she stammered. Then rising to her feet, with a superb
+simplicity: "But, you must kiss me before you go. You must! You--simply
+_must_."
+
+For the space of a flaming moment it seemed that in one stride he would
+have crossed to her side, caught and held her.
+
+"For God's sake----!" he muttered, in almost ludicrous fear of himself.
+Then, with a big effort, he regained his self-control.
+
+"Listen," he said hoarsely. "I want to kiss you so much that I daren't
+even get to my feet. Do you understand what that means? Think of it,
+just for a moment, and then realise that _I am not going to kiss you_.
+And I have kissed many women in my time, too, and shall kiss more, no
+doubt."
+
+"But it's not because of that----?"
+
+"That I'm holding back? No. Neither is it because I funk the torture of
+kissing you once and letting you go. It's because I'm afraid--for
+_you_."
+
+"For me?"
+
+"Listen. You have unfolded your beliefs to me and, though I don't hold
+them--don't attempt to live up to your lights--the realisation of them
+has given me a reverence for you that you don't dream of. I have put you
+in a shrine and knelt to you; every time you have sat in that chair and
+talked with me, I have worshipped you."
+
+"It would not alter--all that," the girl said faintly, "if you kissed
+me."
+
+"I don't believe that; neither do you--no, you don't! In your heart of
+hearts you admit that a woman like you is not kissed for the first and
+last time by a man like me. Suppose I kissed you now? I should awaken
+something in you as yet half asleep. You're young and pulsing with life,
+and there are--thank Heaven!--few layers of that damnable young-girl
+shyness over you. The world would call you primitive, I suppose."
+
+"But I don't----"
+
+"Oh, Lord, you must see it's all or nothing! You surely understand that
+after I had left you you would not go against your morality, perhaps,
+but you would adjust it, in spite of yourself, to meet your desires! I
+cannot--safely--kiss you."
+
+"But you are going away for good!"
+
+"For good! Child, do you think my going will be your safeguard? If you
+wanted me so much that you came to think it was right and good to want
+me, wouldn't you find me, send for me, call for me? And I should come.
+God! I can see the look in your eyes now, when the want had been
+satisfied, and you could not drug your creed any more."
+
+Her breath came in a long sigh. Then she tried to speak; tried again.
+
+"It is so, isn't it?" he asked.
+
+She nodded. Speech was too difficult. With the movement a strand of the
+corn-gold hair came tumbling down the side of her face.
+
+"Then, that being the case," said the man, with infinite gentleness, his
+eyes on the little, tumbling lock, "I shall not attempt so much as to
+touch your hand before you leave the room."
+
+At the door she turned.
+
+"Tell me once again," she said. "You _want_ to kiss me?"
+
+He gripped the arms of his chair; from where she stood, she could see
+the veins standing out on his hands.
+
+"I want to kiss you," he said fiercely. "I want to kiss you. If there
+were any way of cutting off to-morrow--all the to-morrows--with the
+danger they hold for us--I would kiss you. I would kiss you, and kiss
+you, and kiss you!"
+
+
+II
+
+Where her feet took her during the thousand, thousand years that was his
+going she could never afterwards say; but she found herself at last at
+the top of the great building, at an open window, leaning out, with the
+rain beating into her eyes.
+
+Far below her the lights wavered and later she remembered that echoes of
+a far-off tumult had reached her as she sat. But her ears held only the
+memory of a man's footsteps--the eager tread that had never lingered so
+much as a second's space on its way to her; that had often stumbled
+slightly on the threshold of her presence; that she had heard and
+welcomed in her dreams; that would not come again.
+
+The raindrops lay like tears upon her face.
+
+She brushed them aside, and, rising, put up her hands to feel the wet
+lying heavy on her hair. The coldness of her limbs surprised her
+faintly. Downstairs she went again, the echoes mocking every step.
+
+She closed the door of the room behind her and idly cleared a scrap of
+paper from a chair. Mechanically her hands went to the litter on his
+desk and she had straightened it all before she realised that there was
+no longer any need. To-morrow would bring a voice she did not know;
+would usher a stranger into her room to take her measure from behind a
+barrier of formality. For the rest there would be work, and food, and
+sleep.
+
+These things would make life--life that had been love.
+
+She put on her hat and coat. The room seemed smaller somehow and
+shabbier. The shaded lights that had invited, now merely irritated; the
+whimsical disorder of books and papers spoke only of an uncompleted
+task. Gone was the glamour and the promise and the good comradeship. He
+had taken them all. She faced to-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow
+empty-handed--in her heart the memory of words that had seared and
+healed in a breath, and the dead dream of a kiss. Her throat ached with
+the pain of it.
+
+And then suddenly she heard him coming back!
+
+She stiffened. For one instant, mind and body, she was rigid with the
+sheer wonder of it. Then, as the atmosphere of the room surged back,
+tense with vitality, her mind leapt forward in welcome. He was coming
+back, coming back! The words hammered themselves out to the rhythm of
+the eager tread that never lingered so much as a second's space on its
+way to her, that stumbled slightly on the threshold of her presence.
+
+By some queer, reflex twist of memory, her hands brushed imaginary
+raindrops from her face and strayed uncertainly to where the wet had
+lain on her hair.
+
+The door opened and closed behind him.
+
+"I've come back. I've come back to kiss you. Dear--_dear_!"
+
+Her outflung hand checked him in his stride towards her. Words came
+stammering to her lips.
+
+"Why--but--this isn't--I don't understand! All you said--it was true,
+surely? It was cruel of you to make me know it was true and then come
+back!"
+
+"Let me kiss you--let me, let me!" He was overwhelming her, ignoring her
+resistance. "I must kiss you, I must kiss you." He said it again and
+again.
+
+"No, no, you shan't--you can't play with me! You said you were afraid
+for me, and you made me afraid, too--of my weakness--of the danger--of
+my longing for you----"
+
+"Let me kiss you! Yes, you shall let me; you _shall_ let me." His arms
+held her, his face touched hers.
+
+"Aren't you afraid any more? Has a miracle happened--may we kiss in
+spite of to-morrow?"
+
+Inch by inch she was relaxing. All thought was slipping away into a
+great white light that held no to-morrows, nor any fear of them, nor of
+herself, nor of anything. The light crept to her feet, rose to her
+heart, her head. Through the radiance came his words.
+
+"Yes, a miracle. Oh, my dear--my little child! I've come back to kiss
+you, little child."
+
+"Kiss me, then," she said against his lips.
+
+
+III
+
+Hazily she was aware that he had released her; that she had raised her
+head; that against the rough tweed of his shoulder there lay a long,
+corn-gold hair.
+
+She laughed shakily and her hand went up to remove it; but he caught her
+fingers and held them to his face. And with the movement and his look
+there came over her in a wave the shame of her surrender, a shame that
+was yet a glory, a diadem of pride. She turned blindly away.
+
+"Please," she heard herself saying, "let me go now. I want to be alone.
+I want to--please don't tell me to-night. To-morrow----"
+
+She was at the door, groping for the handle. Behind her she heard his
+voice; it was very tender.
+
+"I shall always kneel to you--in your shrine."
+
+Then she was outside, and the chilly passages were cooling her burning
+face. She had left him in the room behind her; and she knew he would
+wait there long enough to allow her to leave the building. Almost
+immediately, it seemed, she was downstairs in the hall, had reached the
+entrance.
+
+She confronted a group of white-faced, silent men.
+
+"Why, is anything the matter? What has happened? O'Dell?"
+
+The porter stood forward. He cleared his throat twice, but for all that,
+his words were barely audible.
+
+"Yes, Miss Carryll. Good-night, miss. You'd best be going on, miss, if
+you'll excuse----"
+
+Behind O'Dell stood a policeman; behind him again, a grave-eyed man
+stooped to an unusual task. It arrested her attention like the flash of
+red danger.
+
+"Why is the door of your room being locked, O'Dell?" She knew her
+curiosity was indecent, but some powerful premonition was stirring in
+her, and she could not pass on. "Has there been an accident? Who is in
+there?"
+
+Then, almost under her feet, she saw a dark pool lying sluggishly
+against the tiles; nearer the door another--on the pavement outside
+another--and yet another. She gasped, drew back, felt horribly sick;
+and, as she turned, she caught O'Dell's muttered aside to the policeman.
+
+"Young lady's 'is seccereterry--must be the last that seen 'im alive.
+All told, 'tain't more'n 'arf-an-'our since 'e left. 'Good-night,
+O'Dell,' sez 'e. 'Miss Carryll's still working--don't lock 'er in,' sez
+'e. Would 'ave 'is joke. Must 'ave gone round the corner an' slap inter
+the car. Wish to God the amberlance----"
+
+Her cry cut into his words as she flung herself forward. Her fingers
+wrenched at the key of the locked door and turned it, in spite of the
+detaining hands that seemed light as leaves upon her shoulder, and as
+easily shaken off. Unhearing, unheeding, she forced her way into the
+glare of electric light flooding the little room--beating down on to the
+table and its sheeted burden. Before she reached it, knowledge had
+dropped upon her like a mantle.
+
+Her face was grey as the one from which she drew the merciful coverings,
+but her eyes went fearlessly to that which she sought.
+
+Against the rough tweed of the shoulder lay a long, corn-gold hair.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+THE GOTH
+
+
+Young Cargill smiled as Mrs. Lardner finished her account.
+
+"And do you really think that the fact that the poor chap was drowned
+had anything to do with it?" he asked. "Why, you admit yourself that he
+was known to have been drinking just before he fell out of his boat!"
+
+"You may say what you like," returned his hostess impressively, "but
+since first we came to live at Tryn yr Wylfa only four people besides
+poor Roberts have defied the Fates, and each of them was drowned within
+the year.
+
+"They were all tourists," she added with something suspiciously like
+satisfaction.
+
+"I am not a superstitious man myself," supplemented the Major. "But you
+can't get away from the facts, you know, Cargill."
+
+Cargill said no more. He perceived that they had lived long enough in
+retirement in the little Welsh village to have acquired a pride in its
+legend.
+
+The legend and the mountains are the two attractions of Tryn yr
+Wylfa--the official guidebook devotes an equal amount of space to each.
+It will tell you that the bay, across which the quarry's tramp steamers
+now sail, was once dry land on which stood a village. Deep in the water
+the remains of this village can still be seen in clear weather. But
+whosoever dares to look upon them will be drowned within the year. A
+local publication gives full details of those who have looked--and
+perished.
+
+The legend had received an unexpected boom in the drowning of Roberts,
+which had just occurred. Roberts was a fisherman who had recently come
+from the South. One calm day in February he had rowed out into the bay
+in fulfilment of a drunken boast. He was drowned three days before
+Midsummer.
+
+After dinner young Cargill forgot about it. He forgot almost everything
+except Betty Lardner. But, oddly enough, as he walked back to the hotel
+it was just Betty Lardner who made him think again of the legend. He was
+in love, and, being very young, wanted to do something insanely heroic.
+To defy the Fates by looking on the sunken village was an obvious outlet
+for heroism.
+
+He must have thought a good deal about it before he fell asleep, for he
+remembered his resolution on the following morning.
+
+After breakfast he sauntered along the brief strip of asphalt which the
+villagers believe to be a promenade. He was not actually thinking of the
+legend; to be precise, he was thinking of Betty Lardner, but he was
+suddenly reminded of it by a boatman pressing him for his custom.
+
+"Yes," he said abruptly. "I will hire your boat if you will row me out
+to the sunken village. I want to look at it."
+
+The Welshman eyed him suspiciously, perceived that he was not joking,
+and shook his head.
+
+"Come," persisted Cargill, "I will make it a sovereign if you care to do
+it."
+
+"Thank you, but indeed, no, sir," replied the Welshman. "Not if it wass
+a hundred sofereigns!"
+
+"Surely you are not afraid?"
+
+"It iss not fit," retorted the Welshman, turning on his heel.
+
+It was probably this opposition that made young Cargill decide that it
+would be really worth while to defy the legend.
+
+He did not approach the only other boatman. He considered the question
+of swimming. The knowledge that the distance there and back was nearly
+five miles did not render the feat impossible, for he was a champion
+swimmer.
+
+But he soon thought of a better way. He went back to the hotel and
+sought out Bissett. Bissett was a fellow member of the Middle Temple, as
+contentedly briefless as himself. And Bissett possessed a motor-boat.
+
+Bissett was not exactly keen on the prospect.
+
+"Don't you think it is rather a silly thing to do?" he reasoned. "Of
+course it's all rot in a way--it must be. But isn't it just as well to
+treat that sort of thing with respect?"
+
+Eventually he agreed to take the motor-boat to within a few hundred
+yards of the spot. They would tow a dinghy, in which young Cargill could
+finish the journey.
+
+It took young Cargill half-an-hour to find the spot. But he did find it,
+and he did look upon, and actually see, all that remained of the sunken
+village.
+
+He felt vaguely ashamed of himself when he returned to dry land. He
+noticed that several of the villagers gave him unfriendly glances; and
+he resolved that he would say nothing of the matter to the Lardners.
+
+They were having tea on the lawn when he dropped in. He thought that
+Mrs. Lardner's welcome was a trifle chilly. After tea Betty executed a
+quite deliberate man[oe]uvre to avoid having him for a partner at
+tennis. But he ran her to earth later, when they were picking up the
+balls.
+
+"How _could_ you?" was all she said.
+
+"I--I didn't know you knew," he stammered weakly.
+
+"Of course everybody knows! It was all over the village before you
+returned.
+
+"Can't you see what that legend meant to us?" she went on. "It was a
+thing of beauty. And now you have spoilt it. It's like burning down the
+trees of the Fairy Glen. You--you _Goth_!"
+
+"But suppose I am drowned before the year is out--like Roberts?" he
+suggested jocularly.
+
+"Then I will forgive you," she said. And to Cargill it sounded exactly
+as if she meant what she said.
+
+A few days later he returned to town. For six months he thought little
+about the legend. Then he was reminded of it.
+
+He had been spending a week-end at Brighton. On the return journey he
+had a first-class smoker in the rear of the train to himself. Towards
+the end of the hour he dozed and dreamt of the day he had looked on the
+sunken village. He was awakened when the train made its usual stop on
+the bridge outside Victoria.
+
+It had been a pleasant dream, and he was still trying to preserve the
+illusion when his eye fell lazily on the window, and he noticed that
+there was a dense fog.
+
+"Bit rough on the legend that I happened to be a Londoner!" he mused.
+"It isn't easy to drown a man in town!"
+
+He stood up with the object of removing his dressing-case from the rack.
+But before he reached it there was the shriek of a whistle, a violent
+shock, and he was hurled heavily into the opposite seat.
+
+It was not a collision in the newspaper sense of the word. No one was
+hurt. A local train, creeping along at four miles an hour, had simply
+missed its signal in the fog and bumped the Brighton train.
+
+Young Cargill, in common with most other passengers put his head out of
+the window. He saw nothing--except the parapet of the bridge.
+
+"By God!" he muttered. "If that other train had been going a little
+faster----"
+
+He could just hear the river gurgling beneath him.
+
+He had got over his fright by the time he reached Victoria.
+
+"Just a common-place accident," he assured himself, as he drove in a
+taxi-cab to his chambers. "That's the worst of it! If I happened to be
+drowned in the ordinary way they'd swear it was the legend. I suppose,
+for that reason, I had better not take any risks. Anyhow, I needn't go
+near the sea until the year is out!"
+
+The superstitious would doubtless affirm that the Fates had sent him one
+warning and, angered at his refusal to accept it, had determined to
+drive home the lesson of his own impotence. For when he arrived at his
+chambers he found a cablegram from Paris awaiting him.
+
+"Hullo, this must be from Uncle Peter!" he exclaimed, as he tore open
+the envelope.
+
+"_Fear uncle dying. Come at once.--Machell._"
+
+Machell was the elder Cargill's secretary, and young Cargill was the old
+man's heir.
+
+It was not until he was in the boat-train that he realised that he was
+about to cross the sea.
+
+It was a coincidence--an odd coincidence. When the ship tossed in an
+unusually rough crossing he was prepared to admit to himself that it was
+an uncanny coincidence.
+
+He stayed a week in Paris for his uncle's funeral. When he made the
+return journey the Channel was like the proverbial mill pond. But it was
+not until the ship had actually put into Dover that he laughed at the
+failure of the Fates to take the opportunity to drown him.
+
+He laughed, to be exact, as he was stepping down the gangway. At the end
+of the gangway the fold of the rug which he was carrying on his arm,
+caught in the railings. He turned sharply to free it and stepping back,
+cannoned into an officer of the dock. It threw him off his balance on
+the edge of the dockside.
+
+Even if the official had not grabbed him, it is highly probable that he
+could have saved himself from falling into the water, because the
+gangway railing was in easy reach; and if you remember that he was a
+champion swimmer, you will agree that it is still more probable that he
+would not have been drowned, even if he had fallen.
+
+But the incident made its impression. His thoughts reverted to it
+constantly during the next few days. Then he told himself that his
+attendance at the last rites of his uncle had made him morbid, and was
+more or less successful in dismissing the affair from his mind.
+
+He had many friends in common with the Lardners. Early in February he
+was invited for a week's hunting to a house at which Betty Lardner was
+also a guest.
+
+She had not forgotten. She did her best to avoid him, and succeeded
+remarkably well, in spite of the fact that their hostess, knowing
+something of young Cargill's feelings, made several efforts to throw
+them together.
+
+One day at the end of the hunt he came alongside of her and they walked
+their horses home together. When he was sure that they were out of
+earshot he asked:
+
+"You haven't forgiven me yet?"
+
+"You know the conditions," she replied banteringly.
+
+"You leave me no alternative to suicide," he protested.
+
+"That would be cheating," she said. "You must be drowned honestly, or
+it's no good."
+
+Then he made a foolish reply. He thought her humour forced and it
+annoyed him. Remember that he was exasperated. He had looked forward to
+meeting her, and now she was treating him with studied coldness over
+what still seemed to him a comparatively trifling matter.
+
+"I am afraid," he said, "that that is hardly likely to occur. The fact
+of my being a townsman instead of a drunken boatman doesn't give your
+legend a fair chance!"
+
+Less than an hour afterwards he was having his bath before dressing for
+dinner. The water was deliciously hot, and the room was full of steam.
+As he lay in the bath a drowsiness stole over him. Enjoying the keen
+physical pleasure of it, he thought what a wholly delightful thing was a
+hot bath after a day's hard hunting. His mind, bordering on sleep, dwelt
+lazily on hot baths in general. And then with a startling suddenness
+came the thought that, before now, men had been drowned in their baths!
+
+With a shock he realised that he had almost fallen asleep. He tried to
+rouse himself, but a faintness had seized him. That steam--he could not
+breathe! He was certain he was going to faint.
+
+With a desperate effort of the will he hurled himself out of the bath
+and threw open the window.
+
+It must have been the bath episode that first aroused the sensation of
+positive fear in Cargill. For it was almost a month later when he
+surprised the secretary of that swimming club of which he was the main
+pillar by his refusal to take part in any events for the coming season.
+
+He was beginning to take precautions.
+
+Late one night, when taxi-cabs were scarce, he found that his quickest
+way to reach home would be by means of one of the tubes. He was in the
+descending lift when he suddenly remembered that that particular tube
+ran beneath the river. Suppose an accident should occur--a leakage!
+After all such a thing was within the bounds of possibility. Instantly
+there rose before him the vision of a black torrent roaring through the
+tunnel.
+
+Without waiting for the lift to ascend he rushed to the staircase, and
+sweating with terror gained the street and bribed a loafer to find him a
+cab.
+
+He made an effort to take himself seriously in hand after that. More
+than one acquaintance had lately told him that he was looking "nervy."
+In the last few weeks his sane and normal self seemed to have shrunk
+within him. But it was still capable of asserting itself under
+favourable conditions. It would talk aloud to the rest of him as if to a
+separate individual.
+
+"Look here, old man, this superstitious nonsense is becoming an
+obsession to you," it said one fine April morning. "Yes, I mean what I
+say--an obsession! You must pull yourself together or you'll go stark
+mad, and then you'll probably go and throw yourself over the Embankment.
+That legend is all bosh! You're in the twentieth century, and you're not
+a drunken fisherman----"
+
+"Hullo, young Cargill!"
+
+The door burst open and Stranack, oozing health and sanity, glared at
+him.
+
+"Jove! What a wreck you look!" continued Stranack. "You've been
+frousting too much. I'm glad I came. The car's outside, and we'll run
+down to Kingston, take a skiff and pull up to Molesey."
+
+The river! Young Cargill felt the blood singing in his ears.
+
+"I'm afraid I can't manage it. I--I've got an appointment this
+afternoon," he stammered.
+
+Stranack perceived that he was lying, and wondered. For a few minutes
+he gossiped, while young Cargill was repeating to himself:
+
+"You must pull yourself together. It's becoming an obsession. You must
+pull yourself together."
+
+He was vaguely conscious that Stranack was about to depart. Stranack was
+already in the doorway. His chance of killing the obsession was slipping
+from him! A special effort and then:
+
+"Stop!" cried Cargill. "I--I'll come with you, Stranack."
+
+Oddly enough, he felt much better when they were actually on the river.
+He had never been afraid of water, as such. And the familiar scenery,
+together with the wholesome exercise of sculling, acted as a tonic to
+his nerves.
+
+They pulled above Molesey lock. When they were returning, Stranack said:
+
+"You'll take her through the lock, won't you?"
+
+It was a needless remark, and if Stranack had not made it all might have
+been well. As a fact, it set Cargill asking himself why he should not
+take her through the lock. He was admitted to be a much better boatman
+than Stranack, and everyone knew that it required a certain amount of
+skill to manage a lock properly. Locks were dangerous if you played the
+fool. Before now people had been drowned in locks.
+
+The rest was inevitable. He lost his head as the lower gates swung open,
+and broke the rule of the river by pushing out in front of a launch. The
+launch was already under way, and young Cargill trying to avoid it
+better, thrust with his boat-hook at the side of the lock. The thrust
+was nervous and ill-calculated, and the next instant the skiff had
+blundered under the bows of the launch.
+
+It happened very quickly. The skiff was forced, broadside on, against
+the lock gates, and was splintered like firewood. Cargill fell
+backwards, struck his head heavily against the gates--and sank.
+
+He returned to consciousness in the lock-keeper's lodge. He had been
+under water a dangerously long time before Stranack, who had suffered no
+more than a wetting, had found him. It had been touch and go for his
+life, but artificial respiration had succeeded.
+
+He soon went to pieces after that.
+
+From one of the windows of his chambers the river was just visible. One
+morning he deliberately pulled the blind down. The action was important.
+It signified that he had definitely given up pretending that he had the
+power of shaking off the obsession.
+
+But if he could not shake it off, he could at least keep it temporarily
+at bay. He started a guerilla campaign against the obsession with the
+aid of the brandy bottle. He was rarely drunk, and as rarely sober.
+
+He was sober the day he was compelled to call on an aunt who lived in
+the still prosperous outskirts of Paddington. It was one of his good
+days and, in spite of his sobriety, he had himself in very good control
+when he left his aunt.
+
+In his search for a cab it became necessary for him to cross the canal.
+On the bridge he paused and, gripping the parapet, made a surprise
+attack upon his enemy.
+
+Some children, playing on the tow path, helped him considerably. Their
+delightful sanity in the presence of the water was worth more to him
+than the brandy. He was positively winning the battle, when one of the
+children fell into the water.
+
+For an instant he hesitated. Then, as on the night of the Tube episode,
+panic seized him. The next instant the man who was probably the best
+amateur swimmer in England, was running with all his might away from the
+canal.
+
+When he reached his chambers he waited, with the assistance of the
+brandy, until his man brought him the last edition of the evening paper.
+A tiny paragraph on the back sheet told him of the tragedy.
+
+An hour later his man found him face downwards on the hearthrug and,
+wrongly attributing his condition wholly to the brandy, put him to bed.
+
+He was in bed about three weeks. The doctor, who was also a personal
+friend, was shrewd enough to suspect that the brandy was the effect,
+rather than the cause of the nerve trouble.
+
+About the first week in June Cargill was allowed to get up.
+
+"You've got to go away," said the doctor one morning. "You are probably
+aware that your nerves have gone to pieces. The sea is the place for
+you!"
+
+The gasp that followed was scarcely audible, and the doctor missed it.
+
+"You went to Tryn yr Wylfa about this time last year," continued the
+doctor. "Go there again! Go for long walks on the mountains, and put up
+at a temperance hotel."
+
+He went to Tryn yr Wylfa.
+
+The train journey of six hours knocked him up for another week. By the
+time he was strong enough for the promenade it was the fourteenth of
+June. He noticed the date on the hotel calendar, and realised that the
+Fates had another ten days in which to drown him.
+
+He did not call on the Lardners. He felt that he couldn't--after the
+canal episode. Four of the ten days had passed before Betty Lardner ran
+across him on the promenade.
+
+She noticed at once the change in him, and was kinder than she had ever
+been before.
+
+"Next Saturday," he said, "is the anniversary!"
+
+For answer she smiled at him, and he might have smiled back if he had
+not remembered the canal.
+
+She met him each morning after that, so that she was with him on the day
+when he made his atonement.
+
+There had been a violent storm in the early morning. It had driven one
+of the quarry steamers on to the long sand-bank that lies submerged
+between Tryn yr Wylfa and Puffin Island. The gale still lasted, and the
+steamer was in momentary danger of becoming a complete wreck.
+
+There is no lifeboat service at Tryn yr Wylfa. It was impossible to
+launch an ordinary boat in such a sea.
+
+Colonel Denbigh, the owner of the quarry and local magnate, who had been
+superintending what feeble efforts had been made to effect a rescue,
+answered gloomily when Betty Lardner asked him if there were any hope.
+
+"It's a terrible thing," he jerked. "First time there has been a wreck
+hereabouts. It's hopeless trying to launch a boat----"
+
+"Suppose a fellow were to swim out to the wreck with a life-line in
+tow?"
+
+It was young Cargill who spoke.
+
+The Colonel glared at him contemptuously.
+
+"He would need to be a pretty fine swimmer," he returned.
+
+"I don't want to blow my own trumpet, but I am considered to be one of
+the best amateur swimmers in the country," replied Cargill calmly. "If
+you will tell your men to get the line ready, I will borrow a bathing
+suit from somewhere."
+
+They both stared at him in amazement.
+
+"But you are still an invalid," cried Betty Lardner. "You----"
+
+She stopped short and regarded him with fresh wonder. Somehow he no
+longer looked an invalid.
+
+Mechanically she walked by his side to the little bathing office.
+Suddenly she clutched his arm.
+
+"Jack," she said, "have you forgotten the--the legend?"
+
+"Betty," he replied, "have you forgotten the crew?"
+
+While he was undressing the attendant asked him some trivial question.
+He did not hear the man. His thoughts were far away. He was thinking of
+a group of children playing on the bank of a canal.
+
+To the accompaniment of the Colonel's protests they fixed a belt on him,
+to which was attached the life-line.
+
+He walked along the sloping wooden projection that is used as a landing
+stage for pleasure skiffs, walked until the water splashed over him.
+Then he dived into the boiling surf.
+
+Thus it was that he earned Betty Lardner's forgiveness.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+THE LAST ASCENT
+
+
+The extraordinary rapidity with which a successful airman may achieve
+fame was well shown in the case of my friend, Radcliffe Thorpe. One week
+known merely to a few friends as a clever young engineer, the next his
+name was on the lips of the civilised world. His first success was
+followed by a series of remarkable feats, of which his flight above the
+Atlantic, his race with the torpedo-boat-destroyers across the North
+Sea, and his sensational display during the military man[oe]uvres on
+Salisbury Plain, impressed his name and personality firmly upon the
+fickle mind of the public, and explains the tremendous excitement caused
+by his inexplicable disappearance during the great aviation meeting at
+Attercliffe, near London, towards the end of the summer.
+
+Few people, I suppose, have forgotten the facts. For some time
+previously he had been devoting himself more especially to ascending to
+as great a height as possible. He held all the records for height, and
+it was known that at Attercliffe he meant to endeavour to eclipse his
+own achievements.
+
+It was a lovely day, not a breath of wind stirring, not a cloud in the
+sky. We saw him start. We saw him fly up and up in great sweeping
+spirals. We saw him climb higher and ever higher into the azure space.
+We watched him, those of us whose eyes could bear the strain, as he
+dwindled to a dot and a speck, till at last he passed beyond sight.
+
+It was a stirring thing to see a man thus storm, as it were, the walls
+of Heaven and probe the very mysteries of space. I remember I felt quite
+annoyed with someone who was taking a cinematograph record. It seemed
+such a sordid, business-like thing to be doing at such a moment.
+
+Presently the aeroplane came into sight again and was greeted with a
+sudden roar of cheering.
+
+"He is doing a glide down," someone cried excitedly, and though someone
+else declared that a glide from such a height was unthinkable and
+impossible, yet it was soon plain that the first speaker was right.
+
+Down through unimaginable thousands of feet, straight and swift swept
+the machine, making such a sweep as the eagle in its pride would never
+have dared. People held their breath to watch, expecting every moment
+some catastrophe. But the machine kept on an even keel, and in a few
+moments I joined with the others in a wild rush to the field at a little
+distance where the machine, like a mighty bird, had alighted easily and
+safely.
+
+But when we reached it we doubted our own eyes, our own sanity. There
+was no sign anywhere of Radcliffe Thorpe!
+
+No one knew what to say; we looked blankly at our neighbours, and one
+man got down on his hands and knees and peered under the body of the
+machine as if he suspected Radcliffe of hiding there. Then the chairman
+of the meeting, Lord Fallowfield, made a curious discovery.
+
+"Look," he said in a high, shaken voice, "the steering wheel is jammed!"
+
+It was true. The steering wheel had been carefully fastened in one
+position, and the lever controlling the planes had also been fixed so as
+to hold them at the right angle for a downward glide. That was strange
+enough, but in face of the mystery of Radcliffe's disappearance little
+attention was paid it.
+
+Where, then, was its pilot? That was the question that was filling
+everybody's mind. He had vanished as utterly as vanishes the mist one
+sees rising in the sunshine.
+
+It was supposed he must have fallen from his seat, but as to how that
+had happened, how it was that no fragment of his body or his clothing
+was ever found, above all, how it was that his aeroplane had returned,
+the engine cut off, the planes secured in correct position, no even
+moderately plausible explanation was ever put forward.
+
+The loss to aeronautics was felt to be severe. From childhood Radcliffe
+had shown that, in addition to this, he had a marked aptitude for
+drawing, usually held at the service of his profession, but now and
+again exercised in producing sketches of his friends.
+
+Among those who knew him privately he was fairly popular, though not,
+perhaps, so much so as he deserved; certainly he had a way of talking
+"shop" which was a trifle tiring to those who did not figure the world
+as one vast engineering problem, while with women he was apt to be
+brusque and short-mannered.
+
+My surprise, then, can be imagined when, calling one afternoon on him
+and having to wait a little, I had noticed lying on his desk a crayon
+sketch of a woman's face. It was a very lovely face, the features almost
+perfect, and yet there was about it something unearthly and spectral
+that was curiously disturbing.
+
+"Smitten at last?" I asked jestingly, and yet aware of a certain odd
+discomfort.
+
+When, he saw what I was looking at he went very pale.
+
+"Who is it?" I asked.
+
+"Oh, just--someone!" he answered.
+
+He took the sketch from me, looked at it, frowned and locked it away. As
+he seemed unwilling to pursue the subject, I went on to talk of the
+business I had come about, and I congratulated him on his flight of the
+day before in which he had broken the record for height. As I was going
+he said:
+
+"By the way, that sketch--what did you think of it?"
+
+"Why, that you had better be careful," I answered, laughing; "or you'll
+be falling from your high estate of bachelordom."
+
+He gave so violent a start, his face expressed so much of apprehension
+and dismay, that I stared at him blankly. Recovering himself with an
+effort, he stammered out:
+
+"It's not--I mean--it's an imaginary portrait."
+
+"Then," I said, amazed in my turn, "you've a jolly sight more
+imagination than anyone ever credited you with."
+
+The incident remained in my mind. As a matter of fact, practical
+Radcliffe Thorpe, absorbed in questions of strain and ease, his head
+full of cylinders and wheels and ratchets and the Lord knows what else,
+would have seemed to me the last man on earth to create that haunting,
+strange, unearthly face, human in form, but not in expression.
+
+It was about this time that Radcliffe began to give so much attention to
+the making of very high flights. His favourite time was in the early
+morning, as soon as it was light. Then in the chill dawn he would rise
+and soar and wing his flight high and ever higher, up and up, till the
+eye could no longer follow his ascent.
+
+I remember he made one of these strange, solitary flights when I was
+spending the week-end with him at his cottage near the Attercliffe
+Aviation Grounds.
+
+I had come down from town somewhat late the night before, and I remember
+that just before we went to bed we went out for a few minutes to enjoy
+the beauty of a perfect night. The moon was shining in a clear sky, not
+a sound or a breath disturbed the sublime quietude; in the south one
+wondrous star gleamed low on the horizon. Neither of us spoke; it was
+enough to drink in the beauty of such rare perfection, and I noticed how
+Radcliffe kept his eyes fixed upwards on the dark blue vault of space.
+
+"Are you longing to be up there?" I asked him jestingly.
+
+He started and flushed, and he then went very pale, and to my surprise I
+saw that he was shivering.
+
+"You are getting cold," I said. "We had better go in."
+
+He nodded without answering, and, as we turned to go in, I heard quite
+plainly and distinctly a low, strange laugh, a laugh full of a honeyed
+sweetness that yet thrilled me with great fear.
+
+"What's that?" I said, stopping short.
+
+"What?" Radcliffe asked.
+
+"Someone laughed," I said, and I stared all round and then upwards. "I
+thought it came from up there," I said in a bewildered way, pointing
+upwards.
+
+He gave me an odd look and, without answering, went into the cottage. He
+had said nothing of having planned any flight for the next morning; but
+in the early morning, the chill and grey dawn, I was roused by the
+drumming of his engine. At once I jumped up out of bed and ran to the
+window.
+
+The machine was raising itself lightly and easily from the ground. I
+watched him wing his god-like way up through the still, soft air till he
+was lost to view. Then, after a time, I saw him emerge again from those
+immensities of space. He came down in one long majestic sweep, and
+alighted in a field a little way away from the house, leaving the
+aeroplane for his mechanics to fetch up presently.
+
+"Hullo!" I greeted him. "Why didn't you tell me you were going up?"
+
+As I spoke I heard plainly and distinctly, as plainly as ever I heard
+anything in my life, that low, strange laugh, that I had heard before,
+so silvery sweet and yet somehow so horrible.
+
+"What's that?" I said, stopping short and staring blankly upwards, for,
+absurd though it seems, that weird sound seemed to come floating down
+from an infinite height above us.
+
+"Not high enough," he muttered like a man in an ecstasy. "Not high
+enough yet."
+
+He walked away from me then without another word. When I entered the
+cottage he was seated at the table sketching a woman's face--the same
+face I had seen in that other sketch of his, spectral, unreal, and
+lovely.
+
+"What on earth----?" I began.
+
+"Nothing on earth," he answered in a strange voice. Then he laughed and
+jumped up, and tore his sketch across.
+
+He seemed quite his old self again, chatty and pleasant, and with his
+old passion for talking "shop." He launched into a long explanation of
+some scheme he had in mind for securing automatic balancing.
+
+I never told anyone about that strange, mocking laugh, in fact, I had
+almost forgotten the incident altogether when something brought every
+detail back to my memory. I had a letter from a person who signed
+himself "George Barnes."
+
+Barnes, it seemed, was the operator who had taken the pictures of that
+last ascent, and as he understood I had been Mr. Thorpe's greatest
+friend, he wanted to see me. Certain expressions in the letter aroused
+my curiosity. I replied. He asked for an appointment at a time that was
+not very convenient, and finally I arranged to call at his house one
+evening.
+
+It was one of those smart little six-room villas of which so many have
+been put up in the London suburbs of late. Barnes was buying it on the
+instalment system, and I quite won his heart by complimenting him on it.
+But for that, I doubt if anything would have come of my visit, for he
+was plainly nervous and ill at ease and very repentant of ever having
+said anything. But after my compliment to the house we got on better.
+
+"It's on my mind," he said; "I shan't be easy till someone else knows."
+
+We were in the front room where a good fire was burning--in my honour, I
+guessed, for the apartment had not the air of being much used. On the
+table were some photographs. Barnes showed them me. They were
+enlargements from those he had taken of poor Radcliffe's last ascent.
+
+"They've been shown all over the world," he said. "Millions of people
+have seen them."
+
+"Well?" I said.
+
+"But there's one no one has seen--no one except me."
+
+He produced another print and gave it to me. I glanced at it. It seemed
+much like the others, having been apparently one of the last of the
+series, taken when the aeroplane was at a great height. The only thing
+in which it differed from the others was that it seemed a trifle
+blurred.
+
+"A poor one," I said; "it's misty."
+
+"Look at the mist," he said.
+
+I did so. Slowly, very slowly, I began to see that that misty appearance
+had a shape, a form. Even as I looked I saw the features of a human
+countenance--and yet not human either, so spectral was it, so unreal and
+strange. I felt the blood run cold in my veins and the hair bristle on
+the scalp of my head, for I recognised beyond all doubt that this face
+on the photograph was the same as that Radcliffe had sketched. The
+resemblance was absolute, no one who had seen the one could mistake the
+other.
+
+"You see it?" Barnes muttered, and his face was almost as pale as mine.
+
+"There's a woman," I stammered, "a woman floating in the air by his
+side. Her arms are held out to him."
+
+"Yes," Barnes said. "Who was she?"
+
+The print slipped from my hands and fluttered to the ground. Barnes
+picked it up and put it in the fire. Was it fancy or, as it flared up,
+and burnt and was consumed, did I really hear a faint laugh floating
+downwards from the upper air?
+
+"I destroyed the negative," Barnes said, "and I told my boss something
+had gone wrong with it. No one has seen that photograph but you and me,
+and now no one ever will."
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+THE TERROR BY NIGHT
+
+
+Maynard disincumbered himself from his fishing-creel, stabbed the butt
+of his rod into the turf, and settled down in the heather to fill a
+pipe. All round him stretched the undulating moor, purple in the late
+summer sunlight. To the southward, low down, a faint haze told where the
+sea lay. The stream at his feet sang its queer, crooning moor-song as it
+rambled onward, chuckling to meet a bed of pebbles somewhere out of
+sight, whispering mysteriously to the rushes that fringed its banks of
+peat, deepening to a sudden contralto as it poured over granite boulders
+into a scum-flecked pool below.
+
+For a long time the man sat smoking. Occasionally he turned his head to
+watch with keen eyes the fretful movements of a fly hovering above the
+water. Then a sudden dimple in the smooth surface of the stream arrested
+his attention. A few concentric ripples widened, travelled towards him,
+and were absorbed in the current. His lips curved into a little smile
+and he reached for his rod. In the clear water he could see the origin
+of the ripples; a small trout, unconscious of his presence, was waiting
+in its hover for the next tit-bit to float downstream. Presently it rose
+again.
+
+"The odds are ten to one in your favour," said the man. "Let's see!"
+
+He dropped on one knee and the cast leapt out in feathery coils. Once,
+twice it swished; the third time it alighted like thistledown on the
+surface. There was a tiny splash, a laugh, and the little greenheart
+rod flicked a trout high over his head. It was the merest
+baby--half-an-ounce, perhaps--and it fell from the hook into the herbage
+some yards from the stream.
+
+"Little ass!" said Maynard. "That was meant for your big brother."
+
+He recovered his cast and began to look for his victim. Without avail he
+searched the heather, and as the fateful seconds sped, at last laid down
+his rod and dropped on hands and knees to probe among the grass-stems.
+
+For a while he hunted in vain, then the sunlight showed a golden sheen
+among some stones. Maynard gave a grunt of relief, but as his hand
+closed round it a tiny flutter passed through the fingerling; it gave a
+final gasp and was still. Knitting his brows in almost comical vexation,
+he hastened to restore it to the stream, holding it by the tail and
+striving to impart a life-like wriggle to its limpness.
+
+"Buck up, old thing!" he murmured encouragingly. "Oh, buck up! You're
+all right, really you are!"
+
+But the "old thing" was all wrong. In fact, it was dead.
+
+Standing in the wet shingle, Maynard regarded the speckled atom as it
+lay in the palm of his hand.
+
+"A matter of seconds, my son. One instant in all eternity would have
+made just the difference between life and death to you. And the high
+gods denied it you!"
+
+On the opposite side of the stream, set back about thirty paces from the
+brink, stood a granite boulder. It was as high as a man's chest, roughly
+cubical in shape; but the weather and clinging moss had rounded its
+edges, and in places segments had crumbled away, giving foothold to
+clumps of fern and starry moor-flowers. On three sides the surrounding
+ground rose steeply, forming an irregular horseshoe mound that opened to
+the west. Perhaps it was the queer amphitheatrical effect of this
+setting that connected up some whimsical train of thought in Maynard's
+brain.
+
+"It would seem as if the gods had claimed you," he mused, still holding
+the corpse. "You shall be a sacrifice--a burnt sacrifice to the God of
+Waste Places."
+
+He laughed at the conceit, half-ashamed of his own childishness, and
+crossing the stream by some boulders, he brushed away the earth and weed
+from the top of the great stone. Then he retraced his steps and gathered
+a handful of bleached twigs that the winter floods had left stranded
+along the margin of the stream. These he arranged methodically on the
+cleared space; on the top of the tiny pyre he placed the troutlet.
+
+"There!" he said, and smiling gravely struck a match. A faint column of
+smoke curled up into the still air, and as he spoke the lower rim of the
+setting sun met the edge of the moor. The evening seemed suddenly to
+become incredibly still, even the voice of the stream ceasing to be a
+sound distinct. A wagtail bobbing in the shallows fled into the waste.
+Overhead the smoke trembled upwards, a faint stain against a cloudless
+sky. The stillness seemed almost acute. It was as if the moor were
+waiting, and holding its breath while it waited. Then the twigs upon his
+altar crackled, and the pale flames blazed up. The man stepped back with
+artistic appreciation of the effect.
+
+"To be really impressive, there ought to be more smoke," he continued.
+
+Round the base of the stone were clumps of small flowers. They were
+crimson in colour and had thick, fleshy leaves. Hastily, he snatched a
+handful and piled it on the fire. The smoke darkened and rose in a thick
+column; there was a curious pungency in the air.
+
+Far off the church-bell in some unseen hamlet struck the hour. The
+distant sound, coming from the world of men and every-day affairs,
+seemed to break the spell. An ousel fluttered across the stream and
+dabbled in a puddle among some stones. Rabbits began to show themselves
+and frisk with lengthened shadows in the clear spaces. Maynard looked at
+his watch, half-mindful of a train to be caught somewhere miles away,
+and then, held by the peace of running water, stretched himself against
+the sloping ground.
+
+The glowing world seemed peopled by tiny folk, living out their timid,
+inscrutable lives around him. A water-rat, passing bright-eyed upon his
+lawful occasion, paused on the border of the stream to consider the
+stranger, and was lost to view. A stagnant pool among some reeds caught
+the reflection of the sunset and changed on the instant into raw gold.
+
+Maynard plucked a grass stem and chewed it reflectively, staring out
+across the purple moor and lazily watching the western sky turn from
+glory to glory. Over his head the smoke of the sacrifice still curled
+and eddied upwards. Then a sudden sound sent him on to one elbow--the
+thud of an approaching horse's hoofs.
+
+"Moor ponies!" he muttered, and, rising, stood expectant beside his
+smoking altar.
+
+Then he heard the sudden jingle of a bit, and presently a horse and
+rider climbed into view against the pure sky. A young girl, breeched,
+booted and spurred like a boy, drew rein, and sat looking down into the
+hollow.
+
+For a moment neither spoke; then Maynard acknowledged her presence by
+raising his tweed hat. She gave a little nod.
+
+"I thought it was somebody swaling--burning the heather." She considered
+the embers on the stone, and then her grey eyes travelled back to the
+spare, tweed-clad figure beside it.
+
+He smiled in his slow way--a rather attractive smile.
+
+"No. I've just concluded some pagan rites in connection with a small
+trout!" He nodded gravely at the stone. "That was a burnt sacrifice."
+With whimsical seriousness he told her of the trout's demise and high
+destiny.
+
+For a moment she looked doubtful; but the inflection of breeding in his
+voice, the wholesome, lean face and humorous eyes, reassured her. A
+smile hovered about the corners of her mouth.
+
+"Oh, is that it? I wondered ..."
+
+She gathered the reins and turned her horse's head.
+
+"Forgive me if I dragged you out of your way," said Maynard, never swift
+to conventionality, but touched by the tired shadows in her eyes. The
+faint droop of her mouth, too, betrayed intense fatigue. "You look
+fagged. I don't want to be a nuisance or bore you, but I wish you'd let
+me offer you a sandwich. I've some milk here, too."
+
+The girl looked round the ragged moor, brooding in the twilight, and
+half hesitated. Then she forced a wan little smile.
+
+"I am tired, and hungry, too. Have you enough for us both?"
+
+"Lots!" said Maynard. To himself he added: "And what's more, my child,
+you'll have a little fainting affair in a few minutes, if you don't have
+a feed."
+
+"Come and rest for a minute," he continued aloud.
+
+He spoke with pleasant, impersonal kindliness, and as he turned to his
+satchel she slipped out of the saddle and came towards him, leading her
+horse.
+
+"Drink that," he said, holding out the cup of his flask. She drank with
+a wry little face, and coughed. "I put a little whisky in it," he
+explained. "You needed it."
+
+She thanked him and sat down with the bridle linked over her arm. The
+colour crept back into her cheeks. Maynard produced a packet of
+sandwiches and a pasty.
+
+"I've been mooning about the moor all the afternoon and lost myself
+twice," she explained between frank mouthfuls. "I'm hopelessly late for
+dinner, and I've still got miles to go."
+
+"Do you know the way now?" he asked.
+
+"Oh, yes! It won't take me long. My family are sensible, too, and don't
+fuss." She looked at him, her long-lashed eyes a little serious. "But
+you--how are you going to get home? It's getting late to be out on the
+moor afoot."
+
+Maynard laughed.
+
+"Oh, I'm all right, thanks!" He sniffed the warm September night. "I
+think I shall sleep here, as a matter of fact. I'm a gipsy by instinct--
+
+    "'Give to me the life I love,
+    Let the lave go by me,
+    Give the jolly Heaven above----'"
+
+He broke off, arrested by her unsmiling eyes. She was silent a moment.
+
+"People don't as a rule sleep out--about here." The words came jerkily,
+as if she were forcing a natural tone into her voice.
+
+"No?" He was accustomed to being questioned on his unconventional mode
+of life, and was prepared for the usual expostulations. She looked
+abruptly towards him.
+
+"Are you superstitious?"
+
+He laughed and shook his head.
+
+"I don't think so. But what has that got to do with it?"
+
+She hesitated, flushing a little.
+
+"There is a legend--people about here say that the moor here is haunted.
+There is a Thing that hunts people to death!"
+
+He laughed outright, wondering how old she was. Seventeen or eighteen,
+perhaps. She had said her people "didn't fuss." That meant she was left
+to herself to pick up all these old wives' tales.
+
+"Really! Has anyone been caught?"
+
+She nodded, unsmiling.
+
+"Yes; old George Toms. He was one of Dad's tenants, a big purple-faced
+man, who drank a lot and never took much exercise. They found him in a
+ditch with his clothes all torn and covered with mud. He had been run to
+death; there was no wound on his body, but his heart was broken." Her
+thoughts recurred to the stone against which they leant, and his quaint
+conceit. "You were rather rash to go offering burnt sacrifices about
+here, don't you think? Dad says that stone is the remains of an old
+Ph[oe]nician altar, too."
+
+She was smiling now, but the seriousness lingered in her eyes.
+
+"And I have probably invoked some terrible heathen deity--Ashtoreth, or
+Pugm, or Baal! How awful!" he added, with mock gravity.
+
+The girl rose to her feet.
+
+"You are laughing at me. The people about here are superstitious, and I
+am a Celt, too. I belong here."
+
+He jumped up with a quick protest.
+
+"No, I'm not laughing at you. Please don't think that! But it's a little
+hard to believe in active evil when all around is so beautiful." He
+helped her to mount and walked to the top of the mound at her stirrup.
+"Tell me, is there any charm or incantation, in case----?" His eyes were
+twinkling, but she shook her fair head soberly.
+
+"They say iron--cold iron--is the only thing it cannot cross. But I must
+go!" She held out her hand with half-shy friendliness. "Thank you for
+your niceness to me." Her eyes grew suddenly wistful. "Really, though, I
+don't think I should stay there if I were you. Please!"
+
+He only laughed, however, and she moved off, shaking her impatient
+horse into a canter. Maynard stood looking after her till she was
+swallowed by the dusk and surrounding moor. Then, thoughtfully, he
+retraced his steps to the hollow.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A cloud lay across the face of the moon when Fear awoke Maynard. He
+rolled on to one elbow and stared round the hollow, filled with
+inexplicable dread. He was ordinarily a courageous man, and had no
+nerves to speak of; yet, as his eyes followed the line of the ridge
+against the sky, he experienced terror, the elementary, nauseating
+terror of childhood, when the skin tingles, and the heart beats at a
+suffocating gallop. It was very dark, but momentarily his eyes grew
+accustomed to it. He was conscious of a queer, pungent smell, horribly
+animal and corrupt.
+
+Suddenly the utter silence broke. He heard a rattle of stones, the
+splash of water about him, realised that it was the brook beneath his
+feet, and that he, Maynard, was running for his life.
+
+Neither then nor later did Reason assert herself. He ran without
+question or amazement. His brain--the part where human reasoning holds
+normal sway--was dominated by the purely primitive instinct of flight.
+And in that sudden rout of courage and self-respect one conscious
+thought alone remained. Whatever it was that was even then at his heels,
+he must not see it. At all costs it must be behind him, and, resisting
+the sudden terrified impulse to look over his shoulder, he unbuttoned
+his tweed jacket and disengaged himself from it as he ran. The faint
+haze that had gathered round the full moon dispersed, and he saw the
+moor stretching before him, grey and still, glistening with dew.
+
+He was of frugal and temperate habits, a wiry man at the height of his
+physical powers, with lean flanks and a deep chest.
+
+At Oxford they had said he was built to run for his life. He was running
+for it now, and he knew it.
+
+The ground sloped upwards after a while, and he tore up the incline,
+breathing deep and hard; down into a shallow valley, leaping gorse
+bushes, crashing through whortle and meadowsweet, stumbling over
+peat-cuttings and the workings of forgotten tin-mines. An idiotic
+popular tune raced through his brain. He found himself trying to frame
+the words, but they broke into incoherent prayers, still to the same
+grotesque tune.
+
+Then, as he breasted the flank of a boulder-strewn tor, he seemed to
+hear snuffling breathing behind him, and, redoubling his efforts,
+stepped into a rabbit hole. He was up and running again in the twinkling
+of an eye, limping from a twisted ankle as he ran.
+
+He sprinted over the crest of the hill and thought he heard the sound
+almost abreast of him, away to the right. In the dry bed of a
+watercourse some stones were dislodged and fell with a rattle in the
+stillness of the night; he bore away to the left. A moment later there
+was Something nearly at his left elbow, and he smelt again the nameless,
+f[oe]tid reek. He doubled, and the ghastly truth flashed upon him. The
+Thing was playing with him! He was being hunted for sport--the sport of
+a horror unthinkable. The sweat ran down into his eyes.
+
+He lost all count of time; his wrist watch was smashed on his wrist. He
+ran through a reeling eternity, sobbing for breath, stumbling, tripping,
+fighting a leaden weariness; and ever the same unreasoning terror urged
+him on. The moon and ragged skyline swam about him; the blood drummed
+deafeningly in his ears, and his eyeballs felt as if they would burst
+from their sockets. He had nearly bitten his swollen tongue in two
+falling over an unseen peat-cutting, and blood-flecked foam gathered on
+his lips.
+
+God, how he ran! But he was no longer among bog and heather. He was
+running--shambling now--along a road. The loping pursuit of that
+nameless, shapeless Something sounded like an echo in his head.
+
+He was nearing a village, but saw nothing save a red mist that swam
+before him like a fog. The road underfoot seemed to rise and fall in
+wavelike undulations. Still he ran, with sobbing gasps and limbs that
+swerved under his weight; at his elbow hung death unnamable, and the
+fear of it urged him on while every instinct of his exhausted body
+called out to him to fling up his hands and end it.
+
+Out of the mist ahead rose the rough outline of a building by the
+roadside; it was the village smithy, half workshop, half dwelling. The
+road here skirted a patch of grass, and the moonlight, glistening on the
+dew, showed the dark circular scars of the turf where, for a generation,
+the smith's peat fires had heated the great iron hoops that tyred the
+wheels of the wains. One of these was even then lying on the ground with
+the turves placed in readiness for firing in the morning, and in the
+throbbing darkness of Maynard's consciousness a voice seemed to speak
+faintly--the voice of a girl:
+
+"_There's a Thing that hunts people to death. But iron--cold iron--it
+cannot cross._"
+
+The sweat of death was already on his brow as he reeled sideways,
+plunging blindly across the uneven tufts of grass. His feet caught in
+some obstruction and he pitched forward into the sanctuary of the huge
+iron tyre--a spasm of cramp twisting his limbs up under him.
+
+As he fell a great blackness rose around him, and with it the bewildered
+clamour of awakened dogs.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dr. Stanmore came down the flagged path from the smith's cottage,
+pulling on his gloves. A big car was passing slowly up the village
+street, and as it came abreast the smithy the doctor raised his hat.
+
+The car stopped, and the driver, a fair-haired girl, leant sideways from
+her seat.
+
+"Good-morning, Dr. Stanmore! What's the matter here? Nothing wrong with
+any of Matthew's children, is there?"
+
+The Doctor shook his head gravely.
+
+"No, Lady Dorothy; they're all at school. This is no one belonging to
+the family--a stranger who was taken mysteriously ill last night just
+outside the forge, and they brought him in. It's a most queer case, and
+very difficult to diagnose--that is to say, to give a diagnosis in
+keeping with one's professional--er--conscience."
+
+The girl switched off the engine, and took her hand from the
+brake-lever. Something in the doctor's manner arrested her interest.
+
+"What is the matter with him?" she queried. "What diagnosis have you
+made, professional or otherwise?"
+
+"Shock, Lady Dorothy; severe exhaustion and shock, heart strained,
+superficial lesions, bruises, scratches, and so forth. Mentally he is in
+a great state of excitement and terror, lapsing into delirium at
+times--that is really the most serious feature. In fact, unless I can
+calm him I am afraid we may have some brain trouble on top of the other
+thing. It's most mysterious!"
+
+The girl nodded gravely, holding her underlip between her white teeth.
+
+"What does he look like--in appearance, I mean? Is he young?"
+
+The shadow of a smile crossed the doctor's eyes.
+
+"Yes, Lady Dorothy--quite young, and very good-looking. He is a man of
+remarkable athletic build. He is calmer now, and I have left Matthew's
+wife with him while I slip out to see a couple of other patients."
+
+Lady Dorothy rose from her seat and stepped down out of the car.
+
+"I think I know your patient," she said. "In fact, I had taken the car
+to look for him, to ask him to lunch with us. Do you think I might see
+him for a minute? If it is the person I think it is I may be able to
+help you diagnose his illness."
+
+Together they walked up the path and entered the cottage. The doctor led
+the way upstairs and opened a door. A woman sitting by the bed rose and
+dropped a curtsey.
+
+Lady Dorothy smiled a greeting to her and crossed over to the bed.
+There, his face grey and drawn with exhaustion, with shadows round his
+closed eyes, lay Maynard; one hand lying on the counterpane opened and
+closed convulsively, his lips moved. The physician eyed the girl
+interrogatively.
+
+"Do you know him?" he asked.
+
+She nodded, and put her firm, cool hand over the twitching fingers.
+
+"Yes," she said. "And I warned him. Tell me, is he very ill?"
+
+"He requires rest, careful nursing, absolute quiet----"
+
+"All that he can have at the Manor," said the girl softly. She met the
+doctor's eyes and looked away, a faint colour tingeing her cheeks. "Will
+you go and telephone to father? I will take him back in the car now if
+he is well enough to be moved."
+
+"Yes, he is well enough to be moved," said the doctor. "It is very kind
+of you, Lady Dorothy, and I will go and telephone at once. Will you stay
+with him for a little while?"
+
+He left the room, and they heard his feet go down the narrow stairs. The
+cottage door opened and closed.
+
+The two women, the old and the young, peasant and peer's daughter,
+looked at each other, and there was in their glance that complete
+understanding which can only exist between women.
+
+"Do 'ee mind old Jarge Toms, my lady?"
+
+Lady Dorothy nodded.
+
+"I know, I know! And I warned him! They won't believe, these men! They
+think because they are so big and strong that there is nothing that can
+hurt them."
+
+"'Twas th' iron that saved un, my lady. 'Twas inside one of John's new
+tyres as was lyin' on the ground that us found un. Dogs barkin' wakened
+us up. But it'd ha' had un, else----" A sound downstairs sent her flying
+to the door. "'Tis the kettle, my lady. John's dinner spilin', an' I
+forgettin'."
+
+She hurried out of the room and closed the door.
+
+The sound of their voices seemed to have roused the occupant of the bed.
+His eyelids fluttered and opened; his eyes rested full on the girl's
+face. For a moment there was no consciousness in their gaze; then a
+whimsical ghost of a smile crept about his mouth.
+
+"Go on," he said in a weak voice. "Say it!"
+
+"Say what?" asked Lady Dorothy. She was suddenly aware that her hand was
+still on his, but the twitching fingers had closed about hers in a calm,
+firm grasp.
+
+"Say 'I told you so'!"
+
+She shook her head with a little smile.
+
+"I told you that cold iron----"
+
+"Cold iron saved me." He told her of the iron hoop on the ground outside
+the forge. "You saved me last night."
+
+She disengaged her hand gently.
+
+"I saved you last night--since you say so. But in future----"
+
+Someone was coming up the stairs. Maynard met her eyes with a long look.
+
+"I have no fear," he said. "I have found something better than cold
+iron."
+
+The door opened and the doctor came in. He glanced at Maynard's face and
+touched his pulse.
+
+"The case is yours, Lady Dorothy!" he said with a little bow.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+THE TRAGEDY AT THE "LOUP NOIR"
+
+
+The Boy at the corner of the table flicked the ash of his cigar into the
+fire.
+
+"Spiritualism is all rot!" he declared.
+
+"I don't know," the Host reflected thoughtfully. "One hears queer
+stories sometimes."
+
+"Which reminds me----" started the Bore.
+
+But before he could proceed any further the little French Judge
+ruthlessly cut him short.
+
+"Bah!" Contempt and geniality were mingled in his tone. "Who are we,
+poor ignorant worms, that we should dare to say 'is' or 'is not'? Your
+Shakespeare, he was right! 'There are more things in heaven and earth,
+Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy!'"
+
+The faces of the four Englishmen instantly assumed that peculiarly
+stolid expression always called forth by the mention of Shakespeare.
+
+"But Spiritualism----" started the Host.
+
+Again the little French Judge broke in:
+
+"I who you speak, I myself know of an experience, of the most
+remarkable, to this day unexplained save by Spiritualism, Occultism,
+what you will! You shall hear! The case is one I conducted
+professionally some two years ago, though, of course, the events which I
+now tell in their proper sequence, came out only in the trial. I string
+them together for you, yes?"
+
+The Bore, who fiercely resented any stories except his own, gave vent to
+a discontented grunt; the other three prepared to listen carefully. From
+the drawing-room, whither the ladies had retired after dinner, sounded
+the far-away strains of a piano. The little French Judge held out his
+glass for a creme de menthe; his eyes were sparkling with suppressed
+excitement; he gazed deep into the shining green liquid as if seeing
+therein a moving panorama of pictures, then he began:
+
+On a dusky autumn evening, a young man, tall, olive-skinned, tramps
+along the road leading from Paris to Longchamps. He is walking with a
+quick, even swing. Now and again a hidden anxiety darkens his face.
+
+Suddenly he branches off to the left; the path here is steep and muddy.
+He stops in front of a blurred circle of yellow light; by this can one
+faintly perceive the outlines of a building. Above the narrow doorway
+hangs a creaking sign which announces to all it may concern that this is
+the "Loup Noir," much sought after for its nearness to the racecourse
+and for its excellent _menage_.
+
+"_Voila!_" mutters our friend.
+
+On entering, he is met by the burly innkeeper, a shrewd enough fellow,
+who has seen something of life before settling down in Longchamps. The
+young man glances past him as if seeking some other face, then
+recollecting himself demands shelter for the night.
+
+"I greatly fear----" began the innkeeper, then pauses, struck by an
+idea. "Hola, Gaston! Have monsieur and madame from number fourteen yet
+departed?"
+
+"Yes, monsieur; already early this morning; you were at the market, so
+Mademoiselle settled the bill."
+
+"Mademoiselle Jehane?" the stranger looks up sharply.
+
+"My niece, monsieur; you have perhaps heard of her, for I see by your
+easel you are an artist. She is supposed to be of a rare beauty; I think
+it myself." Jean Potin keeps up a running flow of talk as he conducts
+his visitor down the long bare passages, past blistered yellow doors.
+
+"It is a double room I must give you, vacated, as you heard, but this
+very morning. They were going to stay longer, Monsieur and Madame
+Guillaumet, but of a sudden she changed her mind. Oh, she was of a
+temper!" Potin raises expressive eyes heavenwards. "It is ever so when
+May weds with December."
+
+"He was much older than his wife, then?" queries the artist, politely
+feigning an interest he is far from feeling.
+
+"_Mais non, parbleu!_ It was she who was the older--by some fifteen
+years; and not a beauty. But rich--he knew what he was about, giving his
+smooth cheek for her smooth louis!"
+
+Left alone, Lou Arnaud proceeds to unpack his knapsack; he lingers over
+it as long as possible; the task awaiting him below is no pleasant one.
+Finally he descends. The small smoky _salle a manger_ is full of people.
+There is much talk and laughter going on; the clatter of knives and
+forks. At the desk near the door, a young girl is busy with the
+accounts. Her very pale gold hair, parted and drawn loosely back over
+the ears, casts a faint shadow on her pure, white skin. Arnaud, as he
+chooses a seat, looks at her critically.
+
+"Bah, she is insignificant!" he thinks. "What can have possessed
+Claude?"
+
+Suddenly she raises her eyes. They meet his in a long, steady gaze. Then
+once again the lids are lowered.
+
+The artist sets down his glass with a hand that shakes. He is not
+imaginative, as a rule, but when one sees the soul of a mocking devil
+look out, dark and compelling, from the face of a Madonna, one is
+disconcerted.
+
+He wonders no more what had possessed Claude. On his way to the door a
+few moments later, he pauses at her desk.
+
+"Monsieur wishes to order breakfast for to-morrow morning?"
+
+"Monsieur wishes to speak with you."
+
+She smiles demurely. Many have wished to speak with her. Arnaud divines
+her thoughts.
+
+"My name is Lou Arnaud!" he adds meaningly.
+
+"Ah!" she ponders on this for an instant; then: "It is a warm night; if
+you will seat yourself at one of the little tables in the courtyard at
+the back of the house, I will try to join you, when these pigs have
+finished feeding." She indicates with contempt the noisily eating crowd.
+
+They sit long at that table, for the man has much to tell of his young
+brother Claude; of the ruin she has made of his life; of the little
+green devils that lurk in a glass of absinthe, and clutch their victim,
+and drag him down deeper, ever deeper, into the great, green abyss.
+
+But she only laughs, this Jehane of the wanton eyes.
+
+"But what do you want from me? I have no need of this Claude. He
+wearies me--now!"
+
+Arnaud springs to his feet, catching her roughly by the wrist. He loves
+his young brother much. His voice is raised, attracting the notice of
+two or three groups who take coffee at the iron tables.
+
+"You had need of him once. You never left him in peace till you had
+sucked him of all that makes life good. If I could----"
+
+Jean Potin appears in the doorway.
+
+"Jehane, what are you doing out here? You know I do not permit it that
+you speak with the visitors. Pardon her, monsieur, she is but a child."
+
+"A child?" The artist's brow is black as thunder. "She has wrecked a
+life, this child you speak of!"
+
+He strides past the amazed innkeeper, up the narrow flight of stairs,
+and down the passage to his room.
+
+Sitting on the edge of the huge curtained four-poster bed, he ponders on
+the events of the evening.
+
+But his thoughts are not all of Claude. That girl--that girl with her
+pale face and her pale hair, and eyes the grey of a storm cloud before
+it breaks, she haunts him! Her soft murmuring voice has stolen into his
+brain; he hears it in the drip, drip of the rain on the sill outside.
+
+Soon heavy feet are heard trooping up the stairs; doors are heard to
+bang; cheery voices wish each other good-night. Then gradually the
+sounds die away. They keep early hours at the "Loup Noir"; it is not yet
+ten o'clock.
+
+Still Arnaud remains sitting on the edge of the bed; the dark plush
+canopy overhead repels him, he does not feel inclined for sleep.
+Jehane! what a picture she would make! He _must_ paint her!
+
+Obsessed by this idea, he unpacks a roll of canvas, spreads it on the
+tripod easel, and prepares crayons and charcoal; he will start the
+picture as soon as it is day. He will paint her as Circe, mocking at her
+grovelling herd of swine!
+
+He creeps into bed and falls asleep.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Softly the rain patters against the window-pane.
+
+A distant clock booms out eleven strokes.
+
+Lou Arnaud raises his head. Then noiselessly he slides out of bed on the
+chill wooden boarding. As in a trance he crosses the room, seizes
+charcoal, and feverishly works at the blank canvas on the easel.
+
+For twenty minutes his hand never falters, then the charcoal drops from
+his nerveless fingers! Groping his way with half-closed eyes back to the
+bed, he falls again into a heavy, dreamless slumber.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The early morning sun chases away the raindrops of the night before.
+Signs of activity are abroad in the inn; the swish of brooms; the noisy
+clatter of pails. A warm aroma of coffee floats up the stairs and under
+the door of number fourteen, awaking Arnaud to pleasant thoughts of
+breakfast. He is partly dressed before his eye lights on the canvas he
+had prepared.
+
+"_Nom de Dieu!_"
+
+He falls back against the wall, staring stupefied at the picture before
+him. It is the picture of a girl, crouching in a kneeling position, all
+the agony of death showing clearly in her upturned eyes. At her throat,
+cruelly, relentlessly doing their murderous work, are a pair of
+hands--ugly, podgy hands, but with what power behind them!
+
+The face is the face of Jehane--a distorted, terrified Jehane! Arnaud
+recoils, covering his eyes with his hands. Who could have drawn this
+unspeakable thing? He looks again closely; the style is his own! There
+is no mistaking those bold, black lines, that peculiar way of indicating
+muscle beneath the tightly stretched skin--it _is_ his own work!
+Anywhere would he have known it!
+
+A knock at the door! Jean Potin enters, radiating cheerfulness.
+
+"Breakfast in your room, monsieur? We are busy this morning; I share in
+the work. Permit me to move the table and the easel--_Sacre-bleu!_"
+
+Suddenly his rosy lips grow stern. "This is Jehane. Did she sit for
+you--and when? You only came last night. What devil's work is this?"
+
+"That is what I would like to find out; I know no more about it than you
+yourself. When I awoke this morning the picture was there!"
+
+"Did you draw it?" suspiciously.
+
+"Yes. At least, no! Yes, I suppose I did. But I----"
+
+Potin clenches his fist: "I will have the truth from the girl herself!
+There is something here I do not like!" Roughly he pushes past the
+artist and mounts to Jehane's room.
+
+She is not there, neither is she at her desk. Nor yet down in the
+village. They search everywhere; there is a hue and cry; people rush to
+and fro.
+
+Then suddenly a shout; and a silence, a dreadful silence.
+
+Something is carried slowly into the "Loup Noir." Something that was
+found huddled up in the shadow of the wall that borders the courtyard.
+Something with ugly purple patches on the white throat.
+
+It is Jehane, and she is dead; strangled by a pair of hands that came
+from behind.
+
+The story of the picture is rapidly passed from mouth to mouth. People
+look strangely at Lou Arnaud; they remember his loud, strained voice and
+threatening gestures on the preceding night.
+
+Finally he is arrested on the charge of murder.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I was the judge, gentlemen, on the occasion of the Arnaud trial.
+
+The prisoner is questioned about the picture. He knows nothing; can tell
+nothing of how it came there. His fellow-artists testify to its being
+his work. From them also leaks out the tale of his brother Claude, of
+the latter's infatuation and ruin. No need now to explain the quarrel in
+the courtyard. The accused has good reason to hate the dead girl.
+
+The Avocat for the defence does his best. The picture is produced in
+court; it creates a sensation.
+
+If only Lou Arnaud could complete it--could sketch in the owner of those
+merciless hands. He is handed the charcoal; again and again he tries--in
+vain.
+
+The hands are not his own; but that is a small point in his favour. Why
+should he have incriminated himself by drawing his own hands? But again,
+why should he have drawn the picture at all?
+
+There is nobody else on whom falls a shadow of suspicion. I sum up
+impartially. The jury convict on circumstantial evidence, and I sentence
+the prisoner to death.
+
+A short time must elapse between the sentence and carrying it into
+force. The Avocat for the defence obtains for the prisoner a slight
+concession; he may have picture and charcoal in his cell. Perhaps he can
+yet free himself from the web which has inmeshed him!
+
+Arnaud tries to blot out thought by sketching in and erasing again
+fanciful figures twisted into a peculiar position; he cannot adjust the
+pose of the unknown murderer. So in despair he gives it up.
+
+One morning, three days before the execution, the innkeeper comes to
+visit him and finds him lying face downwards on the narrow pallet.
+Despite his own grief, he is sorry for the young man; nor is he
+convinced in his shrewd bourgeois mind of the latter's guilt.
+
+"You _must_ draw in the second figure," he repeats again and again. "It
+is your last, your only chance! Think of the faces you saw at the 'Loup
+Noir.' Do none of them recall anything to you? You quarrelled with
+Jehane in the garden about your brother. Then you went to your room. Oh,
+what did you think in your room?"
+
+"I thought of your niece," responds Arnaud wildly. "How very beautiful
+she was, and what a model she would make. Then I prepared a blank
+canvas for the morning, and went to bed. When I woke up the picture was
+there."
+
+"And you remember nothing more--nothing at all?" insists Jean Potin.
+"You fell asleep at once? You heard no sound?"
+
+Against the barred window of the cell the rain patters softly. A distant
+clock booms out eleven strokes.
+
+Something in the artist's brain seems to snap. He raises his head. He
+slides from the bed. As in a trance he crosses the cell, seizes a piece
+of charcoal, and feverishly works at the picture on the easel!
+
+Not daring to speak, Jean Potin watches him. The figure behind the hands
+grows and grows beneath Arnaud's fingers.
+
+A woman's figure!
+
+Then the face: a coarse, malignant face, distorted by evil passions.
+
+"Ah!"
+
+It is a cry of recognition from the breathless innkeeper. It breaks the
+spell. The charcoal drops, and the prisoner, passing his hand across his
+eyes, gazes bewildered at his own work.
+
+"Who? What?"
+
+"But I know her! It is the woman in whose room you slept! She was
+staying at the 'Loup Noir' the very night before you arrived, and she
+left that morning. She and her husband, Monsieur Guillaumet. But it is
+incredible if _she_ should have----"
+
+I will be short with you, gentlemen. Madame Guillaumet was traced to her
+flat in Paris. Arnaud's Avocat confronted her with the now completed
+picture. She was confounded--babbled like a mad woman--confessed!
+
+A reprieve for further inquiry was granted by the State. Finally Arnaud
+was cleared, and allowed to go free.
+
+The motive for the murder? A woman's jealousy. Monsieur and Madame
+Guillaumet had been married only ten months. Her age was forty-nine; his
+twenty-seven. Every second of their married life was to her weighted
+with intolerable suspicions; how soon would this young husband, so dear
+to her, forsake her for another, now that his debts were paid? It preyed
+upon her mind, distorting it, unbalancing it; each glance, each movement
+of his she exaggerated into an intrigue.
+
+On their way to Paris they stayed a few days at the "Loup Noir"; Charles
+Guillaumet was interested in racing. Also, he became interested in a
+certain Mdlle. Jehane. Madame, quick to see, insisted on an instant
+departure.
+
+The evening of the day of their departure she missed her husband, and
+found he had taken the car. Where should he have gone? Back to the inn,
+of course, only half-an-hour's run from Paris. She hired another car and
+followed him, driving it herself. It was not a pleasant journey. The
+first car she discovered forsaken, about half-a-mile distant from the
+inn. Her own car she left beside it, and trudged the remaining distance
+on foot.
+
+The rest was easy.
+
+Finding no sign of Guillaumet in front of the house, she stole round to
+the back. There she found a door in the wall of the courtyard--a door
+that led into the lane. That door was slightly ajar. She slipped in and
+crouched down in the shadow.
+
+Yes, there they were, her husband and Jehane; the latter was laughing,
+luring him on--and she was young; oh, so young!
+
+The woman watched, fascinated.
+
+Charles bade Jehane good-bye, promising to come again. He kissed her
+tenderly, passed through the gate; his steps were heard muffled along
+the lane.
+
+Jehane blew him a kiss, and then fastened the little door.
+
+A distant clock boomed out eleven strokes, and a pair of hands stole
+round the girl's throat, burying themselves deep, deep in the white
+flesh.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"And the husband, was he an accessory after the fact?" inquired the Boy.
+
+"Possibly he guessed at the deed, yes; but, being a weakling, said
+nothing for fear of implicating himself. It wasn't proved."
+
+The Host moved uneasily in his chair.
+
+"Do you mean to tell me that the mystery of the picture has never been
+cleared up?" he asked. "Could Arnaud have actually seen the murder from
+his window, and fixed it on the canvas?"
+
+The little French Judge shook his head.
+
+"Did I not tell you that his window faced front?" he replied. "No, that
+point has not yet been explained. It is beyond us!"
+
+He made a sweeping gesture, knocking over his liqueur glass; it fell
+with a crash on the parquet floor.
+
+The Bore woke with a start.
+
+"And did they marry?" he queried.
+
+"Who should marry?"
+
+"That artist-chap and the girl--what was her name?--Jehane."
+
+"Monsieur," quoth the little French Judge very gently and ironically, "I
+grieve to state that was impossible, Jehane being dead."
+
+The Boy at the corner of the table stood up and threw the stump of his
+cigar into the fire.
+
+"I think Spiritualism is all rot!" he declared.
+
+
+
+
+ MILLER, SON, & COMPY., LIMITED,
+            PRINTERS,
+       FAKENHAM AND LONDON.
+
+
+
+
+SOME NOTABLE SIXPENNY BOOKS
+
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+volumes for 2s. 5d., or six for 3s. 6d. from THE PUBLISHER, 17,
+Henrietta Street, London, W.C.
+
+
+THE MYSTERIES OF MODERN LONDON.
+
+                          By GEORGE R. SIMS,
+                _Author of "The Devil in London," &c._
+
+    "Full of fascinating interest and romance. Those who are interested
+    in the curious will find here much that is piquant and
+    stimulating."--_Daily News._
+
+    "Is as fascinating as its title and its author's name would lead one
+    to expect."--_T.P.'s Weekly._
+
+
+SEVENTY YEARS A SHOWMAN
+
+          MY ADVENTURES IN CAMP AND CARAVAN THE WORLD OVER.
+                       By "LORD" GEORGE SANGER.
+                            _Illustrated._
+
+    In this volume the famous Showman relates many exciting experiences
+    of his early days on the road, and recalls the trials and triumphs
+    of a career more interesting than many a work of fiction.
+
+
+QUEENS OF FRAILTY
+
+                      By C. L. MCCLUER STEVENS,
+            Author of "The Secret History of the Mormons."
+                     Illustrated picture wrapper.
+
+    This volume contains biographies of the following famous women: Nell
+    Gwyn, the Marchioness of Brinvilliers, the wicked Countess of
+    Shrewsbury, the Duchess of Kendal (the Maypole Duchess), Hannah
+    Lightfoot, Elizabeth Chudleigh (the bigamous Duchess), Jeanne de
+    Valois, Lady Hamilton, Jeanne du Barry, Mary Ann Clarke, the Lady
+    with the Camelias, Lola Montez, Cora Pearl, Adah Menken.
+
+
+THE SECRET HISTORY OF THE MORMONS
+
+              A TRUE NARRATIVE OF THE MOST EXTRAORDINARY
+                 RELIGIOUS IMPOSTURE OF MODERN TIMES.
+                      By C. L. MCCLUER STEVENS.
+
+
+FIFTY YEARS A FIGHTER
+
+                     THE LIFE STORY OF JEM MACE.
+                 (_Formerly Champion of the World._)
+                           TOLD BY HIMSELF.
+                            _Illustrated._
+
+    A record of the last of the old prizefighters, who fought to a
+    finish many battles in the old prize ring. A list of the notorious
+    champions Mace met and vanquished would fill many pages, but he has
+    here set on record the romance of as wonderful a life as was ever
+    lived.
+
+
+CONFESSIONS OF A POACHER
+
+                            By J. CONNELL.
+                 _With Illustrations by S. T. DADD._
+
+    _Field_: "The book is very remarkable, instructive in its
+    disclosures of the dubious ways of poachers, and an intending reader
+    cannot but be interested and amused."
+
+
+
+
+_BOOKS TO MAKE US MERRY_
+
+PRICE 1/- each net. (Postage, 3d. extra.)
+
+_In stiff pictorial paper boards._
+
+
+THE AMUSEMENT SERIES.
+
+AFTER-DINNER SLEIGHTS. By LANG NEIL. With many Photographs, showing
+tricks in actual operation.
+
+CARD TRICKS WITHOUT SLEIGHT OF HAND OR APPARATUS. By L. WIDDOP.
+Illustrated.
+
+CONJURING WITH COINS. Including Tricks by NELSON DOWNS and other Eminent
+Performers. Fully Illustrated with Photographs and Diagrams.
+
+FUN ON THE BILLIARD TABLE. A Collection of 75 Amusing Tricks. By
+STANCLIFFE. With Photographs.
+
+HAND SHADOWS. The Complete Art of Shadowgraphy. By LOUIS NIKOLA. Fully
+Illustrated.
+
+INDOOR GAMES FOR CHILDREN AND YOUNG PEOPLE. Edited by E. M. BAKER.
+Illustrated.
+
+MODERN CARD MANIPULATION. By C. LANG NEIL. Enlarged Edition. With many
+Photographs, showing Tricks in operation.
+
+THE NEW BOOK OF PUZZLES. Up-to-date and original. By A. CYRIL PEARSON.
+With upwards of 100 Illustrations.
+
+THE PEARSON PUZZLE BOOK. A Collection of over 100 of the Best Puzzles.
+Edited by J. K. BENSON.
+
+PEARSON'S BOOK OF FUN, MIRTH AND MYSTERY. Edited by Mr. X.
+
+PEARSON'S HUMOROUS RECITER AND READER.
+
+PLAYS FOR AMATEUR ACTORS. Containing Nine Original Plays. Six for
+Adults, two for Children, and one for Scouts.
+
+PLAYS AND DISPLAYS FOR SCOUT ENTERTAINMENTS. This volume contains six
+long plays, also several shorter plays, and recitations.
+
+PRACTICE STROKES AT BILLIARDS. For Tables of all Sizes. From the Match
+Play of John Roberts and other leading players.
+
+RECITATIONS FOR CHILDREN. Selected by JEAN BELFRAGE. With Three Original
+Plays for Children.
+
+SIMPLE CONJURING TRICKS THAT ANYBODY CAN PERFORM. By WILL GOLDSTON.
+
+TRICKS FOR EVERYONE. By DAVID DEVANT. Illustrated with 134 Photographs.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Uncanny Tales, by Various
+
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