{"collection":"ritual-magic","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_77673/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_77673","id":"gutenberg_77673","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/77673","summary":null,"tags":["Fantasy fiction","Occultism -- Fiction"],"text":"AGAR HALFI THE MYSTIC\n\n\n                                   BY\n                              ROLAND FILKIN\n\n\n                                 LONDON\n                      WILLIAM RIDER & SON, LIMITED\n                          PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C.\n                                  1915\n\n\n\n\n                  Printed by +Ballantyne, Hanson & Co.+\n                   at the Ballantyne Press, Edinburgh\n\n\n\n\n                                CONTENTS\n\n\n                                                                    PAGE\n\n         PROLOGUE                                                      1\n\n   CHAP.\n\n      I. INTRODUCTORY                                                 17\n\n     II. THE MENACE AT SUNSET                                         23\n\n    III. A WOMAN\u2019S FEARS                                              36\n\n     IV. AT THE BREAK OF DAWN                                         46\n\n      V. STRANGE CONFIDENCES                                          56\n\n     VI. A SAINT AND A SINNER                                         65\n\n    VII. GRAVE SUSPICIONS                                             79\n\n   VIII. THE INVOLVING OF CONSTANCE ALLETSON                          87\n\n     IX. A LADY\u2019S GLOVE                                              105\n\n      X. \u201cHECTOR\u201d MANIFESTS ANTIPATHY                                114\n\n     XI. THE DISCOVERY                                               124\n\n    XII. A WARNING                                                   137\n\n   XIII. THE POWER OF THE MYSTIC                                     149\n\n    XIV. HERBERT CANNING, LONDON                                     167\n\n     XV. AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER                                     178\n\n    XVI. A PROBLEM TO UNRAVEL                                        189\n\n   XVII. THE ABBESS                                                  199\n\n  XVIII. FATE DEFIED                                                 211\n\n    XIX. HEART-SEARCHINGS                                            224\n\n     XX. THE DECISION OF THE \u201cCOMBINE\u201d                               231\n\n    XXI. HOW EAST RULES WEST                                         242\n\n   XXII. ALMOST A TRAGEDY!                                           254\n\n  XXIII. \u201cTHE WRITING ON THE WALL\u201d                                   274\n\n   XXIV. FAIL NOT, GREAT WIZARD!                                     288\n\n    XXV. \u201cI AM BUT AS THE DUST\u201d                                      298\n\n   XXVI. TILL THE STARS MEET                                         310\n\n  XXVII. AT LAST! OH BELOVED!                                        316\n\n\n\n\n                          AGAR HALFI THE MYSTIC\n\n                                PROLOGUE\n\n\nHugo Alexis Brentwood gave his assent to Agar Halfi, his right-hand\nman, to pitch their little camp by the side of the stream at the\nfoot of the mountain. Just for one moment, the Hindoo looked at his\nmaster with half-closed eyes; his consent had been merely a mechanical\ninclination of the head, and Agar Halfi was quite sure that the Sahib\nwas not listening.\n\nStill, it was sufficient; such matters were always left in his hands,\nand really it was more a matter of form than anything else that he had\nasked. So without more ado he swiftly gave his orders to the half-dozen\nservants and carriers, and then busied himself in superintending the\npreparations for the evening meal. That, to his mind, was an important\nthing, for no man could work unless he were properly fed.\n\nMeanwhile the leader of this small party leaned thoughtfully on his\nrifle and continued to gaze absently toward the western horizon, as\nthough fascinated by the vivid sunset. He was in reality reviewing the\npast eight years of his life, spent in rough travel, and contemplating\nwith some satisfaction the knowledge and experience which he had\nacquired thereby.\n\nWhen he left England, those who knew him best\u2014they were not\nmany\u2014regarded him as a man who, having given great promise as a\npsychologist, had discarded most Western theories, and side-tracked\ninto occultism; which of course, from a Western scientific point of\nview, was mere superstition. His colleagues had put it down to the\nEastern blood in him, concluding that his environment had not been\nstrong enough to overcome his hereditary traits of mysticism.\n\nBut their point of view did not trouble him greatly. He had drawn\nhis own conclusions, and having plenty of means at his disposal, had\ndecided to make research, and gather facts for himself. His measure of\nsuccess was more than he had hoped for; some of his theories he had\nproved up to the hilt; others had not been so satisfactory, but in any\ncase, he now knew that psychology as understood by Western thought was\na mere drop in the ocean, such a puny feeble creature, that it was a\nwonder it had any life at all.\n\nThus it was that at present he happened to be situated in wild\nAfghanistan, a country in which he had experienced many weird and\nstrange things, not always to be found even by those who seek them.\n\nAt the present time he was not many days\u2019 journey from the Persian\nborder; and when at Herat, he had heard a lot of whispered talk\nconcerning a cave in the mountains about forty miles further on. From\nwhat could be gathered, the place was stigmatised as haunted; but the\npeople spoke of it as if half afraid to do so, and the information he\ncould gather was meagre.\n\nIt appeared that at irregular intervals the lifeless bodies of people\nhad been found there. This in itself was sufficient to give the place\nan evil repute, but it could hardly have accounted for the firmly\nimplanted idea that the cave was under the influence of the Evil One.\nAll the bodies had been mutilated in the same manner. In each case the\nthroat had been torn as though with a sharp instrument; but the wound\nwas a jagged one, such as no known weapon could inflict! No doubt it\nwas this latter fact that caused the natives to condemn the cave as\nunder the spell of the supernatural. At any rate, that was all he could\nget to know, so he had determined to go a little out of his direct\ncourse and examine the place.\n\nIt was the crackling of the fire and the clink of tin pots that brought\nhim back to his present surroundings. It then immediately occurred to\nhim that Agar Halfi had asked for orders to pitch camp. Remembering\nthat, he turned his eyes to see what sort of a spot they were in, and\nafter a cursory glance, nodded with approval.\n\nThe position selected by the Hindoo was a good one, being sheltered on\ntwo sides by the rocky base of the mountain which formed a right-angle,\nand flanked on a third side by a stream which bubbled swiftly down to\nthe plains below in a northerly direction.\n\nSatisfied, he took up his glasses and carefully surveyed the rugged\nAfghan landscape. At length his eyes rested on a portion of it which\nseemed to be of particular interest, for he looked at it long and\nsteadily; then dropping his glasses, he gave a low exclamation of\nsatisfaction. There could not be much doubt that this was the place he\nhad set out to visit.\n\nHe was disturbed in his meditations by Agar Halfi informing him that\nsupper was ready. Yawning, he slung his rifle on his back and stretched\nhis tired limbs; then looking keenly at the wiry supple figure of the\nHindoo, said:\n\n\u201cAgar Halfi, to-night we will rest; to-morrow you and I will visit\nyonder cave, and if there is a demon there, we will exorcise him.\u201d\n\nHe laughed a little grimly as he spoke. He was barely thirty-five\nyears old, and had not yet reached that age when men do not talk too\nconfidently about those things which they have to tackle, however\ncertain they may be of the issue. But there was some excuse for his\nconfident tone. During his eight years\u2019 sojourn, he had nearly always\nbeen successful in clearing up to his own satisfaction\u2014if not always to\nthe satisfaction of those concerned\u2014the many weird cases that had come\nacross his path, and he did not think then that a day would dawn when\nhe would be baffled, and indeed narrowly escape with his life.\n\nAgar Halfi\u2014forty years if a day\u2014shook his head gravely, and did not\nreply immediately. He was a mystic of the Eastern school, and once\nhad been within the shadow of death, when probing too far into the\nmysteries of the underworld. There was a note of warning in his voice\nas he answered:\n\n\u201cMaybe, Sahib, we shall exorcise him, maybe not\u2014maybe he will exorcise\nus! Who knows?\u201d\n\nA slight smile flitted across the white man\u2019s handsome face at the\nOriental\u2019s quaint way of rebuking him, but it died almost immediately\nas on second thoughts he replied:\n\n\u201cTrue, my friend, you did well to chide me for my self-assurance. It\nis time experience of these things had taught me not to speak lightly\nof them. Still, let us eat and drink, then rest, or we shall be no\nmore fit physically to do battle with this evil thing, than these poor\nnatives are mentally.\u201d\n\nSaying which, he led the way to their rough repast, which they made\nmostly in silence, excepting for occasional question and answer\nregarding their equipment, their stores, and things in general.\nWhen they had finished, the explorer brought out a pipe, which he\ncarefully filled, and lying back on his elbow, began to smoke. The\nHindoo, who did not indulge in the narcotic weed, rose and went on his\nusual evening mission to see that all was well for the night. When he\nreturned, he piled fresh fuel on the fire, and squatting down\u2014Eastern\nfashion\u2014sat staring at the flames.\n\nBrentwood, smoking retrospectively, watched him lazily for a time. At\nlast he knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and stifling a yawn remarked:\n\n\u201cThe worst of this sort of case is, that one can get so little\ninformation\u2014has to take so much on trust.\u201d\n\nWithout moving his eyes from the fire, the Oriental replied:\n\n\u201cThat is true, Sahib\u2014the fact is, ignorance strikes terror into the\nhearts of these poor devils, and they think that if they speak too\nloudly, or say too much, the hobgoblin will lay in wait for them.\u201d\n\n\u201cUnfortunately that is so,\u201d answered his companion. \u201cAlso\nunfortunately, it has been the means of putting us more than once into\na very tight corner.\u201d\n\nThe Hindoo grunted emphatically. \u201cA man can only die once, Sahib, and\nhe will not die until his time comes.\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue, my friend, but he can precipitate his end by acting rashly.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlso true, Sahib, but then, his time has come,\u201d replied Agar Halfi\nwith finality.\n\nBrentwood yawned again; he was too tired to argue upon those lines, so\ngetting his blanket, he rolled himself up, and with a lazy \u201cgood-night\u201d\nprepared to settle down.\n\nBut sleep did not come to his tired eyes; his active brain would not\nrest, and try as he would, he could not shake off a dim feeling of\ndepression. At last he raised himself on his elbow, and looking across\nthe fire at the set face of his companion, said:\n\n\u201cWhat do you make of this cave business, Agar Halfi?\u201d\n\nThe Hindoo, who had not moved since he sat down, raised his head\nmechanically, and looked at the speaker with vacant eyes. He had the\nblank expression of the somnambulist, whose mind\u2014occupied with the\ninternal workings of the brain\u2014is dead to external influences. At\nlength the light broke into his eyes, just as if his soul\u2014being at a\ndistance\u2014had heard a call, and returned swiftly to its house of clay.\n\n\u201cAh, Sahib, the time is inopportune; evil directions of the stars work\nagainst you, and, as I said when at Herat, we should have done well to\nhave forgotten this place.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are pessimistic,\u201d replied Brentwood, in a tone of slight\nirritation. \u201cEven if the stars are against us, it does not follow\nthat their rays are fatal or that we cannot overcome the trend of\ntheir influence. Surely, Agar Halfi, you are falling back to the old\nfatalistic fallacy of your people?\u201d\n\nThe Oriental\u2019s eyes flashed a little in the firelight, as he answered\nin his grave voice:\n\n\u201cNow for certain the Sahib knows that Agar Halfi is no fatalist; he\neradicated that doctrine from his soul long ago. But although the evil\ndirections of the stars may be overcome by the wise and the good, does\nmy friend think that the way to counteract them is deliberately to walk\ninto the danger zone?\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps I am over-confident,\u201d replied the other meditatively; \u201cbut\nthen I think differently to you. My English blood gives me thoughts of\nwhich you are unconscious. It is quite possible that one may enter the\ndanger zone and still overcome the opposing forces.\u201d\n\nThe Hindoo slowly shook his head. \u201cIs it wise to risk the jaws of the\ntiger, when you can kill him from a safe distance?\u201d\n\n\u201cStill, Agar Halfi, for better or worse we are here now, and we will\nmake a bold bid to uproot this mystery. Once again, what is your\nopinion about it?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat we shall not come to grips with it!\u201d he answered bluntly.\n\nAt this retort, Brentwood sat upright and stared surprisedly at his\ncompanion, who returned his look steadily.\n\n\u201cDo you mean that we shall not succeed in this matter?\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall be satisfied if we both escape with our lives!\u201d\n\nThe explorer looked at him closely for some time, and his face grew\nstern as the thought flashed through his mind that possibly the Hindoo\nwould like to shirk this task; but he discarded it almost as soon as it\nwas born, and said quietly:\n\n\u201cAgar Halfi, I have known you ever since I set foot in India over eight\nyears ago. Since then, we have travelled together constantly, and,\nduring that period, I have never known you to shrink once. Speak, what\nis in your mind?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou say, Sahib, that you have never known Agar Halfi to shrink once;\ntrue, neither will he shrink now; but he knows that there are forces\nat work here which are more powerful than the Sahib thinks, and\u2014well,\nfriend Brentwood, we are not Mahatmas.\u201d\n\nA grim smile turned up the corners of the white man\u2019s mouth.\n\n\u201cWell, suppose I take your advice and turn back now?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy waste words, Sahib? You know you will not turn back.\u201d\n\nBrentwood laughed in a low voice.\n\n\u201cThat is true, my friend\u2014I shall not turn back.\u201d\n\n\u201cNor will Agar Halfi,\u201d replied the other stolidly. \u201cWhere the Sahib\ngoes his friend and servant will go also. For he remembers that once,\nwhen fleeing from the wrath of the priests, into whose secrets he\nhad dared to look too deeply, a white man gave him refuge, food, and\nclothing, and saved his life. Some day, perhaps, Agar Halfi will repay\nthat debt\u2014who knows?\u201d\n\nA long silence followed the Hindoo\u2019s last remarks, and they both looked\nat the fire, neither desiring to speak. At length the Oriental raised\nhis hand, and said gravely:\n\n\u201cListen, Sahib, and I will tell you a legend of these mountains.\u201d\n\nBrentwood inclined his head in assent, and the Hindoo continued:\n\n\u201cFar away in the bygone past, there once lived a wizard, who practised\nhis rites under the shadow of one of the great Persian kings. This man\nwas a very wise and good one, who lived a clean, upright life, and\nalways strove to do his best to uplift the people of his country. So\ngreat was his power, and so well-beloved was he of the people, that\nthey said he was the far-famed Zoroaster come back to earth again.\n\n\u201cHe was strong and handsome, and though barely forty years of age, he\nhad guided the councils of the king for many years with his wisdom, and\nthey were close friends. But his life was not fated to be a smooth one,\nindeed it was to end in pitiful tragedy.\n\n\u201cNow there resided in the palace a sister of the king, who was a\nsorceress. Through her brother, she wished to rule the kingdom, and no\ndoubt would have done so but that the power of the wizard barred the\nway. Several times had she tried to thwart him, but her arts and spells\nwere impotent against the white magic which he used. She was evil as\nwell as beautiful, this sister of the king, and, in her great jealousy,\nshe determined to encompass the downfall of the one man who stood in\nthe way of her ambition.\n\n\u201cOne day she made excuse to her brother the king, saying that she\nwished to retire for a period from the court, in order to seek solitude\nto enable her to gain strength in the magical arts. She obtained his\nconsent, and for a whole month no one saw nor heard of her. What\nhappened during that period is not written, but when she came back she\nhad changed. There was more magnetism in her eye, more subtle power in\nher voice, and, what was more, she returned not alone! Dwelling in her\nprivate chamber which she used for magical ritual was a familiar demon,\nin the form of a huge vulture-like roc, that had evil gleaming eyes,\nand followed her about like a shadow. Such, Sahib, had been the fruits\nof her sojourn in the wilderness.\n\n\u201cWith the aid of the familiar, the sorceress found means to enforce her\nwicked will. She caused the wizard to fall in love with her, knowing\nthat thus she would deprive him of his control of powers which enabled\nhim to hold his high station. At first, being long estranged from\nthings of the flesh, he resisted the influence; but gradually the spell\nworked into his system, and at last he fell a victim to the passion she\nhad created in him.\n\n\u201cNow she knew that his doom was sealed, that she had him in her\ngrasp. Gradually his control left him, he lost his power and fell\ninto disgrace. Too late he realised that he had been duped. In the\nbitterness of his downfall he changed visibly; black evil rose up in\nhis heart, and he craved for revenge.\n\n\u201cBut in the midst of her triumph the sorceress was to taste the bitter\ncup. Unwittingly she had wrought her own ruin, for, in making the\nwizard fall in love with her, she had discovered too late that she\nreally and truly loved him. Now she could not undo the spell she had\nset in motion, and things must perforce take their course.\n\n\u201cOne night, longing to see him, she sent a message asking him to meet\nher alone. That was just what the man wanted\u2014an opportunity\u2014and while\nhe said he would come, he wondered at her rashness. They met, and so\ngreat was her passion for him, that she forgot all else; but revenge\nwas uppermost in the wizard\u2019s heart, and he strangled her. Then he fled\nacross the border to these mountains, where he knew he would be safe\nfrom the pursuit and vengeance of her brother the king. Safe indeed was\nhe on that score, but he reckoned without the power of the Evil One\nwith whom the sorceress had made the compact in the wilderness. The\nMaster of Evil had not cast his nets in vain.\n\n\u201cOne morning, just before the dawn, the wizard awoke in his cave, with\nthe uncomfortable feeling that he was not alone, that another presence\nwas near him. As he opened his eyes, he saw dimly outlined the shape of\na great bird, perched on one of the rocks, staring triumphantly at him\nwith malignant eyes.\n\n\u201cHe trembled with fear, for he realised now that his doom was sealed;\nthat his time had come. With a hoarse, chuckling shriek the monster\ndrew near to him. He tried to rise, but the power of the demon embodied\nin that dreadful shape held him terror-stricken. Nearer and nearer it\ndrew, its cruel merciless eyes gloating over the hideous work it was\nabout to perform.\n\n\u201cAt length it reached him. There was a terrible cry as of one in the\ndeath throes, followed by a horrid mocking laugh, and all was silent.\u201d\n\nAgar Halfi paused, then continued:\n\n\u201cSuch, Sahib, is the legend of these mountains, that has been handed\ndown in the mystic schools of the East, and it is said that the soul\nof the sorceress haunts the caves, seeking her lover. At these periods\nher familiar appears in the form of the roc, and kills human beings who\nare unfortunate enough to come within the zone of its evil influence.\nAnd this will go on, until sometime in the dim future\u2014as it is said\u2014the\nwizard will again come to earth, and slay the demon which was let\nloose from the world of darkness by the sorceress. Then, and not till\nthen, will these two unfortunates be released from their earth-bound\ncondition, and be able to unite once more on the higher planes of the\nspiritual spheres.\u201d\n\nBrentwood sat silent for a while, thinking, and the Hindoo relapsed\ninto himself again, his eyes fixed absently on the fire.\n\nWhen the explorer spoke it was in a subdued tone:\n\n\u201cThat sounds very much like the antics of the hobgoblin we have come to\nlay, Agar Halfi?\u201d\n\nThe Hindoo shrugged his shoulders, which was characteristic of him;\nbeyond that he gave no reply.\n\nAt length the explorer settled himself down once more, and this time he\nslept. Little did he know what would transpire before the sun rose over\nthe eastern rim. Far less did he guess that he would never set foot in\nthe cave he had come to explore, or of the manner in which they would\nmeet the hobgoblin they had set forth to lay.\n\nFor a time Agar Halfi sat motionless, staring into the flames. He\nwas far from easy. He knew that his companion was liable to a violent\nend from weird and unnatural causes, under the influence of the evil\ndirections from the planet Neptune, which were now beginning to operate\nin his life. Particularly was this so at the periods of the conjunction\nand opposition of the lights in the angles, and this very midnight they\nwould be conjoined in the north angle, below the earth!\n\nWhat could have possessed the Sahib that he should court danger at such\na period? He shook his head gloomily. It would have been well, as he\nhad said, if the explorer had forgotten the existence of this place.\nMoreover, he felt that a powerful influence was around, over which he\nhad no control, and there was something sinister in the atmosphere,\nlike the deadly silence that foreshadows the tropical storm.\n\nThe Hindoo had determined that sleep should not close his eyes that\nnight. He knew instinctively, as well as from experience, that evils\nof this kind struck at the moment when least expected, and that, when\nthe world was wrapped heaviest in sleep, just before the dawn. Yes, he\nwould remain on guard through the night, and prepare for an attack, as\nfar as he was able. To his mind there was no question that instead of\nbeing hunted, the evil\u2014whatever it was, and he had made a good guess as\nto that\u2014was going to hunt them! How far in his judgment he was wrong,\nsubsequent events will show.\n\nMoving quietly, he deftly drew the signet ring from the little finger\nof the sleeper\u2019s right hand, and, resuming his seat, began to slowly\nroll it between his palms, while, in a subdued voice, he chanted\nstrange words. With his eyes staring fixedly at the fire, he continued\nthis curious ritual for nearly fifteen minutes, and then, extracting a\nsmall packet from the bosom of his garment, he carefully emptied some\nof the contents into the fire.\n\nFor some seconds a thin, straight column of dark green smoke ascended\ninto the air. Then it burst into lurid flame, the tongues of which\ndarted fiercely outward, enveloping the man in a blaze of light. Agar\nHalfi never moved, but continued to chant in a monotonous tone, still\nrolling the ring in his hands. Gradually the flames sank back, and the\nfire resumed its normal proportions. Then, and not till then, did he\ncease his ritual.\n\nFor a moment he glanced at his sleeping companion, then stealthily\nreplaced the ring without disturbing him. Building up the fire afresh,\nhe had one look around to see that all was right, and settled down to\nhis night watch.\n\nHow long Agar Halfi sat thus he did not know; for the very thing\nhappened which he had determined to prevent\u2014he slept. The next thing he\nremembered was being wide awake, staring into the darkness. The fire\nhad sunk low, and it must have been somewhere near the dawn.\n\nHe had a dim idea that some sound had awakened him, and while he sat\ntrying to recollect it, his eyes rested on the sleeping form of the\nexplorer. He looked at him mechanically for a moment, then suddenly he\nnoticed that his face was not a natural colour; it had a pale, greyish\nhue, and the features were drawn as though in suffering.\n\nThe Hindoo moved, with the intention of rising and going over to\nexamine him; there was something which was not quite as it should be.\nHe had, however, hardly reached his feet when a horrible chuckling\nsound, which made his flesh creep, caused him to turn quickly, his\nhand on his yataghan. Nothing? He could have sworn that he saw a huge\ndark shadow receding into the night. He looked keenly into the gloom,\ntrying to follow it, when once more that uncanny sound caught his ear,\ncausing his gorge to rise, and this time it subconsciously awoke some\ndim memory in his mind. But that had no time to come to the surface,\nfor immediate action was required. The cry came again as if from behind\nhim. He faced around, and this time there could not be any doubt about\nit; a monstrous shape was hovering over the sleeping white man, who lay\nwith his left arm outstretched, as if to ward something off, and his\nright hand firmly grasping his throat, while a look of intense horror\ntransfixed his countenance.\n\nAgar Halfi stood as though paralysed, his eyes riveted on the scene,\nand great drops of perspiration broke out all over him. Surely, he\nthought, the evil death is upon us? Then a faint hope began to filter\ninto his mind\u2014the Fire Charm which he had wrought! Ah, but would it\navail? He could only wait in mute agony and see, some unknown force\nheld him impotent; he could not move.\n\nLook! A great shadowy beak, beneath two awful orbs, was slowly\ndrawing near to the explorer\u2019s throat. The Hindoo shook in his fear,\nas he helplessly waited for the end. He had resigned himself to the\ninevitable, when once again that horrible chuckle smote his ear, this\ntime swelling into a hideous screech, half-laugh, of baffled rage,\ndying away into a plaintive wail.\n\nThen the spell broke; the shadowy shape seemed to melt into thin air.\nWith shaking limbs Agar Halfi stepped across the dying fire, and,\ndropping on his knees, gazed into the death-like features of his\ncompanion. He moved the right hand from the unconscious man\u2019s throat,\nand started back in amazement. Across it was a jagged blood-red line,\nbut no blood flowed from it. Surely, thought the Hindoo, this is the\nevil of the legend! And as he gazed horror-stricken, the first faint\nshafts of sunlight heralded the coming dawn.\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAPTER I\n\n                              INTRODUCTORY\n\n\n  There are villages like flowers in the combes of Somerset,\n    There life moves in ordered measure like an old-world minuet,\n  Life replete with scented blossoms, honest work and well-earned rest,\n    With the inn where you may tarry when the sun sinks to the west.\n  And there\u2019s one where I would linger, near the pilgrim path to Wells,\n    For its name is like a poem set to song\u2014the \u201cRing of Bells.\u201d\n\n  On a bench near the doorway you may watch the dreamy dusk\n    Fall on gardens sweet with roses, lady-lilies, stocks and musk,\n  You can hear the cows\u2019 home-coming and the dogs far down the lane,\n    And the evensong of thrushes, or the lisping speech of rain,\n  While the cider laughs alluring with its piquant apple smells,\n    As you drink to teeming orchards clustering round the \u201cRing of Bells.\u201d\n\n  In a valley fair as this is \u2019twere no hardship to grow old,\n    Mellowing as an apple mellows, homing like the sheep to fold,\n  With the deep peace of the valley like balm upon the soul,\n    With the faith that earth awakens ripening as the seasons roll.\n  For \u2019mid beauty Death comes softly, like the tale that autumn tells,\n    Like a song with finished cadence, like the last soft Ring of Bells.\n\n                                          +Rose E. Sharland+,\n                                   _At the Sign of the \u201cRing of Bells.\u201d_\n\nFar away down the Bristol Channel, lying snugly under the north-west\nwing of an ever-growing seaside resort, is an ancient rustic village,\nwhich for centuries has slept, deep in the valley between the hills\nand the western sea.\n\nCut off from the inland by a fine range of hills, which, sweeping round\nfrom the north almost in a semicircle, also encloses the great town\nof Westsea, this quiet village of Worlstoke dreams on in its rural\nsimplicity.\n\nAlthough so near such a busy centre\u2014it is only separated from Westsea\nby three miles of hilly woods\u2014Worlstoke would lie practically\nundisturbed, but for the few visitors who, deserting the more exciting\npleasures of a seaside town, walk to it through the shady paths of the\nWestsea Woods.\n\nAnd there, after partaking of tea at one of the cottages, nearly all\nwho wander that way visit the tiny, picturesque church, with its\nsquarely-built, eleventh-century Norman tower; and, if so inclined\u2014and\nthe door is open\u2014climb up the narrow stone steps to the belfry, thence\nto the roof, and revel in the glorious view to be obtained there.\n\nTo the west lies the mysterious sea, stretching across to Cardiff\nand Barry, while south-west it rolls away down the channel in an\never-increasing flood to the Atlantic Ocean. To the south, over the\ntops of the trees which form the great woods, the church spires of\nWestsea are just discernible, and to the north stands out the little\nheadland which, running down to the sea, forms the northern portion of\nthe bay in which the village lies.\n\nAbout a stone\u2019s-throw further down the main road, and on the opposite\nside to the church, are some broad steps, rough-hewn out of the rock.\nThese ascend to the brow of that portion of the hill forming the end\nof the woods, and are continued by a path which leads down the other\nside, to the hamlet of Storton.\n\nThey are known as the \u201cMonks\u2019 Steps,\u201d and it is said that in the years\ngone by the fathers used this rough road from Storton to Worlstoke to\nbring their dead for burial.\n\nThe steps are many in number and uneven; but the climb up them, though\ntoilsome, is worth the trouble, if only for the truly magnificent view\nof the surrounding country which is obtainable at the top.\n\nTo the north, directly at one\u2019s feet, is a green and fertile valley,\nstretching right up to the base of the barricading hills, the one end\nof which fades away in a misty blue, not far from a great seaport town\nabout twenty miles away.\n\nFor miles and miles this range of hills runs in a great semicircle,\nand at last sweeps down to the sea by a small bay, just below Westsea.\nAnd there, looking white and beautiful, lies, in panoramic view, this\npopular seaside resort, as though in the grasp of a giant hand.\n\nBut the church and the \u201cMonks\u2019 Steps\u201d are not the only items of\ninterest at Worlstoke. If visitors care to take the north road running\non a level with the seashore, half an hour\u2019s walk will bring them to\nall that remains of the old priory of Melsea.\n\nThe tower is the only part now left of the original priory, but it will\nwell repay those who take the trouble to inspect it.\n\nOther parts of the building are now modernised, and used as a farm, but\nthere is sufficient interest in the surroundings to justify the walk.\n\nIt was in this priory that the monks mentioned above used to flourish,\nfrom about the eleventh to the fifteenth century. Rumour has it that\nthey had communication with Worlstoke church by means of an underground\npassage, though no trace of such a thing has ever been brought to light.\n\nNow it happened that one sunny Sunday morning, in the spring of 19\u2014,\nthe population of this almost hidden village received a shock, so\nsudden and so unexpected, that it not only for some time afterwards\nawoke the inhabitants out of their lethargic dreamings, but brought the\neyes of the surrounding districts to bear upon the place.\n\nThe shock was caused by the disappearance of the Vicar, the Rev. Henry\nThornton! It was \u201cJarge\u201d Wride, the milkman, who brought the first news\non his way from the Vicarage. As he said to the next customer he called\non:\n\n\u201cMrs. Galsby\u201d (Mr. Thornton\u2019s housekeeper) \u201cshe be in a fine way. The\nVicar he been an\u2019 went oot for a walk las\u2019 night, about seven o\u2019clock,\nan\u2019 he idn\u2019t come back!\u201d\n\nSuch important news, and through such a good medium as the milkman\u2019s\ncustomer happened to be, spread quickly; and the whole village was very\nsoon discussing the pros and cons of the matter, forming all sorts of\nconjectures\u2014mostly irrelevant. When, toward evening, there was no sign\nof the missing man, the excitement grew, and eventually a search party\nwas formed, which sought fruitlessly far into the night.\n\nOn the Monday the police were called in, but days passed without so\nmuch as a single clue to the mysterious disappearance; not a trace of\nMr. Thornton could be found. So things went on, until, a month after\nthe catastrophe, and after the police had retired baffled, the Rev.\nHenry Thornton was given up for lost.\n\nThe Powers-that-Be appointed a new vicar, and the village began to\nsettle down once more to its ordinary humdrum life.\n\nBut the people were not to be left in peace\u2014there was worse in\nstore for Worlstoke. Things went well for a fortnight, and then the\ninhabitants had a further shock. A second disappearance occurred!\nThis time it was the twenty-four-year-old daughter of the people\u2019s\nchurchwarden, and although every effort was made, no clue could be\nobtained. The Westsea Woods were scoured from end to end, but all to\nno purpose. She had, like Mr. Thornton, seemingly de-materialised, and\nvanished completely.\n\nThe minds of most of the people now bordered upon consternation. What\ndid it mean? Who was going to be the next victim? Having no explanation\nof the mystery, several almost instinctively flew to the conclusion\nthat it was something supernatural. People refused to go about after\ndark, unless they were in twos or threes. Anxious mothers breathed\nsighs of relief when their children returned home safely from the\nvillage school, and even the bolder spirits of the men were affected.\n\nAll sorts of weird tales were raked up, told and re-told, and it is\nquite possible that if an earthquake had swallowed up London Town, the\ninhabitants of Worlstoke would have made little comment, so centered\nwere they all upon their own particular trouble. To them, one thing\nonly really mattered, and that was what had come to be known locally as\nthe Worlstoke Mystery.\n\nBut that by some strange chance, the new vicar became entangled in the\ntrouble, it is difficult to say what would have happened. His presence\nbrought others into it, and upon them rests this story.\n\nWhat actually did occur constitutes a strange drama, as the following\npages will reveal, if the reader has by now found sufficient interest\nto seek a little further.\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAPTER II\n\n                          THE MENACE AT SUNSET\n\n\nThe Rev. Philip Alletson, Vicar of Worlstoke, in the county of\nSomerset, walked slowly and easily along the main path of the great\nwood that bordered his parish.\n\nOccasionally he stopped and absently contemplated the hard stony path,\nor unconsciously plucked a leaf from a bush and slowly tore it up, then\nwent on again.\n\nIt was evident, from the slightly contracted brows, that he was deeply\nconsidering some question of grave importance\u2014at least to him\u2014and as\nhe walked with head bent, a first impression of his rather tall, yet\nslenderly-built figure, and iron grey hair, would be that he was middle\naged. Moreover, a slight stoop of the shoulders\u2014a habit he had when in\nthought\u2014tended to confirm it. But to see him face to face would shatter\nthat first impression, for the clear skin, keen nose, and full though\nfirm mouth, denoted youth; besides, one was conscious of energy and\npower when meeting the steady grey eyes.\n\nHe might have been fifty; possibly thirty; probably he was nearer\nforty\u2014no one could say, and, after all, it did not matter.\n\nHis thoughts troubled him, owing, perhaps, to his extremely sensitive\ntemperament\u2014one might almost say with truth, \u201csupersensitive.\u201d Be that\nas it may, there is no doubt that the average man, with steady nerves\n(as it is said), would not have thought twice about the matter which\ntroubled the vicar. He would simply have dismissed it from his mind as\none of those strange, inexplicable coincidences that do happen in life.\n\nMr. Alletson had only been installed at Worlstoke a month, but that\nperiod had been sufficient for him to learn much of which he had been\nignorant before he accepted the living. Had he known then what he now\nknew, it might have affected his decision; but indeed only a very\nweighty consideration would have caused him to refuse the offer, for\nat the time when it was laid before him, the strain of an arduous\ncurate\u2019s life in the East End of the great City had all but wrecked his\nhealth. When his rector had intimated that there was a small country\nand seaside living, with a fair stipend and a comfortable house, at the\ndisposal of the Bishop of Bath and Wells, and that he (the rector) had\nbeen able to secure for him the refusal of it, the Rev. Philip Alletson\nhad not, under the circumstances, taken long to make up his mind. For\nwho could tell? such another offer might not present itself for years.\n\nHe had certainly accepted the living \u201cin haste,\u201d but the \u201crepentance at\nleisure\u201d stage had hardly yet arrived, though an extraordinary incident\nthat happened about a week ago had gone a long way to make him feel\nthat he had acted without forethought, in not inquiring into things\nbefore he had finally settled.\n\nIt was this incident, coupled with one or two things that he had\nlearned, which perplexed his mind this cool spring evening, for it\nlooked as if the quiet rest which he sought was not to be.\n\nBriefly, the points were:\n\n1. The late vicar, the Rev. Henry Thornton, a mild, good man, if a\nlittle weak and easy-going, of forty-five years of age, bachelor, had\nsuddenly and unaccountably disappeared, leaving no trace whatever,\nand in spite of exhaustive efforts by the police and other people\ninterested, no rational clue had been discovered.\n\nThe only light that had been shed on the matter was contained in the\ndetective\u2019s report after the search at the vicarage. It tended to show\nthat no premeditated flight had been thought of. All his papers were\nfound in order, and practically every article of clothing he possessed\nhad been sworn to by his housekeeper, with the exception of one suit\nof everyday clothes and a soft hat. He had gone out on the Saturday\nevening in the usual way, and had never returned.\n\n2. It had been mooted that Mr. Thornton\u2019s ghost had been seen by\nsomeone in the village close by the ruins of the old priory of Melsea,\nand there had been a lot of small talk about ghosts.\n\n3. A small farmer at Melton-Storton had sworn that when coming home\nthrough the Great Wood of Westsea one evening, he had been suddenly\nconfronted by two apparitions, one that of a woman, and the other that\nof Mr. Thornton, both of whom had looked at him in a most evil and\nthreatening way, and then vanished.\n\n4. A fortnight ago, Elsie Hobson, the twenty-four-year-old daughter of\nthe people\u2019s churchwarden, had disappeared as mysteriously and suddenly\nas the Rev. Henry Thornton.\n\nNow it was the coincidence of points 1 and 4 that caused Mr. Alletson\nto give the matter grave consideration. Point No. 2 could be accounted\nfor in various ways, and as to Point No. 3, well, Farmer Joicey had not\nthe best of reputations for sobriety, particularly when returning from\nWestsea late at night.\n\nWhat concerned Mr. Alletson was that two people should disappear in so\nremarkable a manner. True, there was a lapse of six weeks between the\nevents, but they bore such a resemblance that it made him feel the same\ncause had probably accounted for both. But what cause? He smote the\nair with his fist in perplexity; there was no apparent cause. Neither\nHenry Thornton nor Elsie Hobson had any enemies; both were well liked,\nin fact the former, from all accounts, was popular, and there was no\nintelligible reason for either of them to \u201cclear out.\u201d\n\nPoor Mrs. Hobson, who had been prostrated with the shock, had not yet\nrecovered. Her husband, a hale man of fifty-five, had grown old in\nthat week of trouble; and Arthur Shepperton, to whom Miss Hobson was\nengaged, had worn himself haggard in tiring but fruitless search. The\nsurrounding country had been scoured, and the wood beaten from end to\nend; but all in vain.\n\nThe Vicar sighed, and paused in his thoughts. A cool breeze from the\nnorth-west blew in his face and brought him suddenly to himself. For a\nmoment he hesitated, surprised, not quite knowing where he was; then he\nuttered an audible \u201cOh!\u201d He found he had passed out of the wood, down\nthe gentle slope that adjoined the White Worlstoke Road, passed the\nchurch and vicarage a quarter of mile further on; in fact, was quite\ntwo miles beyond them, and within a stone\u2019s-throw of Melsea Priory.\n\nThe sun was setting in gorgeous hue, over the sea to his left, and the\nlast lingering rays, striking the grey stones of the tower, threw out\nin bold relief the remains of the once beautiful building. He turned\nand looked at the ruins, with silent admiration, for it was the first\ntime he had seen them. The tower stood out in sentinel fashion, high\nand commanding; but the sunlight softened the cold look of the stones,\nand dispersed the otherwise grim appearance which they usually had.\nJust behind, the thick ivy clung protectingly to the crumbling walls.\nIn the background were ploughed fields, while far in the distance could\nbe seen the dim outline of the Mendip Hills.\n\nHe walked a little nearer, to gain a better view, and again stood,\ndrinking it in. Gradually the last bright ray disappeared, leaving the\nruin in dull twilight, grey and old-looking.\n\nThe evening was very still; hardly a sound broke the silence. Once or\ntwice the distant barking of a dog came across the fields, and the\nmurmuring echo of voices. Occasionally, from the west behind him, the\nsad voice of the sea caught his ear.\n\nThe dusk deepened, and in that calm period just before darkness sets\nin, a space of time which no language can adequately express, but which\nthe heart and mind alone can feel, the man lost himself in reverie. The\nnight was gently casting a veil over a troubled world before it slept.\n\nGradually the coming darkness seemed to lift, then a faint silvery\nlight, playing on the walls of the priory, betrayed the new crescent\nmoon, soon to follow the sun over the western rim.\n\nThe man breathed deeply; it was exquisite. Forgotten for the time was\nthe pitiful tragedy that had absorbed his thoughts but an hour ago. He\nwas entranced by the unspeakable grandeur of the closing day.\n\nAll at once he felt strangely and completely alone; a quaint, eerie\nfeeling, as though he were cut off from all humanity\u2014a curious sense of\nabandonment and desolation seized him. It was as if he only were left\nin a great universe.\n\nShaking himself, he smiled. Why, of course he was alone; but although\nhe passed it over, that feeling of loneliness was not merely the\nabsence of living flesh and blood, as he well knew. Still, the\nsensation had turned his thoughts into another channel.\n\nHe was back in London, fifteen years ago, a young and healthy man,\neager for the work before him, and with that remarkable faith in his\nheart which carries some people through the most arduous struggles.\n\nAh! how he worked in those days. His heart was great as well as his\nfaith, and he used to carry out his duties with a vigour that had won\nfor him a name.\n\nAnd then, slowly but surely, doubts began to trickle through the armour\nof his beliefs; and while reason began to coldly drive him one way, he\nclung with a tenacity almost desperate to his early teachings. They had\nwound themselves into his life, and it was hard and bitter to even have\nto think that they were a mere nothing. But he was not satisfied, and\nhe read\u2014heavens! how hungrily he read, hoping without hope, all types\nof works; striving to obtain that for which many others have sacrificed\ntheir lives: aye! and perhaps their souls too.\n\nHe shuddered, for in his searchings he had studied and practised Magic!\nAnd yet, why should one exclaim? for what will a man not do when his\nvery self-conscious existence seems to be in the balance, and the long\nand stern struggle within gives no light?\n\nLet us not forget that there is a period in everyone\u2019s life when the\nreal self demands that the vexed question of purpose in the universe\nshall be settled. It is one of our lessons\u2014part of our evolution.\n\nUntil we either consciously, or sub-consciously, realise or perceive\nultimate good in the nature of things, how can we set ourselves to work\nfor good? Unless, indeed, in the evolutionary process we are forced to\ntravel that path, and are not free to choose the ultimate end, but only\nto retard or quicken it.\n\nIf we coldly examine our beliefs with critical reason, as we\nundoubtedly should, we receive rude shocks; and if we pursue the\nprocess, most of us get landed in an impasse, where we arrogantly\nflounder, declaring that we have reached the extent of man\u2019s rational\ncapabilities.\n\nWe treat condescendingly the many who have \u201cfaith without reason,\u201d\nand, in our blind ignorance, unjustly include with them the few who,\nafter weary battlings, have struggled out of the man-made cul-de-sac of\nlogic, and found, through intuitive knowledge, knowledge which is in us\nall, but to which man\u2019s artificial reasoning does not lead, some of the\ngreat truths of existence.\n\nBut let us not be too harsh. The traps into which logical reasoning\nallures us are many and deadly. For instance, if we come to analyse the\nconscious desire which is in humanity for prolonged life, the desire\nnot to be swept into oblivion, where are we landed? Our process of\nreasoning will not explain to us whether that desire is inherent merely\nas a heritage from primitive man, or is something else which at present\nwe cannot understand; though its tendency is to convince us of the\nformer. Neither can logical reasoning explain many of the truths which\nwe already know\u2014remember that we can know things without reasoning to\nthem. So let us beware! Though logic is part of truth, truth is not\nnecessarily logic; for logic is a part of a thing, and truth the whole\nof it.\n\nBased upon such premises had been the struggle within the Vicar\u2019s self;\nand he wondered now why he had not then gone mad; it must have been\na very near thing. Perhaps he was on the verge when the crisis came,\nand his health broke down. Maybe that saved his reason. No doubt the\nparticularly hard position that he held, combined with the prolonged\nstruggle within, had been too much. He had not actually been ill, but\nafter a week of violent headache (neuralgic the doctor called it),\na kind of dull, lethargic spell came over him. He went about as if\ncrushed, and was rapidly sinking into an old man, when the offer of\nWorlstoke came to his rescue.\n\nThe young moon sank over the horizon in the wake of the sun, and the\nsudden change from the dim mystic light to darkness aroused him to a\nsense of his present environment.\n\nIt was chilly. Buttoning his coat across his chest, he turned to go;\nwhen once more that queer, lonely feeling crept over him.\n\nIt was uncanny; more, it was extraordinary, and puzzled him not a\nlittle. He could not in any way connect it with anything he had\nexperienced before. It was as though that part of him which in the\nevolution of things is always striving for betterment, struggling\nto uplift, had been wrenched away, leaving his body a hulk of clay,\nhelplessly adrift.\n\nHe hesitated, trying within himself to understand this newly-born\nsensation, and, as he strove to grasp it, he was forewarned that all\nthe old doubts (which had not troubled him since he came to Worlstoke)\nwere slowly beginning to rise.\n\nCould it be that he was again going to suffer all the agony of mind to\nwhich he had been exposed in London? He trembled to think of it. Such\nan ordeal as that could not again be endured without calamity. No human\nreason could twice sustain what he had passed through during those\nlong, wretched years of trial.\n\nWith an effort he controlled himself, overcame the paralysing sensation\nwhich gripped him, and once more started off home.\n\nBut it was only momentarily. Those doubts, once roused, could not\nso easily be quelled. Moreover, they were taking definite shape!\nSomething, he could not comprehend what, was actually forcing his\nmind to accept there and then that not only was there no hope of God,\nand Good, but that the reverse, evil (so-called), was the only real\nforce or power that existed. That so-called God, or Good, was merely\na phantasm of the disordered brain of man. That the whole universe\nwas one mighty, struggling mass of individual atoms, each seeking to\ndestroy the other. That\u2014that\u2014but enough! He stopped dead, mentally and\nphysically, and a cold perspiration broke over him. What was happening?\nWas he really at last going mad?\n\nHe gazed dully through the darkness, trying to disentangle his\nthoughts. His legs felt heavy and weary, as though the weight of his\ntroubled mind had been materially added to his body, and they could not\nsupport the double burden. He almost sank to the ground, and probably\nwould have done so, when something happened which drew him up taut,\nevery muscle tense and senses alert.\n\nBorne on the cool night wind, a long, low, plaintive cry came fretfully\ncalling over the fields, like the whine of a creature in pain.\n\nThe man\u2019s breath came and went rapidly, in short fits and starts, and\nirresolutely he strained his ears to catch the sound.\n\nWhat was it?\n\nA short deadly silence followed, during which he was conscious of a\ndual desire. He wanted to go away from that cry\u2014to run, anything, so\nas not to hear it again. He was aware of a feeling of loathing and\nrepulsion, while something within said \u201cfly.\u201d\n\nSimultaneously, he was aware that the hideous cry appealed to him\nin some way, drew him in a mysterious manner; and he had a strong\nimpelling desire to go in the direction from which it came.\n\nIn spite of his usual outward calm, he trembled, though not knowing\nwhy; for it was not physical fear that held him.\n\nHark! Once more it broke forth upon the stillness, whimpering and\nwailing through the night; and in it there was a blood-curdling note of\nwicked mockery.\n\nThe Vicar gasped; it seemed unnatural; instinct told him that no\nhuman voice could make that sound. Then it must be an animal\u2014but what\nanimal? What beast could produce a cry of that description? It was\nmost improbable; for there was a distinct intelligible note in it,\nwhich appealed and called, of which surely no animal was capable; but\nwhat other explanation was there?\n\nMoreover, he was keenly sensible of that subtle note, supplicating in\nan alluring manner to something as yet unknown.\n\nOnce more it penetrated the darkness, long drawn out, mournful, and\nthis time\u2014O God! the appeal, the call, was to him. Something in him\nstirred and responded to it, holding him fast, although he fought hard,\nin palpable fear and disgust, to overcome it.\n\nSlowly, slowly, impelled by he knew not what, he began to move, as\nthough drawn by invisible hands toward the ruined priory; and as he\nstealthily glided over the ground, the feeling of horror which had been\nso acute became less so, until it gradually but surely left him.\n\nHis pace quickened, and with it his blood circulated more freely, until\na warm glow suffused his body. All at once he felt joyously elated, as\nthough treading on air\u2014a buoyant feeling of awful gladness dominated\nhim.\n\nTiny patches of green mist began slowly to twist and twirl in the\ngloom, now at a distance, now close, not more than a couple of yards\naway. Faster and faster they danced, in a never-ending maze, until the\npace became bewildering, and he watched them fascinated.\n\nThey seemed to be leading him, but where he did not know, nor did he\ncare much just then, his one desire being to follow, though there was a\ndim idea in his mind that they would guide him to some place where he\nanxiously wanted to go.\n\nHe was walking quickly now, and the heat engendered by the sharp\nphysical action, caused him instinctively to want to open his coat. He\ntried to lift his hand to do so, but some force seemed to hold it down.\n\nAbsorbed in watching the dancing mist, he steadily followed in its\nwake. But the heat became almost intolerable, and involuntarily he\nagain tried to lift his hand to release the buttons, and ease the hot\nchoking feeling at his throat. Once more that same hidden power held it\nback; but this time, the strong, overbearing desire to obtain relief\nfrom the heat compelled his attention for a moment, not consciously,\nbut instinctively, and the resistance irritated, half-angered him.\nNatural obstinacy resented it, and with a violent jerk, he brought his\nhand to the top of his coat and literally tore it open.\n\nAnd now a strange thing happened. Practically at the same time that he\nreleased the buttons of his coat, his fingers by accident (?) came in\ncontact with the little gold cross that he always wore round his neck,\nand clutched it....\n\n+Snap!+ Something seemed to part asunder in his brain with a report.\nHe came to a sudden halt, and stared about him fearfully, as one would\nwhen first waking from a dreadful dream. He gave a little exclamation\nof wonder, then started to laugh, but the laughter died away, as\nsuddenly he remembered that abominable cry. As the thought of it came\nsurging into his brain, he was for a space seized with an overwhelming\nnausea, followed by a sense of revolting disgust.\n\nFor half a minute he might have stood thus, and then he regained\ncontrol of his muscles. With a gasp of real fear, he turned and blindly\nran as hard as he could run, as though all the powers of Hell were let\nloose upon his track.\n\nOver the uneven ground he fled, over the hedge at the bottom of the\nfield, and up the road, heedless of all and everything but the fear in\nhis heart, until he fell, exhausted and trembling, but with his fingers\nstill clutching the little gold cross, on the floor of the summer-house\nin the garden of the quiet old Vicarage. For a short space he lay thus,\nperhaps sixty seconds, and then he felt himself plunging through black\nvoids, falling, falling into empty, bottomless nothingness. He had\nfainted.\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAPTER III\n\n                             A WOMAN\u2019S FEARS\n\n\nThe morning following the Rev. Philip Alletson\u2019s extraordinary\nexperience found him rather pale, and in a decidedly nervous state of\nmind. The shock to his system had been severe, and he had contracted a\nslight cold through being exposed in the summer arbour.\n\nHe got out of bed with difficulty, feeling very seedy, and had to use\nan effort of will to take his cold bath. He felt a little better after\nthe effect of the water, but he was longer than usual dressing, and\nonce or twice narrowly missed cutting himself whilst shaving.\n\nHowever, he finished his toilet at last, and went down to breakfast\nfifteen minutes late\u2014a very unusual occurrence.\n\nBeyond drinking some coffee, he scarcely touched the meal; instead, he\nsat toying with his knife and looking out of the window.\n\nHis sister Constance surveyed him with troubled eyes. She was used\nto his silent ways, but she could see that this morning he was not\nhis usual self; and the fear immediately arose in her mind that the\n\u201cold doubts\u201d\u2014which had not manifested themselves since they came to\nWorlstoke\u2014were again weighing upon him.\n\n\u201cAre you all right, Philip?\u201d she asked doubtfully.\n\n\u201cHardly; I\u2019m afraid I\u2019ve caught cold, and I feel rather out of sorts.\u201d\n\nShe sighed with a sense of relief, feeling glad it was apparently\nnothing worse.\n\n\u201cDo try and eat something; you have almost regained your normal\nappetite since we came here, and I don\u2019t want to see any signs of\nit falling off. It makes me think of those dreadful days after your\nillness, when I had to beg and entreat of you to take anything.\u201d\n\nRaising his eyes, he looked at her smilingly, and then managed to\nswallow a few mouthfuls; but it was a poor attempt, and clearly done to\nplease her.\n\nHe had a great affection for his sister; indeed, although but\ntwenty-eight, and ten years his junior, she was his closest companion,\nand had lived with him ever since the death of their mother some eight\nyears ago.\n\nIn contrast to her brother, Constance Alletson was rather below\nthan above the medium height, though well-built, with an upright\ncarriage. Her hair was of a fine rich brown, with an auburn tint; and\nit well matched her fair skin and intelligent dark blue eyes. She\nwas undoubtedly attractive, without being exactly beautiful, though,\nlike her brother, she was reserved and possessed of the same nervous\ndisposition.\n\nShe critically watched her brother\u2019s forced attempt to eat, and then\nexclaimed:\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s better, though it doesn\u2019t seem to go down very well, and it is\nfish too, which I know you like.\u201d\n\nHe looked apologetic: \u201cNo! I\u2019m afraid I must give it up; I did not\nsleep at all well last night, Constance.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow that\u2019s strange, Philip, _I_ could not rest. I kept dreaming in a\njumbled-up sort of fashion, though now and again quite vividly. Once\nin particular, I remember it plainly: I had been running away from\nsomething, as you do in dreams, though I didn\u2019t know what it was, and\nhad just reached the Vicarage gate, exhausted. I had not even strength\nto lift the latch to pass through into the house, and all the while\nthis terrible something was approaching nearer and nearer. I had given\nup all hope and was preparing to be seized, when you suddenly stepped\nin front of me, between me and the monster. All you seemed to do was to\nhold up that little gold cross I gave you, which you wear round your\nneck, and it seemed to be possessed of magical powers. The something\ngave a horrid cry of baffled rage and fled, and as it went, it turned\ninto Mr. Brentwood!\n\n\u201cRidiculous, wasn\u2019t it?\u201d she added laughingly.\n\nPhilip nodded his head in unconscious assent and eyed her curiously. He\nwas well aware that his sister possessed certain psychic powers\u2014they\nused to have private sittings together when in London \u2014and he could not\nhelp wondering whether she knew anything about his own experience. That\nreference to the gold cross seemed strange. However, it was unlikely,\nas she would almost surely have mentioned it before now.\n\nConstance noticed his silence, and misreading it, continued:\n\n\u201cOf course, I know I don\u2019t like Mr. Brentwood, he seems to be such a\ncold-blooded and unsociable man\u2014and I expect that is why he became the\nbogey of my nightmare. I apologise, Philip, for maligning him\u2014I know\nthat you and he are good friends.\u201d\n\nShe drew herself up in mock dignity, and laughed merrily.\n\n\u201cI think you are rather hard on our neighbour, Constance\u2014I don\u2019t find\nhim unsociable, and I don\u2019t think you would either, if you knew him\nbetter. But why should you think he is cold-blooded?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, do you remember when you told him about the disappearance of\nMiss Hobson?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe never even altered his countenance\u2014it didn\u2019t affect him a little\nbit. I know, because I was looking at him.\u201d\n\n\u201cRather thin evidence upon which to judge him, Constance.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, not only that, but I always had the impression, from the first\ntime I met him, that there was something wicked at the back of his\nmind. Really, Philip, I don\u2019t think I could trust him.\u201d\n\nThe Vicar laughed in amusement; he had no answer for such reasoning.\nThere was silence for a few minutes, during which Constance finished\nher breakfast, while her brother watched her.\n\nThen he remarked:\n\n\u201cAh! dreams are queer things.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, Philip, I know some of mine are.\u201d\n\n\u201cI suppose they all arise from stomach troubles?\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019m sure they all don\u2019t, and you know they don\u2019t,\u201d she retaliated.\n\n\u201cWell, at least so we are told by our medical advisers.\u201d\n\nConstance laughed. \u201cNow you are teasing.\u201d\n\nSuddenly she became serious:\n\n\u201cHave you heard anything more concerning the mystery?\u201d\n\nHer brother looked graver than usual, and shook his head.\n\n\u201cNo. I called at the farm yesterday afternoon to see how Mrs. Hobson\nwas, and then learned that no clue had been alighted upon. I am sorry\nfor them\u2014Hobson seems quite an old man, and his wife is still unable to\nleave her bed.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you know, Philip, I think there is something unnatural about this\nplace.\u201d She had lowered her voice, and was bending over the table, her\nblue eyes gazing steadily into his grey ones.\n\nJust for a second the Vicar\u2019s face betrayed surprise; then he said\nquietly:\n\n\u201cWell, go on.\u201d\n\n\u201cThese two extraordinary disappearances, which up till now have baffled\neverybody\u2014surely, if they had been\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\nHer brother shook his head and frowned:\n\n\u201cYou know, Constance, it is the usual thing to fly to the\n\u2018supernatural\u2019 to explain a problem when it baffles the reason.\u201d\n\nShe gave a little gesture of impatience:\n\n\u201cSurely, Philip, you know me better than to think I should\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, yes, my dear,\u201d he interrupted. \u201cI am quite sure you would not\njump to wild conclusions. I merely wanted to emphasise the point, as it\nis important.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, my impressions on more than one occasion lately have been\nexceedingly queer, and I am quite certain that there is something more\nthan unhealthy in the atmosphere.\u201d\n\nShe spoke so forcefully that he could not help being impressed.\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d he exclaimed, rising, \u201cI hardly know what to think. Still, I must\nbe getting on, I have a heap of work to do this morning.\u201d\n\nAs he reached the door, she called him:\n\n\u201cPhilip!\u201d\n\nHe half turned, and she was by his side with her hand on his arm,\nlooking earnestly into his face.\n\n\u201cSomething tells me that you are going to try and probe this mystery!\u201d\n\nHe smiled and nodded. It was not the first time she had known things in\nthat way.\n\n\u201cWell, promise you will let me know all that you do. I am not easy\nabout it; I feel\u2014er\u2014that something may happen to you.\u201d\n\nHe laughed reassuringly:\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t worry, Constance, I will tell you all I do, and I won\u2019t attempt\nanything desperate. But I must do what I can to try and help clear the\nthing up; it is my duty.\u201d\n\nShe did not answer him, instead she turned to the table and busied\nherself with the breakfast things.\n\nHe watched her for a few seconds, then opening the door, went to his\nown little room\u2014where he did his indoor work\u2014and sat down at his\ndesk. His mind was a little easier now; it was a relief to find that\nConstance had not any knowledge of the fainting fit which overcame him\nin the garden. That would have needed some explanation, and he was not\nprepared to say anything at present. Had he been found, there would\nhave been no alternative; for he had a plain, straight way of dealing\nwith things, and never paltered with the truth. He would not have\ncountenanced any idea of misleading anyone with regard to the cause of\nhis swoon, least of all his sister.\n\nBut he was very far from being tranquil. He was really obsessed with\nthe uncertainty of the whole matter, and, contrary to his natural\nreserve, he had a desire to put the details before someone else.\n\nInstinctively he thought of Constance, but immediately shook his head.\nIt might ease him to tell his sister, but it was more likely to upset\nher, and further, he failed to see how it could help matters.\n\nThe only other person he could think of was his neighbour, the Master\nof Storton. If accounts were true, and to some extent he knew they\nwere, Mr. Brentwood was the very man before whom to put such a case.\nBut there were difficulties in that direction. Although they were on\nfairly intimate terms, the Vicar was not quite sure that he could trust\nhim with such a personal matter. His neighbour was not a Churchman, of\nthat he had no doubt; in fact, he was fairly sure that Mr. Brentwood,\nif anything, was opposed to the Church. How then would he be likely to\ntreat such a matter coming from a clergyman?\n\nMr. Alletson was sensitive, extremely so; and he had no desire to\nencounter the \u201csceptic\u2019s smile.\u201d He was quite well aware of the average\nsceptic\u2019s idea of clergymen, and although he knew it was not true, any\nsuggestion of it was liable to irritate, and he had no wish to cause\nfriction.\n\nBut there was the other side to it. His neighbour would perhaps take\nhim seriously, and really, so far as he knew, he was a man of broad\nmind, and one not likely to dismiss the matter with ridicule.\n\nThen again, why should he ask advice, particularly from a layman? Why\nnot go to the Bishop? The Vicar\u2019s eyes twinkled, and he dismissed his\nLordship. No! he would let the thing keep, at any rate for the present.\nSo far as he knew, no actual harm had been done. He would wait and see.\n\nAs the morning advanced, he recovered somewhat from his indisposition.\nHis nervous system assumed a more normal state, and the depressed\nfeeling with which he had begun the day evaporated. By lunch time he\nhad almost forgotten the incident, in fact his mind was busily occupied\nwith parish matters.\n\nTaking these things into consideration, it was curious that immediately\nafter lunch he went to his escritoire, opened it, took up pen and\npaper, and wrote the following letter:\n\n  \u201c+Dear Mr. Brentwood+,\u2014Please excuse my importunity. I am taking\n  the liberty of calling upon you on Thursday morning next, at eleven\n  o\u2019clock, and shall be very glad indeed if you will spare me an hour.\n\n  \u201cThe notice is exceedingly short, but as you know, my time is much\n  occupied, and I am anxious to see you immediately upon a matter\n  which is of grave importance.\n\n  \u201cI feel sure you can help me, and you will do so when I have put\n  the case before you.\n\n  \u201cI must add that I would not have troubled you in this abrupt\n  manner, if I did not feel that immediate action should be\n  taken.\u2014Believe me, yours sincerely,\n\n                                                   +Philip Alletson+.\u201d\n\nEvery action connected with the writing of it was deliberate, from the\nputting in of the date to sending the maid to the post. It looked as if\nhe had done it in spite of his recent decision, and this occurred to\nhim shortly after, when it was too late to retract.\n\nHe felt annoyed, it was not usual for him to go back on a decision,\nonce he had made up his mind. Why had he done it? He tried to think it\nout, and failed to satisfy himself.\n\nIt was not very comfortable. Could it be that he was losing his grip on\nthings? \u201cUmph.\u201d Passing out into the hall, he put on his hat and cloak.\nReally, he must dismiss it from his mind for the present. He had a big\nafternoon\u2019s work before him and time was getting on.\n\nThat evening, at the District Visitors\u2019 meeting, the disappearance\nof Miss Hobson was dwelt upon at some length. During the discussion,\nsomething occurred to the Vicar which had not entered his head before.\nWhat if his strange experience had any connection with it? At first he\nrather ridiculed the idea; there seemed to be no link. But before he\nwent to bed that night the thought grew stronger and stronger, until he\nbegan to take it seriously. If such were the case, then it no longer\nremained a personal matter, and it would be his duty to consult someone\nelse.\n\nFinally, he made up his mind to put the whole facts before Mr.\nBrentwood on Thursday morning, irrespective of his personal feelings.\nHe was bound to do all he knew to try and clear up the extraordinary\nmystery surrounding Miss Hobson and Mr. Thornton.\n\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAPTER IV\n\n                          AT THE BREAK OF DAWN\n\n\nClang! clang! clang! clang! clang! The mellow tones of the church clock\nof Worlstoke, striking the hour of five, floated slowly and distinctly\nupon the still morning air.\n\nAs the last chime died away in the distance, Hugo Alexis Brentwood, the\nMaster of Storton Manor, became suddenly and acutely aware that he was\nfully awake, staring blankly into the darkness!\n\nNot a sound, not a movement\u2014everything around was wrapped in absolute\ncalm. He was the only spark of life there, quite alone, seemingly\nsuspended in space.\n\nIt did not appear to him at all extraordinary, nor did he feel in any\nway uneasy. To be quite clear, he had no definite thoughts. He was\nsimply there, keenly alert, without any of that drowsiness usually\nexperienced when awaking from slumber.\n\nPhysically unconscious, he had no sense of things external, but there\nwas a far-away vague idea that he was floating in the ether; beyond\nthat nothing except this very real mental wakefulness, as though his\nwhole entity was concentrated on something that was going to happen.\n\nHe tried to think, to reason, but his efforts failed completely; some\nforce seemed to have taken control of his mind and was holding it in\ncheck.\n\nThere was something oppressive about the silence which enveloped him,\nyet he could not bring his thinking powers to analyse it, try as he\nwould. He knew it, knew that he was in it; further his mind refused to\ntake him.\n\nNightmare! Of course, that\u2019s what it was. Mechanically he went to\nswitch on the electric light by the side of the bed, but his hand\nmerely passed up and down through the air. In a vague way this startled\nhim, though he did not for the moment realise that he should have\ntouched the switch, if he had been in bed.\n\nOh! well, he must get out and find it\u2014the darkness was irritating, and\nnightmare was not agreeable. He made as if to rise, and then something\njolted in his mind and set the currents of thought running. There was\nno bed!\n\nA sudden feeling of fear gripped him. Where was he? What had happened?\nHe had a great desire to stand on something solid, and instinctively\nhis hands went forth to grasp\u2014anything, just to hold on.\n\nAlmost immediately he had a swaying sensation, and felt that he\nwas being propelled in some curious manner. This was followed by a\nfeeling that he was being compressed, bound tightly in a small space.\nSimultaneously he was conscious of standing in his night attire, at\nthe east window of his study in the tower, looking intently across the\nfields at the approaching dawn.\n\nA puff of cold air blew in his face, making him shiver; and with this\nreturn of physical consciousness, he discovered that he was half\nleaning out of the open window, with his hands tightly gripping the\ncasement on either side.\n\nEven now he did not fully comprehend the situation. Somehow his\nfaculties were not working in unison; as one manifested itself the\nothers seemed to become dormant.\n\nPerfectly still, without any visible sign of breathing, he might have\nbeen a statue as he thus stood, while consciousness slowly filtered\ninto his brain.\n\nHe was not yet able to grasp the fact that the last thing he could\nremember was getting into bed the previous evening, and that under\nordinary circumstances he should be there now.\n\nTo all appearances he looked as if he had gone through an awe-inspiring\nordeal, which had bereft him of power to think or move. His\ndark-skinned face, with its ordinarily firmly-set features, was drawn\nwith pain, while the bloodless lips, tightly set in a straight line,\nwere those of a man holding back a cry of agony.\n\nGradually the tension relaxed; he was able to think in a normal manner,\nand as he became fully cognisant of the circumstances, he drew in a\nsharp, quick breath.\n\nFor a few seconds, which seemed hours, the shock of the reaction seemed\nto paralyse the heart\u2019s action; then that organ, beating with hammer\nstrokes, sent the blood pulsing over his body in a rushing stream. This\ncontinued for fully half a minute, until the naturally strong, healthy\nbody of the man reasserted itself, and shaking off the attack, resumed\nits normal state.\n\nHe was, however, perspiring freely, and, mentally, he felt anything but\nnormal. The incident had been extremely unpleasant, and, moreover, this\nwas the sixth or seventh time it had occurred during the past twelve\nmonths!\n\nNow, as on other occasions, it had left behind a disturbing influence\nof something objectionable having happened, though it was but vaguely\nconveyed to the mind, being merely a dim impression arising from an\nunknown source. To be quite frank, he could not remember anything that\nhad taken place between the moment of retiring and the moment of waking.\n\nLittle by little he gained complete control of himself, and with a\nshudder, silently closed and fastened the window; then, with uncertain\ngait, he went heavily down the stairs to his bedroom underneath the\nstudy. Hastily donning his dressing-gown and slippers, he returned, and\nsinking into a large divan chair, tried to collect his thoughts.\n\nIt was some little time before he could settle down to think\nconsecutively, his mind would go wandering off in various directions;\nbut eventually he became calmer, and began to sort things out. So\nfar as he could see, there was nothing at all connected with these\nuncomfortable experiences, excepting that every one of them had\nhappened about dawn. They came at irregular intervals and at various\ntimes of the year.\n\nTo the ordinary way of thinking, it looked merely a question of\nsleep-walking, and a case for a medical man. That it was a question for\na doctor Mr. Brentwood was fully aware; but what doctor? There he had\ncome to a full stop, for though not acting professionally, he was a\nBachelor of Medicine himself, and had, from a professional standpoint,\ncarefully diagnosed his own symptoms, without success. He knew, none\ncould know better, that it was not a case of somnambulism. He was\nperfectly sound in mind and body and had strong nerves. Probably at\nthis juncture he might have consulted a specialist, but he was not yet\nat the end of his own resources.\n\nDuring his younger days, when a medical student, the enforced close\nstudy of physiology had very soon led him into that of psychology,\nwhich latter science he had tenaciously set himself out to master\u2014at\nleast all that was known of it.\n\nHe had been instinctively drawn toward the subject, partly, perhaps,\nowing to the fact that Eastern blood was in his veins. Here, he\nthought, he might find a clue to the strange malady which afflicted\nhim, but he had to admit to himself that the chances were not great,\nfor knowledge of the science at best was meagre, and its ramifications\nwere many.\n\nHowever, he quite saw that if he discarded this course there was no\nalternative; so slowly and deliberately he decided to probe the mystery\nto the bottom\u2014partly because his position was far from comfortable, and\nhe foresaw that the strain of such a complaint as this was bound to\ntell sooner or later on the strongest constitution, and partly because,\nbeing of a masterful, dogged nature, he distinctly disliked to be\nbaffled by anything.\n\nDuring the thirty-nine years of his existence, ever since he could\nremember, he had stubbornly fought all obstacles that had come across\nhis path, and in the same way he would fight this one.\n\nNaturally, he desired to cure the complaint if possible, but beyond\nthat, the mind of the man, trained in science, was keenly anxious to\nanalyse the problem. Research was second nature to him, and the last\nfifteen years of his life had been spent in that direction, nine of\nthem in the East, the home of his mother.\n\nIf there was one point more than another which troubled him, it was\nthat each time he had undergone the uncanny experience, he had for days\nafterwards found himself trying to recollect what had happened during\nthe period between going to sleep and the rude awakening.\n\nTo his cold, calculating mind, this was irrational. He had no knowledge\nwhatever that he had dreamed about anything, and it was the more\nunlikely, as he was a man who rarely dreamt.\n\nHe would at once have discarded the thought, if it had not been for the\npossibility that he might have dreamed, and failed utterly to remember\nanything of his dream on the return to normal consciousness.\n\nEven then, he would not have seriously considered the point, but for\nthe fact that he intuitively had a strong impression he had dreamed.\nHere again he appeared to be getting off the beaten track\u2014there was no\nevidence at all that he had dreamed, but why that impression? It was\nso very strong, he could not utterly disregard it. He smiled slightly,\nas he thought that if he had discarded all such impressions he would\nnot have been alive at the present time. His experience had taught him\nthat some things which appeared most unreasonable, were only so because\nthey were not understood.\n\nOne other point occurred to him as rather curious. The tower-room (his\nstudy) had two windows, one facing east and the other west. Now, on\neach occasion when he had gone through this strange experience, it had\nalways been at the east window where he had discovered himself!\n\nThere was no apparent reason why such small points as these should be\ntaken into serious consideration. There was no basis even upon which to\nformulate anything with regard to them; only the man had had too broad\nan experience of life to be \u201csure\u201d of things, and he therefore reserved\nhis decision.\n\nStill thinking, he at last fell into a quiet sleep, and for the time\nbeing ceased to be troubled with the pros and cons of the case. He\nbreathed easily and regularly, and his strong face showed little, if\nany, trace of the strain to which he had been subjected just over an\nhour ago.\n\nThat was not unnatural, for he had lived a hard life, and, as mentioned\nbefore, nine years of it in parts of the East, where foreigners are apt\nto carry their lives in their hands, so to speak, and get accustomed to\nshocks and precarious positions.\n\nDuring that long absence from England, he had become imbued with\nEastern lore, and his knowledge of it was radical and extensive. Being\nhalf an Eastern, channels of learning were open to him which are barred\nto the Westerner, and of that he had taken full advantage.\n\nHis study of psychology, as understood by the Western schools of\nthought, had left him hungry for more knowledge. He had discovered that\nthere were great gaps in it, and he determined, if it lay in his power,\nto fill them. So to that end he gave the best years of his life, making\nexhaustive research in the homeland of his mother\u2019s people, often\nrisking his life in obtaining results upon which he could securely\nbuild. And he had not sought and worked in vain. Later on, the value of\nhis research was recognised by Europe.\n\nIncidentally, his knowledge was to stand him in good stead before very\nlong. The time was not far distant when certain human lives, which\nseemed to be at the mercy of unknown powers, were saved mainly through\nthe application of that learning which he had acquired.\n\nWhen he awoke it was past eight o\u2019clock, and the sunlight was\nstreaming brightly into the room. Rousing himself, he descended to his\nbedchamber, bathed, dressed, and went downstairs to the breakfast-room.\n\nAfter ordering his morning meal, he proceeded to open the letters.\nThese he glanced through rapidly, and placed them in a little heap\non his left hand, with the exception of one, which he carefully read\nthrough again. It was that which the Vicar of Worlstoke had written to\nhim the previous day.\n\nMr. Brentwood frowned and pinched his under lip with his finger and\nthumb. What could it be that would cause Mr. Alletson to come to him\nfor help? In their different ways, the Vicar and he were fairly good\nfriends. They had one or two interests in common, and had spent many a\npleasant hour together, after the ice had been broken.\n\nAt first he had been inclined to think that the Vicar had ulterior\nmotives with regard to his parish and church, and had been greatly\nsurprised to find that he never mentioned them. That was just as he\nwished it to be, for he was not a Church-man, and had no desire to take\nany part in Church work.\n\nBut that letter made him feel a little uneasy; it looked as if Mr.\nAlletson were at last going to introduce \u201cbusiness.\u201d The Master of\nStorton looked hard at the coffee-pot. If the Vicar did, it was\nprobable there would be an end to future pleasant hours. Neither by\nmoney nor action would he support the Church of England, or any other\nChurch; and if the Vicar had any such idea in his mind, well!\u2014\u2014\n\nHere he began to attack his breakfast, with unusual vigour. The truth\nwas not always agreeable, and it was quite within the bounds of\npossibility that Mr. Alletson would be offended.\n\nHaving finished his repast, he went into the library and wrote the\nfollowing note:\n\n                                           \u201c+Storton Manor,\n                                                 Somersetshire.+\n                                                     21st _April 19\u2014_.\n\n  \u201c+Dear Mr. Alletson+,\u2014I shall be at home to-morrow, Thursday, at\n  eleven o\u2019clock +a.m.+ If I can be of any assistance, I shall be\n  happy to help you, so long as it does not clash with my principles.\n  I shall expect you to stay to lunch.\u2014Yours sincerely,\n\n                                                   +H. A. Brentwood+.\u201d\n\nBefore sealing the note, he carefully read it over again, and after a\nfew minutes\u2019 hesitation decided it would do.\n\nHe did not wish to give offence in any way, if he could help it, yet he\nwas quite clear in his mind that he must give a hint to the Vicar that\nhe would not help in a matter with which he was not in sympathy.\n\nLittle did he guess into what strange paths of mystery and evil the\nsubject about which his friend wanted to consult him would lead them\nboth! Had he known then, what the next few months were to bring forth,\nit is doubtful whether he would have seen the Vicar at all.\n\nBut then, the future is seldom revealed, and perhaps (who can tell?) it\nis better for humanity that most things are not foreseen.\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAPTER V\n\n                           STRANGE CONFIDENCES\n\n\nAgar Halfi, the Hindoo, sat on the floor of the living-room of his\nlodge, with legs crossed in true Eastern fashion. The table on which\nhe usually had his meals had been pushed back against the wall, and\nhe sat on the hearthrug, looking steadily into the fire. In his hand\nwas a piece of paper, upon which were drawn strange hieroglyphics. At\nintervals he stared at them doubtfully, as though trying to solve some\nproblem, the key of which he had mislaid.\n\nIn the right-hand corner of the fireplace, underneath a large cupboard\nfixed in the wall, a great bull-mastiff sat, winking lazily at the\nflames. In this he seemed to be at one with his companion, though\nwhat was passing through his canine mind is a matter of conjecture.\nOccasionally he opened his tremendous mouth, and yawned indifferently,\nas though to show his contempt for the trivial thing that was\nperplexing the man.\n\nNo doubt, to him, men were always funny creatures, but to see one of\nthem\u2014and above all one for whom he had much respect\u2014worrying over\nstrange characters on a bit of paper, was enough to make even a grave\ndog like Hector smile.\n\nStill, he had had his breakfast, and Agar Halfi\u2019s peculiarities\ndidn\u2019t really matter, so long as he (Hector) could blink at the warm\nfire, undisturbed. This kind of madness which sometimes came over his\nfriend had its advantages, for so long as the Hindoo wasted his time\nsoliloquising over the fire, Hector knew that he could sit in peace. He\npreferred Agar Halfi\u2019s sitting-room to his kennel, and the longer his\nfriend brooded, the longer he could stay.\n\nIt was a dull, cold morning, and Agar Halfi and the dog, who had both\nbeen out since daybreak, were each in his own way enjoying the rest and\nthe warmth of the fire. Hardly a sound broke the stillness, except the\nmonotonous ticking of an old grandfather\u2019s clock, and the occasional\ndropping of the fire, as it gradually burned away.\n\nThe Hindoo might have sat thus for hours; he was almost dead to\nexternal things, but that the grandfather\u2019s clock, after giving a\nwarning whirr-r-r-r, slowly struck the hour of ten. This interruption\nbroke his train of thought, for he looked up and noted the time.\nThen turning his attention to the dog, he gazed at him steadily for\nabout half a minute. The animal was too much absorbed in the fire to\nbe greatly disturbed by that, but the restless movement of his eyes\ndenoted he was well aware of the attention that was being paid to him.\nAt length the man exclaimed:\n\n\u201cHector!\u201d\n\nThe dog pricked up his ears, instinctively, but beyond that did not\nmove.\n\nThe Hindoo looked at him, half in sorrow, half in anger.\n\n\u201cHector, you lazy beast, there is going to be trouble for you and me.\nWhat do you think of that?\u201d\n\nExcept for a slight movement of his tail, which indicated that he had\nheard, the dog did not stir; but continued to blink at the fire.\n\n\u201cDo you understand, son of a thief?\u201d continued Agar Halfi impressively.\n\u201cFor all I know, before this moon dies, aye, before it reaches the\nfull, you will only be carrion fit for the crows to pick.\u201d\n\nEven this startling outlook did not appear to upset Hector; he only\nwagged his tail a little more. What was going to happen in the dim\nfuture was no concern of his. What no doubt did trouble him, was the\nfact that now the Hindoo had roused himself, it would soon be time to\ngo to his kennel; and though clean straw and litter were nice and warm,\na fire\u2014well, it was a luxury.\n\nAgar Halfi glowered at him sternly:\n\n\u201cSometimes you have the soul of a respectable being, but get you near a\nfire, and you have the soul of a pig. Do you understand\u2014outcast?\u201d\n\nHector dropped his head a little at the other\u2019s reprimanding tone, but\ndid not move.\n\n\u201cCome here!\u201d\n\nThe dog yawned in a bored sort of fashion, and slowly getting on to his\nlegs, shambled rather than walked over to Agar Halfi, and licked his\ncheek.\n\nThe Hindoo put out his arm, and seizing hold of the loose skin of the\nanimal\u2019s neck, pushed him vigorously away.\n\n\u201cLie down, idiot!\u201d he exclaimed.\n\nIn nowise disconcerted by this discourteous treatment, Hector\nobediently stretched his great length on the hearthrug, close by his\nfriend, and rested his muzzle on his two paws.\n\nAgar Halfi again turned his eyes to the fire, and for a long while he\nsat thus, motionless, except for the slight heave of his chest, and\nthe occasional movement of his lips as he whispered strange words to\nhimself.\n\nAt length he rose, and going over to the cupboard, took from a shelf\na roll of papers. Resuming his seat, he began to look them through.\nThe first three he put on the rug after a cursory glance at each, the\nfourth he stopped to look at a little longer. When he had finished with\nit, he put it on the dog\u2019s back, and said:\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s yours, my friend, and a worse nativity I\u2019ve never seen\u2014at least\nfor some things.\u201d He paused and looked into the animal\u2019s big brown\neyes, but the dog only blinked at him unconcernedly, so Agar Halfi\ncontinued:\n\n\u201cDo you know, dolt, that you will probably die a violent death?\u201d\n\nHector wagged his tail as though the idea pleased him. Perhaps he\nbelieved in the old saying that a man (or a dog for that matter) can\nonly die once, so it does not matter how, when, or where.\n\nThe Hindoo looked at him sardonically. What was the use of talking to\na brute, some would say? But ah, what he said to the dog he knew would\nnot be repeated, and he said a good many things to Hector that he would\nnot have trusted to a man.\n\n\u201cIf you only had sense enough, I might be able to show you how to\navoid it, but you haven\u2019t. Still, the soul of you is better than the\nsouls of most men, for you are honest, and faithful, even if you have\nweaknesses for a fire, and raw meat; and perhaps I may be able to help\nyou out of that hole, my friend.\u201d\n\nHector snorted indifferently, as much as to say, \u201cI don\u2019t know what you\nare talking about, and I don\u2019t much care.\u201d\n\nThe Hindoo turned again to the roll of papers, and at last pulled\nout one that he wanted. It represented the horoscope of the Master\nof Storton, for in the left-hand top corner was inscribed \u201cH. A. B.,\n17th January 18\u2014.\u201d Underneath was a square map of the heavens, divided\ninto twelve houses, showing the zodiacal signs, with the places of the\nplanets noted therein for the time of birth. Below this was a list of\ncomputations, probably the directions of the horoscope.\n\nAgar Halfi ran his eye down the latter, until he came to the following:\n\u201cZod. D.D. 39 years 5 months. \u263d\u260c \u2646 \u25a1 \u2642!\u201d\n\nHe studied the symbols closely. He had no doubt about the calculations,\nhe had compiled them himself, and checked them twice. This was the\nfortieth year of Mr. Brentwood\u2019s life, and these aspects, especially\nthe evil aspect of the moon to Mars, had been active since the\nbeginning of the year.\n\nSlowly he read the rest of the directions, until he came to the bottom\nof the page, and there his eye was arrested by a note, which was as\nfollows:\n\n\u201cAt the time of the new, or full Moon, should the Sun enter the\nfifth house of the heavens, you will be in danger of your life from\nfour-footed beasts. In your 40th year, when at that time the planet\nNeptune throws its evil rays to the lesser luminary, you will be\nsubject to strange and weird experiences; and should the planet Mars\ncast an adverse ray, a violent death will encompass you.\u201d\n\nThe Hindoo drew in a long breath. \u201cThat is Fate,\u201d he muttered. \u201cIt is\nwhat is written.\u201d Then he smiled a grim smile. \u201cStrong men can overcome\nFate!\u201d\n\nHe turned suddenly, and eyed the dog intently, at the same time\nexclaiming:\n\n\u201cAnd your master also will probably die a violent death!\u201d\n\nHector received this piece of information quite undisturbed, looking\ncalmly at the man with his big soft eyes. Agar Halfi returned the dog\u2019s\ngaze mechanically, his mind being engrossed with the paragraph at the\nbottom of Mr. Brentwood\u2019s horoscope.\n\nSuddenly Hector pricked his ears, jumped up, and went over to the door.\nHe sniffed loudly at the bottom of it, as though uncertain, and then\nwagged his tail. The next moment footsteps sounded outside, there was a\nlow knock, and Agar Halfi rose to face the Master of Storton.\n\nFor some moments the two men looked at each other in silence, the\nHindoo with solemn eyes, the other with half-smiling sarcastic ones.\n\nAt last Brentwood said easily:\n\n\u201cWell, is there anything that is not quite as it should be?\u201d\n\nAgar Halfi shrugged his shoulders as he replied:\n\n\u201cI feel that the Sahib has been subjected to a severe mental strain.\u201d\n\nThe Master of Storton laughed oddly as he seated himself on the edge\nof the table, and nodded his head by way of acquiescence.\n\n\u201cThat is true, but surely I don\u2019t show it in my countenance?\u201d\n\nThe Hindoo smiled at the remark.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d he retorted. \u201cThe Master of Storton seldom shows anything by his\nface.\u201d\n\nBrentwood looked amused, as he replied questioningly: \u201cIf my face did\nnot show it, how did you know?\u201d\n\n\u201cSurely the Sahib knows that as well as I do,\u201d was the solemn answer.\n\u201cYou came here to tell me something. When we met, that something was\ndominating your mind. We looked at each other, my mind became attuned\nto yours\u2014ascended or descended to the same plane of consciousness.\nWhat you wanted to say was being projected from your mind along this\nparticular plane, and my mind being on the same plane, the thought\nnaturally came to my understanding.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot only that, Agar Halfi, but the thought returned from your mind to\nmine, and I became aware that you were cognisant of that which I wanted\nto convey to you. It is what we in England call telepathy, and it has\nrecently been fairly well established as a scientific truth.\u201d\n\nThe Hindoo laughed sarcastically. \u201cSurely, Sahib, the ancients used it\nlong ago!\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t doubt that,\u201d returned the other; \u201cat any rate, it would be\ndifficult to explain some things that they accomplished, without the\nmedium of telepathy. I was merely saying that Western thought had only\njust discovered it.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd,\u201d added Agar Halfi, \u201cwill go on discovering other things which are\nnot new.\u201d\n\nThe Master of Storton acquiesced with a sigh. \u201cI\u2019m afraid that Western\ncivilisation is too much absorbed in amassing worldly wealth at present\nto get much more forward in things that really matter; consequently,\nthe higher faculties of the race can only develop very slowly. Still,\nwhat I came to tell you is, that last night I had another of those\nqueer experiences.\u201d\n\nHere the Master of Storton related, as far as he could remember, what\ntook place.\n\n\u201cWhat do you make of it?\u201d\n\nThe Hindoo slowly shook his head. \u201cI cannot grasp it, except that it\nseems to bear out that which is foretold in your nativity.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou mean, I take it, that concerning my being in danger of a violent\ndeath about this period of my life?\u201d remarked Brentwood coolly.\n\n\u201cQuite so,\u201d answered Agar Halfi. \u201cThose experiences of yours are\npsychic ones, which are all traceable to the influence of the rays from\nthe planet Neptune, and it is that planet which is at the present time\nevilly active in your life.\u201d\n\nA silence followed the Hindoo\u2019s last remark. At length, rising from the\ntable with a grim sort of \u201cumph,\u201d the Master of Storton took from his\npocket the letter which he had that morning received from the Vicar of\nWorlstoke, and handed it to his companion. Agar Halfi read it through\ncarefully, then handed it back. \u201cYou will see him, I suppose, Sahib?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, I have written saying I will. I am rather curious to know what he\nwants to consult me about so particularly. What do you make of it?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen I held the letter in my hands I had an impression, but it may not\nbe of any consequence,\u201d remarked the Hindoo indifferently.\n\n\u201cOne never knows,\u201d replied Brentwood. \u201cTell me what it was?\u201d\n\nAgar Halfi characteristically shrugged his shoulders, as he replied:\n\n\u201cSimply that it indirectly concerned you!\u201d\n\n\u201cMe!\u201d exclaimed the other. He looked thoughtfully at the wall, then\ncontinued: \u201cMaybe, but it is hardly possible.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you require the car to-day?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo; I have to go to Westsea, but I shall walk, and,\u201d glancing at the\ndog, \u201cHector may as well come with me.\u201d Saying which, he called the\nanimal to him and went out.\n\nFor some minutes Agar Halfi stood looking solemnly after his retreating\nfigure, then once more shrugging his shoulders, he resumed his\nexamination of the Master of Storton\u2019s horoscope.\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAPTER VI\n\n                          A SAINT AND A SINNER\n\n\nOn Thursday morning, at the appointed hour, the Rev. Philip Alletson\nmade his way to the Manor. The maid who answered the door admitted him\nimmediately, and conducted him up to the tower study.\n\nHis host was not there, so he went and seated himself upon the\n\u201cChesterfield\u201d that filled the recess of the west window. Considering\nthe short time he had been at Worlstoke, he knew the room well. Many a\npleasant hour had he spent in it with his friend, over a game of chess,\nor in discussing mutually interesting subjects.\n\nHe always felt at home in this room, with its comfortably arranged\nfurniture. There was a sense of Eastern luxury in it, conveyed no doubt\nby the beautifully figured tapestry that draped the north and south\nwalls; the thick, richly coloured rugs that covered the well-polished\nfloor, and the heavily upholstered furniture. In fact, the only article\nof modern appearance was a plain leather-topped writing-desk in the\neast window, supplemented by a business-like swivel oak chair.\n\nAs he thought of these things he grew easier, and the doubt he had\nabout Brentwood\u2019s attitude respecting what he was going to say, almost\ndisappeared.\n\nHe gave a sigh of relief, and turning his head, looked out of the\nwindow. Far away over the rich fields he could see the restless\nchanging sea, sweeping across the Bristol Channel; while to the south\nhe could just discern the end of the low-water pier of Westsea. It was\na beautiful view, with the rich green fields running almost to the edge\nof the bay. Here and there amongst the green were farms and cottages,\nwhile splashes of white at irregular intervals denoted the winding road\nthat ran from the shore through Storton to the old priory at Melsea.\n\nWhile thus absorbed, the door quietly opened, and his host entered\nnoiselessly. Seeing that his visitor was preoccupied, he took advantage\nof the fact to contemplate him at his leisure.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d he thought, \u201cthe Vicar has a good face, there is strength in it\ntoo, shown by the firmly set mouth and jaw.\u201d Here he paused, surveying\nhim critically. \u201cEyes rather too closely set, tending to narrowness,\nbut that to some extent obviated by a fairly broad brow. Temperament\nnervous, very nervous.\u201d He almost said \u201cunfortunately so,\u201d but instead\nhe only said \u201cumph,\u201d which observation caused the Vicar to turn\nsuddenly round.\n\nHe rose immediately, and crossing the room, shook hands with his host,\nwho, in his quiet way, greeted him cordially enough.\n\nThe contrast between the two men was very marked, as they stood\nfacing each other. The one tall and slender, with grey eyes set in a\nrather stern face, almost ascetic, his temperament highly strung and\nimaginative. The other, half Eastern, with dark skin, deep brown\ndreamy eyes, and closely cropped black hair, yet heavily built,\ndenoting great physical strength, full-blooded and healthy, and\npossessed of a cool and calculating mind, that rarely lost its balance.\n\n\u201cI hope,\u201d began the Vicar, \u201cyou will forgive this informality. Really,\nI\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, that is all right,\u201d interrupted the other. \u201cIf the matter is so\nimportant as your note indicates, there is no question of formality.\nLet\u2019s get seated and then you can begin.\u201d\n\nAlletson settled himself down in one of the comfortable chairs, and\nthen comprehensively and concisely related his experience of the Monday\nnight, right down to when he lost consciousness in the summer arbour.\n\nHere he paused and looked at Brentwood, who had been gazing out of the\nwindow while he was speaking. The silence caused the other to glance\nround, and for a minute he eyed his friend questioningly. Then he rose\nslowly, and approaching him, said shortly, \u201cLet me feel your pulse.\u201d\n\nThe Vicar drew in his breath and started forward in his chair. This was\njust what he had dreaded. Was he going to laugh at him? However, he\ncontrolled himself and held out his left arm.\n\nThe Master of Storton watched the second hand of his watch, in silent\nease. When he had finished, he resumed his seat and, without saying\nanything, returned his gaze to the window, waiting for the other to\nproceed.\n\nThere was a pause. The Vicar did not quite understand. He was not aware\nthat his host was a doctor, and it looked as though he were joking.\nBefore he proceeded any further he must know in what light he viewed\nthe narrative.\n\n\u201cDo you take me seriously?\u201d he asked rather coldly.\n\nThe other turned and slightly lifted his brows.\n\n\u201cWhy should I not?\u201d\n\nAlletson looked relieved.\n\n\u201cI hardly understood your testing my pulse.\u201d\n\nBrentwood looked enlightened and replied:\n\n\u201cOh, I see. I simply did that just to prove to myself that you were\nnormal. Will you please proceed? I take it that you have not told me\nall you want to say?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo be quite plain,\u201d continued Alletson, \u201cI believe there is some power\nat large in the neighbourhood, something evil, and that it has caused\nthe disappearance of Elsie Hobson and Henry Thornton!\u201d\n\nBrentwood faced round with a jerk. He was not necessarily surprised,\nbut this conclusion seemed to cause him to concentrate his attention.\n\n\u201cWhat should make you think it has caused the disappearance of those\ntwo people, presuming that such a power as you have mentioned is at\nlarge?\u201d\n\nThe Vicar shrugged his shoulders in despair. Here he felt he might fail\nwith his neighbour. These scientific men were such sticklers for hard\nfacts, and he had none of those facts to give.\n\n\u201cI am afraid I cannot satisfactorily answer that, but let me be as\nexplicit as I can. Inwardly I feel quite sure about it. Somehow or\nother I _know_; just the same as I know that there is a sympathetic\nlink between you and me, though I could not explain it.\u201d\n\nBrentwood got up and walked to the window, and for a space looked out\nsilently. He felt he had somewhat misjudged this man. He was almost\ncertain before he came that the matter he wished to discuss was\nsomething to do with the Church, and he regretted that even in thought\nhe should have wronged him. At last he walked back to his chair and\nsaid:\n\n\u201cCannot you give me any idea why you should think such a thing? Haven\u2019t\nyou any train of thought which leads up to it?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo be quite frank, No! But I \u2018sense\u2019 it.\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2018Sense\u2019 it?\u201d echoed his host. \u201cExcuse me cross-examining, Alletson,\nbut it is necessary if we are to arrive at a common basis. What do you\nmean by \u2018sense\u2019 it?\u201d\n\nThe Vicar thought for a minute.\n\n\u201cIt would be very difficult for me to explain that; but really I think\nyou understand what I mean.\u201d\n\nHis friend looked grimly amused.\n\n\u201cYou repose a lot of confidence in me. Do you know how the scientific\nmind interprets that word when it is used (or rather I should say\n\u2018abused\u2019) outside its ordinary meaning?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, I don\u2019t.\u201d\n\n\u201cImagination.\u201d\n\nA hard expression came into Alletson\u2019s eyes. Brentwood noticed it, for\nhe added quickly:\n\n\u201cBut I quite understand that that is not what you wished to convey to\nme. What you mean, I take it, is, outside your known five physical\nsenses, you have, through one or more as yet unknown senses, become\ncognisant of this evil force. Is not that so?\u201d\n\nHis friend looked relieved.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s exactly what I mean. It is a similar sensing to that which one\nhas when, say, going out of an ordinary room into a cathedral. Do you\nunderstand?\u201d\n\nThe other laughed. \u201cYes, I do understand, although your analogy\nmight easily be explained away by the different structure of the two\nbuildings. Remember that the vastness of a cathedral and the ominous\nsilence usually connected with it naturally impress one with a feeling\nof littleness and consequently of awe. But what made me laugh was the\nfact that your explanation reminded me of a so-called Eastern mystery\nwhich I came across in Circassia. There are two caves in one of the\nmountains of the Caucasus, very nearly alike. One is called \u2018Evil,\u2019\nwherein the devil is supposed to dwell, and the other \u2018Good,\u2019 where God\nresides. The rogues who run this show invite guileless strangers to see\nfor themselves, solemnly warning them not to treat the mystery lightly,\nas they are in the hands of powerful influences.\n\n\u201cThe effect is remarkable. You are shown firstly into the cave \u2018Good,\u2019\nand soon you are astonished at the happy feeling that comes over\nyou. Then you go into the cave \u2018Evil,\u2019 similar in size, shape, and\nappearance to the other, and in about two minutes most people gladly\ncome out, with a feeling that their hair is standing on end. It is\nmerely a clever trick of Oriental magic. However, to return to the\nmain path; I take it you seriously want me to probe this matter?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo that end I have come here with the fixed intention of obtaining\nyour co-operation, if it is possible.\u201d\n\nBrentwood thought seriously for a time. At last he said:\n\n\u201cHave you had any practical experience of things of this nature?\u201d\n\nThe Vicar hesitated somewhat.\n\n\u201cWell, I can hardly say. I have studied hypnotism fairly closely, also\nmagic, but I\u2019m afraid I know more of the theory than the practice of\neither.\u201d\n\nHis host looked interested.\n\n\u201cHave you had any results?\u201d\n\n\u201cIn hypnotism, yes; I\u2019ve had some queer results. When in the\nthird, or trance stage, my sister\u2014with whom I conducted the\nexperiments\u2014forewarned me of a serious breakdown in health which came\ntrue. On one occasion she, apparently without any effort, told me\nwhere to find my signet ring, which I had mislaid some three months\npreviously and given up for lost. That was done when the matter was far\nfrom my mind, in fact, almost forgotten. Another time she exclaimed\nin a joyous voice that she was free and was going away. For an hour\nor more I could not get her to speak, and I was beginning to feel\nuneasy. All the colour had left her face and her breathing was hardly\nperceptible. At last, much to my relief, she began to come round, and\nthen she started to upbraid me, saying I was cruel to call her back,\nand entreating me to let her go again. Unfortunately she could not\nremember anything of this episode when in the normal state. These in\nparticular, and some minor results, I have had.\u201d\n\nThe Master of Storton opened his eyes widely. He had no idea his friend\nhad progressed that far in such a study. He was really surprised,\nthough he did not say so.\n\n\u201cHave you had any experience of vampires, werewolves, or anything of\nthe kind?\u201d\n\nThe Vicar laughed.\n\n\u201cOf course I\u2019ve read about them, if that\u2019s what you mean.\u201d\n\nBrentwood repeated his question, though this time he emphasised the\nword \u201cexperience.\u201d\n\nHis friend looked at him in amazement.\n\n\u201cNo! certainly not. But surely you don\u2019t mean to suggest that such\nthings exist except in legend?\u201d\n\nHis host surveyed him calmly, and there was a suggestion of mockery\nin his eyes. How was it, he thought, that so many folk jumped to\nconclusions upon certain things, particularly of this stamp, without\nattempting to verify them? Here was a man intellectually in the prime\nof life, well-educated and well-read, who, while admitting that he knew\npractically nothing about them\u2014excepting what he had casually read\u2014was\nsatisfied that they did not exist! It was irritating.\n\n\u201cHave you ever travelled in the East?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, I\u2019ve never been further than Italy.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou know that I have spent some years out there?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you know what I was doing?\u201d\n\nThe Vicar looked a little guilty. He was conscious that he had\nsought information about his neighbour; not bluntly, but had taken\nopportunities when they occurred to obtain knowledge of him.\n\n\u201cWell, I understand that you were engaged in psychological research.\u201d\n\n\u201cQuite so. Incidentally, I had to investigate other things closely\nconnected with it, and my experiences have led me to grave conclusions.\nTo be quite plain, I am convinced that the existence of so-called\nvampires and werewolves is not based on myth. Some of the extraordinary\nphenomena I have witnessed and dealt with have settled that point\nin my mind, beyond doubt; though there is of course a good deal of\nsuperstition mixed up with the matter and its origin is obscure.\u201d\n\nAlletson studied the carpet. His friend\u2019s tone was serious and sincere;\nbesides, so far as he knew, Brentwood was not a man to play with words.\nBut this was remarkable news; it had never occurred to him that there\ncould possibly be any truth in such things\u2014it was generally taken for\ngranted that they were myth, and that idea was so firmly implanted in\nhis mind it could not be eradicated at once.\n\n\u201cIt is difficult to believe,\u201d he said, \u201cthough I cannot contradict what\nyou say; but it seems incredible.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe tricks of the illusionist seem incredible until we find out\nhow they are done,\u201d was the terse reply. \u201cBut let me remind you, as\nShakespeare said, \u2018There are more things in heaven and earth than\nare dreamt of in our philosophy.\u2019 We are too apt to take things for\ngranted. The tendency of the present age seems to be: We know this\nand we know that; what we don\u2019t know is not. Could anything be more\narrogant? Is it not more rational to allow that things which appear to\nbe impossible may be, than to assume that what we don\u2019t know cannot be?\u201d\n\nThe Vicar smiled interestedly.\n\n\u201cIf,\u201d he replied, \u201cI am to take up the cudgels for modern thought, I\nwould answer that although it is argued that what we don\u2019t know is not,\nthe analysis of it is that though a thing may exist, it is unknowable\nto us, and therefore, as far as we are concerned, it is not.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour answer is the one that is usually put forward; but do you take\nthat view yourself?\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019m afraid I don\u2019t. Beyond a certain point, I trust largely to\nintuition; and no reasoning I can bring to bear can affect that view.\u201d\n\nBrentwood half closed his eyes.\n\n\u201cIf I may say so, I take it that that applies to you in your religion?\u201d\n\nThe Vicar was silent a moment, then, looking straight at his friend,\nreplied frankly:\n\n\u201cCertainly, no broad-minded cleric would attempt to narrow down his\nreligion to a creed.\u201d\n\n\u201cQuite so,\u201d said the other; \u201cand yet a few minutes ago you did\nnot make use of the same principle when I mentioned werewolves and\nvampires.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is true,\u201d answered the Vicar; \u201cbut is not your analogy a little\nirrelevant? There is a reasonable basis for philosophy and also for\nreligion; but I don\u2019t think you can say that much for vampires, et\ncetera. Someone may have dreamed of such things very vividly in the\nfirst place, and believed they were actually real. Besides, there is no\nevidence upon which to build.\u201d\n\nBrentwood smiled a little satirically.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m afraid I must contradict you there, and proof of what I say\nwould make my analogy relevant. But be that as it may, what strikes\nme so very palpably is, that where a thing is bred in one\u2019s blood and\nbone\u2014like Christianity for nearly two thousand years, and like the\nbelief in vampires and werewolves for a much longer period still\u2014no\namount of antipathetic environment seems able to entirely eradicate it;\nand, consequently, educated people of all nationalities unconsciously\ngive themselves certain latitude with their own particular racial\npeculiarities, _i.e._ allow their intuitive faculties to play upon\nthem. But when it comes to another person\u2019s national eccentricities, Oh\nno, that is idle legend!\u201d\n\nThe Vicar, who had listened attentively, took a long breath. There was\nundoubtedly reason in his friend\u2019s argument, but he spoke in such a\nconfident tone that it slightly irritated him. Usually the boot was on\nthe other foot\u2014it was the clerical mind that adopted that attitude. He\nsmiled amusedly as he thought of the many times he had seen and heard\nhis colleagues speak thus.\n\n\u201cYou are very confident,\u201d he said at last. \u201cAre you so absolutely\nsure of what you say? For instance, how can you speak with authority\nabout the hereditary instincts of the Eastern races; although you have\nstudied them, you cannot actually know what they feel?\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps the simplest way of answering,\u201d replied the other, \u201cis to tell\nyou at once that I am not an Englishman. There is Hindoo blood in me\nfrom my mother, who was half a Circassian.\u201d\n\nHe paused to see what effect his words would have on the Vicar, but the\nlatter, if surprised, did not give vent to it; he merely nodded his\nhead, and his friend continued:\n\n\u201cSo you see I\u2019m fairly capable of judging from that standpoint, as well\nas from a Western one. However, to return to the subject of your call.\nDo I understand that Miss Alletson is mediumistic?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, she has power in that way.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs she aware of what you have told me?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo. I have not mentioned anything to her. I did not see that it could\nserve any useful purpose at present. On the other hand, I concluded\nthat it might upset her peace of mind.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave you any other reason for withholding this matter from her?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d he replied, \u201cbut I see no reason why I should inform her.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I think she could assist us in no small degree.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed!\u201d\n\nTheir eyes met, and for a time they looked at each other. He could not\nhave said why, but the first thought that entered Alletson\u2019s head was\none of resentment. No, he would not draw Constance into it. But the\nthought vanished for the time, almost as soon as it was born.\n\nHis host seemed to read it, for he said quietly:\n\n\u201cI think you may take my word for it that no harm would come to your\nsister. So far as I am aware, it would only be necessary for her to act\nas the medium of one or two experiments, which appear to me essential\nif we are to obtain any clue. But of course, if you would rather not\ndraw her into the case, I will not pursue the matter further.\u201d\n\nThe Vicar was silent. There was really no good reason to refuse, yet he\ncould not help but realise that he wanted to do so. While he hesitated,\nhis sister\u2019s words, \u201cPromise you will let me know all that you do,\u201d\ncame back to his memory and decided his answer:\n\n\u201cVery well, I\u2019ll put the position to her, but of course she must decide\nfor herself.\u201d\n\n\u201cI take it,\u201d said Brentwood drily, \u201cthat you wish to keep things as\nquiet as possible, at any rate for the time being, and the fact of your\nsister being the medium would ensure secrecy. Moreover, she is to some\nextent acquainted with the case.\u201d\n\n\u201cQuite so, quite so,\u201d replied the Vicar. \u201cI have little doubt but that\nshe will be willing to assist us.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is just one more thing I would like to add,\u201d went on the Master\nof Storton. \u201cI shall want to take into my confidence, in a matter of\nthis kind, my chauffeur, Agar Halfi, the Hindoo.\u201d\n\nAlletson looked up a little surprised as he replied:\n\n\u201cCertainly, if you think it necessary.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d continued the other, \u201cI do. He has had great experience of such\nmatters, besides the fact that he was with me during all my travels.\nNow, I don\u2019t think we can get much further at present, and I am sure\nyou must be hungry. Let us go and have some lunch.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAPTER VII\n\n                            GRAVE SUSPICIONS\n\n\nArthur Shepperton held the position of managing clerk to the firm\nof solicitors Dalby & Co., Westsea. He was fully qualified in his\nprofession, Mr. Dalby having some six years back given him his\narticles; and the future held bright prospects of a junior partnership.\n\nHe was a business-like young man, and had earned the confidence of his\nemployer by industry and perseverance; added to which, he had, during\nthe twenty-eight years of his existence, led a careful and regular\nlife, if somewhat narrow and confined, and bided fair to become a\nhighly respected and successful citizen.\n\nFrom his point of view, life\u2019s outlook was a rosy one, and but for\nunforeseen circumstances he would probably have lived the life of a\nrespectable middle-class person until his death\u2014unconsciously ground\nbetween the millstones of Capital and Labour, as most middle-class\npeople are.\n\nNow unforeseen circumstances have a nasty knack of upsetting the\nquiet trend of people\u2019s lives, particularly those people who least\nwant their lives interfered with. There is a certain section of the\ncommunity\u2014probably the mainstay of the country\u2014which desires nothing\nmore than to be able to work honestly and live respectably in peace;\nand yet it is frequently from this class that \u201cFate\u201d draws individuals\nto play aggressive parts in the world.\n\nThe disappearance of Elsie Hobson (his fianc\u00e9e) had been a great blow\nto Arthur Shepperton; indeed it seemed to completely daze him for a\ntime. Outwardly he had sustained it well enough, but inwardly the\neffect was different. It seemed to have awakened some unfortunate trait\nin his character, long dormant, which would in all probability never\nhave manifested under ordinary circumstances.\n\nThe humdrum everyday life of the average person does not tend to\nbring out true character\u2014rather the reverse; nor does it help to make\ncharacter. It is the exceptional and violent incidents in our lives\nthat mould the real self; whether for good or evil, depends upon\nsome law about which we know little or nothing; all we can say for\ncertain is, that one of these exceptional occurrences may strike an\nevolutionary note in the individual, or, on the other hand, may develop\nan atavistic tendency.\n\nIn this particular case the violent incident, instead of encouraging\nthe nobler tendencies, gave a fillip to the revengeful instinct; and\nafter the first effects of the shock had passed away, Arthur Shepperton\nwas left in a rather dangerous state of mind. He bitterly resented the\nfact that he should have to suffer as he did for no apparent reason,\nand he strongly desired to be revenged on someone or something, though\nhe was not clear on whom or what. If he had stopped to reason, he would\nhave seen the futility of such a course; but his mind was distorted and\ndominated by the primitive instinct referred to.\n\nMr. Dalby had shown him generous sympathy in his trouble, and had\nreleased him indefinitely from his business duties. Thus it happened\nthat the morning after the interview between the Vicar and Brentwood,\nrelated in the last chapter, Arthur Shepperton found himself by the old\npriory, after a long and lonely walk.\n\nHe felt tired, and was much relieved to see an old rustic seat under a\ntree. Making his way to it, he sat down thankfully, resting his elbows\non his knees and his chin on his hands.\n\nHe was depressed, in spite of the bright morning and cheerful sunshine,\nand stared at the ruined building before him with expressionless eyes.\n\nThe whole problem of Elsie\u2019s disappearance baffled him completely; he\nhad no clue whatever that might lead him to a solution. That was the\nworst of it, he was merely groping in the dark, with the faint hope\nthat he would soon be able to drop on something which might lead to an\nexplanation. What a relief it would be to his brain if he could only\nact, even with but the slightest idea that he was on the right track.\n\nAlmost mechanically he once more began to go over the few facts of the\ncase which were known to him, but his mind would not act normally, and\ntry as he would to control them, he could not get his thoughts to run\nin sequence.\n\nSomehow or other he found himself wondering, in a dreamy sort of way,\nwhat the monks were like who used to inhabit the priory. He was not the\nleast bit interested, it did not matter to him; but the idea would keep\ncropping up just when he was trying to connect one point with another.\n\nEvery now and then the question kept coming into his head, \u201cWhat could\nhave happened?\u201d He wished he could get rid of that query. It had been\nhammered into his brain for the last fortnight and had become wearisome.\n\nOnce (and he laughed derisively as he thought of it) the idea had\nentered his head that the late Vicar and Elsie had prearranged it all\nand gone away together! Eloped!! Why should he think of such a thing?\nHe should be the last to entertain a theory of that kind. He would\nhave been ashamed to suggest it to anyone, and as a fact had discarded\nthe idea as soon as it appeared. Yet he could not help feeling that it\n_was_ possible, and he was uncomfortably aware that they had been great\nfriends.\n\nHe sighed wearily; why could he not forget all about it? Why should\nhe have all this trouble? His face sank into his hands, and he looked\nrestfully into the blackness caused by the pressure of his fingers on\nhis eyelids. Tired out, he half dozed, and again began to think about\nthe monks. After all, it was a relief to let his mind play at random,\nafter the last two weeks of mental storm and physical exertion.\n\nHe fancied he saw several of them walking slowly along, chanting some\nmournful air. The prior, a tall gaunt man with raven black curly hair,\nbrought up the rear of the procession. His hands were crossed on his\nbreast and he seemed deeply engrossed in some weighty problem. Walking\nin double file, they approached a door in the wall, through which\nthey gradually disappeared. He counted them as they went through, and\nwas just wondering whether the prior would shut the door after him,\nwhen he was aware that that individual had suddenly turned round and\nwas looking at him with a pair of fierce dark eyes, that flamed like\nfire. Just for a moment and then the vision vanished, and he started\ninto wakefulness, instinctively sure that he had heard someone cough!\nHe looked up at the priory, the direction from which the sound came,\nand listened. Who could be there at that time of the day? It was\nbarely seven o\u2019clock. Quietly rising, he stepped noiselessly across\nthe grass to the doorway in the wall, the one by which he fancied he\nsaw the monks disappear, and looked through. Seeing no one, he walked\ncautiously on until, rounding a corner of a ruined wall, his eyes came\nin contact with something which brought him to a halt.... Seated upon\nthe floor of what once used to be the chapel was a man writing or\ndrawing something upon the stone flags. So deeply was he engrossed,\nthat evidently he had not heard anyone approach. Shepperton eyed him\ncuriously, and his interest all at once increased as he recognised who\nit was.\n\nHis first thought was to make known his presence; but\nsomething\u2014probably his legal training\u2014caused him to alter his mind. For\none thing, although _he_ knew Mr. Brentwood, the latter did not know\nhim. Besides, the situation rather appealed to the detective in his\nnature, and there was something so out of the ordinary, that Shepperton\nwas curious to know what was going to happen.\n\nHe watched for about a minute, and then withdrawing carefully, silently\nretraced his footsteps to the door in the wall; but instead of passing\nthrough to the left, he went on along the path for about six yards and\nturned sharply round the chapel wall to the right. Here he would wait\nuntil the gentleman had finished his early mass! When he had gone, it\nwould be very interesting to go and inspect his handiwork.\n\nIf it did occur to Shepperton that it was not quite the thing to spy\nupon someone else, that was outweighed by his resentment towards this\nman, who, ever since he came to live in the neighbourhood, had shown\nquite plainly that he wished to be left alone. That of itself was\nsufficient to cause resentment in a nature like Shepperton\u2019s. He judged\nthe man to be selfish; moreover, he was conscious of the fact that\nBrentwood had remained silent all through the little storm caused by\nElsie\u2019s disappearance\u2014apparently unmoved by the tragedy. Yes, it would\nbe interesting to find out what _did_ have any attraction for this very\nreserved person.\n\nHe must have stood there quite ten minutes before he heard Brentwood\nmoving about. Just after, his approaching footsteps resounded on\nthe hard path; and Shepperton\u2019s heart jumped a little, as it all at\nonce occurred to him that Brentwood might possibly come to where he\nwas standing. It would not be pleasant to be found thus; at the very\nleast it would require some explanation. He breathed more freely as he\nheard the door in the wall close, and when the sound of the receding\nfootsteps had almost died away, he quickly made his way to the chapel.\n\nTo his surprise and disappointment he did not discover anything. That\nwas very strange; surely the man was doing something there, his eyes\ndid not deceive him about that. Very carefully, he scrutinised the\nflagstones round about where Brentwood had been sitting, but could\nnot make anything of them. It was annoying, for he certainly was\ndrawing or writing when Shepperton saw him. He was about to go away\nunsatisfied, when his eyes alighted on something white, lying on the\nfloor. Picking it up, he discovered it to be a plain manilla envelope,\nneither sealed nor addressed. There was, however, something inside,\nwhich on examination proved to be a photograph. Not an ordinary one by\nany means, for it represented what was evidently a human hand, and the\nimpression of a bird\u2019s foot, but the latter was more than five times\nas large as the former! The great difference in the relative sizes was\nso apparent, that he could not help at once noticing it. Shepperton\nlooked at it intently for a minute, then carefully putting it back in\nthe envelope, slipped it into his breast pocket. He stood for a short\nspace, thinking earnestly, then, turning sharply round, made his way\nhome as quickly as he could.\n\nOn reaching his apartments he went straight to his sitting-room, and\nafter locking the door\u2014he was very cautious in some things\u2014took out the\nphotograph and thoroughly examined it. Having satisfied himself that\nthere was no name or mark on it, except the initials \u201cH. A. B.,\u201d he got\nan inch rule and accurately measured the impression of the foot, which\nhe found to be nearly four inches long, whereas the hand was barely\none inch! He thought of all the big birds he had heard of, but could\nnot call to mind one that would have a foot anything like that. It was\na queer sort of thing. The photograph of the hand had evidently been\ntaken to show the size of the foot; but what the latter represented was\nan enigma. He would very much like to know, particularly as there could\nbe little doubt about it having fallen out of Brentwood\u2019s pocket.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d he thought, \u201cstill waters run deep,\u201d and perhaps Brentwood had\nexcellent reasons for not wishing to associate with ordinary human\nbeings.\n\nNow what could he have been up to in the priory? It certainly looked\nas if he were engaged on something out of the way, at least. The more\nShepperton thought it over, the more he became anxious to know what had\nhappened; and the more he thought of Brentwood, the more his dislike\nof him seemed to grow. From his own point of view, he had cause to\nknow that he was cold, callous, and selfish, and he also felt that a\nman who secluded himself from his fellow-beings must have a reason for\nit; that, he argued, was not likely to be a good one. Yes, he would\nwatch the gentleman; it might be that he would find something out very,\n_very_ interesting. Meanwhile, the photograph would not come to any\nharm in his possession. He went and carefully locked it up in his desk,\nand as he turned the key, it struck him that perhaps the Vicar could\nenlighten him a little about Mr. Brentwood? Yes, he would go and see\nhim.\n\n\n\n\n                              CHAPTER VIII\n\n                   THE INVOLVING OF CONSTANCE ALLETSON\n\n\nConstance Alletson looked steadily out of her bedroom window at the\nviola border of her own flower patch, while she slowly buttoned on her\ngloves. She was going to the Manor with her brother, but did not feel\nquite at ease about it.\n\nPhilip had told her everything that happened at his interview with Mr.\nBrentwood, not even withholding his own weird experience; and after\nseriously thinking it over, she had decided\u2014more from a sense of duty\nthan anything else\u2014to do all she could to assist her brother in his\nendeavours to clear up this strange case.\n\nShe was somewhat surprised that the Master of Storton should have shown\nany interest in it. She knew her brother well enough to believe that\nhis point of view would hardly interest Mr. Brentwood, and she would\nhave been quite unmoved if Philip had told her that his friend had\nlaughed at him. From what she had gathered about scientific people, and\nfrom her experience of the few scientific men she had met, they were\nnot the kind to look seriously at anything outside cut-and-dried facts,\nand she failed to understand why Mr. Brentwood should be an exception.\n\nBut it was not that which made her feel uneasy; rather she would have\nenjoyed pitting her knowledge and strength against the man. In this she\ndiffered from her brother, who, being extremely sensitive, would have\ntaken pains to avoid such a measure. The fighting spirit was prominent\nin her nature, whereas with her brother it was not readily called into\naction.\n\nNo, it was a matter which, to her mind, was far more serious. There\nwas something about Mr. Brentwood to which she was averse. She had no\ntangible reason for this dislike; so far as she could make out, it was\njust instinctive. But that did not alter the fact of its existence, and\nalthough she would not even admit to herself such a thing, it almost\namounted to fear! It would be useless to explain things to her brother,\nbecause\u2014manlike\u2014he would immediately want to know what reason she had\nfor it; and she was only too well aware that men generally do not take\naccount of woman\u2019s intuitive faculties\u2014\u201cfancies\u201d they usually call them.\n\nSo it was with mixed feelings that she finished her toilet, and she\nhalf wished that her promise had not been given. But she was no\nweakling, and now that the first step had been taken, she would see it\nthrough, whatever the result.\n\nThe Master of Storton was sending his car over to fetch them; and the\nhoot of the motor horn outside the gate brought her soliloquy to an\nabrupt end. Lightly descending the stairs, she met Philip in the hall\nand they went out together.\n\nThe door of the brougham was being held open by Agar Halfi, who saluted\nthem respectfully. Constance noticed that he was very good-looking and\nhad intelligent eyes. Evidently he was a superior type of native, and\nshe wondered how he came to be in Mr. Brentwood\u2019s service.\n\nAs they drove swiftly along she chatted gaily, being determined that\nwhatever happened she would not give her brother cause to think she was\nat all uneasy.\n\nHe was very glad to find her in such an excellent humour, and his own\nspirits began to rise a little. He had entered on this quest with heavy\nmisgivings, and the whole-heartedness with which his sister appeared to\nbe taking the matter up was a great satisfaction.\n\n\u201cDo you know,\u201d she said, \u201cI hardly like being driven by this chauffeur\nof Mr. Brentwood\u2019s; he is such a grand, dignified person, and although\nhe saluted us so very respectfully, I am sure he considers he is our\nequal\u2014his manner conveyed it.\u201d\n\nThe Vicar looked a little sternly at the back of the dark blue\ncushioned seat on the opposite side of the brougham before he replied.\n\n\u201cDo you mean to intimate that because he is dark-skinned he could not\npossibly be our equal?\u201d\n\nConstance laughed outright.\n\n\u201cHow you do misconstrue my meanings. Of course I didn\u2019t mean to convey\nanything of the sort. What I did intimate was that it seems a shame he\nshould have to act as our servant.\u201d\n\nShe paused, then added:\n\n\u201cI should rather like to talk to him; I\u2019m sure he would be interesting.\u201d\n\nPhilip glanced at her a little surprised.\n\n\u201cYou are not usually so keen about talking to men of your own race.\nWhy such a sudden fancy?\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing strange about that at all,\u201d she said. \u201cOne thing, he looks so\nintelligent, and another, I cannot help feeling that he is a gentleman,\nin spite of his dark skin, which I am sorry to say I cannot state about\nall men of my own race.\u201d\n\nPhilip nodded his head reluctantly.\n\n\u201cUnfortunately, that is true. But it is not by any means easy to get\nHindoos to talk, I understand; they are a mysterious, reticent race,\nand very proud.\u201d\n\n\u201cI wonder how he came to get into Mr. Brentwood\u2019s service?\u201d she asked.\n\nHer brother shook his head and smiled, then said:\n\n\u201cProbably he got attached to him during his travels in India.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh!\u201d ejaculated Constance, surprised, \u201cI had no idea Mr. Brentwood had\nbeen there.\u201d\n\nShe sat silently musing over it, and did not speak again until the\nslowing down of the car told them that they must be nearly at the Manor.\n\nShe had not been to Storton House before, and as they went slowly\nup the drive, she could not help admiring the well-kept grounds and\nbeautiful flower-borders. Everything showed taste and care, right down\nto the grass edges, which were perfectly trimmed and cut.\n\nMr. Brentwood appeared almost immediately they crossed the threshold\nof his house, and Constance felt that while his greeting to her was\nperfectly correct, his manner was slightly awkward and certainly\nappeared to be cold. On the other hand she saw that the two men\nspoke affably, calling each other by their surnames, which made her\narch her brows a little; she did not know they were on such intimate\nterms\u2014Philip had never led her to understand that. Still, it was a\npleasant surprise, for her brother was most unlikely to get very\nfriendly with any sort of person, he was so reserved.\n\nOnce inside the room which their host had had prepared, Constance was\nmore at ease. It was ideally comfortable, but not luxuriously so,\nand although the atmosphere was warm, it was fresh. She was charmed,\ntoo, with the profusion of magnificent flowers which seemed to be\neverywhere. It was such a delightful surprise to find them at that time\nof the year.\n\n\u201cReally, Mr. Brentwood,\u201d she exclaimed, \u201cthese are beautiful. I envy\nyou.\u201d\n\nHer host smiled quietly in acknowledgment, then answered:\n\n\u201cFlowers are one of my weaknesses; I revel in them. But I have to\nthank my gardener for the luxury, he spares no pains to keep me well\nsupplied.\u201d\n\nConstance looked at him with interest. It was not common for men to\nthank their servants in that way for what they did. He seemed to regard\nit as a sort of favour from the tone of his voice.\n\nBrentwood noticed her look and added:\n\n\u201cHe is an artist in his profession, and I never interfere in his work,\nor I doubt if such results as you now see would be forthcoming. I am\nnot skilled in the art of floriculture.\u201d\n\n\u201cMr. Brentwood is too modest,\u201d laughed her brother, \u201cI myself have\nseen him hard at work in his own conservatory.\u201d\n\n\u201cQuite true,\u201d explained their host, \u201cbut only doing things under my\ngardener\u2019s supervision.\u201d\n\nHe is certainly different to other men, Constance thought\u2014moreover, he\nis modest, no doubt about that. Further, it struck her that his remarks\nwere singularly just.\n\nThere was a short silence, and then, turning to Constance and looking\nher fully in the face, Mr. Brentwood said:\n\n\u201cI understand, Miss Alletson, your brother has explained that what we\nare about to undertake is of serious import?\u201d\n\nIt was the first time their eyes had really met, and while he was\nspeaking she felt that she could not look away; they were such fine\neyes, and there seemed to be no end to their deep brown depths. She was\nconscious that a great restful feeling came over her, such as she had\nnever in her life experienced before.\n\nWhile she paused to answer, she felt that she was searching for\nsomething in his look, which was concealed, but which she instinctively\nknew was there.\n\n\u201cYes, I understand that.\u201d\n\nShe replied almost mechanically, her attention being held by the\ninvoluntary desire to discover what it was that lay hidden in the man.\n\n\u201cBut I think you may rest assured that no personal harm will come to\nyou.\u201d\n\nConstance gave a short derisive laugh! She did not mean to do so, but\nthe position to her just then was so diametrically opposed to his\nassurance, that she could not help it. She was beginning to feel\nuneasy. She wanted to avoid finding this strange hidden thing; her\nwhole being repelled it, and she was aware that her uneasiness was fast\namounting to real fear! With an effort she replied:\n\n\u201cIt is very kind of you to be so thoughtful about me, but what of\nyourself and my brother?\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps I can answer that, Constance,\u201d interposed the Vicar, \u201cif Mr.\nBrentwood will allow me to speak for him, as well as for myself?\u201d\n\nTheir host looked at him and nodded assent, and the Vicar continued:\n\n\u201cAs you already know, Mr. Brentwood and I have decided to get to the\nbottom of this matter if at all possible. There are, however, certain\nrisks, but we are prepared to accept these, while we are both agreed\nthat you must not run any danger.\u201d\n\nAs the Master of Storton turned his eyes from hers, Constance gave a\nsigh of relief, for she almost immediately became her normal self again.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know whether to thank you for your consideration or not,\u201d she\nreplied, a little reproachfully. \u201cWhen I promised that I would help\nyou, I was then, and am now, fully prepared to take my share of the\nresponsibility. Moreover, why should I not?\u201d\n\nBrentwood raised his eyes with fresh interest. This woman evidently had\na mind of her own.\n\n\u201cI think,\u201d he said gravely, \u201cthere is hardly any need to pursue this\nfurther, Miss Alletson, seeing that you are so willing to do your share\nin the work.\u201d\n\nThe well-conceived reply pacified Constance somewhat, so she answered:\n\n\u201cVery well, let it rest at that. But before we begin, I wish to make\none stipulation\u201d\u2014here her eyes challenged his\u2014\u201cand that is, that you\ninform me of all that happens.\u201d\n\n\u201cMr. Brentwood is quite willing on that point, I\u2019m sure,\u201d answered her\nbrother.\n\nTheir host rose, and moving forward a large divan chair, requested\nConstance to make herself as comfortable as possible. This, with the\naid of one or two cushions, she did, and soon found herself reposing\nrestfully.\n\nShe felt at ease, strange to say, in spite of the uncomfortable time\nshe had experienced when Mr. Brentwood had been looking at her, but so\nfar as she knew there was no other disturbing element. In any case, she\nhad made up her mind, and would not retract now.\n\nThe Master of Storton was talking to her brother in a low voice, and\nshe lazily watched them. Casually she compared the two men and smiled\nat the idea that they should have anything in common; they were so\nentirely different. Still, it appeared that they had, and, after all,\nit was not the strangest thing in the world.\n\nAt last Brentwood turned to her, and taking out his watch, said:\n\n\u201cI understand from your brother, Miss Alletson, that you have\nexperienced the trance stage before, and that being so, I propose to\nconduct you there straight away. During the trance I shall request\nyou to do certain things, which, if successful, will have important\nresults. I would therefore ask you to please give to me the whole of\nyour attention for the next few minutes, so that I may the better be\nenabled to produce the trance stage as nearly perfect as possible.\u201d\n\nConstance inclined her head in assent. One thing she could not help\nnoticing was, that there was a marked difference in his manner, now\nthat he was about to proceed to business; and she was conscious there\nand then of having to deal with a very strong personality, if not an\nextraordinary one.\n\n\u201cPlease just look at me for a minute,\u201d he said quietly. That was just\nwhat she did not want. Why should he adopt that method? She was averse\nto again looking into his eyes. So instead of doing as he asked, she\nlooked at the ring on her right hand, which was resting easily on the\narm of the chair, and answered:\n\n\u201cIt is not now usual, I believe, to induce the sleep by the power of\nthe eyes.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d he replied, \u201cbut while other methods are more popular, it is the\nbest and safest, if properly applied.\u201d\n\nConstance thought his tone a little hard, as though he resented her\nquery. Still, she could not repudiate what he said, so she answered,\n\u201cVery well,\u201d and raising her blue eyes to his, looked steadily into\nthem. At first she wanted to pit her own strength of mind against\nhis, but as she continued to gaze, once again that delightful restful\nfeeling came over her, and she gave a slight sigh of content.\n\nGradually his eyes seemed to grow larger and yet larger, until she\ncould see nothing but their dark brown depths, and then it seemed that\nshe was instinctively warned that she was searching for something in\nhis eyes\u2014she did not know what\u2014but which, with a feeling of terror,\nshe knew she would find, and must find. What was it that was forcing\nher to seek this unknown mysterious something behind the visible man?\nShe was not doing it voluntarily. Then came the reverse action, this\nunknown, undesirable thing was seeking her. She was conscious of the\nfact, also that she was terribly anxious to escape it. Oh!\u2014she must try\nto avoid it at any cost, she dare not face it. What could she do? Which\nway could she fly? Black despair seemed to enter her breast. Would no\none help her? she thought piteously; was she abandoned in that desolate\ndark waste, quite alone with this shadowy horror, helpless?\n\nAh!\u2014it was there, it had found her, it was clutching her\u2014O God!...\nshe shrieked the words aloud to the loneliness around her, and then,\nwith a deafening crash and a roar like mighty rivers suddenly loosing\nthemselves into empty bottomless caverns, the spell broke!...\n\nShe was floating lazily, dreamily, so restfully, amongst the sweetest\nscented flowers she had ever known.\n\n                   \u2022       \u2022       \u2022       \u2022       \u2022\n\nGently closing her eyelids, Brentwood turned his head and looked at\nthe Vicar, who had been watching with deep interest. One glance was\nsufficient to tell him that her brother was quite unaware of the look\nof horror that had come into his sister\u2019s eyes just before she lost\nconsciousness. Besides, he could see from the position which Alletson\nhad taken up\u2014at right angles to the operator and the medium\u2014that it\nwas improbable; but he had not been quite sure where her brother was\nstationed.\n\nThe Vicar nodded his head approvingly and then said in a subdued voice:\n\n\u201cI suppose you will let the sleep settle a little before you proceed to\nsub-consciously awaken her?\u201d\n\nBrentwood absently inclined his head. He was thinking of that look\nwhich appeared in Miss Alletson\u2019s eyes, just before she passed into\nthe trance, and was asking himself whether or not he should inform her\nbrother of it, there and then.\n\nHe must have stood thus\u2014with the first finger and thumb of his right\nhand pursing his under lip\u2014for fully four minutes, and might have stood\nlonger, if his attention had not been arrested by Alletson\u2019s voice\nsuggesting that probably it would now be safe to arouse the medium.\n\nDrawing a deep breath, he quietly took up his watch and put it in his\npocket; then turning to his friend he said:\n\n\u201cQuite so, the sleep should now be sufficiently deep.\u201d He then\nproceeded to arouse the sleeper after applying one or two tests to\nsatisfy himself that the trance stage was in evidence.\n\nHe had to call her name three or four times before she showed any signs\nof mental activity; then, slightly puckering her smooth brow, she\nheaved a deep sigh and answered in a slow voice:\n\n\u201cYes, I am here; why do you call me back? I am happy amongst the\nflowers.\u201d\n\nThey both watched her face intently, while Brentwood proceeded to\nquestion her.\n\n\u201cAre you free?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo! You hold me, otherwise I am\u2014let me go.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat I cannot do,\u201d he answered softly but firmly.\n\n\u201cListen! I want you to go to Worlstoke Vicarage.\u201d\n\nThe Vicar looked at him inquiringly.\n\n\u201cI am there,\u201d she answered listlessly.\n\nBrentwood turned to his friend and whispered quickly:\n\n\u201cOn which night did the Rev. Henry Thornton disappear?\u201d\n\nAlletson knitted his brows for a moment, then replied:\n\n\u201cSaturday evening, twenty-first February last, seven +p.m.+\u201d\n\nThe Master of Storton thought rapidly, then, turning to the medium,\nsaid:\n\n\u201cGo back to seven +p.m.+, Saturday, twenty-first February in this year.\u201d\n\nFor a time the medium\u2019s face looked troubled, as though there were some\ndifficulty, but eventually her countenance cleared and she responded:\n\n\u201cYes, I am there.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs the Rev. Henry Thornton in the Vicarage?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d came the prompt reply.\n\n\u201cGo back to six-thirty +p.m.+\u201d\n\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs he there now?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, in the study.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is he doing?\u201d\n\n\u201cWriting.\u201d\n\n\u201cWatch, and say what he does.\u201d\n\nA long silence followed, and at last the Vicar made as if to speak,\nbut his friend stopped him with a warning hand. The Vicar was keenly\nexcited; he could not understand how Brentwood had so easily obtained\nthe conditions. But that was unimportant compared with the revelations\nwhich appeared imminent.\n\nHe looked at the operator\u2019s cold, composed features with fresh\ninterest. He had never met a personality like this one, although he had\ncome in contact with many types. This man\u2019s intellect was far above the\naverage, and his will power was abnormal.\n\nEvilly disposed, such a character would be a real danger to humanity.\nWhat a blessing his tendencies were for good! He looked at Brentwood\nagain, just to satisfy himself that he had made no mistake, when he\nhad, not long ago, decided that the Master of Storton was an upright\nman; and his scrutiny confirmed that opinion. The features were\nrefined, and the firm mouth and delicate nostrils showed high taste and\nstrong control over the physical propensities.\n\nHis attention was recalled by his sister\u2019s voice speaking slowly:\n\n\u201cHe has finished writing\u2014he rises and goes into the hall\u2014he puts on his\nhat\u2014he is now speaking to his housekeeper. Now he goes out of the front\ndoor\u2014he is standing by the gate hesitating\u2014he turns and walks down the\nroad\u2014he is now approaching a ruined building\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\nThe Vicar gave a short gasp as he thought of the priory.\n\n\u201c\u2014he looks at it hesitatingly\u2014now he walks towards it\u2014he stops\nagain\u2014and there is a strange look on his face\u2014now he goes on again\u2014he\nhas reached the wall....\u201d\n\nThe voice stopped abruptly, and a troubled look passed over the\nsleeper\u2019s face. The two men waited eagerly, the one trembling with\nexcitement, the other with set mouth and alert eyes. At last in a\npained voice she continued:\n\n\u201cI cannot go any further, something prevents me; there is something\nguarding the wall\u2014it is all round it.\u201d\n\nThen she added in quick staccato tones:\n\n\u201cI do not want to go. No! no! let me return!!\u201d\n\nHer voice swelled louder, and the Vicar half rose out of his chair in\nresponse to the appeal, but his host quietly and firmly put his hand on\nhis shoulder, and at the same time said in a clear voice:\n\n\u201cCome back to the present. Do not be afraid, no harm can come to you.\u201d\n\nThen he began to speak slowly and firmly in a strange tongue. This he\ncontinued to do for fully half a minute, and gradually the troubled\nlook disappeared from the medium\u2019s countenance and once more she\nbreathed easily and regularly.\n\nThe operator studied her face carefully before he again spoke, and\nthen, being apparently satisfied that things were in order, he resumed:\n\n\u201cNow go into the ruins.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am there,\u201d she responded listlessly.\n\n\u201cCan you see the Rev. Henry Thornton?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo.\u201d\n\n\u201cTell me what you see.\u201d\n\nAfter a pause she replied:\n\n\u201cCrumbling walls; broken flagstones; ivy; old rubbish heaps covered\nwith weeds ... nothing but ruins.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave you been all over the priory?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre there not any vaults or chambers underground?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes\u201d\u2014after hesitation.\n\n\u201cWhere?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am in a large vault now, under the refectory.\u201d\n\n\u201cDescribe it.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is quite empty, except for dust and rubbish.\u201d\n\n\u201cCan you find the entrance?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, there are some steps leading up to a trapdoor in the floor of the\nrefectory, but it is covered by a large flagstone.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs there no other underground chamber?\u201d\n\n\u201cI think so ... \u2019er\u2014I\u2019m in a passage.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere?\u201d\n\n\u201cAbout underneath the chapel.\u201d\n\n\u201cCan you find the entrance?\u201d\n\nThere was a long pause, during which the medium looked much perplexed.\nAt last the words came:\n\n\u201cI have come to a wall, about twenty paces from where I started, but I\ncannot pass it.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs there anything the other side of it?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do you think it is?\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy cannot you pass the wall?\u201d\n\n\u201cSome force prevents me.\u201d\n\n\u201cFollow the passage the other way.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, it is long, very long.... Oh! Let me get out of this dreadful\nplace, there is something evil and weird about it. I feel the presence\nof death in some form all around. But that I am guarded by your power,\nI should be lost.\u201d\n\nShe spoke in a voice agitated with fear, and lifted her hands\nappealingly. Brentwood took hold of them in his own, and spoke in a low\nfirm voice:\n\n\u201cPeace, forget, and awake in ten minutes.\u201d\n\nHe released her hands, and with a long drawn-out sigh her head fell\nback, and to all appearances she was just peacefully asleep.\n\nWhen Constance awoke, it was to find the two men looking steadily at\nher. As soon as she opened her eyes, the Master of Storton immediately\narose, and going to a chiffonier poured into a glass out of a decanter\na liquid which looked like water, excepting that it effervesced at\nintervals, as it came into contact with the air.\n\n\u201cDrink this,\u201d he said gently. His face was grave, but his eyes\nsmiled kindly, and she was just thinking how nice he was, when that\ninstinctive dislike for him, which she had before experienced, entered\nher mind. She took the proffered glass hesitatingly, and he noticed it.\n\n\u201cDrink it straight away, Miss Alletson, it will stimulate you without\nany after ill-effects.\u201d\n\nShe drank it slowly, and felt a faint tingling sensation, as though the\nheart\u2019s action had been slightly increased. It refreshed her, however,\nand feeling better, she said:\n\n\u201cWell! have you been successful?\u201d\n\nThe Master of Storton avoided her eyes as he replied:\n\n\u201cI think we have learned of something which may lead to success, Miss\nAlletson.\u201d\n\nHe then briefly told her all that had happened during the experiment,\nwhile she listened eagerly.\n\n\u201cThere is one thing certain,\u201d exclaimed the Vicar, when Brentwood\nhad finished. \u201cWe shall have to closely inspect the ruins of the old\npriory.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d replied the Master of Storton, \u201cand the sooner we do it, the\nbetter.\u201d\n\nThey there and then arranged that the Vicar should let Brentwood know\nby messenger, if he could manage to go in the morning. All being well,\nthey would meet at the priory about 10 +a.m.+\n\n\u201cOf course you will go back in my car,\u201d said their host. \u201cI\u2019ve given\ninstructions for it to be ready.\u201d\n\nThey thanked him for his thoughtfulness and rose to depart.\n\n\u201cI must say before you go,\u201d remarked Brentwood as they passed into the\nhall, \u201cthat you are an excellent medium, Miss Alletson; much better, in\nfact, than many professional ones I have met.\u201d\n\nTo her own vexation, Constance blushed a little at the compliment; and\nshe replied rather hurriedly:\n\n\u201cReally I\u2019m very glad I have proved satisfactory, but perhaps it was\nmore due to the skill of the operator that I proved so.\u201d\n\nThe Master of Storton actually frowned as he replied:\n\n\u201cYou flatter me mistakenly, Miss Alletson. No matter how good an\noperator may be, without a first-class medium no experiments would be\nof much use. It would simply be like a musician trying to get harmony\nout of an instrument that was out of tune.\u201d\n\nBefore they got into the brougham, Brentwood did what appeared to be a\nstrange thing. He introduced his visitors to Agar Halfi, his chauffeur.\nIf either of them thought it curious, neither of them, of course,\nshowed it. As to Agar Halfi, he\u2014not at all embarrassed\u2014murmured his\npleasure at the honour conferred upon him. He at least did not think it\ncurious.\n\nWhen they arrived at the Vicarage, the Hindoo jumped down to hold open\nthe door. As they alighted, Constance turned to him with a smile and\nthanked him for bringing them home.\n\nAgar Halfi\u2019s face lighted up, and bowing low, he said in his dignified\nway:\n\n\u201cI am always pleased to serve the friends of my beloved master.\u201d\n\nWhich remark set Constance wondering what it was that made her dislike\nthe Master of Storton, when everybody else (except Arthur Shepperton)\nhad such a good opinion of him.\n\nAgar Halfi watched them with his dark eyes, until they disappeared\nthrough the doorway. Then he slowly turned round and studied the near\nfront wheel of the car. Eventually he gave voice to an emphatic \u201cumph,\u201d\nand shaking his head doubtfully, mounted the car, muttering in his own\nlanguage, and drove away.\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAPTER IX\n\n                             A LADY\u2019S GLOVE\n\n\nThat evening Constance was alone, Philip having gone to visit a\nparishioner who was sick. It was chilly, and she drew her chair close\nto the fire. A book lay on her knee, but she was not reading, her mind\nbeing engrossed with the events of the afternoon.\n\nOn the way home from the Manor, Philip had related to her all that had\nhappened, and it was evident from his remarks that he had no knowledge\nof what transpired just before she lost consciousness. She had almost\nthere and then told him, but checked the impulse, thinking it better\nperhaps to wait a little.\n\nIt was satisfying to know that some progress had been made, and that\nshe had been instrumental in it; but the curious incident which had\ntwice occurred rather damped her spirits. The effect of it\u2014besides\nconfirming her instinctive dislike for the Master of Storton\u2014was to\narouse a suspicion in her mind that he was a dangerous man!\n\nShe would very much like to know what had caused that dreadful feeling\nof horror\u2014she shuddered as she remembered it\u2014but for that, the progress\nthat had been made would have given her every cause for satisfaction.\n\nWhat particularly troubled her was, that while naturally she did not\nwant to suffer another such experience, she was aware of a distinct\ndesire within her to again look into his eyes! It was not pleasant\nto be conscious of that fact under the circumstances; it made her\nfeel just a little bit helpless; but having promised to assist all\nshe could, she did not want to go back on her word without sufficient\ncause, yet just then she decidedly felt that she would rather not go to\nthe Manor again.\n\nHad she been a man, she would probably have come to the conclusion\nthat it was a mere coincidence, and have dismissed the matter from her\nmind, on the ground that there was not any reasonable basis upon which\nto assume anything, but being a woman, she did not think that way. She\ninstinctively disliked the man, and that was sufficient for her to\narrive at the conclusion that there was something wrong with him.\n\nSome men would laugh at such a decision, putting it down to woman\u2019s\nillogical way of reasoning; but it is as well to remember that the\nfeminine mind intuitively arrives at correct solutions of things far\nmore quickly than the masculine mind does by the slow and not always\nsound process of reasoning.\n\nIn the fading light Constance idly watched the shadows from the fire\nsilently playing on the walls and ceiling. Outside all seemed peaceful\nand at rest, in ironic contrast to her mind. Something she would have\nto decide upon soon; such a state of indecision she well knew could not\nlast for long. But it was not an easy task.\n\nHer meditations were interrupted by a ring of the front-door bell, and\nshortly afterwards the maid announced that Mr. Shepperton had called to\nsee Mr. Alletson.\n\n\u201cOf course, Martha, you told him the master was out?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, miss,\u201d she replied. \u201cSo he said he would be glad if he could see\nyou for a few minutes.\u201d\n\nConstance frowned; she did not particularly want to see anyone just\nthen; but perhaps he had called to see her brother about some Church\nwork, and in that case she felt it her duty to see him. So rising, she\nlighted the gas and told Martha to show Mr. Shepperton in.\n\nAs soon as he entered the room, Constance noticed that he was unnerved.\nHis eyes shone brightly and his face was paler than usual, though the\ncolour kept coming and going in his cheeks.\n\nShe looked at him a little startled, not quite knowing what to do; at\nlast he exclaimed:\n\n\u201cI\u2019ve found a clue!\u201d and then dropped into a chair, breathing\nirregularly.\n\nShe looked at him in mute surprise for a moment, then it suddenly\noccurred to her that he looked ill, and she said:\n\n\u201cCan I get you anything, Mr. Shepperton?\u201d\n\nHe nodded, then answered gratefully:\n\n\u201cThanks, I should like a glass of water.\u201d\n\nWhen she left the room, he rose and commenced to walk quickly backwards\nand forwards. He gazed restlessly around him and said half aloud:\n\n\u201cBy God! if it is he, I\u2019ll\u201d\u2014but he did not finish the sentence, for at\nthat moment Constance re-entered the room.\n\nHe drank some of the water eagerly, and put down the glass with a sigh\nof relief.\n\nShe looked at him sympathetically. Her disposition was a kind one, and\nshe was very sorry for him in his trouble. It is hard to lose one who\nis dear to you, and she had extended her sympathy to Mr. Shepperton\nbeyond the ordinary, and she felt that he had been grateful to her.\n\nWhen he had recovered himself somewhat, Arthur Shepperton put his hand\ninside his coat, and without a word, drew forth a kid glove, which\nhe carefully placed on the table. For a short time he looked at it\ndespairingly, then said:\n\n\u201cDo you know to whom that belongs?\u201d\n\nConstance looked at him questioningly.\n\n\u201cLook inside it,\u201d he continued.\n\nConstance silently picked it up and read on the lining the initials \u201cE.\nH.\u201d\n\nShe trembled a little, in spite of her determination to keep cool.\n\n\u201cAnd where did you find it?\u201d she half whispered.\n\nHe expected her question, for he answered immediately:\n\n\u201cIn the priory ruins!\u201d\n\nConstance\u2019s heart jumped; she at once thought of Philip\u2019s adventure.\n\nShepperton noticed her start, and looked at her curiously.\n\nDuring the pause the door opened and Philip entered. Neither heard him,\nthey were so absorbed, each in their own thoughts.\n\nThe Vicar looked at them wonderingly, Shepperton leaning forward in\nhis chair, staring at Constance, while she stood gazing at him, with\none hand on the table, supporting her body, the other holding up the\nglove.\n\n\u201cWhat is the matter?\u201d he said quietly.\n\nThey both turned suddenly, and Constance exclaimed:\n\n\u201cOh! I\u2019m so glad you have come. Mr. Shepperton has found Miss Hobson\u2019s\nglove in the priory.\u201d\n\nThe Vicar uttered an exclamation, and taking the glove from his sister\nlooked at it intently; then turning to Shepperton, he asked:\n\n\u201cOf course, there can be no doubt about it?\u201d\n\nThe other man laughed mirthlessly, and answered:\n\n\u201cNot a shadow of a doubt, I could swear to it.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere exactly was it?\u201d asked Alletson.\n\n\u201cI went for a walk this afternoon, and coming back I wandered into the\nruins. I don\u2019t know them very well, so I thought I would have a look\nround. Now you know the part which used to be the chapel?\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2014m\u2014yes,\u201d answered the Vicar.\n\n\u201cWell, up at the top end, where the altar would have been, the wall is\ncrumbling away in parts, and I had just stepped across one of these\nplaces, when my foot dislodged one of the loose stones. This fell on\nthe ground outside the wall and knocked away another stone, which had\nbeen lying there goodness knows how long. Naturally I looked to see\nwhat had happened, and there, where the stone had been lying, I found\nthe glove.\u201d\n\nAlletson drummed his fingers on the table, while he gazed into the\nfire. Then he said:\n\n\u201cWhat do you intend to do?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I shall, of course inform the police,\u201d he replied, then added,\n\u201cI came here first though, thinking you would like to know at once.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019m glad you did,\u201d answered the Vicar.\n\nShepperton looked at him wonderingly.\n\n\u201cBecause,\u201d he continued, \u201cI don\u2019t think I should go to the police.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot go to the police!\u201d he echoed.\n\n\u201cAt any rate, for the present,\u201d said Alletson. \u201cLet me explain. There\nis, I am sure, more in this case than at first appears. Certain\nthings which have happened led me to consult Mr. Brentwood. He is now\ninvestigating the matter, and I have great hopes that he will be able\nto solve the mystery.\u201d\n\n\u201cMr. Brentwood,\u201d ejaculated Shepperton, with a half-sneer. \u201cWhat\u2019s he\ngot to do with it?\u201d\n\nA pained look came into the Vicar\u2019s face; the man\u2019s tone was so bitter.\nConstance noticed that her brother was hurt, and turning to Shepperton,\nshe said coldly:\n\n\u201cMr. Brentwood has been good enough to promise to give his time to a\nsubject which hardly concerns him, and I think, Mr. Shepperton, we\nreally ought to be grateful for his help.\u201d\n\nHer tone hurt him\u2014he was surprised to find\u2014more than he thought it\ncould have done, and he remembered it afterwards; but at the time he\nwas annoyed.\n\n\u201cI would rather he had nothing to do with it,\u201d he said stubbornly.\n\nThey both looked at him in surprise, then the Vicar said sternly:\n\n\u201cSurely, Mr. Shepperton, that is unreasonable. If Mr. Brentwood has\noffered his help when asked to give it, why should you want to refuse?\u201d\n\nThe other man looked sullenly at him before he answered, then said\nirritably:\n\n\u201cTo tell the truth, I don\u2019t like the gentleman, and I don\u2019t want any\nhelp or favours at his hands.\u201d\n\nA cloud began to gather on the Vicar\u2019s face, but almost immediately his\nexpression changed and he said kindly:\n\n\u201cMr. Shepperton, you are upset, or I\u2019m sure you would not have spoken\nthus. Let me assure you that in my opinion, if Mr. Brentwood cannot\nassist us in this extraordinary case, the police certainly cannot.\u201d\n\nShepperton was surprised into silence, and for a time did not speak.\nThen he asked in a more subdued manner:\n\n\u201cDo you really think that? How can he help in any particular way? Is he\nan amateur detective? Really I don\u2019t understand.\u201d\n\nAlletson smiled slightly.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d he replied, \u201cbut\u201d\u2014he hesitated and looked at Constance, then said\nto her:\n\n\u201cPerhaps we had better tell Mr. Shepperton everything?\u201d\n\nConstance nodded\u2014there seemed no other way. So quietly and carefully he\nrelated all that had happened, while the other man listened with open\neyes and occasional interruptions of surprise.\n\n\u201cNow, Mr. Shepperton, I don\u2019t think you will think it advisable to go\nto the police just yet.\u201d\n\nShepperton rose and held out his hand.\n\n\u201cPlease forgive me if I spoke hastily just now, Mr. Alletson,\u201d he said;\n\u201cI\u2019m grateful for what you have done, and I\u2019m quite willing to let\nmatters take their course for the present. You may depend upon me, of\ncourse, to assist in any way possible.\u201d\n\nThe Vicar was pleasantly surprised at his frankness and grasped his\nhand heartily. But Constance was not so sure that he was sincere, the\nchange was so sudden. However, she did not say anything.\n\n\u201cPerhaps we had better go and make a careful search as soon as\npossible?\u201d said Shepperton.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d replied the Vicar, \u201cit would be just as well. I could manage\nto-morrow morning, if not too early. How would ten o\u2019clock suit you?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, any time will suit me,\u201d replied Shepperton. Then, turning to\nConstance, he added: \u201cI hope you will be coming too, Miss Alletson?\u201d\n\nShe hesitated a moment, then replied slowly:\n\n\u201cYes, I think I will come, if I shall not be in the way.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo question about that,\u201d he answered emphatically.\n\n\u201cVery well,\u201d said Alletson; \u201cI will send a note round to the Manor,\nasking Mr. Brentwood to meet us there. I know he will come.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat will be excellent,\u201d replied Shepperton brightly. \u201cAnd now I think\nI had better be going. Good night!\u201d\n\nAs he hurried along the road, Arthur Shepperton\u2019s mind was busy\nsorting things out. Being a very practical young man, he was half\ninclined to laugh at the Vicar\u2019s statements. He did not believe in\nthat sort of thing, and if certain people liked to go wandering after\nwill-o\u2019-the-wisps, that was not his business. On the other hand, he\nwould have a good opportunity to watch Brentwood. A man who had in his\npossession photographs like the one he had found in the priory could\nnot be up to much good. He still resented his being introduced into the\nmatter, he so disliked the man, and the fact of finding Elsie\u2019s glove\nin the priory ruins increased his desire to watch Brentwood. He could\nnot exactly say why, but it seemed somehow to connect him with the case.\n\nHe wondered why Alletson had not confided in him in the first place; it\nhurt his pride, and he took it as a snub. Surely he should have been\nthe first one to have known. However, he would dismiss the matter for\nthe present, and see what the morning brought forth.\n\nJust before he arrived at his apartments, he suddenly remembered that\nConstance Alletson\u2019s retort had hurt him, more than he expected, and it\nthen occurred to him that he liked her. Yes, he was pretty sure about\nthat. He recollected that she had been particularly nice to him since\nElsie\u2019s disappearance. He wondered, in a vague sort of way, whether she\nliked him, and was still musing on the point when he reached home.\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAPTER X\n\n                      \u201cHECTOR\u201d MANIFESTS ANTIPATHY\n\n\nMeanwhile the Master of Storton, after the departure of his visitors in\nthe afternoon, went up into his study, and stood with his hands in his\ncoat pockets, looking out of the west window for quite a long time.\n\nTo see him standing there, one would have been inclined to think\nthat he was idly viewing the landscape stretched out before him; but\nas a fact he was thinking about the identical thing which occupied\nConstance\u2019s mind later on in the evening, though from a very different\nstandpoint.\n\nHis disposition toward the opposite sex was indifferent, if not cold;\nbut, all the same, it was not particularly pleasant to become suddenly\naware that something about him should cause a look of horror\u2014and no\ndoubt the feeling with the look\u2014to come over one of them, the first\ntime he had practically had anything to do with her. He could not sum\nit up.\n\nHe knew that animals were susceptible to the power of his eyes\u2014or\nrather the hypnotic force behind them\u2014but that could not explain the\nphenomenon. No animal or human being he had used the power upon had, he\nwas quite sure, shown horror, fear, disgust; all of which symptoms Miss\nAlletson plainly exhibited before she passed into the sleep.\n\nIt might possibly have been nervousness on her part, through the\nstrangeness of the circumstances\u2014he understood that she had never\nexperimented excepting with her brother\u2014but, against that, he had not\nnoticed any abnormal state, or he would not have proceeded with the\nexperiment; indeed she seemed to be quite cool and collected; and, as\nfar as he could judge, she was of strong character, above the average.\n\nNo, it was not that, but then, the thing was a\u2014he stopped abruptly as\nhe thought of the word \u201cmystery,\u201d and bit his lip in perplexity; it\nhad such a resemblance to superstition, and all his life, while he had\nbeen instinctively drawn toward such things\u2014so-called mysteries or\nsuperstitions\u2014he had really only concerned himself with such matters to\nanalyse and expose them.\n\nAnd yet, what other word could he use for that which is not understood?\nAnother thing, why should he let it bother him? He could let the\nincident drop, and it would be done with. Yes, that might be all right\nfor some people, but to him it was not possible; his habit of research\nwould not let him do it.\n\nAgain, there was only one so-called mystery he had tackled, of which he\nhad not been able to get to the bottom, so surely he should be able to\novercome this one?\n\nHe felt that he would very much like to know Miss Alletson\u2019s version of\nit, but he hardly felt justified\u2014at present\u2014in approaching her. Still,\nthere was another way to get at the thing; he would experiment on\nsomeone else, and see if the same phenomenon exhibited itself.\n\nThough a man of deep thought, he was practical and of quick action, so\nhe straight away put on his hat and walked across to Agar Halfi\u2019s lodge.\n\nAs he approached the door, he was greeted with a growl of pleasure from\nhis huge bull-mastiff, which came leaping up at him, and nearly knocked\nhim down in its delight.\n\n\u201cDown, Hector! Down!\u201d he exclaimed, as he patted the dog\u2019s head, \u201cWhere\nis Agar Halfi?\u201d\n\nThe animal ran to the door, sniffed at it, and came back, wagging his\ntail, as much as to say that the door was shut.\n\n\u201cNot in?\u201d queried Brentwood; \u201cwell, I\u2019ll wait. Come along!\u201d\n\nHe walked into the living room, and sat down on the table, swinging\nhis legs. Agar Halfi, he knew, could not be long, as it was only five\nminutes\u2019 run to the Vicarage.\n\nHe looked casually round the room, and started to whistle, when a\nthought flashed across his mind which caused him to stop abruptly.\n\n\u201cWhy not try the experiment on the dog?\u201d\n\nCalling the animal to him, he took its great head between his hands,\nand looked steadily into its eyes. Hector wriggled, and made as if\nto get away, but his master silenced him with his voice, and the dog\nobediently returned his look with its big honest eyes.\n\nFor fully half a minute he concentrated the power of his mind on the\nanimal, and then, with the second contraction of the pupils, Brentwood\nbegan to be satisfied that the experiment\u2014as he expected it would\ndo\u2014had passed off satisfactorily. All at once the dog, who had almost\npassed into the sleep, whimpered, and, breaking away from his grasp,\nbacked away from his master whining with terror.\n\nThe animal\u2019s action was so sudden and so strange, that the man\nmomentarily let go the mental hold he had of it. In that instant the\ndog\u2019s eyes flamed, and, with a deep, savage bay, he made as if to\nspring. Recovering himself immediately, Brentwood shouted in sharp\ntones:\n\n\u201cLie down!\u201d\n\nHis master\u2019s voice of command had the desired effect. The\ndog\u2014habitually used to obeying it\u2014lay down, though apparently ill at\nease, giving vent to occasional suppressed growls.\n\nThe Master of Storton took a long breath, and, pulling out his\npocket-handkerchief, wiped small drops of perspiration from his\nforehead. He was keenly awake to the fact that he had had a narrow\nescape of his life. No man unarmed could stand against the attack of a\ndog like Hector.\n\nHowever, it was not the first time he had faced death and probably it\nwould not be the last. But the fact of the dog turning on him set him\n\u201cfuriously to think.\u201d It looked as if the animal had been affected in\nthe same way as Miss Alletson. If that were so, he wondered what sort\nof a nerve Miss Alletson had, because it would have to be something\nextraordinary to make Hector attack his master.\n\nHis head sank down on his chest as he tried to unravel it. The animal\nwithout doubt showed fear and horror, whilst under the spell of his\neyes. He also noticed that the thing happened just about the time when\nthe sleep was in evidence.\n\nHe was still musing over it when Agar Halfi entered the room. On seeing\nBrentwood sitting there, the Hindoo waited for him to speak. This for\na time he did not do, but instead looked absently at him, as though\ndebating in his mind whether or not he would say anything at all. At\nlast he broke the silence.\n\n\u201cAgar Halfi, I\u2019ve a problem I want to discuss with you.\u201d\n\nWithout a word the man crossed the room, and, squatting on the\nhearthrug\u2014Eastern fashion\u2014began to stare at the fire.\n\nBrentwood watched him and smiled. It was one of the Hindoo\u2019s\npeculiarities that he never spoke unless it was absolutely necessary,\nand what he had done was simply his way of stating that he was ready to\nlisten, and all attention.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t think there is much known about hypnotism with which I am not\nacquainted?\u201d\n\nThe other man nodded.\n\n\u201cOn the other hand,\u201d continued the speaker, \u201cas far as it is possible\nI know that you are a master of the science, as you are of most things\noccult, and I am going to lay before you a phenomenon which I have\nto-day discovered. But before I do so, I want you to test my hypnotic\ninfluence.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy waste time, Sahib? Your powers in that direction need no testing.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have good reason for it, Agar Halfi. It will make all the difference\nto what I have to lay before you.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen we will test it,\u201d replied the man laconically.\n\n\u201cWhat I want you to note is, what you experience while I am using the\npower, before you lose consciousness.\u201d\n\nAgar Halfi made no reply, but getting up from the floor, sat in a chair\nand got ready for the experiment.\n\nTo Brentwood\u2019s surprise, everything went off without the slightest\nhitch. No disturbing element at all manifested itself. The Master of\nStorton whistled softly under his breath; this complicated matters.\n\nHe awoke the Hindoo almost immediately, who at once resumed his seat on\nthe hearthrug and gazed calmly into the fire.\n\n\u201cSo you experienced nothing out of the common?\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing, Sahib,\u201d was the reply.\n\nThe Master of Storton looked vacantly at the ceiling, and then,\nwithout \u201cbeating about the bush,\u201d related what had occurred during the\nafternoon\u2019s experiment, and what happened later on with the dog.\n\n\u201cNow, my friend, what do you think of it?\u201d\n\nThe Hindoo did not reply, but instead rose from the floor, and going\nover to the dog, swiftly put him into the sleep, without the slightest\ntrouble. Brentwood watched while he did it, with interested eyes; not\nthe slightest action escaped him, and he noticed that there was not any\nsign of trouble at all with the animal.\n\nWhen he had finished, Agar Halfi resumed his seat and studied the fire\nwith half-closed eyes. At last he remarked:\n\n\u201cWhen did the Sahib last use the power?\u201d\n\n\u201cReally, I forget, but I think it was well over six months ago.\u201d\n\n\u201cI once saw a man who was possessed with a devil shrink with the fear\nof death when I cast out the evil one.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do you think caused the fear?\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, Sahib, who knows? Possibly the unfortunate one, when on the\nborderland above the world, caught sight of his tormentor before he\nflew away. Possibly the poor man saw its reflection in my eyes? But\nstill, who knows?\u201d\n\nBrentwood laughed lightly as he replied:\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t think the lady has a devil, even if the dog has. But it is\npossible that they both saw a devil in me.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen why did not Agar Halfi see it?\u201d was the terse reply.\n\n\u201cExactly, my friend, that is the curious point,\u201d answered the Master of\nStorton.\n\n\u201cBesides,\u201d continued the Hindoo, \u201cif you had a devil, you would show\nsigns of him, and there are no such signs to my knowledge.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is perplexing,\u201d replied the other; \u201cbut still, I don\u2019t doubt that\nwe shall unravel it. There is nothing which we have yet tackled which\nwe have not conquered, is there?\u201d Brentwood paused, then continued,\n\u201cexcepting\u201d\u2014he again paused, and looked at the Hindoo, who, without\nturning his head, said:\n\n\u201cExcepting that one great mystery, Sahib, which nearly cost you your\nlife.\u201d\n\nThe Master of Storton looked thoughtful, then said in a low voice:\n\n\u201cYes, I had almost forgotten. Let me see, how long was I in that\ntrance?\u201d\n\n\u201cSix weeks and two days, Sahib; and at times I did not know whether you\nwere alive or dead. You never moved nor spoke a word, and although I\ndid my best, I could not rouse you. You were in the grip of some force\nstronger than any Agar Halfi knows.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd but for your charmed ring, my friend, I should not be here now!\u201d\n\nThe Hindoo slightly shrugged his shoulders as he answered:\n\n\u201cWho knows?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d continued the Master of Storton, \u201cif I had been wise I should\nhave taken your advice and forgotten that such a place existed; then I\nshould not have got this,\u201d and pulling down his collar he pointed to a\njagged white scar about three inches long.\n\n\u201cAnd yet there was no wound, Sahib!\u201d\n\n\u201cStill, Agar Halfi, I will be quits with that ghost yet! For that\nreason I am glad you photographed for me those footprints.\u201d He paused,\nand whistled softly, then went on:\n\n\u201cMy word, each one fully three times as big as a man\u2019s hand! And, as\nwe have proved since, no known bird has got a foot like that. But the\nstrangest part of all is, that there were only two of them, and those\nclose together, barely three yards from where I was lying.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat was so, Sahib, and, although I searched closely, I discovered no\nothers.\u201d\n\nBrentwood thought silently for a time, then remarked:\n\n\u201cIt is very extraordinary, but look here, Agar Halfi, if it had not\nbeen material, how could it have left footprints? Answer me that.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd if it was material, Sahib, how could it have _not_ left its\ntracks?\u201d\n\nThey both looked at each other and laughed. Then Brentwood closed his\neyes and said quietly:\n\n\u201cPresumably, being of the bird type, it could have flown.\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue, Sahib, but Agar Halfi did not see it fly.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was dark, my friend.\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue again, but Agar Halfi could see the Sahib plainly enough, and he\ncould also see the great dim shape of the hobgoblin, it being hardly\nthree strides away from where you were lying.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy face is white, besides I was lying close to the fire, and could\neasily be seen by you. But the night was dark, you said, there being no\nmoon, and if the thing was sombre in colour you could not have seen it\nany more than to think it was a shadow.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlso true, Sahib; but again, if it were material, and did not walk\naway (and it must have left its tracks if it had done that), it must\nhave flown away as you said. But Agar Halfi did not hear the rustle of\nits wings!\u201d\n\nBrentwood smiled at the Oriental\u2019s arguments, the subtlety of which\nproved to him that there was reason in the Hindoo\u2019s make-up, and what\nwas more, common sense.\n\n\u201cQuite so, Agar Halfi; but then you were horror-stricken, and all your\nattention was apparently turned to me, and in that case you may not\nhave heard it fly away.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf the Sahib judges the size of the evil one from his feet, does he\nthink it possible that Agar Halfi would not hear him fly away under any\ncircumstances? I have ears, and should have had to be unconscious not\nto have heard him.\u201d\n\n\u201cEven then,\u201d continued the Master of Storton, \u201cyou may have been\noblivious to all external things except the one. Remember the state you\nwere in; all sorts of things may happen under such conditions.\u201d\n\nThe Hindoo shook his head as he replied:\n\n\u201cYou can find an answer to all things, but Agar Halfi was not deceived.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, we will leave it at that,\u201d continued the Master of Storton; \u201cand\nnow, I want to tell you that probably I shall be visiting the priory\nruins to-morrow with the Vicar and his sister, and I want you to come\nalso. It is possible that there may be work to do there.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAPTER XI\n\n                              THE DISCOVERY\n\n\nIn the morning Arthur Shepperton called for the Vicar and his sister,\nand they went together to the priory. Brentwood had not arrived when\nthey got there, so they sat down to wait, on the same seat that\nShepperton had utilised a few days ago.\n\nAlletson, under his outward reserve, was excited, being keenly\ninterested in the exploration, in view of what he had himself\nexperienced at the priory. Shepperton seemed sullen and taciturn, and\nConstance appeared indifferent.\n\nFor a time none of them spoke, the two men being apparently absorbed\neach in his own thoughts, whilst Constance was occupied in studying the\noutside of the ruin.\n\nOccasionally, each would look in the direction from which Brentwood\nshould come. At last the Vicar pulled out his watch and broke the\nsilence by saying:\n\n\u201cIt is barely ten yet; I don\u2019t think there will be any doubt about his\ncoming.\u201d\n\nShepperton yawned in a bored sort of fashion, and answered, in a way\nwhich seemed to imply that it didn\u2019t matter whether the Master of\nStorton turned up or not, \u201cI hope not,\u201d and then lapsed into silence\nagain.\n\n\u201cI believe these ruins are very old,\u201d said Alletson, addressing himself\nto Shepperton.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d replied the latter. \u201cThey date back to the fourteenth century.\u201d\nHe paused, then added: \u201cThere are some queer stories connected with\ntheir history, and, as is usual with such places, it is of course\nhaunted.\u201d\n\nThe scorn in his voice drew Constance\u2019s attention; it irritated her a\nlittle, so she said:\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t you think it probable that some of these old places really are\nhaunted?\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly not, Miss Alletson,\u201d he replied emphatically. \u201cIt is merely\nsuperstitious belief, which has been, and I believe is now, used in\nsome countries by the Romish priests to frighten the ignorant into\nsubmission.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat may be true,\u201d retorted Constance, \u201cbut it does not prove that\nhouses are not haunted, and there are some very intelligent people who\nagree that they are!\u201d\n\nShepperton smiled in a confident way, and answered:\n\n\u201cYou may take it from me, Miss Alletson, that modern science has\nexploded all such theories.\u201d\n\nHis reply roused Constance. Her whole individuality resented his\ntake-it-for-granted attitude that women do not and cannot understand\nthese things, and must accept, like a questioning child, what a man\nsays as right.\n\n\u201cDo you mean to imply, Mr. Shepperton, that you know absolutely that\nsuch is the case, because, if so, I should like to be enlightened. I am\nrather under the impression that modern science has not yet arrived at\na stage when it can satisfactorily deal with such problems.\u201d\n\nHe was a little bit nonplussed, not expecting such an answer from a\nwoman, and, while he sought for a suitable reply, he glanced uneasily\nat her brother, who was looking at the floor, listening in grim silence.\n\nAt last he said:\n\n\u201cWell, so far as I know, every case that has been investigated has been\ntraced to spiritualistic trickery, or something of that kind. Besides,\nno one has yet been able to prove to anyone else that he or she has\nseen a ghost, which I think is fair proof that so-called apparitions\nare mental disturbances, traceable to physical disorders.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd if you could not prove that the quack\u2019s patent medicine was _not_\na cure-all, would you advance that as a proof that it was?\u201d\n\nShepperton looked at her a little mystified. Her counter-question\nrather puzzled him, so he answered: \u201cI fail to see what bearing your\nremark has upon what I said.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, to put it in another way, Mr. Shepperton, because you cannot\nprove one thing, _that_ does not prove another, and the fact that no\none has proved to anyone else that he or she has seen a ghost, does not\nprove that there are not any ghosts, any more than the failure to prove\nthat a patent medicine is not a cure-all proves that it is one!\u201d\n\n\u201cStill,\u201d he answered doggedly, \u201cthe fact remains that people who are\nsuffering from mental and physical disorders do see visions\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cWhich again,\u201d interposed Constance, \u201cdoes not prove that healthy\npeople do not see them, and if you will look up the records of the\nSociety for Psychical Research, you will find distinct proofs of the\nlatter.\u201d\n\nThere was a brief silence, during which Shepperton slowly formed a\ndifferent opinion of the Vicar\u2019s sister. He had an uncomfortable\nfeeling that Miss Alletson was better grounded than he in that\nparticular subject at any rate.\n\nDiscretion warned him to let the matter drop there; but that feeling of\nbeing beaten egged him on. It was not likely that she could have had\nany personal experience of such things, so he returned to the attack.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ve had practical experience of these matters, Miss Alletson. I\nattended for six months what was called a \u2018Public Circle,\u2019 which used\nto be held in Westsea once a fortnight. I went purposely to find\nout for myself whether there was anything at all in what so-called\nspiritualists claimed.\u201d\n\nConstance looked interested.\n\n\u201cWell?\u201d she said.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d he repeated, \u201cat the end of that time I came away satisfied\nthat the people who went there were merely their own dupes. Not one\nshred nor atom of rational evidence did I find. Ghosts and messages\nfrom ghosts innumerable were supposed to have appeared and been\nreceived, but as for proof of either\u2014well, it was not forthcoming. The\npeople simply worked themselves up into an emotional state and just\nbelieved.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd was that the end of your investigation, Mr. Shepperton?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d he replied, \u201cdo you think it was necessary for me to go any\nfurther; surely the thing condemned itself?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou seem to have been unfortunate in your endeavours,\u201d she answered.\n\n\u201cUnfortunate!\u201d he exclaimed. \u201cHow?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen investigating psychic phenomena, public circles are not conducive\nto good results, Mr. Shepperton. The conditions created are very mixed\nand unharmonious. Besides, such investigation requires preparation.\nIt is necessary for all the investigators to be in mental harmony; a\nspecially prepared room must be used; proper clothing worn that is kept\nfor the purpose; abstention from stimulants and meats is desirable;\nand above all, perfect bodily cleanliness. Under such conditions,\ninvestigators may get a lot more than they expect, after a fair trial.\u201d\n\nShepperton listened with the growing conviction that the Vicar\u2019s sister\nknew something about the matter under discussion, but somehow he could\nnot bring himself to accept defeat, so he remarked:\n\n\u201cDo you believe in such things?\u201d\n\n\u201cI can\u2019t say that I actually believe, but evidence points to there\nbeing something in it.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do you think about it?\u201d he said, turning to the Vicar.\n\nThe latter, who had been greatly amused at the little battle, roused\nhimself.\n\n\u201cWell, I am bound to say that there are many things connected with the\nsoul and the spirit which are not understood, and as far as I know,\nmodern research on psychological lines tends to show that we are on the\nverge of strange discoveries. I have no settled views either way. But\nperhaps Mr. Brentwood could tell you something if you are anxious to\nget information; he has made a lifelong study of such problems.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh!\u201d exclaimed Shepperton. He paused, then went on: \u201cSo I suppose it\nis only natural to expect that he thinks these strange disappearances\nare due to some occult agency?\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t think so,\u201d replied the Vicar coldly. \u201cAnyhow, it was I who\nfirst put it to him that this might be the case.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh!\u201d exclaimed Shepperton again.\n\nAt this juncture their attention was arrested by the appearance of\na great dog, which had evidently arrived unnoticed while they were\ntalking. Constance uttered an exclamation, and both men visibly\nstarted. As for the dog, he seemed quite unconcerned. After a\ncursory glance, he approached the seat and sniffed at them; then he\ndeliberately went back to Constance, placed his great head on her lap,\nlooked up into her face and slowly wagged his tail. Overcoming her\nfirst sense of fear, she patted his head and his tail wagged faster.\n\n\u201cI see he wants to make friends with you, Miss Alletson!\u201d\n\nThey all turned from studying the dog, to find Brentwood standing about\na dozen paces away.\n\n\u201cReally,\u201d said Constance, with a little laugh, \u201cI can hardly say\nwhether or not I appreciate his overtures; I\u2019m not sure I\u2019m not afraid\nof him.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo one with whom Hector makes friends need be afraid of him,\u201d was the\nquiet answer.\n\n\u201cI shouldn\u2019t care to have a row with him,\u201d remarked Shepperton\nsatirically.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d replied the Master of Storton. \u201cThey are very formidable enemies,\nbut, on the other hand, excellent friends, Mr.\u2014er.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d interposed the Vicar. \u201cAllow me to introduce you to Mr.\nBrentwood, Mr. Shepperton.\u201d\n\nThe Master of Storton bowed gravely, while Shepperton curtly inclined\nhis head.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m sorry to be a little late,\u201d continued Brentwood. \u201cSomething went\nwrong with my motor-car, and I had to walk. However, I don\u2019t think\nthere is much the matter, and in all probability it will be here\nshortly and we can drive back together.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave you decided upon any mode of procedure?\u201d\n\nThe Vicar shook his head smilingly, as he replied:\n\n\u201cI\u2019m afraid not; in fact I rather think we had all left it to you as a\nmatter of course.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps,\u201d ventured Brentwood, \u201cMr. Shepperton has some suggestion?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh no,\u201d was the indifferent reply. \u201cPersonally I\u2019m not skilled in such\nmatters, and shall be glad if you will direct our operations.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery well. First of all, we will try to get the trail of Miss Hobson\nfrom the glove by the aid of Hector.\u201d\n\nThey entered the ruins by the door in the wall, Brentwood and\nShepperton leading the way, followed by the other two a short distance\nbehind.\n\n\u201cBy the aid of the dog, I think we can prove whether Miss Hobson\u201d\u2014he\npaused, and added in a lower voice\u2014\u201cor her body, is in these ruins!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou may find her body,\u201d exclaimed Shepperton bitterly, \u201cbut it is\nsurely impossible that she could be alive after all this time?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not impossible,\u201d responded Brentwood slowly.\n\n\u201cWell then, improbable,\u201d returned Shepperton, with slight irritation.\n\nBrentwood\u2019s face hardened a little as he replied:\n\n\u201cI have no wish to be pedantic, but there is a distinct difference\nbetween impossible and improbable, as you must know, and in a matter of\nthis kind we cannot be too careful.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery good,\u201d replied Shepperton. \u201cBut I may as well tell you frankly\nthat I have little, if any, faith in your theory; on the other hand I\nwish to be fair, and am willing to see it through.\u201d\n\nThe Master of Storton made no reply to the last remark. He had had too\nmuch experience to be drawn into a desultory argument, unless it was\nforced upon him. But the unconscious egotism displayed by his companion\nin practically stating that he was willing to let the theory have a\nfair chance, amused him not a little.\n\nBut Shepperton was in an antagonistic mood, and continued:\n\n\u201cI\u2019m not afraid to face a ghost when I meet one, a thing which I have\nnot yet done, and as far as I can judge, never shall.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019m glad that you will not be afraid,\u201d returned the other.\n\nShepperton flushed. \u201cYour words imply that I probably shall meet one?\u201d\n\nBrentwood did not answer. He very nearly said, \u201cI hope so,\u201d but thought\nbetter of it. Instead, his mind drifted to a similar remark he once\nmade to Agar Halfi, some years ago, the evening before he nearly lost\nhis life in Afghanistan.\n\nHis reflections in that direction were interrupted by his becoming\naware that Shepperton was eyeing him curiously, awaiting a reply. \u201cIf\nyou follow this case through, as you say you will, it is more than\nprobable that you will modify your views on such matters.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I\u2019m open to conviction,\u201d was the reply, in a dogmatic tone.\n\n\u201cSo was I once!\u201d\n\nShepperton stared hard at him, the remark was so easily and coolly made\nthat he hardly knew how to take it. At last he said:\n\n\u201cThen you have seen a ghost?\u201d\n\nBrentwood returned his look calmly, and a very faint smile appeared in\nhis eyes as he answered:\n\n\u201cNot in my normal state.\u201d\n\nShepperton gave a gesture of contempt, as much as to say, \u201cI thought he\nwould wriggle,\u201d then replied:\n\n\u201cPlenty of people have seen them like that.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou mean phantoms of the mind, don\u2019t you?\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly; isn\u2019t that what you mean?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo!\u201d\n\nShepperton waited for him to continue, but was disappointed. It is\nprobable that the Master of Storton would have explained there and\nthen and set at rest the other man\u2019s doubts, had not an entirely new\ncircumstance intervened and stopped an explanation which would have\nsaved much pain and trouble for some people, and very nearly a tragedy\nfor others. Such a happening is what we call \u201cThe Hand of Fate,\u201d which\nis simply a name for things which we do not understand, and therefore,\nover which we have no control, unless we hit upon the solution by\nblind luck, and then some people call it \u201cProvidence.\u201d Others less\nsusceptible say nothing, but wonder.\n\nJust when he would have replied, Brentwood had a distinct feeling that\nConstance Alletson was not only looking at him, but thinking about him,\nand as he became cognisant of the thought a strange trembling passed\nthrough his body. He felt that she was trying to analyse something in\nhim, and was mistrustful about it.\n\nThis at once recalled to his mind what had happened during the\nexperiment at the Manor a few days ago, and he did not feel at ease. A\nsudden impulse\u2014which he promptly suppressed\u2014urged him to ask her about\nit there and then. No, it would be better to wait. Perhaps, after all,\nit was but the strangeness of circumstances which had caused it, and if\nthat were so, he would be sorry to have spoken. But what about the dog?\n\nThe sound of quickened footsteps caused both Shepperton and him to\nturn. Just behind were the Vicar and his sister, and with them Agar\nHalfi.\n\n\u201cWe heard your car coming along just as we were about to enter through\nthe door in the wall, so waited,\u201d explained Constance.\n\nTo Shepperton\u2019s surprise, Brentwood introduced him to Agar Halfi, and\nthen explained to the Hindoo what they proposed to do. Whereupon the\nlatter silently leashed Hector, and the Master of Storton gave the dog\nthe scent from the glove, while they all watched in silence. After\nmomentary hesitation, Hector started off in a northerly direction along\nthe outside of the ruined wall. He travelled the whole length of it,\nthen rounding the angle to the east, continued at a brisk pace until\nhe reached that part of the wall which used to form the back of the\naltar. Here he stopped, and whined, then making straight for an opening\na little lower down, got into the chancel, and walked restlessly all\nround, at last coming to a stop at the altar. Here he pawed the ground,\nwhining fretfully. They all looked at each other, perplexed.\n\n\u201cUnderground?\u201d queried Shepperton, in a low voice.\n\nBrentwood nodded, and motioning to the Hindoo to hold back the dog,\ncarefully inspected the stone flags. But not a sign of anything having\nbeen disturbed could be detected. So far as could be seen, the floor\nwas as it had lain for centuries.\n\nIt was Alletson who solved the difficulty. While the others had been\nintently examining the flags, he had been looking at those parts of the\nwall which still remained intact, and had alighted on a secret door,\nwhich by accident he had pushed open. It was part of the wall, fitting\nexactly into the pattern of the stone, and was on the inner side of\none of the outside buttresses. When opened, it revealed stone steps\nleading down from the back of the buttress, underneath the chancel.\n\nLighting one of the motor lamps which he had brought with him, Agar\nHalfi descended after the dog, and the rest of the party followed.\n\nThey discovered themselves in a chamber or vault, which apparently ran\nunder the full extent of the chancel.\n\nStraining at his leash, Hector made straight for the west side of\nthe vault and started scratching at the wall, sniffing and growling\nalternately. Here they came to a dead stop, for seek as they would, no\nsign of any way through the wall could they find.\n\nBaffled, they turned their attention to the vault itself, and almost\nimmediately a discovery was made. Before they had proceeded many yards,\nthe Hindoo stumbled, and uttered something which sounded like a curse,\nat the same time the dog bayed warningly, and Constance clung tighter\nto her brother\u2019s arm.\n\nBringing the lamp to bear on the spot, they found the obstacle over\nwhich the Hindoo had stumbled, and Shepperton gave an exclamation of\nconsternation as he stooped to look.\n\nNo, it was not Elsie Hobson. Lying with arms outstretched, a look of\nintense horror on his face, lay Henry Thornton!\n\nThe Master of Storton bent silently down to examine the body, and when\nhe rose, they all noticed that his face was very stern, and his mouth\nshut in a straight line.\n\nHe looked across the vault into the darkness, and before his mind\nrose a vision of a wild spot in Afghanistan, for across the throat\nof the unfortunate clergyman was a jagged wound about two and a half\ninches long, and on either side of the body was the imprint of a huge\nbird-shaped foot!\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAPTER XII\n\n                                A WARNING\n\n\nAs was to be expected, the Coroner\u2019s Jury returned a verdict of \u201cMurder\nagainst some person or persons unknown.\u201d\n\nFrom the medical evidence it transpired that death was caused by heart\nfailure, due to shock, though it was stated that the wound in the\nthroat would have been sufficient to kill. As to what caused the wound,\nthere was no clear indication, the evidence merely stating, \u201csome blunt\ninstrument of a peculiar nature.\u201d\n\nThe discovery was, of course, the central topic of the neighbourhood\nfor days, and did not subside until some time after the remains of the\nRev. Henry Thornton had been decently interred in the churchyard.\n\nThe police made a thorough search of the priory ruins, and hopes ran\nhigh that some clue to Elsie Hobson\u2019s disappearance would be found; but\nin spite of all their efforts, nothing of any consequence occurred, and\ngradually the general excitement waned.\n\nDuring this period Shepperton, although he gave the police all the help\nhe could, deliberately withheld from them the one item of information\nwhich, had he chosen to give it, might have at once brought matters\nto an issue. The photograph which he had picked up was probably the\nkey to the mystery; but he had determined that until he had sufficient\nevidence to condemn the Master of Storton he would work alone. There\nwas no doubt in his mind that Brentwood knew all about it, and he had\nevery reason to believe that the crimes had been perpetrated by him.\nIf the photograph had not been sufficient to indicate that he knew\nsomething, the start which he gave (Shepperton remembered particularly\nthat he uttered no exclamation) when he examined the body, and saw the\nwound in the throat, was sufficient to show that the Master of Storton\nwas deeply involved in the case, if not actually guilty. Further, the\nwhole circumstances pointed to the conclusion that the wound had some\nsort of a connection with the footprints.\n\nHe pondered over it almost daily, and the more he thought about it, the\nmore the idea gained strength that Brentwood was the culprit. In that\ncase, if he were going to bring the crime home to his door, he would\nhave to act very carefully. It would not be easy to circumvent the\nsubtlety of a man who, evidently guilty, had the cleverness to be one\nof the first to come forward to help clear the matter up. Shepperton\nsaw that such a course served a double purpose. It not only enabled the\ncriminal to know what the genuine investigators were doing, it gave him\nevery opportunity to mislead them; and, of course, it was hardly likely\nthat anyone would suspect the man, when working in co-operation with\nhim.\n\nOne consideration which caused him to adopt this course was, that he\ndetermined to leave nothing undone likely to bring the criminal to\njustice\u2014he had no doubt that Elsie was dead.\n\nWhile deliberating, it occurred to him that perhaps it would be as well\nto put the Vicar and his sister on their guard against Brentwood. It\nwould not be just on his part to let them get too far involved with\nthe Master of Storton, when it lay in his power to warn them. But they\nwould have to faithfully promise to keep his secret of the photograph.\nBe it to his credit, that he should thus think of others during his own\nhours of bitterness.\n\nAfter further thinking it over, he decided that the only thing to do\nwould be to take the Vicar and his sister entirely into his confidence.\nIf he must tell them anything at all, he might as well tell them\neverything. No sooner had he made up his mind than he decided to act\nupon it. Accordingly he went straight to the Vicarage that afternoon on\nleaving his office.\n\nAlletson welcomed him in his kind way, and Constance invited him to\njoin them at tea, which was ready on the table. During the meal they\nconversed on ordinary topics, and it was not until Martha had cleared\nthe table and quietly closed the door after her that Shepperton\nmentioned he had something of grave importance to impart to them.\n\nThe Vicar\u2019s face grew stern, while Constance poked the fire uneasily,\nand for a short time there was silence. Seeing that he hesitated,\nAlletson said kindly:\n\n\u201cWell, Mr. Shepperton, what is the trouble?\u201d\n\nThe remark seemed to enable Shepperton to pull himself together, and\nleaning his elbows on the table, he answered deliberately:\n\n\u201cTo tell you the simple truth, I\u2019ve come to warn you against the Master\nof Storton!\u201d\n\nConstance stared at him curiously, and the Vicar uttered a surprised\n\u201cOh!\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019m sorry to startle you, Mr. Alletson,\u201d he continued, \u201cbut I\u2019m so\nsure of my ground. If I had had any doubts, I should not have come. All\nI ask is that you will both respect my confidence; further than that,\nI do not want to bind you in any way. The missing links in the chain I\nwill seek out myself.\u201d\n\n\u201cSurely, surely it is not possible that Mr. Brentwood can be the\nperpetrator of such abominable crimes?\u201d exclaimed the Vicar in a pained\nvoice.\n\nWhy, he did not know, but turning suddenly to Constance, Shepperton\nasked:\n\n\u201cWhat is your opinion, Miss Alletson?\u201d\n\nTo the surprise of both men, Constance did not reply. She simply shook\nher head and turned her gaze to the fire.\n\nDuring the interval of silence that ensued, her brother looked at her\nin pure astonishment. He could not understand her not agreeing with\nwhat he himself thought; being, of course, quite innocent of what had\noccurred during the experiment at the Manor.\n\n\u201cWell, after you have heard all I have to say, I think you will agree\nthat there is radical ground upon which to suspect Mr. Brentwood; and,\nfurther, that it will take little more to bring the crimes home to him.\u201d\n\nWhereupon, producing the photograph, Shepperton related all that he\nknew.\n\nThere was a painful interval after Shepperton\u2019s story, which did not\ntend to make him feel very comfortable, and he glanced uneasily first\nfrom the Vicar to his sister, then back again. Alletson had risen and\nwas pacing the room with short, nervous steps; he was clearly agitated.\nConstance remained looking dully at the fire. She was thinking about\nthat weird experience she had gone through a fortnight ago, and the\nvery thought of what she had suffered tended to unnerve her.\n\nUnable to bear the suspense longer, Shepperton turned to the Vicar and\nasked in a doubtful voice:\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t you think my grounds of suspicion satisfactory?\u201d\n\nAlletson clenched his hands as though something hurt him.\n\n\u201cCertainly, certainly, Mr. Shepperton, they seem at first sight only\ntoo clear. It is not that I question things in any way, but\u2014but\u201d\u2014the\nwords seemed to be forced from him\u2014\u201cyou see, we have been friends.\u201d\n\nThe expression on the Vicar\u2019s face made Shepperton feel sorry that he\nhad had to hurt his feelings.\n\nConstance looked at her brother sympathetically, and half rose as if\nto go over to him; but remembering that they were not alone, sat down\nagain.\n\nHer movements attracted Shepperton\u2019s attention to her, and he said:\n\n\u201cIt is fairly clear, don\u2019t you think, that Mr. Brentwood is pretty\nthoroughly mixed up in this matter?\u201d\n\n\u201cThere hardly seems to be any doubt about it,\u201d she replied slowly.\n\u201cAnd further, I think I had better tell you that\u2014that\u2014\u201d Her sudden\nhesitation caused both men to look at her significantly, eager to hear\nwhat she had to say, but no words came from her lips. Instead, she sat\nwith open mouth, staring hard at the wall, the colour coming and going\nin her cheeks, and her bosom heaving as though she were suppressing\nsome undue excitement. Shepperton stood up, and looked at her in\namazement, while her brother glanced askance at the wall, thinking that\nhe could see something there. Then jumping up, he quickly crossed the\nroom, and taking her hand exclaimed:\n\n\u201cConstance, Constance, what is the matter?\u201d\n\nBut for a minute she did not move, and continued to stare at the wall,\nas though it fascinated her.\n\n\u201cSpeak, Constance!\u201d But she did not seem to hear his voice. At last,\nheaving a deep sigh, she lay back in the chair and smiled faintly,\nwhile her face went very white.\n\n\u201cFetch me some water, Philip,\u201d she whispered. He hurried to carry out\nher bidding, and during his absence Shepperton, evidently embarrassed,\nsaid:\n\n\u201cI am so sorry, Miss Alletson; I hope you are not ill. I sincerely\ntrust that what I have said to-night has not upset you?\u201d\n\nShe looked at him vacantly, and then despair came into her eyes.\nRaising her hand to her head in a bewildered manner, she ejaculated:\n\n\u201cI cannot do it!\u201d\n\n\u201cDo what?\u201d he queried, not understanding.\n\nBut she did not answer. Instead, she rose slowly from her chair, and\ngoing to the window, looked out into the twilight which was fast\ngathering.\n\nShe must have stood there several minutes gazing into nothingness, and\nher brother, who had meanwhile entered the room, had, at a warning\nglance from Shepperton, come to a standstill, watching her. Shepperton\nnoticed that his hand trembled, and sat vacantly looking at the water\nin the tumbler quivering from side to side, until a little of it\nsplashed on the carpet. Involuntarily he looked at Alletson\u2019s face, and\nhis expression told him at once that something further had occurred.\nTurning quickly to the figure at the window, he noticed that Constance\nwas standing with her hands over her ears, as though to shut out some\nsound, and her face\u2014which they could see in profile\u2014was ashen colour,\nand set with an intensity almost agonising.\n\nAll at once she dropped her hands, and turning round to her brother\nremarked, in what seemed quite a rational manner:\n\n\u201cPhilip, I am going out for a little while!\u201d and calmly walked towards\nthe door. Almost instinctively her brother determined that she should\nnot; she was evidently not her normal self. From being nervously\nexcited, he suddenly grew calm\u2014men of his particular temperament\nusually do when confronted with danger\u2014and quickly walking over to his\nsister, quietly led her into a chair, and gently, but firmly, made her\nsit down. Then proffering the glass of water, said kindly:\n\n\u201cDrink this.\u201d\n\nShe looked at him rebelliously, as though she bitterly resented the\ncourse he had taken with her, and at first it seemed as if she would\nviolently resist him. Indeed, he was greatly surprised at the fierce\nstrength she showed in her eyes. But the more she struggled, the more\ndetermined he grew, and gradually, the great power of his pure and\nnoble mind, developed to a high degree by a life of inward growth and\nself-sacrifice, overcame the strange abnormal manifestation of his\nsister\u2019s will, though she fought to the last in a way that he knew was\nnot natural.\n\nWhen she had ceased to struggle, he put the water to her lips, and she\ndrank mechanically, then exclaiming, \u201cOh dear!\u201d she closed her eyes,\nand lying back in the chair, seemed to rest peacefully enough.\n\nGently loosing her hands, Philip put the glass of water on the table,\nand looked at Shepperton, who asked in a whisper:\n\n\u201cShall I fetch Dr. Trestlewood?\u201d He did not look at all comfortable,\nand felt that in some way he had been the cause of this strange scene.\n\n\u201cNo, thanks, I don\u2019t think it necessary at present at any rate,\u201d\nreplied Alletson. \u201cIf she should get worse, I can send Martha.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do hope that what I have said this evening has not caused\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, no,\u201d interrupted the Vicar. \u201cI don\u2019t for a moment think that, Mr.\nShepperton.\u201d\n\nHe looked much relieved at the Vicar\u2019s remark.\n\n\u201cIs there anything I can do?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cNo, thank you, Mr. Shepperton, I think she will be all right shortly.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen I think I will be going.\u201d\n\nThey walked silently into the hall, and Alletson quietly opened the\nfront door.\n\n\u201cGood night,\u201d he said kindly.\n\n\u201cGood night,\u201d returned the other. Then he hesitated for a moment,\ndrumming his fingers on the door post, with a troubled look on his\nface. The Vicar eyed him tentatively, and at last he spoke:\n\n\u201cYou will keep my secret about that photograph, Mr. Alletson, won\u2019t\nyou?\u201d\n\n\u201cNeed you ask?\u201d returned the Vicar. \u201cYou gave me your confidence, and I\nshall respect it.\u201d\n\nShepperton looked apologetic, and then, with expressive thanks, shook\nhands and took his departure.\n\nCarefully closing the door, Alletson quickly returned to the\ndining-room, and, glancing at his sister, satisfied himself that she\nwas resting peacefully enough by the fire.\n\n\u201cDo you feel better, Constance?\u201d he asked in his kind voice.\n\nShe sighed, and did not answer at once. At last she said emotionally,\n\u201cYes, Philip, thanks to you,\u201d and her eyes filled with tears.\n\n\u201cAll right,\u201d he answered soothingly. \u201cDon\u2019t worry, my dear; sit quietly\nwhile I write two or three letters.\u201d\n\nHe saw that she was distressed, and, much as he wanted to know what it\nwas that had upset her, he refrained from asking questions.\n\nObtaining ink and paper from his own room, he settled himself down,\nand for nearly half an hour nothing was audible but the occasional\nscratching of his pen and the falling in of the fire, as it gradually\nburned away.\n\nHe had barely sealed the last envelope, when a sort of scratching noise\non the French window caused them both to turn suddenly.\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d queried Constance in a startled voice.\n\nShe had hardly spoken, when a mournful howl came from outside, followed\nby the unmistakable whimper of a dog. With a frown the Vicar rose,\nand, walking straight to the window, deliberately opened it. He had no\nsooner done so, when, to his surprise and annoyance, a great dog pushed\npast him, and, going up to his sister, put his muzzle in her hand, and\nstarted wagging his tail with evident delight.\n\n\u201cGood gracious!\u201d she exclaimed. \u201cWhy, it\u2019s Hector!\u201d\n\nAlletson\u2019s astonishment was so great, that for a moment he could only\nlook; then he made a remark which the average person would be shocked\nto hear from the lips of a clergyman.\n\n\u201cGood Lord!\u201d he exclaimed irritably, and then, sitting down, he started\nto laugh heartily as the comical side of the thing appealed to him.\n\nHe was brought to a sudden halt in his merriment by Constance remarking:\n\n\u201cPhilip, it may appear funny, but what on earth has brought the animal\nto me?\u201d\n\nHer brother assumed his usual gravity, and, after thinking a moment,\nshook his head.\n\n\u201cAnyway, he can\u2019t stay here.\u201d\n\nRising, he opened the door, and said in a loud voice:\n\n\u201cHere, get out!\u201d\n\nThe dog, who had settled himself down by Constance\u2019s chair, raised\nhis head for a moment on hearing the Vicar\u2019s voice, and eyed him\ncontemptuously, as much as to say, \u201cPut me out, then,\u201d and resumed his\nprevious position.\n\nCrossing the room, Alletson seized the dog\u2019s collar, and started to\npull him toward the door.\n\n\u201cCome out of it, you brute!\u201d he said sternly.\n\nHector, with a shake of his great head, freed himself, and coolly lay\ndown again by the chair.\n\nThe Vicar sat down, an amused look in his eyes; then he said:\n\n\u201cPerhaps he will go for you, Constance?\u201d\n\n\u201cPossibly,\u201d she replied. She rose and walked to the door; the dog\nimmediately followed, so, opening the front door, she made as if to go\nout; and as soon as the animal crossed the threshold, she slipped back,\nand shut him out. But she had hardly got back to the dining-room before\na loud howling was heard outside. They listened for a time, hoping that\nhe would go away, but he kept whimpering and scratching the door, and\neventually made such a row that Martha appeared with a scared look on\nher face.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t be frightened, Martha,\u201d said her mistress; \u201cit is only a dog.\u201d\n\nMartha went back to the kitchen doubtingly.\n\n\u201cWe had better let him in, Philip, and send a note to the Manor to ask\nMr. Brentwood to fetch him away in the morning.\u201d\n\nHer brother nodded, and reached for ink and paper, while she went\nto the door and opened it. Hector immediately stopped howling, and,\nfollowing Constance into the house, went and resumed his old position\nby her chair in the dining-room.\n\n\u201cIt is quite beyond my comprehension, Philip.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is extraordinary,\u201d he replied, without ceasing to write.\n\n\u201cWherever shall we put him?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe cannot stop in the house, that\u2019s certain,\u201d responded the Vicar.\n\nBut Hector decided that problem for himself. He slept on the mat\noutside Miss Alletson\u2019s bedroom door.\n\n\n\n\n                              CHAPTER XIII\n\n                         THE POWER OF THE MYSTIC\n\n\n\u201cAgar Halfi, I\u2019ve lost that photograph of the footprints!\u201d\n\nA surprised look entered the Hindoo\u2019s eyes as he gazed at the Master\nof Storton, who was leaning easily against the mantelpiece of the\nbreakfast-room.\n\n\u201cIt may be awkward, Sahib, if _some_ people find it.\u201d\n\nBrentwood smiled.\n\n\u201cThe worst of it is, I have lost it outside somewhere. I had it in the\npocket of my shooting jacket on the morning I first went to the priory,\nand it is not there now. I know for certain that I did not take it out\nwhen I returned home.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have the original, Sahib.\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue; but what I am concerned about is, that whoever happens to find\nit may take it to the police, who, you will remember, took great care\nto have copied exact impressions of the footmarks that were found\nbeside the body of the Rev. Henry Thornton, and, as we only too well\nknow, they are the same!\u201d\n\n\u201cIf anyone had found it, you would most probably have heard something\nbefore now.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat seems reasonable enough. Still, I wish I had it safely here.\u201d\n\nHe stood thinking for a time, and then, dismissing the matter from his\nmind for a moment, said:\n\n\u201cI expect, like me, you have been wondering how this evil thing got\nover here?\u201d\n\nThe Hindoo folded his arms and shook his head solemnly.\n\n\u201cWhat concerns me more,\u201d he replied, \u201cis that we do not know how to\ncope with it.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019m afraid it baffles me,\u201d returned Brentwood. \u201cHas it, then,\nexhausted all _your_ powers?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, Sahib, I cannot say that, because a man does not know the limit\nof his power until it is really tested. But up to the present it has\nmystified me.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt does not appear to correspond in principle to anything we have\nmet,\u201d said Brentwood meditatively.\n\n\u201cIf I speak my mind, Sahib, I feel that this evil thing is impervious\nto any attack by man from the physical plane.\u201d\n\nThe Master of Storton looked at him thoughtfully, as he replied:\n\n\u201cIf that is true, Agar Halfi, then there is only one possible way to\ndeal with it, at least to our knowledge, and that is\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cWith an almost certain risk of death,\u201d interrupted the other.\n\nBrentwood nodded slowly, then remarked:\n\n\u201cWell, we shall see. Now, to go back to my original question. Why\nshould it be here where we are? Remember that, so far as we know, you\nand I are the only two people in England who have met with it. Has it\nfollowed us?\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not know about that, Sahib. It is five years and more since we\nencountered the hobgoblin in Afghanistan, and surely if it has followed\nus, why did it not do so immediately?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat argument seems reasonable enough, my friend, but it does not\nnecessarily follow that it is right.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour Western theory of astronomy is accepted because it is the most\nreasonable, but it does not necessarily follow that it is right.\u201d\n\nBrentwood laughed outright, and then replied:\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t think your analogy is quite right, Agar Halfi. The alternative\nto your argument is not a very feasible one, whereas in my case it is\nquite a probable one. The thing may have followed us here directly we\ncame!\u201d\n\n\u201cThen why has it not manifested before?\u201d returned the Oriental quickly.\n\n\u201cThat, of course, is the natural answer to my remark,\u201d replied\nBrentwood, \u201cand it constitutes the doubtful point in my theory.\nHowever, we shall see how things develop.\u201d\n\nHaving spoken, the Master of Storton looked down at the curb, and\nstarted kicking it with the toe of his boot. At length he remarked:\n\n\u201cAgar Halfi, why don\u2019t you go back to India and found a school of your\nown? You know very well that you have control of a force which, so far\nas you are aware, no one else but myself possesses, and yet you are\ncontent to stay here, masquerading as the chauffeur of a well-to-do\nEnglishman.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you wish your servant to depart, he will do so, Sahib, but\notherwise he is satisfied to stay here for the present.\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t misunderstand me,\u201d returned Brentwood quickly. \u201cSo long as you\nwant to stay with me, you know you can; I am honoured by your presence,\nand I do not wish to inquire into your reasons for so doing. But life\nis short, at least on this plane, and I sometimes feel that you are\nwasting valuable time.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere are certain things which I have got to do,\u201d he answered slowly.\n\u201cWhen they are accomplished, perhaps I shall go back to my own country.\nBut for the time, Sahib, I will stay with you.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is entirely for you to decide,\u201d replied Brentwood. \u201cYou know my\nmind on the matter.\u201d\n\n\u201cFor one thing,\u201d went on Agar Halfi, \u201cyou are my friend, and I wish to\nbe near you. A man is not dishonoured because he serves those he loves.\nFar better to be a man\u2019s lacquey than eat the bread of idleness in his\nhouse.\u201d\n\nThe Master of Storton\u2019s face softened as his companion spoke, and there\nwas a warm ring in his voice as he said:\n\n\u201cYour high devotion belittles me; it is greater than any white man\u2019s\nthat I know. Though you are the only one, I am rich in friends.\u201d\n\nThere was an awkward pause, neither man having anything to say. At\nlength Brentwood broke the silence by asking abruptly, \u201cWhat do you\nmake of this?\u201d whereupon he produced a letter, and handed it to the\nHindoo.\n\nAgar Halfi read it with an expressionless face.\n\n                                                   \u201c+The Vicarage,\n                                                 Worlstoke, Somerset+,\n                                                       _May 19\u2014_.\n\n  \u201c+Dear Brentwood+,\u2014You will no doubt be surprised to hear that\n  Hector arrived here to-night about 7 o\u2019clock, and, in spite of all\n  efforts to the contrary, will not leave my sister! No doubt you\n  will be relieved to hear where he is, and perhaps you will send for\n  him in the morning.\n\n                                            \u201cYours sincerely,\n                                                  \u201c+Philip Alletson+.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will fetch him, Sahib.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, but what do you think about it?\u201d\n\nThe other shrugged his shoulders.\n\n\u201cOne thing,\u201d continued Brentwood\u2014\u201cI noticed that he seemed to take a\ngreat fancy to Miss Alletson the first time they met; but beyond that I\nfail to understand the animal\u2019s action.\u201d\n\n\u201cDogs are particularly susceptible to mental and psychic influences,\u201d\nreturned the Oriental, \u201cand probably something in the lady attracts the\ndog to her. It is doubtful if it could have any bearing on the mystery.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps not, but still it will be as well to note what takes place\nin the future. You see more of the dog than I do, so perhaps you will\nwatch him.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery good, Sahib, and now I will go and fetch him.\u201d Saying which, he\nsaluted in soldier fashion, and, turning on his heel, went through the\ndoorway.\n\nThe Master of Storton followed him with his eyes as he went out, and\nthere was a strange smile on his face as he remarked half aloud:\n\n\u201cProbably the most highly developed mind I have ever met, and\nundoubtedly the truest man.\u201d\n\nAs Agar Halfi strode along the road to the Vicarage, his mind was\nfull of ominous forebodings. He felt depressed, and his Oriental\nintelligence, which interpreted things in a different way to a\nEuropean\u2019s, warned him that trouble was not far away. He had read it\nin the stars, could detect it in the aura around him, and, indeed, he\nknew from his master\u2019s horoscope that a dangerous period was at hand.\nProbably it was for that reason he was not going back to India just\nyet. In any case, he did not mean to leave his beloved friend at a time\nwhen trouble was looming.\n\nIt was not for nothing that the evil death which he had once faced in\nAfghanistan had come to the neighbourhood of Storton. In some way he\ngathered that it must have some connection with what happened to them\nfive years ago, and until the mystery was cleared up he would remain.\n\nBut how were they going to encounter it with success? Ah, that was\nanother matter, for, deeply as he was learned in mystic law, he felt\nthat he was powerless to overcome this horror at present.\n\nIf it had been a vampire, a werewolf, or any other evil thing that\nemanated from the malignant rays of the planet Saturn, he could have\ndealt with it, for his knowledge held the key to the forces which\nsprung from that great sphere to plague humanity. If it had been an\nelemental, or any evil from the astral plane, governed by the planet\nUranus, he might have hoped to cope with it; but the fire charm he\nhad wrought that night, five years ago, had not availed, except to\nward off death. And such a charm as he had fashioned was, as he knew,\nsufficient to neutralise any astral evil.\n\nDeep down in his mind, he was conscious that this weird thing was a\npsychic manifestation, under the rule of the adverse rays of Neptune,\nthe forces from which star were now slowly beginning to become active\nin the affairs of humanity. Little was known of the power of its rays,\nexcept that the results were evil, and, although the occultists were\nstudying it closely, so slow was its progress through the heavens,\nthat years must elapse before its effects could be understood to any\napparent degree, let alone mastered.\n\nFor that matter, it was doubtful if there were a dozen men who held\nthe key to the planet Uranus and the astral plane! So what could he,\na simple seeker after truth in the mystic arcana, hope to accomplish\nagainst the forces of the unknown psychic plane? It were doubtful if\nthe powers of a Mahatma would avail.\n\nAnd yet, as he walked quickly along, this strange man resolved that he\nwould combat this dread thing, though he knew it would be at the risk\nof his life. And the unselfish reason that caused this resolution was\u2014\n\nWell, that is Agar Halfi\u2019s secret for the present.\n\nIn the meantime, he had reached the Vicarage. To his enquiry for the\nVicar, Martha said that the master was out, but that Miss Alletson\nwould be pleased to see him. The maid showed him into the drawing-room,\nand her eyes never left his face once. Besides the fact that the Hindoo\nwas a curiosity to be stared at, the presence of this dark-skinned man\nfascinated Martha, and for a space she stood looking at him as though\nglued to the carpet, probably wondering whether he was an ogre, who\nwould eat her. All sorts of fearful things flitted through her rustic\nmind. Visions of knives, pistols, and implements of torture. Meanwhile,\nAgar Halfi, who had taken a seat, turned his eye toward her, as she\nstood in the doorway. That settled Martha; suppressing a shriek, she\nturned and fled. And, as she confided to her best friend the next time\nshe saw her, \u201che must be a dreadful man, his eyes looked through and\nthrough me, and I\u2019m sure he knew all that I was thinking about.\u201d\n\nConstance entered the room just after, and greeted her visitor with a\npleasant smile, though her pale cheeks and hollow eyes bore evidence of\nthe strain she had experienced the previous evening.\n\nOn her heels followed Hector, who no sooner saw the Hindoo than he\nstood stock-still and looked at him dejectedly, as though uncertain\nwhat to do, while his tail traversed a descending arc.\n\nAgar Halfi considered him for a moment grimly, then in his deep voice\nhe exclaimed, \u201cCome here!\u201d\n\nWith a spiritless look, the dog went over to him and lay down.\n\nConstance could not help laughing as she remembered her brother\u2019s\nfutile efforts to turn him out the night before, and compared them with\nthe simple victory that Agar Halfi had achieved.\n\n\u201cUntil you came, he simply would not leave me, and last night he lay on\nthe mat outside my bedroom door.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what do you think about his behaviour?\u201d asked the Hindoo in his\ngrave way.\n\nConstance, who had dropped into a chair, was talking quite easily to\nher visitor, whom she naturally treated as her equal. Further, she\nfelt quite comfortable, and sub-consciously noticed that there was not\npresent any of that instinctive reserve which intuitively a woman is\naware of when talking to a man who is practically a stranger.\n\nA smile parted her lips, showing her excellent teeth, as she replied:\n\n\u201cThat is the very question I was going to put to you. Still, as you\nhave anticipated my inquiry, it is only fair that I should answer\nfirst. Frankly, I cannot dismiss the matter from my mind as a mere\ntrifle. There must be some reason for the dog\u2019s conduct. When first we\nmet, he seemed to take an extraordinary liking to me, but I can hardly\nthink that that would be the cause.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt rather points to it, Miss Alletson.\u201d\n\n\u201cCan you suggest any other reason?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d he replied, \u201cI cannot, yet I do not think that what you have\nintimated will explain the dog\u2019s strange behaviour.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs not that what is called \u2018woman\u2019s logic\u2019?\u201d she queried, with a\nsparkle in her eyes.\n\nAgar Halfi looked steadily at her as he answered:\n\n\u201cI submit to the rebuke contained in your remark, Miss Alletson\u2014we men\ndeserve it. But, if I may say so without arrogance, I would answer that\nI know emphatically there is another reason for the animal coming to\nyou, but what it is I am at present quite ignorant. Some day I may be\nable to tell you.\u201d\n\nShe looked at him in genuine surprise.\n\n\u201cDo you know, that what we called an educated white man would blush to\nmake such a statement, Mr. Agar Halfi? He would at once think it an\ninsult to his reason.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd yet you don\u2019t think so!\u201d interjected the Hindoo.\n\n\u201cHow do you know that?\u201d she asked sharply.\n\n\u201cSimply because the faculty of intuition by which I was enabled to make\nthe statement is one which is well developed in most women, but in\nfew men. The general life of a woman tends to its growth, whereas men\ndepend almost solely upon reason, and thereby lose much that they might\notherwise know.\n\nIt is usually by the combination of these two faculties that genius is\nproduced; and the rareness of genius is probably caused by the fact\nthat reason and intuition cannot dwell together in what is called\nthe average mind, as they appear to contradict each other, though in\nreality they are true affinities.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have never heard anyone speak as you have spoken, Mr. Agar Halfi,\nthough in a dim sort of way I have had similar ideas; but until your\nlucid explanation it has not been clear to me. Yes, I think I entirely\nagree with what you say. Now, why don\u2019t women develop the faculty of\nreason?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are doing so slowly, in the same way that men are developing the\nfaculty of intuition. The difference is that in the former case, the\nlack of growth is due to centuries of suppression, and not until men\nrealise that they must give women their freedom will the growth of\nreason fully develop. But before that time comes, women will no doubt\nhave wrested themselves free from their chains by their own efforts.\nOn the other hand, the growth of intuition in men is to some extent\nretarded by the fact that they do not think women capable of teaching\nthem anything worth knowing, and yet it is only by the freedom of women\nfrom men\u2019s yoke that men can reach their own full development. They\nhave clung too much to the physical, and practically ignored all else.\u201d\n\nConstance sat in silent wonder, listening to this strange man discourse\non topics in a manner which she thought would put to shame many\nof the so-called educated units of her own country, and she could\nnot understand how it was that he should be merely a servant in an\nEnglishman\u2019s household. Still, that was not her business, and, after\nall, what did it matter whether a man was a servant or a master,\nso long as he was a man? But that mystified her; a man with such a\npersonality and of such intelligence, should not need to be a servant.\nShe did not understand that economic conditions of life brought about\nqueer results.\n\nWhile she sat thinking, the Hindoo was studying her face. At last he\nremarked:\n\n\u201cYou are not in the best of health, Miss Alletson; have you had a\nshock?\u201d\n\nShe started slightly as he correctly diagnosed the cause of her\nindisposition.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d she answered, a little confused, \u201cI was rather upset last\nnight, but I feel better now\u2014\u201d She almost added, \u201csince you came in,\u201d\nbut checked herself in time.\n\nAs if he understood, Agar Halfi replied simply:\n\n\u201cYou will feel better this afternoon!\u201d\n\n\u201cI expect I shall naturally,\u201d she answered, with a suspicion of a smile.\n\n\u201cI do not mean that, lady. I say that practically all traces of your\nindisposition will have vanished before three o\u2019clock.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed!\u201d she queried.\n\nBut the Hindoo did not satisfy her by responding to her question.\n\nSuddenly, she did not know why, and had not had the least intention\nof doing so, she found herself relating to her visitor a dream she\nexperienced the previous evening.\n\n\u201cI do not know at all how it came about, Mr. Agar Halfi, but suddenly\nI seemed to stand in a wild rocky region in a strange land, and there\nbefore me, standing with outstretched hands, was a man of your own\ncountry. His dress was similar to that of a priest, and he looked at\nme with a stern expression of warning. In his left hand he held the\nnumber 15, and in his right hand a cross. I suppose he meant to convey\nsomething to me, but I do not understand symbols. Do you know anything\nabout them? Somehow I feel that you do.\u201d\n\nWhile she spoke, the Hindoo\u2019s countenance grew graver, and she noted\nwith alarm that he seemed perturbed.\n\n\u201cWhy did you tell me this?\u201d he asked in an unnatural voice.\n\n\u201cReally,\u201d she replied, a little distressed, \u201cI could not say; it seemed\nto come from me involuntarily. Is it anything serious?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, it is serious, Miss Alletson, but please do not be disturbed at\nwhat I am going to say. I will interpret your dream. A fortnight before\nthe disappearance of Mr. Thornton, your brother\u2019s predecessor, I had a\nvery similar dream, the only difference being that instead of the man\nholding in his left hand the number 15, he held a chart of the heavens,\nand in his right hand the number 13 instead of the cross.\u201d\n\nShe looked at him incredulously.\n\n\u201cCan it be possible?\u201d\n\nHe smiled, and answered:\n\n\u201cI will describe the man. He was tall and gaunt with a long grey beard,\nand his garments hung loosely over him, leaving his arms almost bare.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is almost exactly the same,\u201d she said excitedly. \u201cNow what can\nthese dreams mean?\u201d\n\n\u201cI will interpret them,\u201d he answered slowly.\n\n\u201cThe vision was of a holy man, who went forth to exorcise, and was\nkilled by an evil similar to that which is now present in this\ndistrict.\u201d\n\nConstance felt a cold shiver pass over her.\n\n\u201cNow in my dream,\u201d continued the Hindoo, \u201cthe chart he held in his left\nhand meant the horoscope of Fate, that which is to be. The number 13 in\nhis right hand is the symbol of death. Roughly speaking, Mr. Thornton\nwas killed thirteen days after I had that vision. In your dream the\nnumber 15 in his left hand is the symbol of the devil, or evil. The\ncross in the right hand means that the evil can be overcome by that\nmeans.\u201d\n\nConstance trembled in spite of her brave efforts not to do so, and her\nlips were dry and white as she said almost in a whisper, \u201cI always wear\na gold cross,\u201d and she held it up in her fingers for him to see. It was\nfastened by a chain of the same material, which hung round her neck.\n\n\u201cNever let it leave your body,\u201d he said warningly. \u201cIt is more potent\nthan many people think.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd so these two dreams appear to be connected with the tragedy?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, there does not seem to be much doubt about that,\u201d he returned.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t you think we ought to meet and talk things over?\u201d she asked.\n\n\u201cI will put it to the Sahib when I return, Miss Alletson.\u201d\n\n\u201cQuite so,\u201d she retorted; \u201cbut I want your own opinion as well.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not know, Miss Alletson,\u201d he said gravely. \u201cI am not certain how\nthings will turn out. Really, I must be going; I did not know it was so\nlate.\u201d\n\nConstance looked at the clock and exclaimed: \u201cOh! how time flies.\nPhilip will be in to lunch any minute now. Won\u2019t you stay and have some\nwith us?\u201d\n\n\u201cI feel honoured by your request, Miss Alletson, but unfortunately it\nis quite impossible for me to stay.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, another time I shall not take a refusal, Mr. Agar Halfi,\u201d she\nsaid with a bright laugh.\n\nCalling Hector to him, the Hindoo took his departure, with apologies\nfor keeping his hostess such a long period.\n\n\u201cOh, that is just my fault,\u201d she answered. \u201cI was so absorbed in what\nwe were talking about, that I forgot the time.\u201d\n\nAgar Halfi had barely gone five minutes before Philip walked in, and\nhis first words to Constance were:\n\n\u201cWhy, you look ever so much better than you did when I went out this\nmorning.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d she retorted. \u201cIf a flushed face through hurrying, and eyes\nmade bright with excitement go for anything. But seriously, Philip, I\ndo feel much better, and strangely the change came when Mr. Agar Halfi\ncalled for Hector.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! Then that animal has gone at last?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; but come and have lunch, I am sure you must be hungry, and I have\na lot to tell you.\u201d\n\nWhile they ate she related what had happened during the morning, and\nshe seemed so very interested, that Philip wondered for a moment\nwhether the Hindoo could possibly have influenced her. But he discarded\nthe idea almost immediately, he knew his sister too well.\n\n\u201cIt is rather strange that Brentwood should not have mentioned the\ncoincidence of the footprints before this,\u201d he remarked coldly, when\nshe had finished. \u201cIt is a week since we found poor Thornton\u2019s body.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is what I cannot understand,\u201d she answered.\n\n\u201cIt looks rather as if he did not intend to tell us, and perhaps\u2014very\nprobably, his man has made a _faux pas_ in mentioning the matter?\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you really think, Philip, that Mr. Brentwood is guilty in any way?\u201d\n\nPhilip looked at her steadily as he replied:\n\n\u201cHonestly, I don\u2019t. I cannot think such a man would be capable of such\na crime. What is your opinion\u2014the same as mine?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo!\u201d Alletson stared, while Constance resolutely looked at the\ntablecloth.\n\n\u201cWhat!\u201d he exclaimed.\n\nShe lifted some crumbs from the cloth on to her plate with a knife,\nthen raising her eyes and looking straight at her brother, she answered\nfirmly:\n\n\u201cI fully believe that he is guilty!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou believe\u2014\u2014!\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, Philip, and I will tell you why.\u201d\n\nShe then related in detail what occurred during the experiment at the\nManor. Her brother listened rather impatiently. He was hurt to think\nthat his sister should have withheld anything from him.\n\n\u201cAnd is that what you were going to tell Mr. Shepperton and me last\nnight?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, Philip, but I could not. Some power compelled me to keep silent.\nI knew that something strange and uncanny was in the room, close by me,\nand I could not command my voice.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut how does this make Brentwood guilty, Constance?\u201d\n\n\u201cCan\u2019t you see, Philip? Don\u2019t you understand? That feeling of horror I\nsuffered and that dreadful something I felt at first compelled to find\nbehind the man\u2019s eyes, and which afterwards I knew was seeking me, is\nthis evil which has killed Mr. Thornton, and no doubt Elsie Hobson. To\nbe blunt, it is Mr. Brentwood, it is _he_ who is the evil.\u201d\n\nShe spoke with such vehemence that her brother sat staring at her\ndumbfounded for fully a minute after she had finished. Then as it\ndawned upon him what she meant, he gave vent to a short bitter laugh.\nTo think that she, his sister, should appear to be so fully convinced\nof his friend\u2019s guilt, when in his own mind he had no doubt about his\ninnocence, was irony.\n\nSuddenly he looked at her intently, and said in a low voice:\n\n\u201cAnd last night when you went to the window?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, I was looking toward the ruins!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd\u2014and when you put your hands to your ears?\u201d\n\nHer voice trembled as she answered:\n\n\u201cIt was to shut out that awful alluring call, which seemed to be for me\nalone.\u201d\n\nThe Vicar felt a shiver pass down his back, as he called to mind his\nown experience.\n\n\u201cAnd the dog?\u201d\n\nConstance shook her head. \u201cI don\u2019t understand that at all.\u201d\n\nFor some time neither spoke a word. What they had been discussing\nseemed even there, in that cheerful room in broad daylight, to have the\npower to cast a shadow over their spirits.\n\nAt length Philip asked gently:\n\n\u201cWhy did you not tell me at the time what you suffered during that\nexperiment?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, Philip, partly because I did not want to hurt you in any way,\nunless I was quite sure that there was something wrong, and indeed I\nwould not, even in my mind, think ill of any one without sufficient\ncause. But now I feel no doubt of it.\u201d\n\nHe nodded spiritlessly, in agreement with what she had said, then\nremarked:\n\n\u201cAnd partly what else?\u201d\n\nShe turned her head away, and commenced toying with her fingers, and he\nsaw that she was trembling just a little.\n\n\u201cReally, Philip, I\u2019m afraid I don\u2019t know. But there _was_ something\nelse, which I cannot understand.\u201d\n\nHe looked at her uneasily, not knowing what to think. Her attitude was\nso unlike her real self; she was usually so frank and brave. Now she\nseemed all to pieces, and unnerved.\n\n\u201cSurely it was not because you were afraid to speak, my dear girl?\u201d he\nasked kindly.\n\n\u201cOh no,\u201d she returned quickly; \u201cyou know I\u2019m not like that.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen was it\u2014\u201d he stopped abruptly, for, with what sounded very much\nlike a sob, Constance had risen swiftly and left the room.\n\nThe Vicar fell back in his chair perplexed, amazed, and for the second\ntime that week he forgot himself, and exclaimed:\n\n\u201cGood Lord!\u201d\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAPTER XIV\n\n                         HERBERT CANNING, LONDON\n\n\n\u201cPlease, sir, the gentleman says he has an appointment with you.\u201d\n\nArthur Shepperton looked keenly at the pale, sharp face of the boy who\naddressed him, and then stared abstractedly at the card he held in his\nfingers, while he muttered to himself: \u201cOne hundred pounds for a month!\u201d\n\nHe mechanically read the card, which was as follows:\n\n  \u201c+Herbert Canning,\n                      London+,\u201d\n\nand then added to himself: \u201cLate of Scotland Yard.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh yes, of course; Baxter, show him in, please,\u201d and he turned to his\ndesk to finish reading through the last two paragraphs of an agreement.\n\nScarcely had he finished, when there entered a tall gaunt man, whose\nfeet seemed so big that they made him shamble rather than walk.\nShepperton wished him good morning, and invited him to take a seat.\n\nMr. Canning, in a voice absurdly small for so big a man, remarked idly\nthat the weather was warm for the time of the year, and abstracting a\nlarge coloured handkerchief from a huge pocket, proceeded to wipe his\nhead with it.\n\nShepperton glanced him up and down quickly, and smiled inwardly at the\ndeceptiveness of the man, who looked too clumsy and dull for anything.\nAnd yet he had the reputation of being one of the shrewdest and, when\nnecessary, quickest men in action that had ever passed through the\nDepartment.\n\nHis hair was dull brown and of the thatchy type; no parting was visible\nin it, and, with his ill-fitting clothes, it helped to make him appear\njust what he was not\u2014stupid. Like his feet, his hands were huge, but\nclose inspection revealed supple, mobile fingers, which indicated\nstrength, as indeed did his whole appearance. Shepperton, although five\nfeet nine inches, and fairly well-built, felt small as he looked at him.\n\nMr. Canning was quite unconcerned by the other\u2019s scrutiny, in fact\nhe lazily gazed out of the window during the process, as though\nunconscious of it. All at once he turned a pair of piercing grey eyes\non his scrutiniser, and said abruptly:\n\n\u201cWell, do I suit?\u201d\n\nTo his vexation, Shepperton started in his chair, it was done so\nsuddenly and neatly; and then he smiled sourly, as his interlocutor\ngave vent to a short dry laugh.\n\nFor the next hour they conversed without pause. Then Shepperton rose,\nand with a look of some satisfaction on his face, started to walk\nacross the room, and back again, in a spirited way. Leaning forward\nover the back of his chair, and grasping the arms of it with his hands,\nhe said:\n\n\u201cThe so-called mystery is merely a blind to cover himself. I don\u2019t\nthink there is a word of truth in it, although he appears to have very\nneatly got the Vicar and his sister to fall into the trap. Still, they\nmay have altered their minds after what I told them the other day.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what is this Hindoo like, whom you mentioned is a servant of this\nman?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d replied Shepperton, looking at the ceiling, \u201cI should think he\nis a very capable villain, almost as clever as his master. He possesses\nwhat looks like hypnotic power, but I have seen so little of him that\nit is difficult to say; I can only speak from what I have heard.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd all the trouble seems to be centred round the ruins of this old\npriory, and this Mr. Brentwood and his Eastern servant?\u201d\n\nShepperton nodded.\n\n\u201cThough,\u201d continued the detective, \u201cthere is so far no evidence against\nthem except the photograph of those footprints you found, which as far\nas I can see undoubtedly belongs to him, as it bears his initials at\nthe back.\u201d\n\nShepperton nodded again. \u201cIt is rather thin, I will admit, but I don\u2019t\nthink you will be disappointed, Mr. Canning.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe sooner I see those ruins the better,\u201d remarked the other, rising\nand stretching himself indolently. Then sharply, and with a keen look:\n\u201cCan you meet me there in an hour?\u201d\n\nShepperton shook his head. \u201cQuite impossible, business won\u2019t permit it\nthis morning.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery well, I will go myself.\u201d With that he turned and strode toward\nthe door.\n\n\u201cHalf a minute,\u201d called out Shepperton. \u201cWhat about some lodgings?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, I fixed those up before I came here. My address is Mrs. Brown,\nMyrtle Cottage, about a mile outside Worlstoke.\u201d Then without saying\ngood morning he disappeared.\n\nShepperton watched the door close behind him, and stood for a moment,\nwith a half frown, half laugh on his face.\n\n\u201cWhat an extraordinary individual!\u201d he muttered; \u201cand he costs one\nhundred pounds a month.\u201d\n\nThe next moment the telephone bell rang, and Shepperton immediately\nforgot the detective in the vicissitudes of business.\n\nIt was eleven o\u2019clock when Mr. Canning left the offices of Dalby &\nCo. At two o\u2019clock he was sitting on a part of the crumbled wall of\nthe ruined chapel in the priory, idly eating bread and cheese with a\nclasp knife and, incidentally, earning his salary. Yet, during the\nthree hours that had elapsed since he departed from Shepperton, he had\npassed a busy time. By twelve he had been and compared his employer\u2019s\nphotograph of the footprints with the impressions at the Westsea police\nheadquarters. Half an hour later he was drinking ale in the Worlstoke\nvillage hostel, and at one o\u2019clock he was watching an Englishman and a\nHindoo drawing strange hieroglyphics on the flagstones of the chapel\nfloor in the priory.\n\nWhile he ate, he thought. Of course, the two men he at once knew, from\nwhat Shepperton had told him. They were the Master of Storton and his\nservant, Agar Halfi. No doubt this little work of art was part of\ntheir game to throw dust in other people\u2019s eyes, as suggested by Mr.\nShepperton. But Mr. Herbert Canning did not jump to conclusions, it was\nnot his business.\n\nStill munching his frugal fare, he looked all around him and, as far as\nhe could, memorised the place for future guidance.\n\nThen the channel of his thoughts changed, and he repeated slowly:\n\n\u201cVicar: medium height, slight stoop, iron grey hair, kindly face, about\nforty. His sister: between twenty-five and thirty, brown wavy hair,\ngood-looking, neat figure, medium height, dark blue eyes, bright and\npleasing. Priory haunted! So much for half a pint of ale\u2014good.\u201d\n\nRising, he yawned, and brushing the crumbs carefully from his coat,\nleisurely walked down to the village, and depositing himself on a\nseat on the green, dozed pleasantly under the influence of the warm\nafternoon sun.\n\nWhile the detective slept, the unravelling of the mystery upon which\nhe was engaged went on at headlong pace, thereby saving him an immense\namount of time and labour, also his employer\u2019s pocket; but nothing\ndisturbed his dreams to tell him so.\n\nTwo or three of the villagers stopped to stare at the stranger with his\nlong legs crossed over each other, and his hands deep in his trouser\npockets, and even the Master of Storton looked at him curiously as he\ndrove past in his motor-car on his way to the Vicarage.\n\n\u201cQueer-looking chap,\u201d he thought, as he pulled up at Alletson\u2019s gate,\nand then dismissed him from his mind.\n\n\u201cI should like to see Miss Alletson if she is at home.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, sir,\u201d said Martha importantly, as she pushed back a piece of\nrebellious yellow hair behind her cap, and smoothed down her neat\napron. \u201cMiss Alletson is in; will you please walk into the dining-room?\u201d\n\nConstance stopped and took a deep breath to compose herself before she\nwent in.\n\nBrentwood rose a little awkwardly as she entered, and after exchanging\ngreetings there was an uncomfortable pause. The Master of Storton was\ndisagreeably aware that there was a difference since they last met, and\njust for a moment he looked at her guiltily, as he thought that the\ncause must be what had happened during the experiment at the Manor. It\ncould not have been more than momentary, and then his face assumed its\nnatural grave and stern expression. But slight as the change was, it\ndid not escape Constance\u2019s quick eye, and simply helped to confirm her\nbelief that he was the culprit.\n\nAs he stood with one hand on the mantelpiece and the other in the\npocket of his motor-coat, she could not help seeing that he was\nhandsome, even noble-looking, and strong as was her feeling that he\nwas guilty, deep down in her heart she sincerely wished that he was\ninnocent.\n\nThere was something about the man which appealed to her as no other man\nhad ever done. What it was she did not know, and she put it down to\nhis personal magnetism.\n\nStill she had a part to play, in loyalty to Mr. Shepperton, and much as\nshe disliked her task, she would not go back on her word.\n\nShe breathed a little more freely as his voice, in cold level tones,\nbroke the silence.\n\n\u201cI was sorry to hear from my Hindoo friend of your indisposition, Miss\nAlletson, but am glad to see that you are looking pretty well now. Can\nI do anything for you, or has Dr. Trestlewood successfully dealt with\nyour case?\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019m practically recovered now, Mr. Brentwood. I immediately felt a\nchange after Mr. Agar Halfi had called; his presence somehow seemed to\ndo me a lot of good.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is more than probable that he may have cured you without saying\nanything about it, Miss Alletson; he has the power to do so!\u201d\n\n\u201cReally,\u201d she replied, surprised. \u201cAnyway, I am much better, but I\nthank you for calling on my\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t, please,\u201d he interrupted a little harshly. \u201cThe truth is I had\nanother purpose in calling, which I\u2019m afraid is a selfish one.\u201d\n\nHe paused, and she looked at him coldly, then turned her eyes to the\nwindow.\n\nNoticing her attitude, he hesitated as to whether he would broach the\nsubject at all. However, having come over particularly to speak about\nwhat happened to her during the experiment at the Manor, he decided\nthat it would be folly not to clear the thing up, now he had the\nopportunity.\n\n\u201cI hope you will not think me impertinent, Miss Alletson,\u201d he began\nlamely. She sat down slowly, while he hesitated, choosing his words.\nShe knew at once what he was going to say, and her compressed lips\nindicated that she had braced herself for an unpleasant interview. She\nfelt it would be a trial for her.\n\nThen he came abruptly to the point.\n\n\u201cDuring the experiment that was held at my house, you experienced\nsomething which, according to the known laws of hypnotism, should not\nhave occurred. Is not that so?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\nHis dark eyes hardened a little at her tone, which plainly indicated\nthat the subject was distasteful. The strong fighting nature of the\nman instinctively rose to the surface at the idea of resistance; to\novercome obstacles was one of the charms of his life. But he just as\nsuddenly remembered that she was a lady, and his breeding forced back\nthe primitive impulse.\n\nHe was not a courtier, however, and his next words were blunt and to\nthe point:\n\n\u201cIf you would rather not discuss this matter, I will withdraw at once.\u201d\n\nConstance took a deep breath, and rising from her chair faced him\nsquarely, as she replied:\n\n\u201cIf you are in earnest, I shall be only too glad to tell you all about\nit!\u201d\n\n\u201cIn earnest?\u201d he echoed, and his face grew cold and hard.\n\n\u201cYes, Mr. Brentwood, if you are in earnest,\u201d she replied in a\nsuppressed voice. Her blue eyes, defiant and hostile, met his brown\nones, cold and unemotional, and for a time her will fought his. She\nfelt he was playing with her and was angry; but she might as well have\npitted herself against a rock, and gradually she gave way.\n\n\u201cI am certainly in earnest,\u201d he said slowly and deliberately, and\nalthough his voice was icy, his manner was perfectly courteous.\n\nConstance sat down again, fully expecting him to ask her why she\nhad asked such a question; but in that she was disappointed, for he\nremained standing in frigid silence.\n\n\u201cWell, I will tell you,\u201d and she related in detail what she had\nexperienced. All the time she was speaking, she watched his face\nclosely, but could not read a sign from his set features.\n\nWhen she had finished, he thanked her and said:\n\n\u201cMay I tell you what has subsequently transpired in this connection?\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly, if you wish.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, it troubled me, Miss Alletson, so I decided to test the thing. I\nwent straight to Mr. Agar Halfi, who, as you will know, is experienced\nin these matters, with the intention of putting him into the sleep, so\nas to see what impression it made on him. But he was not in; he had\nnot returned from driving you and your brother home. While waiting\u2014I\nknew he would not be long away\u2014it occurred to me that I might as well\nexperiment on the dog; so I did. All went well until the sleep was\npractically in evidence, and then he exhibited similar symptoms to what\nyou did.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what happened?\u201d interrupted Constance, who had become\nunconsciously interested.\n\n\u201cWell, he broke away from my influence, and for a moment I lost\ncontrol. In that instant he suddenly made as if to attack me; but I\nrecovered myself quickly and stopped him.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe might have hurt you,\u201d she said slowly.\n\n\u201cHurt me!\u201d he replied with an amused laugh. \u201cHe would undoubtedly have\nkilled me. I was not armed in any way, and no man could stand the\nattack of a dog like Hector.\u201d\n\nShe started involuntarily.\n\n\u201cJust then,\u201d he continued, \u201cAgar Halfi came in, and I told him all\nabout it. Then I experimented on him, fully expecting the same\nsymptoms, but to my surprise it passed off quite normally. After that,\nAgar Halfi put the dog to sleep without the least difficulty.\u201d He\npaused, then added:\n\n\u201cYou see, Miss Alletson, the matter is also an uncomfortable one from\nmy standpoint.\u201d\n\nConstance tapped the table with her fingers. She hardly knew what to\nthink, he spoke so sincerely. And yet all the time he had been in the\nroom she had been conscious of something about him that made her cold\nand shivery, as though he were some dreadful thing, dressed up for the\ntime being in the shape of a gentleman. She shuddered, but controlling\nherself with an effort, remarked quietly:\n\n\u201cYou had the same results with the dog as you had with me. What has\nbeen the effect on the dog?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, he will not come near me!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd yet he came voluntarily to me!\u201d\n\nHe stared at her meditatively, then suddenly seemed to realise\nsomething. The thought had no sooner entered his head than he bluntly\nasked:\n\n\u201cHas it had the same effect on you as it had on the dog?\u201d\n\nShe inclined her head.\n\nHe drew in his breath slowly, and as he did so he seemed to realise\nsomething else.\n\n\u201cCan it be that you suspect me?\u201d he asked in an unnatural voice.\n\nBut Constance had turned her face so that he could not read it, and she\nsat perfectly silent.\n\nHe opened his mouth as if to speak again, and then pride altered his\nmind. Grasping his hat, he strode quickly from the room, and a minute\nlater Constance half-consciously heard his car drive away, while she\ntraced patterns on the table with her finger. For several minutes she\nsat thus, as though in a dream, and then something warm and moist\nfalling on her hand roused her, and with a low cry, as though she were\nsuffering, she rose and swiftly left the room.\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAPTER XV\n\n                         AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER\n\n\nWhen Mr. Canning awoke from his siesta it was nearly four o\u2019clock, but\nhe did not rise immediately. After getting his eyes accustomed to the\nlight, he drew from one of his many pockets a prophetic almanac! Yes,\nit is true, even detectives have their little weaknesses. It was for\nthe current year, and bore on the title-page the word \u201cRaphael\u201d in\nlarge letters.\n\nTurning to the month of February, he looked at the 21st day, and his\neyes grew interested as he noticed that it was \u201cFull Moon.\u201d He next\nturned to the 4th of April and read \u201cNew Moon.\u201d Again he turned to the\n19th of April, and this time it was \u201cFull Moon.\u201d He then thought what\nday of the month it was, and turning to it, read \u201c3rd of May, New Moon.\u201d\n\nThere was a momentary tightening of his thin lips, and, dropping the\nalmanac on his knees, he exclaimed under his breath, \u201cHoly Moses!\u201d He\nlooked up at the blue sky, and began to whistle a plaintive air. When\nhe had nearly finished, he made a false note, and stopped abruptly,\nevidently annoyed. \u201cI\u2019m always going wrong just there,\u201d he muttered.\nRecommencing, he went through it again. Satisfied, he put the almanac\nin his pocket, remarking to himself: \u201cAnd but for this little hobby of\nmine, I would not have known it was queer that I should start on this\nparticular job on the 3rd of May!\u201d\n\nHe then mentally tabulated the following points:\n\n(_a_) Rev. Henry Thornton disappeared 21st of February, when the moon\nwas at the full.\n\n(_b_) Miss Elsie Hobson disappeared 4th of April, at the time of the\nnew moon.\n\n(_c_) Rev. Philip Alletson had a strange experience 19th of April, when\nthe moon was at the full.\n\nAll the outstanding incidents in this case occurred at the time of the\nnew and full moon. Therefore, he argued, such incidents are likely to\noccur again at the time of the new and full moon.\n\nNow to-day, 3rd of May, it was new moon! He paused in his reflections,\nand abstracting a large red handkerchief, blew his nose so loudly that\nit startled into wakefulness old William Watkins, the pensioned-off\nvillage policeman, who was just nodding off to sleep on a seat not many\nyards away.\n\nThe glare that William gave him from beneath his shaggy eyebrows, as he\nleaned in a choleric manner on his ash stick, was sufficient to slay a\ndozen detectives if looks could kill, but fortunately Mr. Canning was\nnot conscious of it, for at that moment he was slowly returning the\nhandkerchief to his pocket. As he jammed it down as far as it would go,\nhe remarked to himself:\n\n\u201cNo doubt, Herbert Canning, you will have a nice entertainment if you\nvisit the priory to-night. Yes, you had better go, there is no charge\nfor admission.\u201d\n\nRising, he started off in the direction of Myrtle Cottage, and\nremarked in a cheerful voice as he passed the old gentleman that it\nwas a pleasant afternoon. The adding of this insult to the already\nadministered injury, did not tend to pacify Mr. Watkins, who between\nhis chokes of indignation spluttered something which was certainly not\ncomplimentary; but by that time the tall stranger had passed out of\nearshot.\n\nArriving at his apartments, the detective requested Mrs. Brown to get\nhim a substantial meal by a quarter to six. Then, much to that lady\u2019s\nannoyance and surprise, he went and had a good wash in the kitchen, of\ncourse, just when she wanted to use the sink, and dried himself on the\nroller towel on the door!\n\n\u201cLor\u2019 bless the man!\u201d she said to herself irritably, \u201cas if he couldn\u2019t\nhave done it upstairs, where I have put everything to his hand.\u201d And if\nit had not been that her lodger had paid her fifty per cent. more than\nshe usually obtained, and half of it in advance too, it is probable\nthat she would have questioned his \u201cbringings-up.\u201d\n\nWhen Mr. Canning reached the ruins, it would have been difficult to\nrecognise Mrs. Brown\u2019s lodger, for a black wig, moustache, and beard\ndisguised his features. It was just seven o\u2019clock, and the light was\nbeginning to fade. Avoiding the door in the wall, he made a detour to\nthe south, and scaling the wall about two hundred yards further on,\ndropped into that part of the grounds which must have been at one time\na garden. Crossing it to the west, he climbed the opposite wall, and\nthen, turning abruptly north, travelled along the outside of it until\nhe arrived at the east end of the chapel.\n\nHaving satisfied himself that no one was about, he stood for a time,\ntaking in details. To his mind, this was very necessary, as he expected\nthe place would play a prominent part in the case he had under\ninvestigation.\n\nThe day had been exceptionally warm for the time of year, and now,\nin the gathering twilight, as the air grew colder, a soft white mist\nbegan to steal up from the ground. He watched it absently, his thoughts\nbeing occupied settling little points in his plan of action. His train\nof thought, however, was disturbed by his noticing that the mist\nwas particularly thick at the west end of the chapel, by the ruined\ndoorway. That in itself was not of much account, but as he looked, it\nappeared to glow with a white luminous light. He closed his eyes for a\nfew seconds, in order to make sure that it was not an optical illusion,\nand when he looked again it had gone. He smiled to himself\u2014experience\nhad taught him that if one looks long enough at an object, a band\nof light will appear around it. He had known people sitting for\nclairvoyance delude themselves in that way, by thinking they could see\nthe astral lights.\n\nThe darkness was now rapidly gathering, causing the outlines of the\nruins to fast disappear, and as it closed around him, Mr. Canning\ncould not help feeling a little uncomfortable. Further, the peculiar\nsilence of the place made him sharply conscious; and once or twice\nhe smiled grimly, as the idea would come into his head that someone\nwas behind him. He had been in a graveyard at midnight, for a wager,\nyears ago, and he recalled the fact to mind that he did not feel at\nall uncomfortable; and yet, standing here, he could not say the same.\nThere was a something which seemed to have got into his blood, and\nwas trying to undermine his courage. To a less self-reliant man, that\nintimation would have been sufficient, he would have cleared out; but\nMr. Canning was there on business, and the more the feeling grew, the\nmore he mentally gripped himself with the determination of his rugged\npersonality. Whatever was there, it would have to fight him.\n\nJust then his attention was again drawn to the mist at the other end\nof the chapel, and this time he was bound to admit even to himself\nthat the luminous glow was a fact. Moreover, he was aware that it was\nundergoing some sort of an evolution. Slowly, it began to expand,\nand\u2014he could hardly believe his own eyes\u2014out of it the shadowy form of\na human being appeared.\n\nIt could not have taken more than half a minute, and he had only just\ntime to take a mental note of the vision, when it suddenly disappeared,\nleaving a dull blackness.\n\nHe drew a deep breath, and his hand was wandering mechanically to his\nhip-pocket for his revolver, when a deep voice whispered almost in his\near:\n\n\u201cIf you value your life, come with me!\u201d\n\nThat he was startled goes without saying, but he gave no sign, except\nthat his teeth shut with a vicious snap. No detective likes to be\ncaught napping. He did not even turn round to see who had spoken\nto him; instead, he coolly remarked, as if he were quite aware of\nanother\u2019s presence:\n\n\u201cAnd the danger?\u201d\n\n\u201cWill be apparent before very long,\u201d answered the voice.\n\nCanning now turned easily, to meet the tall figure of a Hindoo, whom\nhe could just see in the twilight; and his quick brain at once put him\ndown to be the body servant of the Master of Storton, in which surmise\nhe was right.\n\nAgar Halfi looked at him with a faint glitter of interest in his eyes.\nThis was no ordinary man, who did not even jump when an unexpected\nvoice spoke in his ear. And what was he doing in the priory at that\ntime? Sunset!\n\nOn his part, Canning was thinking that he had not made a mistake, he\nhad expected the Hindoo. So far so good, but where was his master? If\nonly he had known, that was just what Agar Halfi wanted to know!\n\nWhile these thoughts ran quickly through his mind, he was mechanically\ntaking stock of the Oriental, and he came to the conclusion that\nhe was not altogether what he appeared to be. There was something\nabout his presence not possessed by the average man, which commanded\nrespect, and as he came to this conclusion, Mr. Canning\u2019s interest in\nthis mysterious affair began to grow. There was probably more in it\nthan appeared on the surface. Still, he could ponder over such things\nanother time, now he must act.\n\nIn a leisurely voice he asked:\n\n\u201cIf I choose to stay, my friend, what\u2014\u2014?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou will die,\u201d was the abrupt answer.\n\nThe detective laughed easily, as he replied:\n\n\u201cI only have your word for that. Perhaps you will inform me what I have\nto fear, and then\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\nAs if in direct reply to his question, a long, low, plaintive cry broke\non the still air, ending in a hideous, mocking laugh, half screech,\nwhich made his blood turn cold.\n\nNever before in all his years had he ever heard anything to equal it,\nand he had vigorously to use his will in order to control himself.\nDuring the silence which followed, he stared hard at his companion, who\ndid not seem to be in any way disturbed.\n\nAgar Halfi ended the tension by remarking in a low voice:\n\n\u201cCome, there is no time to lose.\u201d\n\nThe detective followed him automatically, as though he had not complete\ncommand of himself, and silently and quickly the Hindoo made for the\ndoor in the wall. They had barely got outside it, when once more that\nunearthly cry smote their ears. They both stopped, as if compelled to\nlisten, and Canning felt it penetrate into every fibre of his body.\nHe must have stood thus for nearly half a minute, like one under a\nspell, hardly breathing, and with his arms hanging limp at his sides.\nThen with a great effort he mastered himself, and his natural fighting\ninstincts began to rise.\n\nSimultaneously it struck him as very curious that the other man did not\nseem to be affected, which at once led him to a conclusion. It was a\nruse! The Hindoo and his master wanted to get him out of the priory, he\nwas in their way.\n\nHe cursed under his breath at not having thought of it before, and\nthen, just as Agar Halfi was again moving, he exclaimed in a steely\nvoice:\n\n\u201cStop!\u201d\n\nThe Hindoo turned quickly, to find himself facing the muzzle of a\nrevolver, but beyond raising his eyebrows with a surprised expression,\nhe did not move.\n\n\u201cTell me,\u201d said the detective in a tranquil manner, \u201cwho is the owner\nof that beastly voice?\u201d and he shivered slightly as he thought of it.\n\nAgar Halfi\u2019s eyes glinted dangerously, as he answered contemptuously:\n\u201cAre you mad?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, the madness, if any, is on your part. Once more, tell me who is in\nthat place?\u201d\n\nA startled look came into the Oriental\u2019s eyes, as he replied:\n\n\u201cLook behind you!\u201d\n\nCanning laughed sardonically.\n\n\u201cRubbish, my friend, I\u2019m not to be caught with schoolboy tricks.\u201d\n\n\u201cLook, I say,\u201d persisted the other.\n\nFor reply, the detective strode up to the Hindoo, and, going behind\nhim, looked over his shoulder in the direction indicated. Then, for one\nof the very few times in his life, he felt afraid.\n\nFramed in the doorway in the wall were two eyes that gazed at him\nmalignantly. But such orbs; he had never seen anything like them\nbefore, nor in all probability would again. In colour they were of\na pale reddish hue, and they glowered with the cruellest expression\nimaginable.\n\nFascinated with fear, he returned that dreadful stare, with all the\nloathing and hate in his body, and then, he knew not how or why, he\nfelt he was slowly being drawn toward the doorway against his will. He\nfought with all his strength, but unavailingly. Three steps he took in\nthat direction, and then Agar Halfi\u2019s arm barred the way.\n\n\u201cNo further, on your life!\u201d he said in a low stern voice.\n\nCanning\u2019s first impulse was one of fury at the Hindoo\u2019s obstruction,\nand he was just going to attempt to force his way past the impeding\narm, when his eyes met those of the other man, and under the influence\nof that calm, steady gaze his rage died down, and he practically\nreturned to his normal state.\n\nSimultaneously, those terrible eyes blazed luridly with hellish rage,\nand once again that awful cry rang out, this time dying away in a\nchuckle of baffled fury.\n\nOn an impulse, the detective raised his revolver, and fired\u2014once,\ntwice, and as the smoke cleared away, he exclaimed in an unsteady voice:\n\n\u201cBy heaven! if there is anything there flesh and blood, I\u2019ve hit it;\nI could not very well miss at this distance. Let\u2019s go and see,\u201d and\nhe started off to the doorway, followed by Agar Halfi, who remained\nsilent. But not a sign of anything could they find, and Canning looked\nperplexed; he could not understand, and went over the ground again and\nagain with his electric torch. At last his companion remarked grimly:\n\n\u201cCome, you can do no good now. It is not flesh and blood that you have\nbeen combating.\u201d\n\nFor a moment the other stood in thought, and then, without a word he\nfollowed the Hindoo down the drive, out into the road. Here Agar Halfi\nstopped, and waving his arm in the direction of the village, said\ncurtly:\n\n\u201cMy way is this.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd mine,\u201d answered Canning deliberately, pointing in the opposite\ndirection, \u201cis that.\u201d\n\nWithout another word, the Hindoo turned on his heel and started off on\nhis way. For a moment the other man stared at him interestedly, and\nthen suddenly he went after the receding figure, and overtaking the man\nbefore he had gone a hundred yards, said:\n\n\u201cI\u2019ve forgotten something, my friend.\u201d\n\nAgar Halfi turned questioningly, and as they faced each other, the\ndetective continued:\n\n\u201cYou probably saved my life just now,\u201d and held out his hand.\n\nA smile came over the Oriental\u2019s dark face, as he grasped the other\u2019s\nfingers.\n\n\u201cIt is nothing,\u201d he answered quietly. \u201cSome day you may save mine; who\nknows?\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! one never knows,\u201d replied Canning. \u201cIf ever I can\u2014\u201d But Agar Halfi\nhad disappeared in the darkness, and the rest of the sentence remained\nunspoken.\n\nFor a time the detective stood thinking, and then with a sigh he\ndiscarded his disguise, and carefully put the different articles into\nhis pockets. Then, whistling softly to himself, he slowly made his way\nto Myrtle Cottage.\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAPTER XVI\n\n                          A PROBLEM TO UNRAVEL\n\n\nWith rapid strides, Agar Halfi made his way to the Manor. As he\nwalked, he thought long and seriously; forgotten for the time was his\nqueer meeting in the priory with the stranger. That no doubt he would\nrecall later on, but at the moment something of far greater importance\noccupied his mind.\n\nThe phenomenon he had seen when standing behind the other man in the\nruins, had probably given him a key with which he would be able to\nunlock the mystery which had been baffling them so long.\n\nReaching the Manor, he went straight to Brentwood\u2019s study, but found\nthe door of the bedroom which led to it, locked, and the place in\ndarkness. He listened for a while, but no sound reached his ear, so\ndescending, he inquired of Mrs. Breton, the housekeeper, if the master\nwas in.\n\nThat lady was busy checking accounts in her sitting-room. She raised\nher sharp grey eyes in surprise at the Hindoo\u2019s question; it was so\nvery unusual for him to inquire after Mr. Brentwood; generally he knew\nall his movements, in fact, if any of the household wanted to know the\nmaster\u2019s whereabouts, they always went to Agar Halfi to find out.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d she said, \u201cthe master went out at half-past six, and left word\nthat he would not be home till late, and that I was not to prepare\nanything for him.\u201d\n\n\u201cI suppose you have no idea where he went?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot the slightest. All I know is, that he was dressed as if he were\ngoing to walk.\u201d\n\nThe Hindoo stared at a picture on the wall opposite, while he thought,\nand Mrs. Breton turned her attention to the column of figures she\nhad been adding, when interrupted by her visitor. She checked it\nagain carefully, and, satisfied that it was correct, turned her head\ninquiringly.\n\nShe looked at the dark, stern face with a wry expression. In spite of\nher fifty years, grey hair, and long service at the Manor, she had\nnever been able to quite understand the relationship that existed\nbetween her master and his Eastern servant. They were more friends than\nanything else, and as she knew, spent much of their time together.\n\nStill, being a practical woman, she had not allowed that to trouble\nher, though she was well aware that other members of the household\nwere very jealous of the Hindoo. But Agar Halfi had never in any way\ninterfered with her, indeed, had always shown her the utmost courtesy,\nand the fact that he had liberties which others did not possess, was,\nafter all, Mr. Brentwood\u2019s business.\n\n\u201cDid he leave any instructions for me?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot a word,\u201d she answered quickly.\n\nHe nodded solemnly, and after a few casual remarks, departed to his\nlodge. Passing through the living room, he went upstairs to his\nsleeping apartment, and taking a key from his pocket, opened the door\nof an inner room, the threshold of which none but he and the Master of\nStorton had ever crossed.\n\nIt lay east and west, with a window on either side; and was the chamber\nwherein the Hindoo practised the occult arts. But it was as unlike the\ngeneral idea of a magician\u2019s sanctum as could be imagined. The floor\nwas polished with beeswax, and in the centre was covered by an Indian\ncarpet about three feet square. The north and south walls were draped\nfrom ceiling to floor with dark tapestry, that on the south wall being\ndivided where it covered the door which gave communication to the\nbedroom, and the windows were heavily curtained with the same material.\nOn each side of the west window was a fantastic cabinet, on either side\nthe east window, a copper brazier, supported on a tripod. Under the\nwest window was the only sitting accommodation the room contained, in\nthe shape of a long, low settee; while under the east window stood a\ncuriously inlaid Indian table, which had on it a large cross of pure\ngold.\n\nCarefully closing the door behind him, Agar Halfi switched on the\nelectric light, and drew the curtains across the windows. The\nelectrolier which gave light to the room was fixed in the ceiling, and\ncovered by an opaque bowl. This had the effect of throwing the rays\nupward, thus imparting a soft, clear, and even light to the whole of\nthe room.\n\nFor a moment he stood hesitating. Where was the Sahib? That was what\nhe did not know, but was determined to find out. One way he knew of\nseemed pretty certain to bring about the desired result, but he was\nnot sure that it was wise to take it. At last he passed back into the\nbedroom, and in a few minutes appeared clothed in a white robe which\ncovered him from head to foot. Going to the cabinet on the right-hand\nside of the window, he took therefrom a pair of balances and a large\nmetal jar. Out of the latter he took some reddish-brown powder, which\nhe carefully weighed. That done, he put the balances and the jar back\ninto the cabinet, not forgetting to lock it. Then, taking one of the\ncopper braziers from its stand, he put it on the carpet, and kneeling\ndown, began to chant in a low voice, with his hands held palms downward\nover the vessel. For several minutes he continued thus, and then there\nsuddenly shot out of the brazier a thin, transparent flame. Picking\nup the powder which was by his side, the Hindoo emptied it into the\nvessel, and there issued forth a dense smoke which gradually filled the\nroom. When it had dispersed, he was lying motionless, stretched full\nlength on the carpet, his hands folded on his chest, a look of calm\nsleep on his dark, finely-moulded features.\n\nFor nearly three hours he remained in this state, and it wanted but a\nquarter of an hour to midnight when he regained external consciousness.\nOpening his eyes, he raised himself to a sitting position and listened.\nIt was raining, he could hear the drops beating on the windows; and a\nnight wind had risen, which moaned fitfully round the house. He rose\nslowly, walked a few steps, then stood listening again. This time it\nwas a doleful whimpering by the door. He went and opened it, and Hector\nfawned at his feet.\n\nAgar Halfi looked at the dog with a smile, then patted his great head.\n\n\u201cAh, my friend, you can come with me.\u201d\n\nHector wagged his tail, as though understanding.\n\n\u201cNow lie down, while I dress.\u201d\n\nObedient to the Hindoo\u2019s voice, the animal crept under a chair, and lay\nwatching the man, who, with a frown on his brow, mechanically put on\nhis everyday garments. He had not been successful in his experiment;\nno trace could he find of the Master of Storton. The failure to do so\nperplexed him. Try as he would, there always seemed to be something\nwhich was just too strong for him to overcome.\n\nHe had a growing conviction that Brentwood was in some way involved in\nthis mystery, yet there was no tangible clue upon which he could act.\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d he muttered, \u201cit is Fate.\u201d Then, with a quick movement, he went\nand unlocked one of the drawers in the left-hand cabinet in the inner\nroom, and took from it two keys on a ring. They were duplicates of\nthose which belonged to Brentwood\u2019s bedroom and study. Donning an\nulster, he beckoned to the dog, and went downstairs. Passing out of\nthe lodge, he quietly closed the sitting-room door behind him and made\nhis way to a private entrance into the Manor, to which only the Master\nof Storton and he had access. Opening the door, he called Hector after\nhim, and together they ascended a narrow stairway which led straight\nto the top of the building. At the end of the staircase was another\ndoor, which the Hindoo opened, and they emerged on to the landing of\nthe general stairway of the house. Directly opposite was the door of\nBrentwood\u2019s bedroom. Silently Agar Halfi turned the handle, and was\nsatisfied to find it locked. He listened intently, but no sound fell\non his ear except the falling of the rain and the mournful wail of\nthe wind. Just then a great clock in the lower hall chimed twelve. He\nsmiled oddly as he thought of the time, and without more ado unlocked\nthe bedroom door, Hector close at his heels, and switched on the light.\n\nOne glance showed him that the room was empty, though the bed gave\nevery appearance of having been used. Silently closing the door, he\nwithout hesitation climbed the short stairway to the Tower study,\nunlocked that door, and again switched on the light. Here also, he met\nwith a similar result, the room was vacant.\n\nHe looked keenly around, but everything appeared to be in order, even\nto the west window, which was always kept partly open. Then something\nhappened which roused his curiosity. Hector, whom he had momentarily\nforgotten, growled somewhere behind him. Turning, he saw the dog in the\ndoorway, with hair bristling and muzzle drawn up, looking with wrathful\neyes apparently at nothing!\n\n\u201cQuiet!\u201d he said in a low, determined voice. Then he called him softly,\nbut instead of taking heed, the animal started to back, slowly, in\nthe same manner that a cat will when its gaze is held, his great eyes\nfixed on the east window. Instinctively the Hindoo looked in that\ndirection, and for the first time he noticed that the window was open.\nA frown appeared on his face; he felt quite sure it was shut when he\nfirst looked round the room, though he could not have sworn to it for a\ncertainty. Still, that would not be the cause of the dog acting in this\nmanner. Walking over to the casement, he looked out into the night and\nlistened intently; but only the sound of the elements and the rustling\nof the trees came to his ear.\n\nThen he thought of the empty bed! Where was the Sahib? That was the\ndominating thought in his mind. It was fairly clear that if, as Mrs.\nBreton said, the Master of Storton had gone out at half-past six, he\nhad returned, gone to bed, and gone out again! The fact that the bed\nhad evidently been slept in pointed to that. But such a procedure was\nincomprehensible.\n\nTurning from the window, he looked at Hector, who was lying just\noutside the door with watchful eyes, his muzzle on his huge paws. For a\ntime he eyed him grimly, then with a deep, sonorous laugh, switched off\nthe light and went out, carefully locking both doors after him. Calling\nthe dog, he drew from his pocket an electric torch, and went and made\nsure that every entrance to the Manor, except the private way by which\nhe had gone in, was bolted as well as locked. Satisfied, he went out\nthe way he had entered, commanded the dog to lie down outside the\ndoor, and walked quickly back to the lodge. There he got some tacks, a\npiece of thread, and a small hammer. Returning, he fixed one tack on\nthe doorpost and another on the door, then deftly twined the piece of\nthread around them. That done, he called Hector and again returned to\nhis lodge. Locking himself in, he sent Hector to his corner underneath\nthe cupboard in the sitting-room, and making a pillow of his ulster on\nthe hearthrug, lay down and slept.\n\nHe was awakened by a low, fierce growl. In an instant he was on his\nfeet, fully alert. Hector also was standing, looking savagely at the\nwindow, and Agar Halfi noticed that his attitude was similar to that\nwhich he had exhibited on the threshold of the study a few hours ago.\n\nHe had the door open in a twinkling, but not a visible sign of anything\nwas there which could have caused the dog to show irritation. It was\nstrange, the animal would not act in that manner without sufficient\ncause.\n\nHe noticed that the dawn was breaking, cold and misty. With a shiver,\nhe went and put on his ulster. When he returned, it struck him that the\nmist looked particularly thick and dirty in one place, about a yard\nfrom the ground. As he looked he thought it moved, quite distinctly,\nfrom the general mass. Further inspection confirmed this; it was\ntravelling rapidly away from him, and in the direction of the Manor.\nHe followed it curiously with his eyes, until it seemed to stop under\nthe east wall. He noticed now that it had a faint green tinge, and\nall at once he became deeply interested. Gradually it rose, higher\nand ever higher, until it must have been on a level with the Tower.\nThen suddenly it vanished, and in its place, the Hindoo found himself\nstaring at the open east window of Brentwood\u2019s study. He gave a low\nexclamation; it looked just as if that particularly thick portion of\nthe mist had entered the window! He had, however, hardly recovered from\nhis surprise when he stopped dead, with astonished eyes and clenched\nhands. For a moment he thought he must be dreaming, but as he continued\nto stare, he realised that it was no vision.\n\nStanding at the open window of the tower study in his pyjamas was the\nMaster of Storton, gazing with lack-lustre eyes at the sunrise. His\nhands gripped the casement on either side, and his bronzed handsome\nface, now ghastly in hue, was distorted with a look of intense\nsuffering. Gradually the drawn features relaxed, a faint tinge of\ncolour came into the cheeks, and slowly, so slowly that it seemed ages,\nthe light crept into his eyes, and Brentwood\u2019s face resumed its normal\nexpression. Then Agar Halfi saw him shiver violently and start back\nsuddenly; the next moment the window was closed.\n\nFor fully a minute the Hindoo stood as though entranced. Then he\nsuddenly remembered the thread on the private door. Without more\nado, he crossed the intervening ground\u2014he was barely a hundred yards\naway\u2014and dropping on his knees, examined the thread which he had\novernight fixed across the entrance. One glance was sufficient to show\nhim that it was intact!\n\nHe rose from the ground with a curious smile, and folding his arms,\nnodded to Hector, who was standing disconsolately by, and said\nsardonically:\n\n\u201cYes, beast, the Gods have set Agar Halfi a pretty problem to unravel.\nTwice over shall he repay the debt he owes to his beloved friend, if\nnot more!\u201d\n\nHector slowly wagged his tail at being thus addressed, and looked up at\nthe Hindoo with solemn eyes.\n\n\u201cAnd what part are you going to take in the drama, stupid?\u201d\n\nThe dog, encouraged by the man\u2019s voice, came close to him, and put his\nmuzzle in his hand.\n\nAgar Halfi looked at him with a quiet melancholy, and then stood for\na time lost in thought, while the dog remained motionless, as though\nsharing his friend\u2019s mood.\n\nAt last the Hindoo roused himself, and drew in a deep breath.\n\n\u201cCome, soulless one, let\u2019s find a fire and some breakfast.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n                              CHAPTER XVII\n\n                               THE ABBESS\n\n\nWhen Canning arrived at Myrtle Cottage after his visit to the priory\nruins, he opened the gate as though to pass in; then suddenly shut it\nagain, and retracing his steps down the road, went to the post office,\nwhere he sent off a telegram in cypher. That done, he made his way to\nthe village hostel, and sat there till nearly closing time, talking to\nthe rustics.\n\nAbout ten minutes to ten he took his departure, and went to\nShepperton\u2019s rooms. Arthur Shepperton was eating his supper, so he\ninvited the detective to join him, which he did to the extent of a\ncrust of bread and cheese and a glass of ale.\n\nCanning was silent for a time, and the young solicitor looked at him\ncuriously, but did not disturb his meditations. At length the detective\nrelated what he had experienced an hour or two ago, omitting nothing.\n\nShepperton listened eagerly, and when he had finished, remarked:\n\n\u201cWell, what do you think now; am I not right?\u201d\n\nBut the other shook his head.\n\n\u201cWhat!\u201d exclaimed his host.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know yet; it is a queer case.\u201d\n\nShepperton looked disappointed, and relapsed into silence. At last he\nsaid:\n\n\u201cIt is a pity that black villain saw you\u2014he will know you again.\u201d\n\nBy way of reply, Canning drew forth his disguise, and putting it on the\ntable, exclaimed:\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t think so.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, that\u2019s a good thing,\u201d said Shepperton in a relieved voice. Then he\nlaughed, as he thought of the detective\u2019s ingenuity.\n\n\u201cHas it occurred to you that you were unable to find Miss Hobson\u2019s\ntrail?\u201d\n\nShepperton eyed him doubtfully as he replied:\n\n\u201cWell, what of it?\u201d\n\nCanning shook his head with a smile, then clearing his throat, remarked:\n\n\u201cIt entered my mind to-night, as I was coming back from the priory,\nthat it ought to be possible, with the glove you have in your\npossession, to find her dead or alive.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe did try, as you know.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, but you discovered something else, and since then, I understand,\nno other effort has been made.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, that is true,\u201d said Shepperton. \u201cWhat have you in your mind?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I think we ought to follow it up,\u201d answered Canning.\n\n\u201cVery well, if you think it at all likely, I have no objection. I\u2019m\nwilling to do anything that may help to clear the thing up. What do you\npropose to do? use Brentwood\u2019s dog again?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d answered the detective sharply. \u201cI have telegraphed to London for\none of my own dogs, and it should be here to-morrow evening, Thursday\nmorning latest.\u201d\n\nWhatever misgiving (if any) Shepperton might have had about the\ndetective, he could not help appreciating the promptness with which he\nacted, when once he came to a conclusion.\n\n\u201cExcellent,\u201d he replied. \u201cLet it be Thursday morning. I will meet you\nat the priory at\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cNine o\u2019clock,\u201d interjected Canning.\n\nFor about half an hour they sat talking, and then, with a yawn, the\ndetective rose, saying:\n\n\u201cI think I will get; I can do with an hour or two\u2019s sleep.\u201d\n\n\u201cRight,\u201d answered his host. \u201cBy the way, what do you propose doing\nto-morrow?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I am a little uncertain as yet. Do you want me for anything in\nparticular?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said the other indifferently.\n\n\u201cVery well, Mr. Shepperton, I will meet you at nine o\u2019clock, Thursday\nmorning.\u201d\n\nWith this remark Canning went, and returning to his rooms, sought his\nbed. There for a time he lay, thinking that although he had cracked\nmany a hard nut, this one looked like proving to be not only the\nhardest, but the queerest case he had ever come across.\n\nAt half-past nine on the Thursday morning, Shepperton and Canning\nstood in the ruined priory, looking at each other; the former with a\nperplexed expression, the latter with a wry smile.\n\nTwice had they given the dog the scent, and twice had he done exactly\nthe same as Hector had done some days ago.\n\n\u201cIt is very extraordinary,\u201d said Shepperton, in puzzled tones, \u201cbut it\nseems to me to be right.\u201d\n\nCanning shook his head as he replied:\n\n\u201cIt is against all reason, my friend. There must be crossed trails.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, it beats me,\u201d returned Shepperton; \u201cwhat do you say?\u201d\n\nThe detective shrugged his shoulders, as much as to say that it was not\nhis business to let anything beat him. Then moving, he said:\n\n\u201cCome, let us try some other spot.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere?\u201d\n\n\u201cAnywhere round about.\u201d Saying which, Canning started the dog at\nvarious points. The other watched him make one or two fruitless\nefforts, then sat down on a piece of rock in an indifferent manner. He\nhad practically lost hope in the venture. But the detective, in his\ndogged manner, went quietly about his work, first here, then there, and\ngradually got further away.\n\n\u201cSeems to me he might as well search for the proverbial needle,\u201d mused\nShepperton, and, tired of watching, he turned his attention to the\nruins. He may have sat there for five minutes, when he was attracted by\na hail from his companion. With a yawn, he rose and sauntered over to\nhim; and at once his interest returned, as he looked at the detective\u2019s\nface.\n\n\u201cWhat is it?\u201d he said quickly.\n\nCanning, who was standing about a hundred yards from their original\nstarting-place, beckoned the other to follow him, and together they\nforced their way through some bushes for a few yards. Here Canning\nstopped, and pointing to the ground said:\n\n\u201cWhat do you make of that?\u201d\n\nShepperton looked eagerly, then shook his head.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t see anything,\u201d he exclaimed.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d replied the detective, \u201cthere is\u2014or more correctly speaking,\nwas\u2014a path here. If you will look closely, you will just see faint\ntraces of it. Now watch the dog!\u201d\n\nStraining at his leash, the animal made his way through the tangled\nundergrowth, until they came out upon the path which led to the north\nentrance. Here they stopped to take breath.\n\n\u201cWhat do you make of it?\u201d asked Shepperton easily.\n\n\u201cI think we may make a discovery,\u201d answered the other coolly. \u201cNow,\nlet\u2019s get on.\u201d\n\nFor fully an hour they made steady progress, the hound leading them\nalong various roads until they came to a brook running across a lane,\nand here the dog seemed to be baffled. They halted uncertainly; at last\nthe detective said:\n\n\u201cWe must cross the water.\u201d\n\nThey did so, and to Shepperton\u2019s relief, the dog immediately took up\nthe scent again, and they went on for nearly another hour.\n\n\u201cAre you sure we are not following a will-o\u2019-the-wisp?\u201d\n\nCanning smiled as he replied:\n\n\u201cThere is not much fear of that. The dog is following something\ntangible, you can depend upon it.\u201d\n\nAll at once a sharp turning brought them in view of a long, low house\nwhich lay back from the main road several yards, and was partly hidden\nby trees. For this place the dog made a straight course.\n\nShepperton lifted the latch of the outer gate with nervous fingers, and\nthey passed through into a drive which led to the main entrance.\n\n\u201cWhat place is this?\u201d queried Canning abruptly.\n\n\u201cIt is known as the \u2018Ch\u00e2let,\u2019 and is occupied, I believe, by some\nrefugee nuns from France. Beyond that, I don\u2019t think anybody here could\nenlighten you.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, we will soon find out,\u201d replied the detective, whereupon he rang\nthe bell in a business-like manner. A clang somewhere at the rear of\nthe premises followed, and shortly after the door was slowly opened\npart of the way, by an elderly woman in the garb of a nun. She cast\nsuspicious eyes at the men, and then seeing the dog, quickly pushed the\ndoor until it remained open only about six inches. The two inquirers\nlooked at each other, and laughed.\n\n\u201cYou had better ask to see the Lady Superior, or whoever is in charge,\u201d\nsuggested the detective. Shepperton nodded his acquiescence, and\napproaching the door, handed in his card, saying:\n\n\u201cWill you convey my apologies to the Lady Superior, and tell her that I\nshould very much like to see her on a most important matter?\u201d\n\nBy way of answer, the woman stretched her arm through the door,\ngingerly took the bit of ivory, and disappeared. However, they were not\nleft standing long in suspense. She shortly returned and said with a\npronounced French accent that her ladyship would see Mr. Shepperton if\nhis business were important. Then she opened the door sufficiently to\nlet him pass through, all the while keeping a nervous eye on the dog,\nwhich Canning was holding back by its leash.\n\nShe conducted Shepperton to a sort of ante-room, which, though devoid\nof furniture with the exception of a few plain chairs and a long, low\noak chest, was spotlessly clean, while the bare boards were polished\nto such an extent that he felt some compunction about walking on them\nwith his heavy boots. But he hardly had time to think about that\u2014he had\nindeed scarcely sat down, when her ladyship appeared, bringing with her\na faint suggestion of perfume.\n\nShepperton rose immediately and bowed. She acknowledged the bow with\na gentle inclination of her head, then raising her eyes stood waiting\nfor him to speak. For several moments the man stood in silence. There\nwas something about the woman\u2019s face which made him feel ashamed of his\nsex. Never before had he seen such a beautifully spiritual countenance.\n\nBarely forty, H\u00e9lo\u00efse Limonaire, daughter of the Vicomte d\u2019Angiers,\nstill retained some of that physical beauty with which nature had\nendowed her, and which had in part caused her to take the veil twenty\nyears ago. Time, however, and the strict rules of a convent life had\nemaciated her figure, though her face had gained in sweetness; and that\nstrange fire, which only comes to those who conquer the flesh, shone\nwith a pure light from her deep brown eyes. Driven from her native\ncountry, she had sought a refuge in that land to which all refugees\nfly, and for two years she had lived quietly in this old country house,\nwhich her private means had enabled her to purchase.\n\n\u201cI d\u2014o trust you will excuse this intrusion,\u201d began Shepperton. \u201cThe\nbusiness which brings me here is in connection with the disappearance\nsome weeks ago of Miss Elsie Hobson, from Worlstoke, of which mystery\nyou have no doubt heard?\u201d\n\nMadame Limonaire shook her head as she replied:\n\n\u201cI\u2019m afraid, Monsieur, that I have not heard of it.\u201d\n\nHe looked surprised, so she added by way of explanation:\n\n\u201cYou see, we have so little to do with the outer world. But if I can\nassist you in any way, I will do so.\u201d\n\nHer sweet, sympathetic voice encouraged Shepperton, and he rejoined:\n\n\u201cIt is very kind of you to offer help, Madame\u2014let me explain:\n\n\u201cSome weeks ago, Miss Hobson, to whom I am engaged\u2014disappeared; and no\ntrace of her could be found. Sometime after that, one of her gloves was\nfound in the old ruined priory of Melsea.\u201d\n\nH\u00e9lo\u00efse Limonaire nodded encouragingly, so he continued:\n\n\u201cTo-day, by the aid of a bloodhound, we have traced her as far as this\nhouse, and\u2014\u201d he paused, and gave a short laugh, then went on: \u201cWell,\nthat is all, Madame.\u201d\n\nFor some time she looked him fully in the face, and to the man it\nseemed as if she were reading what was in his mind. Then she gave a\nsigh, and replied:\n\n\u201cCan Monsieur describe the lady?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh yes. She is twenty-four years of age, medium height, dark brown\nhair, brown eyes, dark skin, fairly robust in figure, good teeth rather\nprominent, one of them missing.\u201d\n\nShe nodded again, and after a pause remarked:\n\n\u201cHave you strong nerves, Monsieur?\u201d\n\nHe looked at her a little surprisedly, as he replied:\n\n\u201cWell, I think they are pretty sound. Why?\u201d\n\n\u201cWill you please come with me?\u201d\n\nHe followed her out of the room, down the hall into another chamber.\nThere, she beckoned him to a large French window, which looked out on a\ngrand old lawn.\n\n\u201cLook!\u201d she said.\n\nThe next moment he gave a cry, his face went white, and he clutched\ndesperately at the casement for support. He could hardly believe his\neyes, and for a space stood looking bewilderedly at the figure of Elsie\nHobson, seated in a chair on the lawn.\n\n\u201cIs it true?\u201d he asked mechanically.\n\nH\u00e9lo\u00efse Limonaire\u2019s eyes were moist, as she answered compassionately:\n\n\u201cYes, Monsieur, it is true. Sit down and I will tell you all about it.\u201d\n\nShepperton sank into a chair, and she began:\n\n\u201cOn the night of the 4th of April, about ten o\u2019clock, I felt compelled\nto go to the main entrance of the house. Such impressions never mislead\nme, and through them I have several times been able to succour people\nin distress. This was no exception; I had hardly opened the door,\nwhen a low moan, almost at my feet, drew my attention. Lying on the\nsteps in an exhausted condition was a young woman. I immediately called\nassistance, and we got her into the house. She seemed, poor child,\nalmost demented with terror, and kept on crying out to us to save\nher, while she continually put her hands to her throat, around which\nwas a little gold cross suspended on a chain of the same material.\nWell, toward dawn the next morning she suddenly passed into a coma or\ntrance, and remained so for over five weeks, until four days ago, when\nshe as suddenly awoke. But, Monsieur, I am afraid she has lost her\nmemory\u201d\u2014then added quickly, as she saw his colour go: \u201cOf course that\nmay only be a temporary matter.\u201d\n\n\u201cI hardly know how to thank you for what you have done,\u201d he said in a\nstrained voice.\n\n\u201cNo thanks are needed, Monsieur, except to Him who has the direction of\nall things. I have only done my duty. Wait, and I will fetch Miss \u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cHobson,\u201d said Shepperton, filling in the name.\n\nThe Lady Superior opened the window, and the man watched her cross the\nlawn to where Elsie sat, and take her arm.\n\nIn a few minutes they had returned, and Shepperton\u2019s pulse quickened as\nhe stepped forward and took his fianc\u00e9e\u2019s hand.\n\n\u201cElsie, don\u2019t you know me?\u201d\n\nShe looked at him strangely, and smiling pathetically, turned to Madame\nLimonaire, as though for an explanation.\n\n\u201cThe gentleman has called to see you, my child. He says he knows you;\ndon\u2019t you recognise him?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo!\u201d she answered, with a perplexed look. \u201cI don\u2019t think I have met\nhim before.\u201d\n\nHis heart sank; she did not know him; but after all she was alive, and\nthere was hope. His spirits revived somewhat, as the brighter side of\nthings presented itself to his mind.\n\n\u201cWell, with your permission, Madame, I will depart for the present, and\nif I may impose upon your goodness for a little longer, perhaps you\nwill care for Miss Hobson until I can make suitable arrangements for\nher to be fetched.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy all means let her stay here as long as you wish.\u201d\n\nShepperton thanked her, then added:\n\n\u201cI think I will consult Miss Alletson, the Vicar of Worlstoke\u2019s sister,\nwho is a friend of mine. I don\u2019t doubt that she will be willing to\nfetch Miss Hobson, when we have broken the news to her parents.\u201d\n\nWhen Shepperton got outside, Canning was sitting on the steps smoking.\nHe at once noticed by the other man\u2019s face that something extraordinary\nhad happened. However, he did not speak, but waited for Shepperton to\nexplain.\n\n\u201cShe is there!\u201d he said in a low voice, pointing to the house.\n\n\u201cGood,\u201d answered the detective coolly.\n\n\u201cCome,\u201d said Shepperton; \u201cwe can do nothing more at present.\u201d\n\nAs they walked along, he related what had taken place. Canning listened\nwithout interrupting, until he had finished. Then he said cheerfully:\n\n\u201cWell, Mr. Shepperton, you must hope for the best; it will not be the\nfirst case of the kind that has been cured, by any means.\u201d\n\n\u201cI hope not,\u201d was the spiritless reply.\n\nThey walked in silence for a long time, and then the detective remarked:\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s a good job I sent for the dog, eh?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; but for that, goodness only knows when we should have found her.\nI am grateful, Mr. Canning, for your help.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh,\u201d he answered reflectively, \u201cand now we have got to lay hold of the\ncriminal, which I don\u2019t think will be so easy!\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t you really think so?\u201d rejoined the other, in surprised tones.\n\n\u201cNo; there is something in this case which even I don\u2019t understand,\nwith all my experience.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n                              CHAPTER XVIII\n\n                               FATE DEFIED\n\n\nMr. Brentwood sat staring indifferently at a lengthy letter that\nlay on his study table. It was from a well-known F.R.S., with whom\nhe had some little time ago witnessed one or two experiments in\ntrance clairvoyance. The results had been good, and were the more\nsatisfactory, as the medium was an amateur. Indeed, so strongly had\nthe professor been impressed that he had written the Master of Storton\nthe letter which now lay before him, asking if he would be willing\nto co-operate in a series of experiments, with a view to obtaining\nreliable evidence.\n\nCuriously enough, Brentwood did not feel flattered, he was not keen\nupon providing laboriously compiled academic proofs for the academic\nuse of the privileged few. In his heart he felt that the time would\nbe largely wasted. Such proofs as might be forthcoming would not be\nunderstood by the general public, because the testimony would not be\nwhat is called scientifically demonstrable.\n\nNo, let the learned gentleman experiment and find out for himself. That\nwas the way in which he had acquired knowledge; in fact, it is the\nonly way in which anyone can hope to learn any of the inner truths of\nexistence.\n\nReally, at the moment he did not want to be bothered about such\nmatters, something else was uppermost in his mind. He thought he had\ndiscovered a weakness in himself, and he wanted to quash it\u2014even the\nmost well-balanced minds make mistakes.\n\nThe fact that Constance Alletson suspected him in regard to the\nWorlstoke mystery disturbed him. He did not know why it should do so,\nand because he could find no rational reason for it, he was annoyed.\n\nOthers suspected him of the crimes, and he was quite indifferent. Why\nshould one woman\u2019s opinion give him a sensation of being hurt? To his\ncold experienced mind it was ridiculous; but the fact was there to be\nfaced, and he could not brush it aside.\n\nWhy? Why? He asked himself the question several times, but no answer\ncame to his mind.\n\n\u201cAbsurd!\u201d he said half aloud, and jumping up, started to pace the\nroom with slight irritation. Then he thought of the reproach and pain\nwhich had shown in her eyes when he had called that afternoon at the\nVicarage. It was obvious that the feeling of reproach was against the\nevil she believed he had wrought; but what caused the pain? Could it\npossibly be that she was hurt in a personal way, because she thought he\nhad committed a crime?\n\n\u201cRubbish!\u201d he said aloud. Picking up at random a book, he lighted his\npipe, and flung himself on the couch to pass an hour away, reading.\n\nBut Fate was paying particular attention to him this morning, and it\nwas not going to let him rest as he wished.\n\n\u201cEven the dog won\u2019t come near me,\u201d he thought, as he opened the book.\nIt happened to be a volume of Tennyson\u2019s Poems, and he opened it\nhaphazard. The poem was \u201cMaud,\u201d and as he glanced at the open page, he\nread:\n\n    \u201cOh let the solid ground\n     Not fail beneath my feet,\n     Before my life has found\n     What some have found so sweet;\n     Then let come what come may,\n     What matter if I go mad?\n     I shall have had my day.\u201d\n\nHe looked absently out of the window as he thought over the words, and\nsmiled slightly as it occurred to him that the verse represented a\npassionate appeal to the gods of a lad about twenty-five, to let him\nknow what love was before he died.\n\nAt that age he might have held the same sentiment; but he was nearly\nforty now, and, so far as he knew, the eternal passion which is talked\nabout did not exist. To his mind, all manifestations of so-called love\nsimply sprang from the sex instinct.\n\nHe turned one or two pages carelessly, and read again:\n\n    \u201cShe is coming, my own, my sweet;\n     Were it ever so airy a tread\n     My heart would hear her and beat,\n     Were it earth in an earthy bed;\n     My dust would hear and beat,\n     Had I lain for a century dead;\n     Would start and tremble under her feet\n     And blossom in purple and red.\u201d\n\n\u201cUmph!\u201d he exclaimed; \u201cTennyson seemed to have the idea of the eternal,\nas applied to individuals, very deeply implanted. Those lines are\ngood; their hidden meaning is eternal love. They express a beautiful\nideal\u2014if it were only true.\u201d\n\nHe mused abstractedly, and wondered what sort of a difference it would\nmake to people\u2019s lives, if they could all realise and find such an\nideal? But then, he thought sadly, \u201cMan never lives up to what he truly\nbelieves is right.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is true!\u201d\n\nHe opened his half-closed eyes with a jerk, and stared round the room.\nThe words rang so clearly in his ear that he felt they must have been\nspoken by a human voice; then he laughed quietly; of course, no one was\nthere.\n\n\u201cIf it is true, it is true,\u201d he said to himself idly. From that, his\nthoughts drifted into a fresh channel. It occurred to him that he was\nrather a lonely man; that, with the exception of Agar Halfi, nobody\nknew him well; that, outside his work, life was dull and uninteresting;\nthat\u2014\u2014\n\nHe paused involuntarily; such a train of imaginings was not healthy, it\nmight lead to a breakdown, and that would never do.\n\nIt was of course natural, he thought, that women should play the most\nimportant part in men\u2019s lives, and vice versa. But that was a general\nstatement, and there are always exceptions. He had never felt the need\nof the opposite sex in the ideal sense expressed by the poets and other\nwriters, during his existence. True, he had at times been attracted by\nwomen, but cold reason had quickly suggested to him that such fancies\narose from the natural law, and he had rigorously suppressed them.\n\nHe was in his fortieth year, and, as he thought, he had not only\nmastered such things, but outgrown them. He had no doubt, too, that he\nowed his success in psychic research to his clear life. Some of the\nexperiments he made took a tremendous lot of his strength, and there\nhad to be a reserve, which in turn had to be built up somehow.\n\nAnd then he came back to what he had originally been thinking about.\nHe smiled. \u201cFor sure, all things travel in circles, even thoughts,\u201d he\nmuttered. \u201cStill, I cannot deny it, I really wish Constance Alletson\ndid not suspect me. It hurts somehow\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\nA low knock at the door interrupted him.\n\n\u201cCome in!\u201d he said normally. It was one of the maids.\n\n\u201cThe Vicar has called to see you, sir.\u201d\n\nBrentwood\u2019s eyes expressed interest.\n\n\u201cShow him in, please.\u201d\n\n\u201cPhew! It is some time since he called; I am glad he has looked in.\u201d\n\nWhen Alletson entered the room, Brentwood saw at once that something\nout of the ordinary had happened. His usually kind face was grave, and\nhis eyes shone with suppressed excitement.\n\nRising, he extended his hand, and said\u2014cordially for him\u2014\u201cI\u2019m glad to\nsee you, Alletson.\u201d\n\nBeyond thanking him, the Vicar did not reply, but taking a chair,\nlooked meditatively out of the window.\n\nBrentwood looked at him curiously, then remarked:\n\n\u201cWell, what\u2019s happened? anything serious?\u201d\n\nAn expression of surprise passed over the other\u2019s face, and he glanced\nkeenly at his host before he replied:\n\n\u201cI have some news which may be pleasing to you.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy may be?\u201d was the query.\n\nThe Vicar laughed a short, spiritless laugh, then said:\n\n\u201cI will tell you. Elsie Hobson has been found! She is now at the\nVicarage.\u201d The Master of Storton looked at him blankly, and the Vicar\nmet his gaze steadily. Like most men of his temperament, he was not a\ncoward, and when his sense of justice caused him to do an unpleasant\nthing, he never hesitated. However, nothing in the features of his host\ngave any sign of dismay. He did not even start perceptibly, and it\nwould have been hard for any man to have quite hidden his emotions at\nsuch news, if he happened to be guilty.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s satisfactory, even to me, Alletson. Tell me all about it.\u201d\n\nThe Vicar related in detail how she had been traced, then added:\n\n\u201cConstance went and brought her away, poor girl, and for the present\nshe is going to stay at the Vicarage, if her parents agree. She will\nwant someone to look after her, and Constance has offered to do it.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is generous of your sister. By the way, Alletson, cannot I be of\nany use here? I have dealt successfully with one or two similar cases,\nand, if I may say so, where ordinary medical advice has completely\nfailed. I should be happy to help if I could.\u201d\n\nA troubled look entered the other\u2019s eyes, as he answered:\n\n\u201cI am sorry to say so, Brentwood, but it is not possible!\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed!\u201d was the rejoinder. \u201cHow is that?\u201d\n\nThe Vicar breathed deeply, and was silent for a time. When he answered,\nit was as if he had to force the words:\n\n\u201cThey suspect you, Brentwood!\u201d\n\nThe Master of Storton\u2019s face assumed a hard expression, but it was\ntransient. He laughed ironically, and replied:\n\n\u201cI\u2019m aware of that, Alletson\u2014at least that your sister does.\u201d\n\nThe Vicar winced a little.\n\n\u201cThey all do, Brentwood.\u201d\n\nThe Master of Storton slowly filled his pipe, while the other watched\nhim. When he had finished, he turned his dark eyes fully on Alletson,\nand said coldly:\n\n\u201cWell?\u201d\n\nThe Vicar half rose in his chair.\n\n\u201cThere is no \u2018well\u2019 about it, Brentwood,\u201d he returned with emotion.\n\u201cWhatever others may think, I don\u2019t suspect you; never did; never\nshall. I cannot think you capable of such things.\u201d\n\nBrentwood turned his eyes away, and his face softened.\n\n\u201cIt is nice to hear you say that, Alletson. I\u2014I thought I only had one\nfriend, and that he was a Hindoo, named Agar Halfi.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, it is not so, you can depend on that,\u201d rejoined the other.\n\n\u201cI thank you for your confidence in me, Alletson. You are quite right,\nI could not perpetrate such crimes as those of which I am suspected.\u201d\n\nThere was a slight pause, and then he continued:\n\n\u201cI suppose Miss Alletson has told you why she suspects me?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo others suspect me for the same reason?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, they have other grounds!\u201d\n\nBrentwood, who was half lying on the couch, sat up and stared at his\nguest with a surprised smile.\n\n\u201cOther grounds!\u201d he repeated. \u201cI must confess I am a little astonished.\nI am quite at a loss to understand what other tangible reasons there\ncould be. Do you?\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019m afraid I\u2019m not at liberty to tell you, Brentwood. You see, the\nothers have confided in me, and I am almost bound in honour not to\nspeak.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo not distress yourself, Alletson,\u201d replied the other quickly, \u201cI\nquite understand. By the way, now you are here, and as things have\nturned out so curiously, I will show you something which may be of\ninterest.\u201d\n\nRising, he went to his desk, and unlocking it, took out a photograph of\nthe footprints, the copy of which he had lost. Handing it to the Vicar,\nhe said:\n\n\u201cHave you seen anything like that before?\u201d\n\nAlletson gave one glance at it, and a troubled look spread over his\nface.\n\n\u201cBrentwood!\u201d he exclaimed eagerly. \u201cWhy have you shown me this?\u201d\n\nIntuitively, the Master of Storton noticed immediately that the\nphotograph caused his friend undue excitement, but avoiding the\nquestion asked him, he replied:\n\n\u201cFive years ago, when in Afghanistan, I heard of a strange, mysterious\ndeath, that at certain periods terrorized the populace of a particular\ndistrict; so I set forth to investigate it. The place where it was\nsupposed to be was not many miles out of my way\u2014I was then journeying\ntoward the Persian border\u2014and I easily found it. We camped overnight,\nnot far from the cave which it was said to haunt, with the intention of\ncommencing operations the next day. However, we were not fated to go\nand seek this evil, it sought us. It attacked me, just before the dawn,\nand I narrowly escaped with my life. For nearly six weeks I lay in a\ndeep trance, during which time I remembered nothing. When I recovered,\nwhich was quite suddenly, Agar Halfi told me what had happened,\nand produced a photograph of those footmarks, which he had had the\nforethought to take. That which you have in your hands is the original,\nthe copy I lost a few weeks ago.\u201d\n\nThe Vicar, who had not missed a single word of his host\u2019s narrative,\ngazed at him with astonished eyes for some little time, while Brentwood\nsmiled back at him amusedly. At last, finding his tongue, he exclaimed:\n\n\u201cWhy, that trance seems to tally with what Elsie Hobson experienced.\u201d\n\n\u201cWith the exception that I did not suffer from loss of memory, and\u2014\u201d\nhere the Master of Storton loosened his collar, and exposed to his\nfriend a jagged white seam on his throat, about two and a half inches\nlong. \u201cElsie Hobson hasn\u2019t that.\u201d\n\nThe Vicar uttered an exclamation.\n\n\u201cWhy, that scar is the same as the one which was found on poor\nThornton\u2019s body!\u201d\n\nBrentwood nodded grimly. Then said:\n\n\u201cNow what do you think of this. The night we were encamped outside that\ncave in Afghanistan, and before we settled down to sleep, Agar Halfi\ntold me the following.\u201d\n\nHere he related to the Vicar the Legend of the Mountains.\n\n\u201cIt is all very strange, Brentwood, yet I should be more inclined to\nbelieve that the Legend was invented to tally with the deaths. Still,\nwhat you have told me confirms what I fully believed in my heart,\nthat\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cThat the others who found the copy of that photograph, and on it based\ntheir suspicions that I am the culprit, made a slight mistake, eh?\u201d\ninterrupted the Master of Storton.\n\nFor a moment Alletson looked confused, then the frank generous nature\nof the man asserting itself, he said:\n\n\u201cYou have hit it; that is so.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was to get at that point I showed you the photograph. When you\ntold me that others suspected me as well as your sister, but on quite\ndifferent grounds, it occurred to me at once that the lost photograph\nmust be the cause. You see, the initials \u201cH. A. B.\u201d endorsed, would\ninform the finder to whom it belonged.\u201d\n\nThe Vicar laughed cheerfully, as if a weight had been taken off his\nmind.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m so glad I came,\u201d he said, rising. \u201cNow I will go and put matters\nright.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot quite right,\u201d returned his host, looking at him steadily. \u201cWhat\nyou now know will not prove me innocent to Miss Alletson.\u201d\n\nThe Vicar\u2019s face dropped. \u201cAh, I had forgotten. Still, that will no\ndoubt clear itself all right,\u201d he said encouragingly. \u201cGood-bye for the\npresent.\u201d\n\nBrentwood smiled doubtfully, as he shook hands.\n\n\u201cLet me know if I can be of any assistance with regard to Miss Hobson,\u201d\nhe said finally as they parted at the door.\n\nGoing back to his study, Brentwood thrust his hands into his coat\npockets, and stared hard at the table. \u201cI suppose it is satisfactory,\u201d\nhe thought, then he shook his head slowly, \u201cbut it won\u2019t affect her\nsuspicions, and I\u2019m afraid it is not in my power to dispose of them.\u201d\n\nA knock at the door disturbed him, and the next moment Agar Halfi\nentered.\n\n\u201cGood!\u201d exclaimed the Master of Storton; \u201cI wanted to see you.\u201d\n\nHe related what had transpired at the Vicar\u2019s visit. The Hindoo smiled\nand nodded, but did not speak. Brentwood looked at him with a dry\nsmile, the Oriental\u2019s quaint ways interested him.\n\n\u201cYou see, I am in disgrace with the district, Agar Halfi.\u201d\n\nThe Hindoo shrugged his shoulders contemptuously, as though the matter\nwere hardly worth discussing.\n\n\u201cDid you want me for anything?\u201d asked Brentwood, after a pause.\n\n\u201cYes, Sahib, Hector has disappeared again!\u201d\n\nThe other laughed curiously. \u201cGone to the Vicarage?\u201d he queried.\n\n\u201cProbably\u2014shall I go and see?\u201d\n\nThe Master of Storton knitted his brows for a moment, then replied:\n\n\u201cNo! If he is there, let him stay, unless they ask for him to be\nfetched away. If he is anywhere else, he will turn up all right.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood,\u201d answered the Hindoo indifferently.\n\n\u201cAnything else?\u201d\n\nAgar Halfi folded his arms, and for a space stood in solemn silence,\nthen he answered:\n\n\u201cTo-day week the Sahib is forty years old.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is true, my friend. What of it? Do you want to buy me a present?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Sahib does not need material presents,\u201d returned the other,\nwithout losing his dignified manner.\n\n\u201cGo on,\u201d said Brentwood, smiling.\n\n\u201cDo you know the aspects of your progressed horoscope on that date?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, I think I do,\u201d was the careless reply.\n\n\u201cSahib, they are evil, more evil than any I have seen in your nativity.\nI warn you to be careful. Neptune culminates, and the moon is at the\nfull!\u201d\n\nBrentwood thought for a few minutes, then said:\n\n\u201cThank you, Agar Halfi. I will be on my guard, and I take it that you\nhave the matter in mind?\u201d\n\nThe Hindoo nodded gravely as he replied, \u201cI am keeping watch now,\nSahib.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I will report my movements to you each day,\u201d said Brentwood, \u201cso\nthat you will know exactly where to find me.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh,\u201d exclaimed the other approvingly, then said to himself\u2014as though\ncontinuing the other\u2019s sentence\u2014\u201call that you are aware of!\u201d\n\n\u201cNow to return to the Worlstoke Mystery, Agar Halfi. What do you think\nof Miss Hobson\u2019s case? Don\u2019t you think we could restore her memory?\u201d\n\nThe Hindoo\u2019s black eyes flashed as he replied:\n\n\u201cMaybe, Sahib, but Agar Halfi feels that until the evil which has\ncaused the trouble is run to earth, the young lady\u2019s memory will not\nreturn.\u201d\n\n\u201cStill, it might be tried,\u201d continued Brentwood stubbornly.\n\n\u201cFrom what Mr. Alletson told you, there are difficulties in the way,\nSahib.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, I know, but I thought perhaps you would take the matter in hand,\nif they were willing.\u201d\n\nThe Hindoo shook his head doubtfully.\n\n\u201cThat is speculative; still, it could be suggested.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell then, I will write to the Vicar to-day, stating that I shall be\npleased to take Miss Hobson\u2019s case in hand, and that if there is any\nobjection, you will be willing to do so. If they refuse, well, no more\ncan be said; we shall have done our best.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery good, Sahib.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAPTER XIX\n\n                            HEART-SEARCHINGS\n\n\nConstance woke with a start. For a time she lay in a slight\nperspiration, with that uncomfortable feeling of fear one has when\nwaking suddenly out of a distasteful dream.\n\nIt was dark, so she closed her eyes instinctively, in order to shut out\nwhat might be there for her to see. As she gradually obtained control\nof her faculties, she chided herself for being a silly goose! Sitting\nup in bed, she reached the matches, and lighted a night lamp which she\nkept on a small table close by. That done, she lay back and listened\nintently, but no sound caught her ear, all was silent. Satisfied,\nshe looked at her watch, and noted that it was five minutes to four\no\u2019clock, and very nearly daybreak. Then she turned her attention to her\ndream.\n\nIt had been a disagreeable one, but she waived that aside. If she were\nnot very much mistaken, it was an important one! In character, it\ncorresponded to that which she had before experienced, the one which\nresembled the dream Agar Halfi told her he had had. Settling herself\ncomfortably down, she went over it in detail, so as to commit it\nthoroughly to memory.\n\nOnce again she had stood in that desolate wild mountainous region,\nwaiting for she knew not what, and her heart was filled with a strange\nfear. At last there appeared before her the same Hindoo priest who had\nmanifested in her last dream. In his left hand he held a black wand, in\nhis right a white one. The left half of his flowing robe was black, the\nright half white, and in his sombre eyes glowed the deep fire of the\nmystic.\n\nRaising both wands above his head, he addressed her thus: \u201cChild, you\nare one of the instruments of Fate in a strange tragedy. Upon you falls\na burden, which is really the burden of others. Unless you faithfully\ncarry out your part thereof, so surely shall you repent too late. I\nforewarn you that the secret of your own life will be revealed by\nyour spirit to your mind, before the moon is on the wane, and if you\ntake one false step, flinch once from your duty, your doom will be\nthis\u201d\u2014here he pointed with the black wand to the number eighteen which\nappeared in figures of lurid fire\u2014\u201cand many weary cycles shall pass\nbefore once again the opportunity shall occur to enable you to advance\nin the mysterious evolution of eternal life. But if you are true to\nyourself, if you act fearlessly and unselfishly, all will go well, and\nthe result will be this\u201d\u2014here he raised the white wand, and pointed to\nthe number twenty-two, which glowed in figures of pure white light.\n\u201cBut I warn you, child, that your task is not an easy one. Remember\nthat no success worth gaining is achieved without severe trials. When\nthe secret of eternal life is revealed to you, do not hesitate to\nchoose your path. There is only one right way. All humans are conscious\nof it, though not many realise that they should have trodden it\nuntil too late, and then back must they come to the physical plane of\nexistence, to again toil and struggle, until they shall conquer. This\nis the last time I can appear to you; already have I said more than I\njudge to be safe. Yet one thing more. In your left hand you will find\nimprinted the mystic Cross of St. Andrew, which means that you have the\nmystic power, though incipient. It must be developed, but alone you can\naccomplish little. A soul at present imprisoned in human clay, with\nthe mystic Cross on his right hand, shall fulfil your destiny. And now\nfarewell; when we meet again you will know who I am, for your eyes will\nby that time have been opened.\u201d\n\nShe watched his figure fade away. When he had almost disappeared,\nshe heard his voice, warningly clear, \u201cRemember, child, be true to\nyourself.\u201d\n\nSatisfied that she had it clearly, Constance blew out the lamp and\nturned toward the window. A break in the darkness told her that the\ndawn was approaching. Closing her eyes, she tried to settle down, but\nit was quite light before she eventually fell asleep. Her active brain,\nonce thoroughly awake, could not easily be controlled, and in the quiet\ndarkness was even abnormally alert. First of all her mind drifted on to\nthe mystery, and when she had successfully dispelled it, she began to\nthink about the Master of Storton, and that train of thought held for a\nlong time.\n\nShe still felt that he was guilty, yet somewhere deep down she knew she\nwished he was not. But why? The man was cold, reserved, and appeared to\nbe selfish, practically interested in nothing but his work. In spite\nof all this, there was one side of him\u2014curiously enough a side she only\ndimly understood\u2014which appeared to be noble, indeed, once or twice she\nhad thought it something more than that. She did know for certain that\nit appealed to all that was best in her. What a pity there should be\nthat other side to him. Ah, it was more than a pity, it was dreadful.\nYes, she was sorry, really sorry. Then she went on to wonder how she\ncould get at Agar Halfi, so that he could interpret her dream? And\nwondering, she slept.\n\nThe sun was shining brightly when, about two hours later, she was\naroused by a loud bark, followed by what sounded like a stifled screech\nfrom Martha. Slipping out of bed, Constance donned her dressing-gown,\nand opening the window, looked out, then she laughed. Standing on the\nlawn, looking the essence of stubbornness, was Hector, gazing stolidly\nat Martha in the kitchen doorway, holding a broom with both hands.\nHearing her mistress laugh, Martha looked up hurriedly and exclaimed:\n\n\u201cPlease, Miss, that brute\u2019s here again. He must have jumped the wall\nat the bottom of the garden, and when I went to drive him away with\nthis\u201d\u2014here she held up the broom\u2014\u201che barked at me.\u201d\n\nConstance laughed again, then said:\n\n\u201cNever mind, Martha; let him alone, and he won\u2019t hurt you. I\u2019ll see to\nhim when I come down.\u201d\n\nTurning her eyes to the dog, she called him by his name. Hector looked\nup quickly, and began to slowly wag his tail.\n\n\u201cGood old dog,\u201d she said coaxingly. He whimpered, and began pawing the\nlawn.\n\n\u201cNow lie down, sir!\u201d Hector obediently sat down on all-fours, his tail\nstill moving to and fro.\n\n\u201cAll right, Martha, I\u2019ll be down shortly.\u201d Saying which, she withdrew\nfrom the window and quickly commenced her toilet. When she had\nfinished, she went to Elsie Hobson\u2019s room, the spare one next her own,\nand knocked quietly; receiving no answer, she softly turned the handle,\nand opening the door, went in with a light tread. Elsie was sleeping\npeacefully, as though nothing in the world had ever troubled her. Poor\ngirl, thought Constance sympathetically, as she softly withdrew, will\nshe ever recover?\n\nDuring breakfast, which meal Constance and her brother took alone,\nPhilip asked:\n\n\u201cWhat time is Mr. Shepperton coming?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe said he would call about two o\u2019clock with Mr. Canning,\u201d she\nreplied; then added uneasily, \u201cI hope you have not to go out, Philip?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh no,\u201d he assured her; \u201cI asked because I am anxious to meet them,\nConstance. I have something important to say.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed!\u201d she answered, surprised.\n\n\u201cRead this, my dear.\u201d He handed her a letter which had come by the\nmorning\u2019s post from the Manor.\n\nConstance opened her eyes as she mastered its contents, then looked at\nher brother inquiringly.\n\n\u201cHe has soon got to hear about Elsie.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will explain,\u201d said the Vicar, with a grave smile. \u201cYesterday\nmorning, I went to the Manor and told Mr. Brentwood.\u201d As he was\nspeaking, he watched her face contract, so he asked:\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t you approve, Constance?\u201d\n\nShe shook her head. \u201cI don\u2019t know what to say, Philip. Tell me what\nhappened.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I\u2019m very glad I went, because the result of the visit is, that\nI shall be able to clear my friend the Master of Storton from any\nsuspicions that have been formulated against him in connection with the\nWorlstoke Mystery.\u201d\n\nConstance unconsciously drew a deep breath.\n\n\u201cCan you really do that?\u201d she asked eagerly.\n\nHer brother could not help noticing her keen interest.\n\n\u201cShould you be glad if I could?\u201d\n\nFor a moment she looked at her brother with a pained expression; she\nhardly liked his question; then she answered a little coldly, \u201cOf\ncourse I should, Philip. Need you have asked?\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019m sorry, Constance, but I was not sure whether or not you were\nhostile toward him.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, indeed; why?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d he returned slowly, \u201cto tell the truth, I rather thought you\nwere, considering what you have experienced and suffered at his hands.\u201d\n\n\u201cSurely, Philip, you must know that I am not at all like that. I don\u2019t\nthink I\u2019m vindictive, I don\u2019t think I bear malice.\u201d\n\nHe did not answer, so she said after a pause:\n\n\u201cTell me about your visit.\u201d\n\nThe Vicar related at length all that occurred, and she listened\nrestlessly. At the end she exclaimed:\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t think for a moment that Mr. Shepperton would agree to Mr.\nBrentwood having anything to do with Elsie, and I am doubtful as\nregards Mr. Agar Halfi.\u201d\n\n\u201cQuite so, Constance; but what do you, yourself, think?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh\u2014\u2014\u201d she laughed hopelessly, \u201cafter what I experienced, what can I\nthink? I can only come to one conclusion!\u201d\n\nThey finished their meal in silence, then Constance rose to ring the\nbell. Having done that, she turned to the window, but had hardly looked\nout when she exclaimed:\n\n\u201cOh, I forgot, Philip, I\u2019ve had a visitor this morning!\u201d and she\nlaughed.\n\n\u201cVisitor?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes\u2014come and see.\u201d\n\nHe went to the window, and saw Hector basking in the sunshine on the\nlawn.\n\n\u201cVery extraordinary he should have taken such a liking to you.\u201d\n\n\u201cIsn\u2019t it!\u201d\n\nThey surveyed him for a time, then turning briskly, Constance\nexclaimed: \u201cReally, I must go and look after Elsie.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I must go and do some work,\u201d added Philip. \u201cYou will find me in my\nroom, if I am not about when they call.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAPTER XX\n\n                      THE DECISION OF THE \u201cCOMBINE\u201d\n\n\nWhen she agreed to look after Elsie Hobson, Constance had taken upon\nherself a severe task. She found that the poor girl was practically\nhelpless, and it had only been by painstaking efforts that she had been\nable to get her to do the most simple things.\n\nAs to her past life, she could not remember a single thing. She did not\nknow anyone, not even her own name, and she went about in a mechanical\nsort of way, clinging to Constance like a child. At first it had been\nvery distressing to see her like that, but sensibly realising the\nsituation, Constance had devoted herself to her charge, and as far as\nit was possible, improvement in her condition had been made.\n\nElsie occupied her attention that morning for fully an hour, by which\ntime it was nearly ten o\u2019clock. She was, however, able to spend a short\ntime with her charge on the lawn, before a ring at the front-door bell\nwarned her that Mr. Shepperton and Mr. Canning had arrived.\n\nRising, she went quickly into the house, to find that Martha had shown\nthem into the drawing-room. Shepperton introduced Mr. Canning to her,\nand that gentleman, bowing awkwardly, said that he hoped she was well.\n\nConstance looked at him curiously, and wanted to laugh. He looked so\nuncongenial in her pretty room, sitting in a low fancy chair, with his\nlong legs and great feet sprawling on the carpet. But almost the next\nmoment she detected something in his appearance which commanded her\nrespect. What it was she could not exactly define, she simply knew that\nshe had realised he was a strong, reliable man.\n\n\u201cAnd how is Elsie this morning?\u201d inquired Shepperton.\n\n\u201cOh, about the same, I think. You had better come and see her.\u201d\n\nJust then the Vicar entered, and after he had been introduced to the\ndetective, Constance said:\n\n\u201cCome along, Mr. Shepperton, I will take you to Elsie, while Philip\ntalks to Mr. Canning.\u201d\n\nWhen they had gone, Alletson looked silently at the detective, who\nwas apparently deeply interested in the design of a vase on the\nmantelpiece. The Vicar did not know what to think of him, he was such\na queer-looking man. He was just about to address him, when, without\nturning his head, Mr. Canning exclaimed:\n\n\u201cI expect you have wondered what I think about this case, sir?\u201d\n\nAlletson smiled genially. \u201cThat is just what I was going to ask you,\nMr. Canning.\u201d\n\nThe detective screwed up his thin lips, and sagely nodded his head.\n\n\u201cWell, officially speaking, the case would, I think, be reported as\none \u2018that has baffled all efforts,\u2019 but personally\u201d\u2014here he turned\nquickly and looked steadily at the Vicar, as though to make quite sure\nhe was not on wrong ground\u2014\u201cI feel there is either a huge hoax being\ncarried on, or else it is a genuine mystery, as far out of the reach of\nordinary investigation as I am from being saved.\u201d\n\nAlletson lifted his eyebrows in surprise at this very uncommon speech,\nthen he laughed genuinely.\n\n\u201cI think, Mr. Canning, you have summed up the situation pretty\naccurately. But do you intend to deal with the matter officially or\npersonally?\u201d\n\n\u201cBoth, sir. I am interested.\u201d\n\n\u201cI feel I must congratulate you on your success in finding Miss Hobson.\u201d\n\n\u201cAs much a matter of luck, Mr. Alletson, as anything else,\u201d was the\nmodest reply.\n\n\u201cIf we could only get her memory restored, we might discover something.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps,\u201d answered the detective, \u201cbut you never can tell.\u201d\n\nAt this juncture the other two returned, Constance with tears in her\neyes, and Shepperton looking very dejected.\n\n\u201cWell?\u201d asked the Vicar sympathetically.\n\nShepperton shook his head gloomily, as he replied:\n\n\u201cIt seems quite hopeless; not a vestige of recognition has she shown in\nany way.\u201d\n\nThey were all silent for a space, then Mr. Canning remarked in his\nhigh-pitched voice:\n\n\u201cA case like this requires time, you cannot hope for quick results.\nGive it three months.\u201d\n\nShepperton smiled despairingly. \u201cI suppose that is what it amounts to,\nand perhaps I had better realise straight away that it will probably\nbe a long job, even if she does recover.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn that connection, I have something important to say,\u201d remarked the\nVicar steadily. All eyes turned to him as he continued: \u201cBut first of\nall, I wish to speak with regard to the photograph which Mr. Shepperton\nfound.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh yes,\u201d answered that gentleman attentively.\n\n\u201cTo get straight to the point, I called on the Master of Storton\nyesterday, partly to inform him of Miss Hobson\u2019s return. When I had\nfinished, he produced a similar photograph to the one Mr. Shepperton\nfound, and asked me if I had seen anything like it before. Of course I\nwas surprised, but not half so much as I was when he told me the story\nof it.\u201d Here the Vicar related in detail what he had learned from Mr.\nBrentwood. Then he continued:\n\n\u201cNow I think that pretty well absolves the Master of Storton from\nany suspicions which may have been formed against him, so far as the\nphotograph is concerned. What do you say, Mr. Shepperton?\u201d\n\nThus addressed, the latter gave a short unsatisfied laugh, and answered:\n\n\u201cIf what Mr. Brentwood told you is true, I don\u2019t see how we can come to\nany other conclusion.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is no doubt about the scar on his throat, and there is little\ndoubt that it corresponds in shape to the wound found on the body of\npoor Thornton,\u201d replied Alletson with a little heat.\n\n\u201cQuite so,\u201d returned Shepperton. \u201cWhat do you think, Canning?\u201d\n\n\u201cI agree that it clears the gentleman from suspicion in a direct\nway, and, if what he says took place in Afghanistan can be verified,\ncertainly from any suspicion as regards the photograph, but\u2014\u201d he\npaused, and they all looked at him inquiringly. It was Constance who\nput the question to him:\n\n\u201cHow else could it affect him?\u201d\n\nThe detective pursed his thin lips, and half-closed his eyes, before he\nreplied:\n\n\u201cHas it not occurred to anyone that if Mr. Brentwood\u2019s story is true,\nhe is indirectly the cause of this mysterious something coming to this\ndistrict? It has never before been heard of in England!\u201d\n\nThey stared blankly at the detective, then Shepperton slapped his\nthigh, and exclaimed:\n\n\u201cSo simple, too, yet it never struck me.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd,\u201d continued Canning, addressing the Vicar, \u201cis it not probable\nthat he never told you about this before, because he realised that you\nwould come to such a conclusion?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot necessarily so,\u201d rejoined the Vicar. \u201cIf the Master of Storton\nwere conscious of the fact that he had unknowingly brought this evil\nto England, I do not see any possible reason why he should try to hide\nanything connected with it. The simple fact that he may have been\ninstrumental in the matter does not make him guilty!\u201d\n\n\u201cYour argument can be turned another way, reverend sir,\u201d replied the\ndetective a little grimly. \u201cThe gentleman has on his own showing\nwithheld certain important information, which tends to show that he\ndoes know he brought the evil to England, and that he is guilty in\nendeavouring to cover up his traces.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen why did he tell me yesterday about the photograph, if he intended\nto deceive us? Why did he not still keep silent?\u201d answered Alletson a\nlittle triumphantly.\n\n\u201cWhat you say seems good enough, Mr. Alletson, but you must remember\nthat this gentleman deliberately told you yesterday about the\nfootprints, when he heard that Miss Hobson had been discovered, and\nsuddenly realising that if Miss Hobson recovered her memory, the whole\nthing would come out, he did it with a view to change of plans.\u201d\n\nShepperton looked at the Vicar with a wry sort of smile, as much as to\nsay, \u201cNow then!\u201d\n\n\u201cJust so,\u201d replied the Vicar quickly. \u201cMy answer to you is here,\ncontained in this letter.\u201d He started to open it with nervous fingers,\nand was about to hand it to the detective, when Constance said in an\nundertone:\n\n\u201cYou had better read it, Philip.\u201d\n\nHer brother nodded, and began:\n\n                                           \u201c\u2018+Storton Manor, Storton+,\n                                                   _May, 19\u2014_.\n\n  \u201c\u2018+Dear Alletson+,\u2014Further to our conversation this afternoon,\n  either my friend Agar Halfi or myself would be very willing to\n  deal with Miss Hobson\u2019s malady, and attempt to restore her memory,\n  should it be agreeable to all.\n\n  \u201c\u2018I suggest this, partly because a lot of money may be wasted in\n  useless advice, and partly because I know that there is only one\n  reliable method of dealing with such cases, and that I learnt in\n  the East.\u2014Yours sincerely,\n\n                                                  +H. A. Brentwood.+\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cNow if your last surmise is correct, Mr. Canning, why should the\nMaster of Storton write this letter, offering to help to bring about\nthe very result that would be his undoing?\u201d\n\n\u201cSimply that he has no intention of really trying to restore Elsie\u2019s\nmemory, and would conduct some tom-fool experiment just to deceive us,\u201d\nblurted out Shepperton.\n\nThe Vicar\u2019s face flushed a little, but he restrained himself admirably,\nand for a time no one spoke. The silence was getting a little\nuncomfortable, when Constance remarked coldly:\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t you think we are straining the point somewhat?\u201d\n\nHer remark brought Canning\u2019s eyes to her face, and a sort of a smile\nwrinkled his countenance as he replied:\n\n\u201cPerhaps we are getting a little into the clouds. I think that your\nbrother is justified in his argument, though of course there is the\npossibility of what has been said on the other side. But apart from\nboth points of view, we have, I understand, a very serious piece of\nevidence from Miss Alletson, which is to my mind of great value in\nthis particular case, in fact it comprises the only evidence we at\npresent have against the Master of Storton; and on that alone\u2014speaking\nprofessionally\u2014I should be bound to watch the gentleman, until his\ninnocence was proved beyond doubt.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd it is because of that evidence, and what I have gone through, that\nI cannot recommend that Mr. Brentwood be allowed to deal with Elsie,\u201d\nexclaimed Constance, in a steady voice.\n\nShepperton gave her a grateful glance. \u201cAnd I certainly should not care\nabout it,\u201d he added.\n\n\u201cHave you thought that you may be throwing away the means of restoring\nMiss Hobson\u2019s memory?\u201d ejaculated the Vicar.\n\n\u201cI have, Philip,\u201d replied Constance, \u201cand because of that, I suggest\nthat there could scarcely be any harm in allowing Mr. Agar Halfi to\ntreat the case!\u201d\n\n\u201cReally, Miss Alletson\u2014\u201d began Shepperton, but she interrupted him\ndefiantly:\n\n\u201cWhy not? If we are all there at the time, I don\u2019t see that any harm\ncan be done.\u201d\n\nWith a sigh, he looked appealingly at the detective, who was coolly\nexamining a piece of china which he had picked up from a small table at\nhis elbow.\n\n\u201cMr. Canning, please!\u201d he exclaimed a little shortly.\n\nWithout looking up from what he was doing, the detective answered:\n\n\u201cThe lady\u2019s reasoning is good, Mr. Shepperton.\u201d\n\nHere he nearly lost his temper. In a sense he felt at bay; they were\nall three of an opinion contrary to his own, and he was mortified as\nwell as angry.\n\n\u201cBut I most emphatically protest!\u201d he said heatedly.\n\nNo one answered his remark, and in his annoyance Shepperton felt ready\nto rush out of the room and never speak to any of them again. But it\ndid not take him long to crush that impulse.\n\nThings were again beginning to get painful, when the detective calmly\nsaid:\n\n\u201cOf course, Mr. Shepperton, you can try other means of restoration,\nbut I am bound to say that what Mr. Brentwood insinuated in his letter\nabout waste of money is probably correct. Are you aware that cases of\nlost memory in the ordinary course of things have to right themselves,\nor not at all? Nobody seems to know how to deal with them. Judging from\nwhat Mr. Alletson told me a short time ago, it may be worth trying,\nprovided conditions satisfactory to ourselves could be obtained.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is no doubt about their skill in these matters,\u201d exclaimed the\nVicar.\n\nShepperton could hardly suppress a sneer as he said to himself, \u201cNo,\nthere isn\u2019t!\u201d\n\nHe did not like the idea at all, and fought against it for some time,\nbut eventually the weight of the detective\u2019s reasoning influenced him,\nand he acquiesced, though reluctantly.\n\n\u201cShall I make the arrangements, Mr. Shepperton?\u201d\n\n\u201cPlease, if you don\u2019t mind,\u201d returned the latter. \u201cI hope sincerely\nthat it will turn out a success, though I really cannot bring myself to\nthink so.\u201d\n\n\u201cFrom what I know of Mr. Agar Halfi, I am sanguine of success,\u201d said\nConstance encouragingly.\n\n\u201cThank you, Miss Alletson,\u201d he returned quickly, then added:\n\n\u201cPlease do not think me ungrateful; nobody could have done, nor is\ndoing, more for me than you and your brother, and I fully appre\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t,\u201d said Alletson warmly, putting his hand on the other\u2019s arm. \u201cWe\nquite understand.\u201d\n\nThey shook hands, and Constance and her brother watched the two men go\ndown the path, until they disappeared outside the gate.\n\nTurning to her brother, she said in a low voice:\n\n\u201cI wonder what will be the end of all this?\u201d\n\nHe shook his head gravely, as he replied:\n\n\u201cIt is difficult to say, but I trust God will guide our actions, and\nlead us into clear waters.\u201d Saying which, he went slowly to his own\nroom, and for several minutes stood looking out of the window across\nthe garden. Then going to his desk, he sat down and wrote the following\nletter:\n\n                                           \u201c+The Vicarage, Worlstoke.+\n                                                    _May 19\u2014_.\n\n  \u201c+Dear Brentwood+,\u2014It has been agreed to entrust Elsie Hobson\u2019s\n  case to your Hindoo friend. If you will be so kind as to let me\n  know when you can arrange for the experiment to take place, I will\n  inform the others. So that there shall be no doubt about your\n  presence (I, personally, should strongly object to your absence) I\n  suggest that the place selected be the Manor. Please forgive the\n  liberty I take; candidly, I think it best, and I know I can talk\n  frankly to you.\n\n  \u201cFor your guidance, I had better say that there will be present\n  from here: Mr. Shepperton; a friend of his, Mr. Canning; my sister\n  Constance and myself; and of course there will be yourself, Mr.\n  Agar Halfi, and Miss Hobson.\n\n  \u201cWith every earnest wish that things may soon straighten themselves\n  out,\u2014Believe me, your sincere friend,\n\n                                                   +Philip Alletson+.\u201d\n\nAfter reading it over carefully, he addressed an envelope, and put the\nletter in it. He was about to seal it, when he hesitated, and taking\nthe letter out, went to find Constance. She read it over twice and\nhanded it back in silence. Then she gave vent to a queer little laugh.\n\n\u201cWon\u2019t it do?\u201d he asked abruptly.\n\n\u201cOh yes, Philip,\u201d she answered; \u201cit is not that, but I can\u2019t help\nthinking that while we suspect Mr. Brentwood of such terrible things,\nit is a bit mean to make all the use of him we can. If he is innocent,\nI shall never be able to look him in the face, for very shame.\u201d\n\nHer brother silently sealed the letter, he did not know what to\nanswer\u2014and taking a stamp from his pocket-book, fixed it on the\nenvelope with a determined blow of his fist. At last he exclaimed:\n\n\u201cConstance, I know he is innocent!\u201d\n\n\u201cPhilip, I know he is not!\u201d\n\nThey looked at each other almost defiantly, then they both smiled, and\nConstance impulsively kissed him, a thing which was not customary with\nher.\n\n\u201cWe cannot afford to quarrel, Philip, even though we hold different\nopinions, but I wish I could think the same as you do!\u201d\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAPTER XXI\n\n                           HOW EAST RULES WEST\n\n\nIt was just past two o\u2019clock the next afternoon, when Constance\u2014who was\nbusy writing notices for a Church Workers\u2019 Committee\u2014heard a motor stop\noutside the gate. Shortly afterwards, heavy footsteps resounded on the\ngravel path, and the next moment there was a ring at the bell.\n\nShe wondered who it could be\u2014Mr. Brentwood? Hardly. Then who was it?\nHer unspoken question was answered by Martha opening the door and\ninforming her that the dark gentleman from the Manor had called.\n\nConstance was pleasantly surprised. Ever since the night of her dream\nshe had been cogitating how she could get to see Agar Halfi, and now\nthe problem had been solved for her by his unexpected call.\n\n\u201cShow him in, please,\u201d she said quickly.\n\nHer blood pulsed a little faster while she waited. She remembered the\nlast time he had called, how interesting had been their conversation,\nand she was conscious of a sense of satisfaction at meeting him again.\n\nAs he entered the room, Agar Halfi saluted her respectfully in his\ndignified way, and at her request slowly took a seat.\n\n\u201cI understand Mr. Alletson is out?\u201d he inquired.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d replied Constance, \u201cand I do not expect him back until late,\nthat is, tea-time. Can I be of any assistance?\u201d\n\nWhy, she did not know; but as soon as he had entered the room,\nConstance felt a soothing influence come over her, which had the effect\nof making her forget all the small worries of life. It was similar to\nthe influence which was always with her brother, only in a much greater\ndegree. It occurred to her as being a little curious, knowing that the\nHindoo was not a Christian. She had always associated such power with\nthe Church, and to find that it was present, and in a greater degree,\nin a non-Christian, set her thinking. Her quick brain immediately\ngrasped that if this influence could be possessed by a non-Christian,\nher idea that it belonged to the Church was wrong. Then to what was\nit due? She did not know that it was obtained by inward development\nof faculties of which the great majority of people are unconscious,\nand that in her brother\u2019s case, he had in a small degree unconsciously\ndeveloped them, and in spite of the Church! Then it struck her that\nat one time she had thought Mr. Brentwood possessed the same kind of\npower, and as she thought over it, she realised that he still possessed\nit, though her consciousness of it had been totally obscured by that\nother terrible symptom he exhibited.\n\n\u201cI think I can quite well transact my business with you, Miss\nAlletson,\u201d replied the Hindoo. \u201cI have called in reply to the letter\nyour brother wrote to Mr. Brentwood yesterday.\u201d\n\n\u201cQuite so,\u201d she answered; \u201cI am fully aware of its contents.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d he continued, \u201cMr. Brentwood has left the matter in my hands\nentirely, and his house is at my disposal, any time I think fit.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is good of him,\u201d she exclaimed, then added: \u201cAnd you\u2014will you do\nit?\u201d\n\nThe shadow of a grim smile crossed the Oriental\u2019s face as he said:\n\n\u201cYes, I will, and I will only make one condition.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd that?\u201d queried Constance, holding her breath.\n\n\u201cIs that all the people who have been concerned in this case are\npresent during the time I am carrying out my work.\u201d\n\nShe breathed again, and replied in a cheerful tone:\n\n\u201cI feel that I must thank you on behalf of Mr. Shepperton and my\nbrother, and I do so most sincerely on my own account.\u201d\n\nHe inclined his head in acknowledgment, and replied:\n\n\u201cI called in person, Miss Alletson, partly because it is simpler to\nmake arrangements verbally than by letter, and partly because I wish,\nif I may, to see Miss Hobson, so that I shall know exactly how to\nprepare for the experiment.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is no difficulty about that\u2014I will take you to her. She was\nasleep about half an hour ago, but may be awake now.\u201d\n\nElsie Hobson was reclining in an easy-chair in the breakfast-room, and\nopened her eyes at the sound of them entering. She sat up wonderingly,\nwith a perplexed expression on her pretty face. Constance went to her,\nand said encouragingly:\n\n\u201cElsie, this gentleman is going to make you better.\u201d\n\nThe girl turned her eyes to the Hindoo, who was standing just inside\nthe door, with a softened expression on his usually set features, and\nlooked at him earnestly; then, as if satisfied with her scrutiny, she\nsaid to Constance in a puzzled tone:\n\n\u201cWhy, I am not ill, am I?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, dear,\u201d replied Constance soothingly. \u201cNot now, but you have lost\nyour memory, and this gentleman is perhaps going to restore it.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, I see,\u201d she answered absently.\n\nAgar Halfi advanced to her chair, and taking one of her listless hands\nin his, spoke to her gently. She looked at him simply, like a child,\nand as her eyes met his, he stopped speaking, holding her with his\nglance. Just for a second, she shrank as if frightened, then a flash of\nintelligence crossed her face, and she exclaimed eagerly:\n\n\u201cYes, I know, I met you ... in ...\u201d she paused, mystified, a look of\ndisappointment on her countenance, and then continued wearily, \u201cOh, I\ncannot just remember where!\u201d\n\n\u201cNever mind,\u201d he said in a low voice, \u201cyou will later on. There is\nplenty of time.\u201d\n\nShe nodded as if satisfied, though her eyes never left his face. Agar\nHalfi gazed at her steadily for several minutes, while Constance\nwatched with deep interest. Gradually Elsie\u2019s eyes seemed to glaze,\na film appeared over the dark pupils, then, with a restful sigh, she\nclosed her eyes, and sank back in her chair as though in a peaceful\nsleep.\n\n\u201cShe is in the hypnotic sleep,\u201d explained the Hindoo, \u201cfrom which\nshe will awake in an hour. Keep her as quiet as possible during the\nnext two days, please, and do not let her eat any meat, nor take any\nstimulant.\u201d\n\n\u201cI understand,\u201d replied Constance, \u201cand will carry out your\ninstructions. What day have you fixed for the experiment?\u201d\n\n\u201cFriday evening, at seven o\u2019clock; that is, the third day from now,\nTuesday.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery well. Now will you please come back to the drawing-room, there is\nsomething about which I want to ask you before you go?\u201d\n\nWith a last look at the sleeping girl, he rose and followed Miss\nAlletson out. When they were again seated, she looked straight at him\nand said:\n\n\u201cMr. Agar Halfi, a few days ago I had a similar dream to the one I\nrelated to you the last time you called.\u201d\n\nHere she noticed that a quick look of interest came into his eyes, but\nhe did not speak, so she continued:\n\n\u201cAnd I should like to tell you all about it.\u201d\n\n\u201cTell me what you wish,\u201d he answered in his grave way.\n\nShe paused, as if to collect her thoughts, and then frankly and clearly\nrelated all that she had seen and heard in her vision. While she spoke,\nhis dark solemn eyes never left her face, and when she had finished,\nshe instinctively returned his gaze, while she waited for him to reply.\n\n\u201cYour dream, needless to say, deals with yourself principally, but it\nalso deals with the \u2018Worlstoke Mystery.\u2019 From it, I read that the\nmatter will be cleared up before the moon is on the wane, but whether\nthis moon or the next, I cannot say. How it will be settled, it is not\ngiven to us to know, but you may clearly understand that you will be\nconcerned in it. In the working out of your life on the physical plane,\nthis mystery in some way forms one of the obstacles, which, if you fail\nto overcome it, will retard your development perhaps for centuries! But\nin the mystery you are not one of the principal individuals, you are\nonly drawn into it through another.\n\n\u201cThe first symbol of the vision, the figure 18, is that of destruction,\nand needs no further explanation. The second symbol, the figure 22, is\nthat of the perfect state, or the harmony of oneself with the universe.\nBut understand that the overcoming of this present obstacle will not\ntake you straight away to that plane. No person living on the earth\ncould attain perfection straight away.\n\n\u201cThe advice, \u2018Be true to yourself,\u2019 if properly understood, is all that\nis necessary for you to succeed.\u201d\n\nWhile she listened, it seemed to Constance as if her eyes were\nopened, and she realised that which before she had only believed. The\nman who sat before her was a Mystic, one of that little known and\nless understood section of humanity, which, devoting itself to the\nadvancement of the world through the Occult, had made their labours\neffective in the evolution of life, though not generally recognised.\nShe had read of such men once or twice, but to her knowledge had not\nmet one before.\n\n\u201cCan you tell me anything of that which is to be revealed to me?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, on that point I must not speak.\u201d\n\nShe looked at him steadily, as he answered, and his deep dark eyes\nseemed to glow with a strange light. Then, instantaneously, almost\nbefore she knew it had happened, she was conscious that she beheld\nthe man, the true inner self, radiating with a soft white fire, so\ndazzling, that it seemed to scorch her through and through.\n\nWith a startled cry, she hid her face in her hands, and in that moment,\nshe suffered, and understood how small, how feebly flickered the\nundeveloped spark of life which was her conscious self. As she realised\nthis, the vastness of the eternal universe gripped her mind,\u2014how\ninsignificant she was, how helpless!\n\n\u201cSave me!\u201d she cried wildly, \u201cSave me!\u201d and the echo reverberated like\nthunder in the lonely darkness, \u201cSave me!\u201d \u201cSave me!\u201d as though mocking\nher pitiful cry.\n\nShe felt a strong hand grasp her own, and a friendly tender voice said:\n\n\u201cSave yourself, child.\u201d\n\nThen she regained normal consciousness, and knew that she was sitting\nin a chair, staring tranquilly at Agar Halfi, who sat with legs\ncrossed, his hands clasping his knee, looking at her intently.\n\n\u201cWhat has happened?\u201d she asked absently, \u201cAh! I remember, you were\ninterpreting my dream, and all at once I forgot. Had you finished?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have nothing more to say concerning it,\u201d he replied. \u201cHave you\nanything you wish to ask?\u201d\n\nConstance shook her head, and looked meditatively at the carpet. Then\nimpulsively she raised her head and exclaimed:\n\n\u201cTell me, Mr. Agar Halfi, what is the meaning of life? Sometimes, as\nI go through its details day by day, a great fear presses on me that\nafter all we are but helpless atoms, drifting in a vast scheme, and\nthat our self-conscious individuality is but a phantasm, non-existent!\u201d\n\nA great sorrow came into his face as he replied:\n\n\u201cIt is quite impossible, Miss Alletson, for any human being to answer\nyour question. What you express is the cry of your real self, seeking\nescape from its clay prison, the narrow walls of which can no longer\nsatisfy your inward growth. So sure as all individuals must some time\nor other save themselves, so surely must they find the answer to that\nquestion, by their own efforts. The physical individuality cannot\nexplain it\u2014the brain has its limits, and to our reason such a question\nis impossible of reply.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen must each one struggle to gain his or her salvation, every one\nfight selfishly for themselves? That is what your answer seems to\nimply.\u201d\n\n\u201cJust the reverse. I am not a Christian, Miss Alletson, yet I will\nquote from the Bible in support of what I say: \u2018Whosoever shall seek to\nsave his life shall lose it; and whosoever shall lose his life shall\npreserve it.\u2019 It is only by sacrificing oneself in the service of\nhumanity that salvation\u2014or more truly speaking the upward development\nof the conscious self\u2014can be achieved!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, Mr. Agar Halfi, life in general is not based upon such lines. The\nsordid struggle for material gain dominates humanity, and, based on\nreason, humanity says: \u201cIt is the law of nature, this \u2018survival of the\nfittest,\u2019 and therefore, we being part of nature, are bound by it.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat you say is largely true, the trend of the world to-day is for\nmaterial gain. But surely, if slowly, humanity is finding out its\nmistake, and though to-day civilisation is based on wrong conceptions\nand little understood laws, it will not always be so. We are\ndiscovering that instead of having to abide by the laws of nature, we\nare here to subdue nature to our will. Mankind has changed, compared\nwith, say, 4000 years ago, changed with the knowledge and powers it\nhas gained, and will continue to do so, until the ideas of to-day are\nlargely reversed.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou speak emphatically,\u201d answered Constance, \u201cas though you knew for\ncertain!\u201d\n\n\u201cI can only speak from my own knowledge,\u201d he replied simply. \u201cFrom\nwhere I stand, I can see the mistakes of to-day, as surely as present\nmankind can see and profit by the mistakes of its forebears.\u201d\n\nConstance listened intently, wondering at this strange man, and she\nsmiled to herself as she thought that he was the servant of an English\ngentleman. There was something queer about that, which she felt she\nwould like to know. But then, it was not her business to inquire.\n\n\u201cWhen you say, \u2018From where I stand,\u2019 I am afraid I do not comprehend.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is difficult for me to explain, Miss Alletson, yet if I say to\nyou that the more spiritually developed a human being becomes, the\nless does he require material things, then have I told you all. For as\nhumanity becomes more spiritual, so will material things of the earth\nbecome of little importance. Is it not a fact that the most spiritual,\nthe grandest and most beloved figure in Christianity, thought less of\nthe things of the world than anyone? He, the Master Magician!\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course you speak of Jesus of Nazareth?\u201d she said in a low voice,\nthen added: \u201cAnd why do you speak of Him as \u2018The Master Magician\u2019?\u201d\n\n\u201cSimply because He had greater control over the forces of nature than\nany man ever had before Him, and so far ever has had!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou speak of Him as a man; don\u2019t you think he was Divine?\u201d\n\nThe Hindoo shrugged his shoulders, with a little gesture of despair:\n\n\u201cWe are all divine, Miss Alletson, in that sense.\u201d\n\nThere was a pause\u2014Constance did not want to pursue the matter any\nfurther just then. What the Hindoo had said gave her much food for\nthought, and she would think things out at her leisure.\n\nAt length she said:\n\n\u201cLet me see, you said Friday was the day you had fixed for the\nexperiment?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d he answered, \u201cat seven o\u2019clock in the evening, at the Manor. Mr.\nBrentwood will come over with his car, and take you all there. I shall\nnot be able to come, owing to the preparations I must make beforehand.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you think you will succeed?\u201d\n\nHe smiled strangely, as he replied:\n\n\u201cI have not many doubts, Miss Alletson, and yet I fear trouble; why, I\ncannot say. Now I think I have said all that is necessary, and I will\ndepart.\u201d\n\nRising, he wished her good afternoon, but before he reached the door\nConstance arrested his attention:\n\n\u201cOh, Mr. Agar Halfi, I really forgot to tell you. The last time you\ncame here, you will remember, I was very much out of sorts, and\nyou told me that I should feel better before three o\u2019clock in the\nafternoon. Well, it was so. I felt practically recovered about an hour\nafter lunch. Please accept my sincere thanks.\u201d\n\n\u201cFor what, Miss Alletson?\u201d he asked questioningly.\n\nShe hesitated a little, then said frankly, \u201cWell, I feel sure that it\nwas you who did me good, in some way.\u201d\n\n\u201cI apologise,\u201d he answered quickly, \u201cI was not thinking. I understand\nnow. It is true that indirectly I cured your indisposition, but I had\nforgotten it.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow indirectly?\u201d she queried.\n\n\u201cYou were suffering from a slight shock, which deprived you of normal\nvitality, left you run down, and listless. Coming in contact with\nmy surroundings, and there being a sympathetic link between us, I\nnaturally gave forth from my reserve, of which there is a considerable\nquantity, and you as naturally absorbed it. Simply that, and nothing\nelse occurred.\u201d\n\nShe looked at him astonished, so he continued:\n\n\u201cIt is easy of proof, Miss Alletson\u2014give me your hand for a moment.\u201d\n\nShe did as he asked, and slowly, but surely, she was conscious of\nincreased energy; she felt stronger, more vigorous.\n\n\u201cDo you feel any change?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, I do; it is wonderful. How pleasant to have power to relieve\nsuffering like that!\u201d\n\nThe Hindoo smiled queerly, as he answered in a low voice:\n\n\u201cYes, but it can be used for other purposes\u2014it is strong enough to\nkill!\u201d\n\n\u201cKill?\u201d she whispered in an awed voice.\n\nBut Agar Halfi had gone, and the next moment she heard the motor car\ndrive slowly away.\n\n\n\n\n                              CHAPTER XXII\n\n                            ALMOST A TRAGEDY!\n\n\nHerbert Canning had arranged to be at the Vicarage at 6.30 +p.m.+ on\nFriday, the day the attempt was to be made to restore Miss Hobson\u2019s\nmemory. The matter was of personal interest to him, apart from his\nprofessional obligation. He had dabbled in astrology, had some notion\nof planetary influence, and indeed only lack of opportunity had kept\nhim from studying other occult things.\n\nWhat knowledge he had gained in astrology had been acquired by\npractical experiments, the theory of it, like that of anything else,\nnot being satisfactory to a matter-of-fact nature like his. He\npreferred that sort of proof\u2014certainly the most convincing\u2014to any\nreasoning that could be extracted from books.\n\nIt would be well if there were more people in the world of the same\nturn of mind. As it is, most of us allow a few to do our thinking,\n_i.e._ do not think at all, while most of the few only think, and never\nexperiment, which after all is the only sound way to acquire knowledge.\n\nAs the detective walked leisurely along, he was turning over in his\nmind the following facts:\n\n  (1) Rev. Thornton disappeared 21st February, at the full moon.\n\n  (2) Miss Hobson disappeared 4th April, at the new moon.\n\n  (3) Rev. Alletson had strange experience 19th April, at the full\n  moon.\n\n  (4) Herbert Canning had strange experience 3rd May, at the new moon.\n\n  (5) To-day, an unusual experiment taking place, 16th May, at the\n  full moon.\n\nNow that is queer, he thought. I should hardly think it could be\ncoincidence that the date of this affair should have been fixed by that\nHindoo gentleman when the moon is at the full! If there is anything in\nmy theory at all, something will happen to-night, the same as things\nhave happened before at these periods.\n\nHe analysed it for some time, as, being a practical man, he was very\nanxious not to delude himself. He knew that his knowledge of astrology\nwas superficial, but what he had learned had been gained by practical\nexperience, and he was interested. Further, the tabulated facts would\nbe useful for study in his leisure moments.\n\nDuring his long and varied experience, he had seen numerous so-called\noccult manifestations, most of which, he had satisfied himself, were\nmere trickery. But on one or two occasions he had witnessed things\nwhich, analyse as he would, had appeared to him genuine, and he had not\nallowed prejudice to condemn everything wholesale.\n\nHe was fully aware that it is usually those who are ignorant of a\nsubject who vilify and condemn it. Indeed he had read about a famous\nastronomer who had attacked and tried to ridicule astrology. All\nwent well until a colleague, who had carefully studied astrology,\nclearly demonstrated to the astronomer that he was making himself look\nridiculous.\n\nWhat he had experienced at the priory ruins was a problem sufficient\nto make the most sceptical think seriously. On the one hand, as Mr.\nShepperton had suggested, it probably was trickery. That, however, was\nsimply a statement, against which he could reasonably put the following:\n\nFirstly, he was personally satisfied that no trickery could have caused\nthe sickly, paralysing fear that had gripped him.\n\nSecondly, the footprints, if a fake, were the cleverest thing of the\nkind he had seen.\n\nThirdly, it was difficult to point to any object in committing the\ncrimes. The only possible motive could be blood-lust, and if he were\nany judge of character, neither the Master of Storton nor the Hindoo\nwere criminals of that type.\n\nFourthly, Miss Alletson\u2019s evidence, if a fact, pointed to something\nvery grave indeed. Either the Master of Storton was a new type of\ncriminal, or else\u2014what?\n\nMr. Canning shook his head, it was beyond his understanding at present.\nStill, that last item constituted the only real evidence against Mr.\nBrentwood. This he had intimated to Mr. Shepperton, who did not seem\nover-pleased at the conclusion; but then, the detective had seen pretty\nplainly from the beginning that that gentleman was suffering from bias,\nno doubt caused by the shock he had received. They could have as many\nsuspicions as they pleased; the only thing that would trouble Mr.\nCanning was evidence.\n\nJust before he reached the Vicarage, he was passed by a motor-brougham,\nwhich slowed up at the gate, and he at once concluded that the driver\nwas Mr. Brentwood. In this he was correct, and a few minutes later he\nwas being introduced to him by the Vicar.\n\nThe detective\u2019s keen trained glance took in every detail of the other\nman\u2019s visible characteristics while he wished him good evening, and he\nsatisfied his first impression, that the Master of Storton was not of\nthe criminal type so far as he knew; but, like his Eastern servant, had\na strong personality, and would be a very difficult man with whom to\nhave trouble, being a type that would fight to the last.\n\nWhat, however, mystified the detective more than anything else was,\nthat he could not help being drawn to the man, in the same way that he\nhad felt drawn to the Hindoo!\n\nIt was a very solemn and quiet party that drove off a few minutes\nlater. Constance and Elsie, with the Vicar and Shepperton, occupied the\nbrougham, while the detective sat beside Brentwood in front.\n\nThe latter drove in silence, his attention being taken up with his\nwork, and the detective, feeling retrospective, did not disturb him. It\nwas not until negotiating a sharp bend in the road that the Master of\nStorton spoke:\n\n\u201cThat is a nasty turn,\u201d he remarked quietly.\n\n\u201cYes, it seems rather sharp,\u201d replied the other.\n\nThe ice being broken, Mr. Canning took what seemed like a plunge:\n\n\u201cDo you hope for a successful result to-night?\u201d\n\nBrentwood smiled a little at the bluntness of the question, as he\nreplied:\n\n\u201cIf what we surmise is correct, that the trouble is purely one of the\nmind, and is not in any way caused by physical disorder, I have not\nmuch doubt about the issue.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd if there were any physical cause?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, that would be quite another matter. The experiment in that case\nwould be useless.\u201d\n\nFurther conversation was not possible, for by now they had reached the\nManor, but as the car stopped, the Master of Storton said:\n\n\u201cI shall probably have something to say before the experiment takes\nplace, which will no doubt be of particular interest to you all.\u201d\n\nThe Tower study, which Agar Halfi had decided should be the scene of\nhis operations, was a revelation to Shepperton and Canning, when about\nfive minutes later the party was conducted there, and the Vicar was\nbusy answering questions which they put to him concerning it, for quite\na time.\n\nAs for Constance, as soon as she put her foot in the room she\nexperienced a feeling of dread, and almost put forth both her hands,\nas if to ward something off. A slight giddiness overcame her, and try\nas she would to shake it off, the idea dominated her mind that the\ninfluence of some other presence pervaded the room, silent, mysterious,\nevil.\n\nShe struggled bravely with herself, and as the thought came into her\nmind of her responsibility to Elsie, who was practically in her\ncharge, she by an effort partly overcame her forebodings, and stepped\nfirmly into the study.\n\nThe east window was open, and, with a feeling of relief, she quietly\nwent to it and looked out, inhaling the fresh night air with\nsatisfaction. She tried to compose herself, repeating in her mind how\nsilly it was to be upset by her imagination, but her limbs trembled\nbeneath her, and gladly would she have fled, but for her sense of duty.\n\nShe gazed abstractedly at the rising moon, now appearing over the\nhills, and noticed that it was tinged red, with the last rays of the\nsetting sun. It fascinated her fancy, and for a time her thoughts\nwandered dreamily. All at once it occurred to her that the apparent\nblood-redness of the moon was an ominous sign. Was there going to be a\ntragedy at the experiment to-night? She instinctively clasped her hands\ntogether, then the moon appeared to sway to and fro; she mechanically\ngrasped the casement, and by a supreme effort of will, saved herself\nfrom fainting.\n\nHow long she stood gaining control over her physical organism she\ndid not know, but a gentle pressure on her arm caused her to start\nslightly. Turning, she looked into the serious but kind face of her\nbrother, who said in a low tone:\n\n\u201cMy dear Constance, are you all right? They may think you are\nneglecting Elsie!\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019m so sorry, Philip, I\u2019ve been dreaming,\u201d she answered with a faint\nsmile, and then she at once went over to Miss Hobson.\n\nThe study had been carefully arranged for the occasion, and even\nAlletson, who knew it well, was surprised. The north wall, which he\nalways remembered as being covered with a great hanging curtain, had\ndisappeared, and he realised that the study did not occupy the whole\nspace of the Tower. There was a further room on the north side, which\nevidently was only divided from it by a folding wooden partition, which\nthe curtain usually screened. This had been thrown open, revealing the\nother room, the floor of which was raised about a foot above the level\nof the other. The curtain had been transferred to the further side, and\nthe place gave the appearance of a great room, with a raised platform\nat one end.\n\nAcross the centre of the study was a long low table, and on the\nopposite side of it to the platform were placed several chairs,\nevidently for the onlookers. On the platform itself, placed across the\nfront eastern corner, was a long low couch like an ottoman, except that\nthe head was only raised about a foot above the body of it. Fitted\nagainst it was a cylindrical-shaped cushion. On either side was a\nbrazier, supported on a metal stand of curious Eastern workmanship. In\nthe centre of the platform, near the edge, stood a small marble-topped\ntable, which had on it a large flask and a wine-glass. A thick Indian\ncarpet covered the floor, and the electric light from the brackets on\neither wall, east and west, was subdued by violet shades.\n\nShepperton smiled a little sarcastically as he noted the arrangements,\nand remarked to the detective in a low voice:\n\n\u201cA very pretty show, eh?\u201d\n\nCanning nodded, and replied a little curtly:\n\n\u201cIf the result is as good as the show, Mr. Shepperton, you will not\nhave cause to complain.\u201d\n\nA stubborn expression came into the young solicitor\u2019s eyes, and\ngripping the other\u2019s arm, he whispered:\n\n\u201cIf I see anything that is not absolutely straight, I shall not\nhesitate to shoot!\u201d\n\nThe detective, beyond slightly shrugging his shoulders, did not reply\nto this remark, but incidentally he happened to be always on the side\nof Shepperton where he knew that gentleman was carrying a revolver, and\nwhen they sat down for the experiment, he had not altered that position.\n\nDuring the short silence which followed, the attention of all was\nattracted by the entrance of their host, followed by Agar Halfi. They\nlooked in surprise at the Hindoo. He was dressed Orientally\u2014a large\nwhite muslin turban adorned his head, and a long flowing robe of the\nsame colour and material almost reached his feet. His natural dignity\nseemed to be increased by his native dress, and indeed for a moment it\nseemed as if he might have been some Eastern potentate being received\nin a strange court, so noble did he look. But he himself at once\ndispelled the thought, by the natural ease with which he conducted\nhimself.\n\nAccompanied by the Master of Storton, he ascended the platform, and\nstood with folded arms between the couch and the table in the centre.\nBrentwood went to the other side, and in his cold measured way\naddressed the others who were sitting in the study:\n\n\u201cTo-night I feel it incumbent upon me to introduce to you my friend\nand companion, Mr. Agar Halfi, in a new light. Hitherto you have known\nhim simply as a servant of my household. That in a sense is true, but\nthe position is one of his own making, and his reasons for it I do not\nconsider it necessary to discuss. Suffice it that in his own country\nMr. Agar Halfi is a doctor of medicine; more, he is a master of the\noccult. I mention these facts, in order to settle any uneasiness that\nmight have been felt with regard to his ability to deal with Miss\nHobson\u2019s case.\n\nMr. Agar Halfi has been my close friend for many years, and I have\nabsolute trust in his honour and integrity. If it is at all possible to\nrestore to Miss Hobson her memory, he will, I am certain, be able to\naccomplish it. The worth of my words will, I trust, be proved later on\nthis evening.\n\nNow on that point I would like to say a word or two before Mr. Agar\nHalfi proceeds to experiment.\n\nMiss Hobson\u2019s disorder is understood, and rightly so, to be a case of\nlost memory. Such a thing could arise from three causes: firstly, by\na physical injury to the brain; secondly, by a shock to the nervous\nsystem; and thirdly, by a psychic obsession of the mind. The latter\ncause I can best explain by mentioning that little understood state\nof what is called trance. No doubt all of you have heard of people\nbeing thrown into such a condition\u2014sometimes for weeks and weeks\u2014which\nhas baffled all medical skill. In most cases, the entranced persons\nhave been found to be perfectly healthy physically, have taken\nfood regularly, and have eventually regained normal consciousness,\napparently little the worse for their strange experience. The law which\ngoverns this phenomenon is little understood in Western civilisation,\nexcept in so far as it relates to hypnotism, but in the East it is not\nonly understood, but can be produced at will. In Miss Hobson\u2019s case, we\nhave the testimony of Dr. Trestlewood that she is in ordinary physical\nhealth, and that there is no external injury to the brain.\n\nIt is evident that she first suffered a shock to the nervous system,\nfollowed almost immediately by a state of trance, similar to that into\nwhich I was cast when in Afghanistan, the difference between the two\nincidents being, that I recovered normal consciousness, whereas Miss\nHobson has not. In other words, the obsession in her case has not left\nher, in my case it did\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\nHere he faltered, and a bewildered look came over his handsome face,\nas though some unknown presence had given him the lie direct; but\nrecovering himself almost immediately, he concluded:\n\n\u201cMr. Agar Halfi will now attempt to remove that obsession by a method\nknown only in the East, and there by but a few. Please keep as quiet as\npossible; it is essential that no disturbing element should irritate\nthe psychic conditions of the room during the experiment.\u201d\n\nHaving thus spoken, Brentwood asked Constance if she would take Elsie\nto Mr. Agar Halfi, and then sat down.\n\nWith a word of encouragement, Constance clasped Elsie by the hand, and\nescorted her to the couch on the platform. As soon as she had seen her\ncomfortably seated, she turned to the Hindoo and whispered:\n\n\u201cDid you notice Mr. Brentwood falter when speaking?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, and I feel that a crisis is at hand. But compose yourself, Miss\nAlletson, and remember the advice given to you in your dream. I will\nguard you!\u201d\n\nAs he spoke, he looked steadily into her eyes, and Constance felt new\nstrength enter her soul.\n\n\u201cThank you,\u201d she answered simply, \u201cI will remember,\u201d and then she\nquietly returned to her chair.\n\nThe Hindoo silently switched off all the lights in the study, leaving\nonly the shaded ones on the platform undisturbed. Then striking a\nmatch, he applied it to each brazier, on either side of the couch.\nSuddenly a thin straight column of green smoke began to ascend from\nthe one on the east side, shortly followed by a column of red smoke\nfrom the other, filling the air with a faint aromatic perfume. Quietly\nturning to the table in the centre, Agar Halfi opened the flask which\nwas upon it, and poured some of its contents into a wine-glass. This he\nproffered to Miss Hobson, asking her in a gentle voice to drink it. She\ntook it mechanically, put it to her lips, and tasted it. Evidently it\nwas to her liking, for she immediately drank it up.\n\nTaking the glass from her fingers, the Hindoo returned it to the table;\nthen going back to the couch, stood silently looking at his patient.\nSuddenly she rose quickly, and extending her arms toward him, gave\na little cry of pleasure, but instantaneously, almost before the cry\nhad escaped her lips, her expression altered, the colour fled from her\nface, and with a sigh she fell back on the couch; her head dropped\nforward, her limbs relaxed, her hands appeared listless, and it was\napparent that she had lost consciousness.\n\nVery gently the Hindoo placed her full length on the couch, her head\nresting on the cushion at its head, and she seemed to be just in a\npeaceful sleep. He looked at her intently; gradually the colour left\nher lips, then her cheeks, the regular heave of her bosom became slower\nand slower, until it apparently ceased; her features grew set, like\nwax, and at last she was to all appearances, dead!\n\nUnnerved, Shepperton drew in a sharp breath, and would have started up\nfrom his chair, had not a grip on his arm, which hurt, held him down,\nwhile the low clear voice of the detective whispered quickly in his ear:\n\n\u201cSilence, man; would you kill her?\u201d\n\nSatisfied, Agar Halfi stepped back, and stood with folded arms staring\nrigidly just behind the head of the couch, which, owing to the position\nof the shades on the lights, was in deep shadow. All eyes followed his\ngaze, and as they looked, a faint vaporous mist appeared, as though\ndrawn from the body of the prostrate girl, and collecting just behind\nher head, hung about two feet above the third brazier, flickering\nfeebly with a dull grey light.\n\nApparently content, the experimenter turned his attention to the other\ntwo vessels, from which were now ascending two steady flames of red\nand green fire. Lifting the brazier on his left from the stand, he\nemptied its contents into the empty one at the head of the couch,\nthen did the same thing with the other. Immediately there issued a\ndense white mist, soon followed by a tall column of white fire, which,\nglowing with a soft bright light, shot up into the air, and seemed to\ncompletely devour the dull mist suspended above it.\n\nThis continued for about a minute, then gradually a change came over\nthe scene. The fire, which had completely left the brazier, now\nappeared to become absorbed by the mist, which still hung over the\nsilver vessel, and was glowing brilliantly in the surrounding shade.\n\nWith quick, deft hands, the Hindoo drew away the brazier from under the\nmist, and silently going to the foot of the couch, stretched forth his\narms over Elsie\u2019s still form, as though trying to reach the fire at\nthe other end of the couch with his fingertips. For fully five minutes\nhe stood thus, while the others looked on in wondering apprehension.\nGradually the bright light above Miss Hobson\u2019s head began to stream\ndown toward the Hindoo\u2019s hands, and slowly he stepped back little\nby little, as though drawing the fire with him, until it completely\nenveloped the whole of the couch. It remained like this for some time,\nthen it grew less, and less, until it had entirely disappeared!\n\nNot until the white fire had completely vanished, did Agar Halfi move,\nthen going to the left side of the couch, he took the girl\u2019s listless\nhands in his own, and stood gazing at her face with steady, flashing\neyes. This he continued to do for some minutes, and at last a faint\nshade of colour tinged her cheeks; then gradually the rise and fall\nof her breast denoted that she was breathing, and in a short time she\nagain appeared to be in an ordinary peaceful sleep.\n\nSomething like a sigh of relief went up from the others, when they\nsaw that the patient had assumed a more life-like expression. Turning\ntoward them, Agar Halfi said calmly:\n\n\u201cI have finished. It now only remains for me to awaken Miss Hobson, and\nthen we shall know whether or not the experiment has been successful.\nIt would be as well if Miss Alletson will come and sit by her, so that\nwhen she regains consciousness she may have somebody near whom she\nknows.\u201d\n\nConstance looked at Arthur Shepperton hesitatingly\u2014\n\n\u201cYes, please go,\u201d he said.\n\nWith quick steps, she went and sat on the side of the couch, and took\nthe unconscious girl\u2019s hand in her own. Agar Halfi went to the other\nside of the couch, and looked steadily into Elsie\u2019s face for about a\nminute; then he turned to Constance, and saying quickly:\n\n\u201cIn ten seconds she will awaken,\u201d went and stood by the curtain which\nhung on the north wall.\n\nElsie opened her eyes with a blank expression; then feeling that\nsomeone had hold of her hand, turned her head to look. For a moment she\ngazed as though surprised, and during that brief space of suspense,\nConstance\u2019s heart almost ceased to beat.\n\n\u201cWhere am I, Miss Alletson?\u201d\n\nAs she spoke, Constance felt her heart jump, then with an effort she\ncontrolled her feelings, though a look of joy came over her face.\n\n\u201cYou have been very ill, Miss Hobson; don\u2019t you remember?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I have some idea about it, but where am I?\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you feel all right?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh yes.\u201d Saying which, she sat up and looked around. The next moment\nshe rose quickly, and exclaiming, \u201cArthur!\u201d went over to her lover, who\nhad risen to meet her.\n\nThere was a lump in his throat, and his eyes were wet, as he took her\nhand. In a voice strange with emotion he said:\n\n\u201cThen you know me, Elsie?\u201d\n\n\u201cKnow you? Of course I do, dear,\u201d and she looked at him, surprised.\n\u201cBut where are we, Arthur? I\u2019m bewildered; what has happened?\u201d\n\nIt was as much as he could do to answer coherently, so great was his\njoy. \u201cWe are at the Manor, Elsie; you lost your memory, and it has been\nrestored to you. Come, let me introduce you to the gentleman who has so\nsuccessfully carried through the experiment. Mr. Agar Halfi,\u201d he cried\nwarmly, \u201cplease come and be thanked by your patient, and me, indeed by\nus all.\u201d\n\nThus addressed, the Hindoo advanced slowly from where he was standing,\nand Constance formally introduced him to Elsie Hobson, who, after\nlooking at him wonderingly, thanked him quietly.\n\n\u201cIt is all so strange,\u201d she said, \u201cI hardly know what to make of it!\u201d\n\n\u201cThat will soon be all right, Miss Hobson,\u201d replied the Vicar kindly,\n\u201cand now, let me introduce you to Mr. Brentwood, our host. I don\u2019t\nthink you have met him before.\u201d\n\nA strange silence fell on them all, as Alletson spoke. Each felt that\na critical moment had arrived, and in particular, Constance had a\nsensation of sickness, similar to that which sometimes forewarns one of\ndanger. Would or would she not say, \u201cThat man is the culprit!\u201d\n\n\u201cMr. Brentwood, please.\u201d\n\nThe Master of Storton, who, since the time he had sat down after\nspeaking, had not moved from his chair, rose when the Vicar called his\nname, and advanced to them along the platform, while they moved forward\nto meet him.\n\n\u201cI am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Hobson,\u201d he said\ncourteously, \u201cand doubly pleased to know that you are now quite\nrecovered.\u201d\n\nHe spoke quite collectedly, without any trace whatever of conscious\nguilt, and certainly Canning\u2014whose eyes never left his face\u2014was\nsatisfied that if the Master of Storton was not an innocent man, he had\nnever seen one before.\n\nElsie\u2019s face flushed with pleasure, as she returned her thanks, and she\nsmiled up into his face. But as her eyes met his, the smile died. She\ntook two or three short, sharp breaths, a look of terror crossed her\nface, and then, with a shriek, she turned and fled blindly into the\narms of the detective, who was standing about two yards away.\n\n\u201cSave me!\u201d she moaned. \u201cSave me!\u201d\n\nThey all rushed to her, wonder-stricken; then their attention was\narrested by a cry of rage from Arthur Shepperton, who was looking\nfixedly at the platform. Following his eyes, they stood spellbound at\nwhat they saw.\n\nStanding with clenched hands, a look of intense agony on his face, was\nthe Master of Storton, partially enveloped in a green mist, while his\neyes scintillated with a fierce, cruel look. So great was the change in\nhis features, that it was almost impossible to recognise the usually\ncalm, handsome face, which looked diabolical, with the short dark hair\nstanding up on end.\n\nGradually the mist completely enveloped his figure, and out of the\nvapourish folds, two awful eyes began to glow, with a terrible,\nmalignant gleam, that has never been seen in human gaze. Instinctively\nCanning, who knew at once that what he now beheld was the same as\nthe manifestation in the priory, placed himself in front of the\nhalf-fainting girl, who had rushed into his arms; but beyond that he\ncould not stir, indeed a terrible silence filled the room. So powerful\nwas that hellish influence, that all of them stood horror-stricken,\nunable to move.\n\nConstance Alletson knew now what it was that had upset her. That which\nshe had seen in Mr. Brentwood\u2019s eyes during the experiment at the Manor\nwas the evil now manifesting before them, the mysterious horror which\nhad killed Mr. Thornton, and very nearly killed Elsie Hobson. She gazed\nin a fascinated manner, she felt weirdly calm, and then all at once she\nbecame aware that those dreadful orbs were looking at her alone. She\nfelt sick, and a feeling of intense loathing passed through her. Then\nsomething seemed to call, attract her; what it was she could not tell,\nbut it appealed to something deep down in her nature, in a way which\nshe had never understood before. All she could realise was that it was\nevil, and much as she knew she hated it, she felt she was held by its\npower. She moved forward one step, then another, and with helpless\nhorror, those other spectators of this strange scene saw that she was\nslowly being drawn toward the awful thing on the platform.\n\nNearer and nearer she drew, and it seemed as if another tragedy was to\nbe enacted, when all at once the silence was broken by a deep growl,\nand there emerged from underneath the long table fixed across the\nroom, right between the helpless woman and the horror on the platform,\nBrentwood\u2019s dog, Hector!\n\nAt first he stood looking, whimpering as with terror, and he backed\naway right up against Constance\u2019s dress, and stood shivering as with\nan ague. Whether it was the touch of the woman, or what, it is not\npossible to say; anyhow, the dog\u2019s attitude suddenly changed; his hair\nbristled, his eyes flamed, and with a deep bay he gave one mighty\nspring, straight at those cruel, evil eyes.\n\nThere followed a horrible chuckling screech, which ceased\ninstantaneously, as though cut off by a sharp human cry. Constance\nheard it, as one in a dream; it sounded to her as if someone had been\nhurt. Then all at once she became fully conscious. With a sharp breath,\nshe clutched her breast as she felt a pain at her heart, just as if she\nhad been stabbed, only a thousand times more poignant. That voice she\nknew, it was Mr. Brentwood\u2019s, and heedless of all else, she started\nto run forward, but stumbled against the raised floor, and fell. She\nwas on her feet in a moment, and as she rose she saw Agar Halfi leap\non to the platform. The next moment there was a quick blinding glare,\nwhich lighted up the room, followed by a crackling sound; the green\nmist seemed to spread everywhere, then gradually the air cleared,\nand Constance saw dimly the figure of the Hindoo kneeling over the\nprostrate body of the Master of Storton, who lay white and still, his\nneck and left shoulder covered with blood, which slowly dripped down\non the carpet. Beside him crouched the dog, shivering and whining, and\nlicking his master\u2019s hand, as though in grief at what he had done.\n\nInstantly she was there, and as she approached she heard Agar Halfi\nexclaim in a stricken voice:\n\n\u201cMy master, my beloved friend, speak to me! Oh! I fear I have\nannihilated him also!\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, not that!\u201d The Hindoo looked up mechanically, to meet Constance\u2019s\neyes, filled with a new fear, her face very pale and drawn. \u201cDo not\nsay\u2014he cannot be dead!\u201d\n\nBut no hope was to be read from the Hindoo\u2019s stony countenance.\nRegardless who saw her, Constance went down on her knees, and clasped\nthe limp fingers of the stricken man.\n\n\u201cDead! Dead!\u201d she moaned brokenly. What did anything matter now that\nhis life had gone? Too late he knew, murderer or anything else, that\nshe loved him, and in her newly created grief she madly asked that she\ncould die also.\n\nThe next moment she stared, wonder-stricken. His eyes had opened, and\nhe was looking at her in a strange bewildered way.\n\n\u201cNo, not yet,\u201d he said slowly, then fainted right away. Agar Halfi gave\nan exclamation of joy, and leaping to his feet said:\n\n\u201cHe lives, and there is hope!\u201d\n\nA firm grasp on her arm brought Constance to her senses, and the next\nminute her brother raised her from the ground.\n\n\u201cCome,\u201d he said in a hard voice. He felt keenly what his sister had\nrevealed to them all. \u201cCome, Constance, while we remove Mr. Brentwood\nto his chamber.\u201d\n\nVery carefully they carried the unconscious man to his bedroom beneath\nthe study. There, the Hindoo summoned Mrs. Breton, and after telling\nher not to inform the rest of the servants, explained that the master\nhad had a serious accident, and bid her obtain water and bandages.\nIt took but a few minutes to fetch what was necessary, and having\nconsigned Constance and Elsie\u2014the latter having fairly recovered from\nher last shock\u2014to the housekeeper\u2019s care, Agar Halfi, with the aid\nof the other men, cut away Brentwood\u2019s upper garments and carefully\ndressed the wounded shoulder, which he found to be a severe fracture,\ncaused by the dog\u2019s formidable jaws.\n\nWhen he had almost finished, he stopped suddenly and exclaimed in a low\nvoice of surprise, \u201cLook!\u201d at the same time pointing to the unconscious\nman\u2019s exposed throat.\n\nThey all drew nearer, wondering, then almost with one voice they\nexclaimed:\n\n\u201cThe scar!\u201d... It had turned blood-red!\n\n\n\n\n                              CHAPTER XXIII\n\n                        \u201cTHE WRITING ON THE WALL\u201d\n\n\nIt need hardly be said that the joy of Mrs. and Mr. Hobson, at having\ntheir daughter restored to them, was unbounded. At one time they had\nnever expected to see her again, and their delight at her discovery\nhad been almost dashed away when they found that she did not recognise\nthem. But now all was well once more in their household.\n\nAs for Arthur Shepperton, he lost the careworn appearance that had\ncharacterised him for the last month, and again became the cheerful,\nenergetic young man that everybody had known, before the shadow of\ntragedy had fallen upon him.\n\nBut one of the actors in this weird drama had not any cause for joy.\nThe day following that terrible experience at Storton Manor, Constance\nAlletson stood at the garden gate, gazing despondently before her. Now\nthat she had had time to think, she realised with deep dismay what she\nhad done.\n\nNever in her wildest dreams had she thought a time would come when she\nwould expose to others that which, at all costs, should have remained\nlocked in her soul\u2019s safe keeping. To have done that was unfortunate\nenough; but it was not her only fear; what if _he_ had understood? She\nhoped and prayed that the Master of Storton had not divined her secret,\nas she fully knew the others had done, and the fact that he had been\nbarely conscious at the time brought some relief to her tortured mind.\n\nThis, then, she reflected, was the secret of her existence which in\nher dream the spirit of the priest foretold should be revealed to her.\nThis: that life, which hitherto had been pleasant enough if not exactly\njoyous, was now bereft of every vestige of colour. Indeed, so hopeless\ndid the outlook appear that she almost despaired of being able to face\nit.\n\nShe suffered, as many others have done, the torture of hopeless\naffection, and understood only too well the terrible truth of those\nworld-known lines:\n\n  \u201cTis better to have loved and lost\n   Than never to have loved at all.\u201d\n\nTrue, she had not lost in a strict sense, but to know that her whole\nself was consumed in one other, and that that other had never shown her\na single favour, worse, that he was looked upon and known as a cold,\nselfish individual, was as good as to have lost.\n\nOnly too well she now realised the dominating power of the eternal\nflame. Its awakening had brought a crowd of dim recollections to her\nmind. It was not new, this love, it had only slumbered unconsciously in\nher heart since some long-forgotten age.\n\nAnd it was no girl\u2019s fancy that possessed her, no fleeting passion of\nthe flesh. It was the all-powerful, self-sacrificing love of a mature\nwoman, who knew her own heart well enough to understand that it meant\neverything, her very life.\n\nOh, the agonising sweetness of it all! Despairingly she realised that\neither she must live the rest of her life with that one man, or\nelse\u2014ah, go right away, and mercilessly crush down her nature; she\nwould have to take the veil. No, there was another alternative\u2014she\ncould die! She shuddered as she thought of it. She felt conscious that\nshe had no right to take her own life; and yet, she reflected, why not?\nIf life were to become a pain, could she be expected to endure it?\n\nWith a sigh, she turned, and walking slowly into the house, threw\nherself on to a couch. Burying her face in her arms, she tried to\nforget, and worn out with many an hour\u2019s weary vigil, she fell into\na restful sleep. Sleeping, she dreamed that a pair of cold brown\neyes looked into her own, searching her very soul; and looking, they\nchanged, gradually growing warm, then tender. As she gazed into their\nmysterious depths, she seemed to read the secret of the soul behind\nthem. Surely eternal love shone there? Her own spirit responded to\nthe call, and she was aware of an ecstasy such as she had never known\nbefore.\n\nBefore leaving the Manor on the night of the experiment, Mr. Alletson\nhad arranged that they should all meet at the Vicarage the following\nMonday, to further discuss the position of affairs.\n\nTo this meeting Constance had looked forward with a certain amount\nof dread. She did not wish to meet anyone; naturally she shrank from\ncoming in contact with people who understood the position in which she\nwas placed. But she was not a weakling, and, somewhat to her brother\u2019s\nsurprise, she had decided to be present; indeed, she had resolved to\nface the matter out to the bitter end.\n\nTo her relief, Philip had not so much as spoken a word upon the subject\nof her distress. On the other hand she was conscious of his deep\nsympathy, and though she hardly realised it at the time, she knew later\nthat she would probably have sunk under the weight of her despair, but\nfor her brother\u2019s unspoken support.\n\nIt was a very serious and solemn party that gathered at the Vicarage on\nthe Monday afternoon. The Vicar sat at the head of the table; on his\nright hand, was the Hindoo mystic; on his left the detective; while\nfurther down on either side sat Miss Hobson and Arthur Shepperton,\nConstance faced her brother at the foot of the table.\n\nWhen they were all seated, Mr. Alletson said:\n\n\u201cAs you all know, we are gathered here this afternoon to see if we can\nin some satisfactory way clear up this mystery. To that end, I am going\nto express the wish that everyone will be quite frank in what they say,\nand withhold nothing that they know, so that the whole position up to\nthe present may be made clear to us all. Unless you wish to adopt some\nother form of procedure, I propose first of all to ask Mr. Agar Halfi\nto state what he knows about this evil thing.\u201d\n\nWhen he was in deadly earnest, the Vicar had a certain impressive way\nof speaking, and the nod of approval which Shepperton gave, caused a\nglint of amusement to enter the detective\u2019s eyes. The day after the\nscene at Storton Manor, it had taken him fully three hours to prevent\nhis client from having Brentwood arrested, and even when they sat down\nto the table for this meeting, Canning had not been sure what attitude\nShepperton would take.\n\nThere was no dissension to Alletson\u2019s proposal, so the Hindoo began:\n\n\u201cI am going to plainly state all that I know concerning this mystery\nwhich has caused us all so much trouble. When I have done, I trust\nit will in some way prove that my friend Mr. Brentwood, instead of\nbeing the guilty party in this unfortunate tragedy, has been a more\nunfortunate victim of it than anyone present.\n\nMr. Brentwood and I first came in contact with it in this manner: Some\nfive years ago, when acting as his lieutenant, while he was travelling\nin Eastern countries collecting facts in support of certain theories\nhe had in connection with psychic phenomena, after a successful\nexpedition, we encountered this mysterious thing, in Afghanistan,\njust before crossing the Persian border, on the way to England.\nWhat happened there you already know, and the proofs of it are in\nMr. Brentwood\u2019s official diary, which is on the table, and which, I\nunderstand from Mr. Alletson, you have all examined. To all intents\nand purposes, with the exception of the white scar on his throat,\nthe Master of Storton, after lying in a trance for nearly six weeks,\nsuddenly recovered. Shortly after that, he came and settled down here.\n\nFor about twelve months nothing out of the ordinary happened, then,\nquite without warning, he had a queer experience one morning at dawn.\nHe related it to me sometime after breakfast on the same day. He told\nme that he woke up all at once, wide awake, as if from sleep; but when\ntrying to switch on the electric light by his bed, he discovered\nit was not there, in fact, that there was not a bed. Then he felt a\nfloating sensation, next one of compression, and finally he found\nhimself in his night attire, staring out of the east window of his\nstudy.\n\nSubsequently he suffered these strange experiences at different\nintervals. We were of course interested, but could make nothing of\nthem, try as we would. We never dreamed that they could have any\nconnection with the Afghan manifestation.\n\nOne day, following one of these episodes, came the startling news of\nthe disappearance of Mr. Thornton, followed a fortnight later by that\nof Miss Hobson. Next, Mr. Alletson had an uncomfortable experience at\nthe priory. He approached Mr. Brentwood over the matter, after giving\nit serious consideration, and they decided to privately investigate the\nmatter.\n\nThe first item of importance occurred when, in an attempt to obtain a\nclue by means of a psychic experiment carried out at the Manor, Miss\nAlletson\u2014the medium of that experiment\u2014received a most disconcerting\nshock. In her own words, she suffered the mental horror of being\nattacked by some influence which without doubt appeared to be part of,\nor in some way connected with, the Master of Storton. I believe you are\nall acquainted with the details of what Miss Alletson went through. Mr.\nBrentwood, the operator at that experiment, was fully cognisant of what\noccurred, and subsequently he came to consult me about it. In order to\ntest the thing, he hypnotised the dog Hector, with the result that the\nanimal showed the same symptoms as Miss Alletson, indeed, just when the\nhypnotic sleep was manifest, the dog broke from its master\u2019s control,\nand it was only by acute presence of mind that Mr. Brentwood prevented\nthe animal from attacking him.\n\nMr. Brentwood next experimented on me, but I did not exhibit any\nunusual sensations, which I put down to the fact that I was, and am\nnow, impervious to the evil, owing to the control I have over a certain\nforce, which\u2014curiously enough\u2014the master of Storton and I discovered\nalmost at the same time. After that, I hypnotised the dog quite\nsuccessfully.\n\nNot many days later, Mr. Shepperton found Miss Hobson\u2019s glove in the\nruins, and, with the aid of Hector, an unsuccessful attempt was made to\ntrace her thereby. But something else happened during that attempt\u2014in\na vault in the ruins, the body of Mr. Thornton was discovered, with\na wound on his throat which corresponded exactly to Mr. Brentwood\u2019s\nscar, while beside the body were footprints similar to those which I\nphotographed in Afghanistan, after the terrible experience through\nwhich Mr. Brentwood and I passed.\n\nWhat we learned from that discovery set me thinking. I knew now that\nthe evil which had killed Mr. Thornton was the same as that which\nattacked Mr. Brentwood in Afghanistan. Further, I found that there was\na similarity between the sensations Mr. Alletson suffered when he had\nhis strange experience, and those which Miss Alletson had when acting\nas the medium of the experiment at Storton Manor. It did not take me\nlong to reason from this, that Mr. Brentwood was either directly or\nindirectly concerned. That he was directly involved, I never for one\nmoment believed. This conclusion I formed immediately, upon my personal\nknowledge of him. But I was quite satisfied that he was indirectly\nconcerned, so I decided to watch him closely.\n\nThe next step in this strange drama was an experience I myself had at\nthe priory, in conjunction with a stranger who happened to be there at\nthe same time.\n\nThere was a manifestation at dusk, in the form of a green mist, which\nseemed to evolve into human shape. Shortly after, there was a dreadful\ncry, similar to that which you all heard the other night at the Manor,\nfollowed by the appearance of those cruel eyes.\n\nWhen I got back to Storton Manor I was suspicious, and went in search\nof Mr. Brentwood. Mrs. Breton, the housekeeper, said he had gone out,\nand had left word that he would not be back until late. Now I have the\nMaster of Storton\u2019s full confidence, so taking duplicate keys, I went\nto his bedroom at midnight. The bed was empty, but it showed signs\nof having been used, consequently I could only surmise that he had\ngone out. After carefully searching the study, I took the precaution\nto bolt up every entrance into the house, with the exception of the\nprivate way\u2014only used by him and myself\u2014and by which I knew he would\nmost probably return. Across this entrance I carefully tacked a piece\nof black thread, so that if the door were opened the thread would most\ncertainly be snapped. Then I went back to my own place.\n\nAbout dawn the next morning I was awakened by a fierce growl from\nthe dog Hector, who was staring fixedly at the window, apparently at\nnothing. I went out to look round, and was at once attracted by a\nportion of the morning mist, which had a faint green tinge. Instantly\ninterested by the colour, I followed it, and to my surprise it went\nthrough the open east window of the tower study. In a few minutes it\nhad cleared away, and then I saw the figure of Mr. Brentwood standing\nin his night attire, exactly in the attitude he had described to me so\noften, when he suffered his strange experiences.\n\nI immediately went to the private door, and found the thread intact.\nThis proved to me that Mr. Brentwood had not entered the house since\nhe went out about six-thirty the previous evening. But judge of my\nsurprise, when I found that he was not only in the house, but asleep,\nin bed!\n\nI knew then, that in some way, he was obsessed by this strange evil,\nbut exactly how, it was difficult to say. As I expected, he came that\nmorning after breakfast and told me that he had had another strange\nexperience. I did not say much then\u2014I had determined to follow out my\nown line of action, independent of everyone.\n\nAfter this, there came the surprising discovery of Miss Hobson. When\nwe heard that she had lost her memory, Mr. Brentwood at once offered\nto try and restore it. That he could have done so I have no doubt, and\nit helped to prove to me that he was unconscious of his obsession. It\nwould be very unlikely that a criminal would dare to offer to restore\none of his victims, knowing that if he succeeded his victim might\nrecognise and denounce him. But there were difficulties in the way.\nThese Mr. Alletson explained to him, so eventually it was agreed that I\nshould make the attempt. What happened at the experiment you all know,\nand I don\u2019t think it requires any other proof to satisfy any one of us\nthat Mr. Brentwood has been, and I believe is now, obsessed by one of\nthe strangest evils that has ever been known in modern times.\u201d\n\nThe Hindoo paused, then went on slowly:\n\n\u201cThere is only one incident in the whole matter with which I am not\nconversant; I refer to Miss Hobson\u2019s experience. Perhaps she will\nrelate to us exactly what took place?\u201d\n\nElsie blushed as all eyes turned to her, and looked questioningly\nat her lover. Arthur Shepperton nodded encouragingly, so she began,\nnervously at first, but gaining confidence as she proceeded:\n\n\u201cIt all happened so suddenly, that I have not much to say. I had been\non a visit to my aunt\u2019s at Melton Storton; and when returning home\nat dusk, I stopped just to have a look at the priory ruins in the\nsunset. Nobody was about, and I think I must have stayed about five\nminutes. As I turned to go, my attention was arrested by an awful cry\nwhich came from the direction of the priory. It so horrified me that\nI could not move, and I felt sick and cold. I must have stood like\nthat for some time, and then again that call came to me. I listened\nas one hypnotised, and how it happened I do not know; but I began to\nwalk towards the ruins, as though compelled to do so. I went up the\ndrive, through the doorway in the wall. As I approached the ruined\nchapel, I came to a dead halt, and my heart gave a great leap. Those\nterrible eyes, which we all saw at the Manor, were looking at me. They\ndrew nearer and nearer, while I stood as though petrified. As they\napproached, I thought I saw a great big bird behind them; but really I\nwas so terrified that I could not take particular notice. I gave a wild\nshriek, and my hand went to my heart; in doing so, it clutched the gold\ncross that I always wear.\n\nI remembered nothing more until I was lying on the couch in the room\nat the Manor, with Miss Alletson sitting beside me. All that remains\nfor me to say is, that when Mr. Brentwood came to congratulate me on\nmy recovery, the moment I looked into his eyes, I experienced the same\ndreadful feeling that upset me at the priory. I instinctively felt that\nthere was some terrible evil at the back of the Master of Storton\u2019s\nmind. That is what made me shriek.\u201d\n\nThere was a long silence after Elsie had spoken, which was eventually\nbroken by the Vicar saying quietly:\n\n\u201cMr. Agar Halfi has put the facts of the case before us so clearly\nand so frankly, that I think we owe him our thanks for the trouble he\nhas taken. I say this, because I feel that the evidence before us is\nsufficient to prove that Mr. Brentwood is a victim, and not the cause\nof the evil. What do you think, Mr. Shepperton?\u201d\n\nThus addressed, the young solicitor shook his head, with a queer sort\nof smile, then said:\n\n\u201cI do not feel in a very comfortable position. To be quite plain, I\nfeel small, and mean!\u201d\n\nThey all looked at him with some surprise, excepting Agar Halfi, who\nseemed to understand.\n\n\u201cHere am I,\u201d he continued, \u201cin the happy position of having had\nrestored to me the lady who is to be my wife, through the efforts of\nfriends who have unselfishly worked on my behalf; and two of them I\nhave actually suspected of being the perpetrators of the crime. That I\nhave had cause to suspect them may be the case; but after what Mr. Agar\nHalfi has done, and after what I have heard to-day, I can only hope\nthat he and Mr. Brentwood will not bear any ill-feeling toward me for\nthe position I took up.\u201d\n\nThe Hindoo\u2019s reply was quick and generous:\n\n\u201cOn that point, Mr. Shepperton, you may take it that neither Mr.\nBrentwood nor I have any ill-feeling toward you; we both understand the\nposition. You and Miss Alletson had cause to suspect us, and indeed\nat one time I myself very nearly suspected the Master of Storton, so\nstrong did the evidence seem against him.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am indeed glad to know that,\u201d responded Shepperton, \u201cbecause both\nMiss Hobson and I realise that but for you she would not be sitting\nhere to-day. And now there is one thing I must tell you, Mr. Agar\nHalfi. Mr. Canning here is a private detective, whom I called in to\ninvestigate. Almost from the beginning, however, he has not agreed with\nmy idea of things. But enough; I will let him speak for himself.\u201d\n\nThey all looked at the detective, who, rousing himself from the\nsprawling attitude he had naturally slipped into, looked keenly at the\nHindoo, and said:\n\n\u201cMr. Agar Halfi will no doubt be interested to learn that I can confirm\nhis remarks about his experience at the priory, as it happens that I\nwas the stranger he met there.\u201d\n\nAgar Halfi looked at him closely, then slowly shook his head. Canning\nsmiled, then proceeded:\n\n\u201cOf course you would hardly recognise me, as I was disguised. Let me\nnow thank you for saving my life! You hardly gave me an opportunity to\ndo so at the time.\u201d\n\nThe Hindoo looked surprised and confused, while the rest of the\ncompany, who knew the details of the detective\u2019s experience, enjoyed\nthe situation.\n\nAt length he remarked:\n\n\u201cThen you do not think that it was trickery?\u201d\n\n\u201cI did not at the time,\u201d replied the detective, \u201cbut I wanted to test\nit as far as I possibly could, though in doing so I ran a very grave\nrisk, as I realised afterward, when you had gone. That will explain the\nattitude I took up in the ruins. Almost from the first I have felt that\nthe case was not a commonplace one, and that it was outside the sphere\nof the ordinary detective. In any case, I have not seen any real reason\nto suspect the Master of Storton as being the criminal. Indeed the only\nbit of evidence worth consideration has been that of Miss Alletson.\u201d\n\nAll eyes instinctively turned to Constance, who all through the meeting\nhad not spoken a word.\n\n\u201cMay I ask, Miss Alletson, what your opinion is now, regarding what\nyou experienced?\u201d asked Canning.\n\nConstance, whose cheek was resting on her hand, raised her head as she\nreplied:\n\n\u201cSimply that I hold the same view, except that I now know Mr. Brentwood\nis innocent, and was innocent of the obsession under which he is\nsuffering. I have no doubt about what I suffered at that experiment,\u201d\nshe concluded, with a slight smile.\n\n\u201cWhat about the future, Mr. Agar Halfi?\u201d asked the Vicar.\n\n\u201cI can only wait and watch developments, until Mr. Brentwood is\nsufficiently recovered to enable him to deal with things. So far, he is\nprogressing as satisfactorily as can be expected\u2014I should say that he\nwill be convalescent in twelve to fourteen days.\u201d\n\nThe meeting now practically broke up, though for some time afterwards\nthey sat talking over various matters. At last, however, Agar Halfi\nsaid that he must get back to the Manor to see how Mr. Brentwood was;\nhe already felt he had left him too long.\n\nHe had come over in the car, and as he stepped into it, he picked up\nan envelope lying on the seat, addressed to himself in an unknown\nhandwriting. He glanced at it casually, then put it in his pocket.\nNot until he had seen the Master of Storton, and satisfied himself\nthat all was right, did he think of the strange note. Taking it out\nof his pocket, he opened the envelope, and discovered a half sheet of\nnote-paper. Upon it, in a woman\u2019s handwriting, were the words:\n\n\u201cWatch, and do not sleep, for the end is near.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n                              CHAPTER XXIV\n\n                         FAIL NOT, GREAT WIZARD!\n\n\nAgar Halfi stood with grave eyes, watching the motionless form of the\nMaster of Storton. The fever caused by the wound in his shoulder had\nabated, but the condition of the patient this morning gave the Hindoo\ncause for deep concern.\n\nThe previous evening Brentwood had been tossing restlessly on his bed,\nnow he was in a deep swoon. In the ordinary course of things, after\nthe fever had died down, Agar Halfi knew that his patient should have\nregained consciousness.\n\nThis strange turn in the sickness perplexed him, and the fear rose in\nhis mind that the Master of Storton was passing through yet another\nphase of this weird mystery. The scar on his throat still retained the\nbright colour it had assumed on the evening when he was injured, and\nthis in itself was sufficient to cause Agar Halfi to judge that they\nwere not yet clear of this evil influence.\n\nWhen he used his power to attack that unnatural manifestation in the\nstudy, he not only felt that he had annihilated it entirely, but\nthat he had also killed his beloved friend. But now he was forced to\nconclude that he had done neither.\n\nAll day long he scarcely left the bedside, watching ever anxiously for\nsigns of returning consciousness; but none came, and toward evening the\npatient\u2019s condition developed into trance. The Hindoo examined him\nclosely as he noticed the change, and a look of intelligent surprise\npassed over his countenance. There was not much doubt that this trance\nwas similar to the one which Brentwood had suffered in Afghanistan.\n\nFor a space, he stood thinking, then he rang for Mrs. Breton. When she\nappeared, Agar Halfi held up a warning hand, and her eyes instinctively\nsought the unconscious form of her master. She started slightly, and\nturned to Agar Halfi with questioning eyes.\n\n\u201cComplications have set in, Mrs. Breton, and the master must not be\nleft alone at present. Will you please wire to Westsea at once for two\ntrained nurses, and tell Williams to get the car ready? I want him to\ntake a letter.\u201d\n\n\u201cSurely I can nurse him, in fact I would much prefer to do so.\u201d\n\n\u201cQuite so,\u201d replied the Hindoo, \u201cbut you have more than you can do at\npresent, Mrs. Breton, and you cannot stay with him day and night.\u201d\n\nThe reasonableness of this was evident, and she inclined her head\nreluctantly. Then she asked in a concerned voice:\n\n\u201cIs there any danger?\u201d\n\nAgar Halfi shook his head. \u201cI don\u2019t know at present: all I can say is\nthat Mr. Brentwood has passed into a strange trance.\u201d\n\nShe breathed quickly, and looked at the Hindoo critically. It was a\nserious matter to her, for the Master of Storton was a good employer,\nwell liked by all who were in his service. Still, she had confidence\nin this strange man, and beyond attending to the master in a medical\ncapacity, he had not interfered with her in any way.\n\n\u201cYou were up all last night and have hardly left the bedside during the\nday; when are you going to rest?\u201d\n\n\u201cSend for the nurses, Mrs. Breton, and then I will take a respite.\u201d\n\nWhen she had left the room, Agar Halfi went up into the study, and\ntaking pen and paper wrote the following letter:\n\n                                            \u201c+Storton Manor, Storton+.\n\n  \u201c+Madame+,\u2014The Master of Storton, after being ill from an accident,\n  has fallen into a strange trance, which I believe is similar to the\n  one which Miss Hobson suffered, when in your hospitable hands.\n\n  \u201cIf it is the same, I must take immediate action, for there\n  is grave danger; but before doing so, I should like to have\n  confirmatory evidence to that effect.\n\n  \u201cI cannot leave Mr. Brentwood at present; would you therefore\n  consent to come over in the car, and give me your opinion as to\n  whether the two cases are identical?\n\n  \u201cI humbly apologise for the liberty I take in asking this, but the\n  life of the Master of Storton is in the balance.\u2014Yours respectfully,\n\n                                                        +Agar Halfi+.\u201d\n\nCarefully sealing it in an envelope, he addressed it to Madame H\u00e9lo\u00efse\nLimonaire, The Ch\u00e2let, Storton. That done, he went in search of\nWilliams, and was satisfied to find him ready, waiting with the car.\n\n\u201cI want you to take this letter to the Ch\u00e2let as quickly as you can.\nWait for an answer, and probably you will bring back a passenger.\u201d\n\nWilliams\u2014a solid west-country youth of about twenty\u2014said \u201cRight!\u201d and\nstarted the engine. He had been brought up as under-chauffeur, and knew\nhis business.\n\n\u201cYou should be back in half an hour.\u201d\n\nWilliams said \u201cRight!\u201d once more, and drove off.\n\nAgar Halfi returned at once to the sick-room, and telling Mrs. Breton\nthat he would stay with Mr. Brentwood until the nurses came, composed\nhimself to await the return of Williams. As he sat in the silence, his\neyes, heavy with sleep, began to close, and almost against his will he\ndozed. When he awoke, it was with an acute feeling that something out\nof the ordinary was going to happen. It must be the after-effects of a\ndream, he thought; people usually dream when they doze; yet he could\nnot remember having dreamed anything. However, the matter passed from\nhis mind, for just then Mrs. Breton entered the room to inform him that\nMadame Limonaire was in the library.\n\nRising, he went downstairs to meet her. H\u00e9lo\u00efse Limonaire was standing\nby the fireplace, looking out of the window. She turned as he entered\nthe room, and they looked at each other. Then there happened one of\nthose mysterious, inexplicable episodes which have baffled all man\u2019s\nscience and all man\u2019s reason, ever since the beginning of time.\n\nSo far as they knew, neither of these two people had ever seen the\nother, and yet no sooner did their eyes meet, than it seemed as if some\nlong-forgotten memory were awakened. The woman started visibly, and\nsuppressed a low cry of wonder. The man came to a sudden halt, and drew\nin a deep breath.\n\nPerhaps for half a minute they stood, then H\u00e9lo\u00efse Limonaire\ninvoluntarily put her hand to her throat, as if to protect it, while\nAgar Halfi turned colour under his dark skin, and his great frame\ntrembled, as though with nervous shock. Neither spoke nor moved, and\nit seemed as if they were silently trying to understand what the\nmysterious unknown something was, that each held for the other.\n\nAt length the Abbess\u2019 hand slowly fell again to her side, and her lips\nmoved.\n\n\u201cYou?\u201d she said absently.\n\n\u201cYes, it is I!\u201d the man answered mechanically, as though without\ncontrol over what he said, while his dark eyes never left her deep\nspiritual face, which commanded him with an unknown power. With an\neffort, she turned her gaze to the window, and the Hindoo found himself\nlooking at her beautiful face in profile. Then, the magic of her eyes\nno longer holding him, he recovered his normal self-possession.\n\nWith a low bow he said:\n\n\u201cMadame Limonaire, I am Agar Halfi, the body servant of the Master of\nStorton.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, monsieur; you wish to see me respecting Mr. Brentwood, I\nunderstand.\u201d\n\nThe sound of her voice affected him in a strange manner. It was as if\nsome long-dormant chord deep down in his inner self had been delicately\nstruck, and vibrating in sympathetic response to the touch, had called\nback out of the dust of the past a memory of mingled ecstasy and\nsuffering.\n\nSo sweet, so gentle her tone, yet so dignified and expressive of\nstrength her manner, that Agar Halfi for a moment wondered whether or\nnot he was talking to a mortal woman.\n\n\u201cTrue, madame; my beloved master is in danger, and believe me, I deeply\nthank you for troubling to come.\u201d\n\nWhen he first wrote the letter, he meant to question the lady\nconcerning Elsie Hobson\u2019s trance, but now he altered his mind.\n\n\u201cI think the best thing would be for you to come and see Mr. Brentwood,\nand then tell me what you think.\u201d\n\nJust a second she hesitated, and then, with a graceful inclination of\nher head, she replied:\n\n\u201cYes, monsieur, I will see him.\u201d\n\nAgar Halfi conducted her to Mr. Brentwood\u2019s room, and after introducing\nher to Mrs. Breton, he escorted her to the side of the unconscious\nman\u2019s couch. The Abbess looked at him meditatively, while the Hindoo\nwatched her curiously. Then without a word she silently pointed to the\njagged scar on the Master of Storton\u2019s throat. Agar Halfi\u2019s curiosity\nincreased, but he did not show it by look or gesture; and it was\nnot until Mrs. Breton, in reply to a knock at the door, asked to be\nexcused, saying the nurses had arrived, that he replied:\n\n\u201cDo you know what it is?\u201d\n\nBy way of answer, H\u00e9lo\u00efse Limonaire looked fully at him and made a\nsecret sign. The Hindoo uttered an exclamation of surprise and made a\ncorresponding one. It had not occurred to him that a woman would be an\ninitiate of the mystic arts.\n\nShe smiled a rare smile in acknowledgment and again their eyes met.\nOnce more that mysterious spell enveloped them, but this time she\nseemed not to be looking at him, but beyond.\n\nWho was this woman, whose remarkable personality held him? He watched\nher, fascinated, then he felt he was in the grasp of an influence, the\nstrength of which made him feel as weak as water; so pure, so soft, so\nabsorbing, yet a master power.\n\nA strange trembling passed through his frame, and subconsciously he\nbecame aware that words were coming from his mouth, as though another\nintelligence were using his physical organs.\n\n\u201cWhat is the meaning of this riddle, Sorceress?\u201d\n\nAs if expecting the question, she answered slowly:\n\n\u201cHere lies the King, Wizard of the Mountains, under the evil spell\nwhich I in my wickedness wrought in the distant past!\u201d\n\nA slight perspiration broke out over his body as she spoke. Dimly\nit came to his understanding that she was reading the riddle of his\nexistence, and so stupefied was he with wonder that he could not have\nanswered just then, had he wanted to.\n\nHer marvellous eyes searched his countenance as she continued:\n\n\u201cWhen are you going to accomplish your task, Wizard? Not till then will\nthe King recover!\u201d\n\nAgain the words seemed forced from his mouth:\n\n\u201cAt the appointed time, Sorceress, will I slay.\u201d\n\nShe clasped her white hands on her breast, and went on in her gentle,\ndreamy way:\n\n\u201cThe hour draws near; at the New Moon must you carry out the decree.\nFail, and once more will you traverse that endless plane of woe to\nwhich you are at present bound, and each time the period increases in\nlength.\u201d\n\nAgar Halfi humbly bowed his head and there was awe in his voice as he\nreplied:\n\n\u201cSorceress, you are higher than I; tell me, how many times have I\nfailed?\u201d\n\n\u201cTwice have you failed at the critical juncture, thrice have you\ntraversed the earth plane.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cI have conquered. I am but held here until you have slain the evil\nwhich I created. Our destinies are inseparably bound together, Wizard;\nlong have I waited for you to win the way.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd if I fail not this time?\u201d\n\n\u201cThen you will release us both from bondage, and together shall we pass\nunto the higher spheres.\u201d\n\nAs she spoke, she suddenly stretched forth her hands and there was a\ngreat appeal in her eyes.\n\nSomething like a moan came from his lips as he answered:\n\n\u201cI will not fail, Sorceress\u2014yet\u2014yet, I feel there is only one way.\u201d\n\nHer expression was one of mingled tenderness and anguish, as she\nanswered softly:\n\n\u201cOnly one way, Wizard, and that is death!\u201d\n\n\u201cDeath!\u201d he repeated mechanically, and then with his hands to his brow\nhe staggered back, overwhelmed, cognisant that his end was near. The\nveil had been torn, and in the great spiritual eyes of the woman before\nhim he saw his destiny.\n\n\u201cCourage,\u201d she whispered. \u201cIn death shall you find life and love.\u201d\n\nAs though ashamed at the weakness he had shown, Agar Halfi drew himself\nup, and folding his arms across his chest said:\n\n\u201cEnough! I shall not fail. I could not now that I fully know all.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd yet remember, that twice before did you fail when I appealed.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, Sorceress, but you know that I had not heard your appeal. Tell me,\nwhy have I not known at those other times?\u201d\n\n\u201cTell me, Wizard, how it is that you know now?\u201d she replied.\n\nBut he shook his head.\n\nShe smiled as she continued:\n\n\u201cBy the powers that you have fought with and conquered, by the\nself-sacrifices you have had to make to become a master in the\nmysterious arts. This is the reward, Wizard, that you are allowed to\nbecome self-conscious of your task; but for that, I could not have\nrecognised you, nor you me.\u201d\n\nHe looked at her in wonderment; what she said was truth, and he\nmarvelled at it all. Then he slowly turned his head toward the\nunconscious man.\n\n\u201cAnd the King?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe King will live; his destiny at present is here,\u201d she answered\nquietly. \u201cYet, leave you a note signed and sealed for him when he\nawakes, so that he may come to me to know of this. And now I must\ndepart.\u201d\n\nMechanically Agar Halfi opened the door, and she preceded him down the\nstairs. As they reached the great main entrance, he turned to her\nsaying:\n\n\u201cAnd you, when shall we meet again?\u201d\n\n\u201cSoon,\u201d she sighed, \u201cbut not on the earth plane.\u201d\n\n\u201cWherever I am I shall seek you,\u201d he whispered.\n\n\u201cAnd wherever I am I shall wait for you,\u201d she answered.\n\n\u201cAnd now for a brief period, good-bye. Forty-eight hours brings the New\nMoon!\u201d\n\nSaying which, she went down the grey stone steps to the motor car which\nWilliams had in readiness.\n\n\u201cTake Madame Limonaire back to the Ch\u00e2let, Williams,\u201d he called in a\nclear voice.\n\nThe whirr of the engine fell on his ears, the car started slowly, and\nhe heard it roll off into the night. Until the sound of the brougham\nhad died away he stood, and then a great passionate convulsion gripped\nthe man, and stretching out his arms he uttered an inarticulate, deeply\nsmothered cry. It was the deathless call of one soul to another, which\njust for a moment had seen behind the veil, and in a flash had realised\nthat now, and always, through eternity, the unquenchable fire of love\nis the mysterious power that rules the universe, and through it guides\nthe destiny of every human soul.\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAPTER XXV\n\n                         \u201cI AM BUT AS THE DUST\u201d\n\n\nBrentwood was almost certain he heard a familiar voice saying to him,\n\u201cAwake! Awake!\u201d He listened intently, and slowly it occurred to him\nthat he must have been dreaming.\n\nOpening his eyes, he gazed round, and received a slight shock of\nsurprise. The electric light was on, and seated by a bright fire, was\na nurse reading. He looked at her wonderingly; then his eyes turned to\nthe window, and he saw that the dawn was breaking, cold and grey.\n\nHad he been ill? He could not tell, though it appeared very much like\nit from the look of the room, and the presence of the nurse. He made\nas if to move, when a sharp pain ran through his left shoulder. It was\nas if the physical sensation caused the natural functions of his body\nand mind to start working, for in a flash his memory returned, and he\nremembered all; the experiment, the leap of the dog, the pain caused by\nthe crushing of his shoulder. After that, nothing, until the strange\ncall of that voice he knew, and he found himself awake.\n\nAh, he must have been delirious with the fever, which would almost\nbe sure to have set in. He thought it over for a time, and at last\nthe details of things pieced themselves together, and he realised\neverything.\n\n\u201cNurse!\u201d\n\nThe book the Sister was reading almost fell from her hands at the\nsound. Starting up quickly, she went to the bedside, a look of\nsurprised curiosity on her face.\n\n\u201cCan I have some water?\u201d\n\nShe looked doubtful at first, then said:\n\n\u201cYes, I think you may have a little.\u201d\n\nHe drank it with a relish, then inquired:\n\n\u201cHow long have I been unconscious?\u201d\n\n\u201cSeveral days, sir,\u201d she replied.\n\n\u201cSeveral days?\u201d\u2014He paused, then added: \u201cWhere is Mr. Agar Halfi?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe has not been in since ten o\u2019clock last night. I expect he will be\nhere as usual, about eight this morning.\u201d\n\nMr. Brentwood nodded.\n\n\u201cCould you drink some beef tea?\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know, I\u2019m sure,\u201d he answered uncertainly.\n\n\u201cWell, I will make some, anyway.\u201d\n\nHe watched her idly while she prepared it. He was indifferent whether\nhe had it or not; but after the first spoonful he felt hungry, and\ndrank it eagerly. The warmth it gave soothed him, and in less than five\nminutes he had fallen into a dreamless sleep.\n\nWhen he awoke, it was past ten o\u2019clock, and a fresh nurse was in the\nroom. It was not long before her attentive eyes saw that he was not\nasleep, and she came over to him immediately.\n\n\u201cWell, sir, do you feel better?\u201d\n\nHe smiled oddly as he replied:\n\n\u201cThat I can hardly say. I certainly don\u2019t feel ill!\u201d He paused, then\nadded: \u201cWhere is Mr. Agar Halfi?\u201d\n\nShe looked a trifle perplexed as she answered:\n\n\u201cHe has not yet been in this morning. He usually comes about eight\no\u2019clock.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat time is it now?\u201d\n\n\u201cA quarter past ten.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is the matter, nurse?\u201d\n\nShe had stood still suddenly, and was looking at him with wonder in her\neyes.\n\n\u201cThe scar, sir; it has gone!\u201d\n\nBrentwood instinctively put his hand to his throat, then smiled slowly.\n\n\u201cAre you quite sure?\u201d he queried.\n\n\u201cQuite\u2014there is not a trace of it visible. Let me fetch a glass, then\nyou can see for yourself.\u201d\n\nThe Master of Storton examined his neck very carefully, then silently\nput the hand-mirror on the counterpane. What the nurse had said was\ntrue; not a vestige of the scar remained.\n\n\u201cNurse, I should like to see Mrs. Breton.\u201d\n\nHe had hardly spoken, when there was a hurried knock at the door, and\nthe housekeeper entered, with a perturbed look on her face.\n\n\u201cNurse,\u201d she exclaimed quickly, \u201cis Mr. Brentwood\u2014\u201d She stopped\nabruptly, as her eyes met those of her master.\n\n\u201cGood morning,\u201d he said tranquilly; then seeing the troubled look on\nher face, he added, \u201cWhat is the matter, Mrs. Breton?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, sir, I\u2019m so glad you are better. But I cannot understand this\u2014\u201d\nhere she held up her hand, which contained a letter. \u201cWilliams gave\nit to me just now, and said that Mr. Agar Halfi handed it to him last\nnight, with instructions to deliver it to me after ten o\u2019clock this\nmorning.\u201d She paused, breathing quickly.\n\n\u201cGo on,\u201d he said quietly.\n\n\u201cI will read it, sir:\n\n  \u201c+Dear Mrs. Breton+,\u2014I have instructed Williams to hand you this\n  note after ten o\u2019clock to-morrow morning. Enclosed you will find\n  a letter addressed to Mr. Brentwood, which please hand to him.\n  I have no doubt that he will not only be conscious by then, but\n  practically all right in health.\n\n                                                    +Agar Halfi.+\u201d\n\nBrentwood silently held out his hand for the packet. Tearing it open,\nhe read as follows:\n\n  \u201c+My beloved Friend+,\u2014Should you receive this document before\n  you see me, you will understand that I have passed away from the\n  physical plane of existence! But let not that disturb you; it is\n  part of my destiny, as you will learn later on\u2014my time has come.\n\n  Know that when you received the wound in your shoulder, the scar\n  on your throat turned blood-red, and when the fever which set in\n  had abated, instead of recovering consciousness you passed into a\n  swoon similar to that which you suffered in Afghanistan. In order\n  to make quite sure that your trance tallied with Miss Hobson\u2019s, I\n  immediately sent for Madame Limonaire, with the object of getting\n  her to confirm the symptoms. But little did I realise what would\n  be the result of my request. The question of the trance became a\n  secondary matter, when, on Madame\u2019s appearance, I at once learned\n  that she held the key to the evil which has been overshadowing\n  us for so long. I also learned that I was partly the cause, that\n  through me alone could it be allayed; and further, that there was\n  only one way to accomplish it. That course I have taken. When you\n  read this, look to the scar on your throat; if it has entirely\n  disappeared, you will know that I have succeeded, and you will be\n  free from the evil which has obsessed you ever since it attacked\n  you in Afghanistan, five years ago.\n\n  I request you to send without delay for the Abbess\u2014it is her\n  command\u2014who will explain all.\n\n  Seek you my body in my private room at the Lodge, where I now go\n  to prepare myself to overcome the dread evil of the Legend of the\n  Mountains. In three hours, at the New Moon, I trust that in death I\n  shall be triumphant.\n\n  Until in the future we meet again, fare you well, my best beloved\n  friend.\n                                                    +Agar Halfi.+\u201d\n\nAs he mastered its contents, Brentwood\u2019s lips shut in a hard line, and\nhis features assumed a stony expression. The two women looked at him\nwith mingled wonder and awe; they instinctively knew that something had\nhappened, and for a time there was an impressive silence. He broke it\nat length, by saying in a cold, level voice:\n\n\u201cMrs. Breton, I will dress at once. Please send Williams to me.\u201d\n\nSo stern was his tone, that the housekeeper\u2014who, under ordinary\ncircumstances, would have remonstrated with him\u2014without a word went to\ndo his bidding, and the nurse followed her out.\n\nWhen they had gone, something like a sob issued from his throat, and a\nlook of intense grief came over his face. In his weakened state, the\nshock of being deprived of the one human being for whom he had ever\nfelt any real affection acted with double force; it almost prostrated\nhim. He lay half-helpless, in a dull sort of dream, until Williams\nannounced his presence by knocking at the door. Rousing himself,\nBrentwood told the under-chauffeur to come in.\n\nIt took a long while, but with Williams\u2019 aid he at length got dressed,\nand finally was seated in a big divan chair, by the fire.\n\nHere, with difficulty, he wrote a short note to H\u00e9lo\u00efse Limonaire, and\nafter sending for Mrs. Breton, told Williams to go straight to the\nCh\u00e2let in the car, and bring the Abbess back with him.\n\nWhen he had gone, the Master of Storton turned to his housekeeper, and\nsaid:\n\n\u201cMrs. Breton, I must, I think, prepare you for some bad news. I\u2019m\nafraid something has happened to Mr. Agar Halfi, but I cannot say for\ncertain, until I have seen Madame Limonaire, whom I have sent Williams\nto fetch. When she arrives, please ask her to come to my room without\ndelay.\u201d\n\n\u201cReally, sir, I do hope the trouble is not so very serious. But must\nyou be out of bed? I feel it is risky for you to be up.\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t worry about that, Mrs. Breton. Beyond being a little weak, and\njust a trifle stiff, I am all right. I would not have got up, had I\nnot felt that something very grave had happened.\n\nNow I am ready to come under the nurse\u2019s care again. I expect my\nshoulder will want dressing and my arm will have to be put in a sling\nfor the present.\u201d\n\nBy the time the Abbess had arrived, the nurse had satisfactorily\nattended to the Master of Storton\u2019s shoulder, and his arm was\ncomfortably suspended by his side.\n\nHe rose to meet Madame Limonaire with mingled feelings, but one glance\ntold him that she was not an ordinary woman. He felt her influence\nimmediately she crossed the threshold of the room, and in spite of his\nown powers, backed by a masterful mind, he was sensible of a presence\ngreater than his own.\n\nBoth remained silent for some time after Mrs. Breton had left the room,\nthe Abbess standing with one foot on the curb, and one hand on the\nmantelpiece, looking sadly into the fire, while Brentwood gazed at her\nwith growing respect. Instinctively he became aware that she possessed\npowers similar to his own, but in a higher and grander degree.\n\nAt last he said in a low voice:\n\n\u201cDid you understand, madame, the crude note I sent to you?\u201d\n\n\u201cPerfectly,\u201d she answered, without looking up.\n\n\u201cThen will you please read what my friend, Agar Halfi, has written?\u201d\n\nSlowly extending her hand, she took the letter which he held forth, and\nsilently perused it. He watched her closely while she read, but only a\nslight heave of her breast disturbed her composure, though her mouth\ngrew unspeakably tender.\n\nWhen she had finished, he waited patiently, expecting some comment; but\nshe remained silent, mechanically tapping the fingers of her left hand\nwith the letter, which she had folded up.\n\nIt was he who spoke first:\n\n\u201cMadame Limonaire, during the past fifteen years of my life I have\ngone through some strange experiences, and seen things which average\nintelligent people would classify as fairy tales, if they were\nseriously put forth; yet if the contents of that letter are true, I\nfear that the mysterious evil which came into my life some five years\nago is beyond the scope of my knowledge. When I read that letter, I\nwas, as you may well understand, surprised, and I wondered if it were\npossible that any living being, let alone a woman, could unravel this\ntangled skein.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy so, Monsieur? why should a woman be less capable of solving it\nthan anyone else?\u201d\n\nThe subtle attraction in her sweet, gentle tones stirred him a little.\nHe had spoken to her as an intellectual equal; but the sound of her\nvoice\u2014without dispelling the first idea\u2014forcefully reminded him that\nthere was a distinct and sharp line between the sexes, of which he had\nnot hitherto been conscious.\n\n\u201cIt is seldom women attain the high development that men reach,\u201d he\nanswered steadily.\n\n\u201cWhy do you think that?\u201d\n\nHe hesitated a moment before he replied:\n\n\u201cProbably because they have not had, and do not now have, the same\nopportunities.\u201d\n\n\u201cMonsieur Brentwood, what do you know about women?\u201d\n\nShe turned her beautiful face toward him, and their eyes met.\nInstinctively the Master of Storton felt all his powers gathering to\ncombat this extraordinary personality, unconsciously the forces within\nhim challenged her power, but the pure clear look of her remarkable\neyes met his glance with an easy calm.\n\nFor nearly a minute their minds clashed, during which period the man\nsuffered more than he had ever done in the whole of his life. The\nlight of her eyes grew in intensity, and he became terribly aware that\nhe was seeing the faults of his existence. What a distorted, feeble\nthing after all! He, who had imagined he had evolved so high\u2014nothing\nbut a puny, weak mortal. He was being forced to know it, to admit it!\nA scorching shame passed over him, he closed his eyes to shut out the\noverwhelming power of her gaze, and with the fall of his pride, he gave\na short cry. Sinking back in his chair, he bowed his head, covering his\neyes with his right hand.\n\nDuring the long silence which ensued, the Master of Storton, crushed\nas he was, learned that he was but partially developed, a sort of\nlop-sided ego, which, having conquered some things, had carelessly, if\nnot wilfully, neglected others equally important.\n\n\u201cI am but as the dust!\u201d he exclaimed bitterly.\n\n\u201cMonsieur!\u201d\n\nThe deep ring of unselfish sympathy in her voice lifted him out of\nthe depths into which he had sunk, and a new hope rose in him. Slowly\nlooking up, he beheld her standing with outstretched arms, tears of\npain in her eyes, and an expression of grief on her spiritual face.\n\n\u201cThink not that I came to punish you; I am but the instrument through\nwhich the lesson you have had to learn has been conveyed. You have\nsuffered greatly, so also have I in witnessing your agony. But as you\nmust know, the more a soul develops, the more refined it becomes, the\ngreater is its suffering\u2014this is the law.\n\n\u201cBut that you have striven and struggled toward good, this lesson\ncould not have been learned by you in this particular way. It is part\nof your reward; you have but to profit by it. For some years, your\ndestiny is here. Seek it in self-sacrifice; go out into the world of\nstruggling humanity, and, as far as you are able, emulate the Master\nMagician\u2014continue his work.\u201d\n\nShe paused, and he looked at her wonderingly, but without fear, for he\nunderstood. In the same way that he loved his friend Agar Halfi, so he\nloved this strange woman. He knew now that they were both on the same\nplane of development, where jealousy and envy have long been conquered\nand forgotten.\n\n\u201cMadame, it is good that one\u2019s pride should be humbled. Only too well\ndo I realise the mistake I have made. By avoiding certain things in the\nworld, I have remained ignorant of them, thinking that they did not\nmatter.\u201d\n\n\u201cSeek, and ye shall find,\u201d she replied simply. \u201cAnd now, Monsieur, if\nyou are ready, let us go and discover him who has fulfilled his part in\nthis one of many destinies in the great eternal life.\u201d\n\nSlowly rising, he went up into his study and took a key from his\ndesk. Returning, with the aid of the Abbess he donned his ulster, and\ntogether they went by the secret stair out of the house, to the lodge.\nHere Brentwood, with some trepidation, effected an entrance to the\nHindoo\u2019s private room with the key he had brought, and standing on one\nside, allowed the Abbess to precede him.\n\nAs they crossed the threshold, that which met their eyes caused the man\nto stifle a low cry, but the woman gave no sign.\n\nLying full length on the carpet, dressed in his ritual robes, lay the\nbody of Agar Halfi, a look of serene calm on his fine countenance.\nIn his right hand was a white wand; in his left, and held to his\nbreast, the large gold cross without which he had never conducted any\nexperiment. A copper brazier stood at his head, another at his feet.\n\nJust for a moment they stood looking with deep reverence at the solemn\nscene, then the Master of Storton stepped quickly to the side of the\nsilent figure, and bending down on one knee, carefully examined it.\n\n\u201cDead! Quite dead!\u201d he whispered brokenly. Looking up, he met the quiet\neyes of H\u00e9lo\u00efse Limonaire, who was standing on the other side of the\nbody, her hands clasped on her breast.\n\nAs she gazed at him, the Master of Storton suddenly felt that he was\nin the grip of some mysterious power. Strange scenes passed before his\nvision, cries in an unknown tongue rang in his ears. They passed, and\nhe heard the voice of the Abbess speaking:\n\n\u201cKing of a once great race, here lies the body of the Wizard of the\nMountains, who, having fulfilled his destiny here, has departed from\nthe earth plane. No more exists the evil which I, the Sorceress, in\nmy wickedness brought forth long ago, to cause his downfall. By his\nsacrifice has he destroyed it, and, great King, we are free, the goal\nis won. Soon shall I follow, there to join him, and together shall we\nevolve onward and upward in the vast eternal scheme.\n\nBut you, who were once a monarch, know that your time has not yet\ncome. As every physical body seeks its mate, so every soul seeks its\ncounterpart, and every spirit its affinity. Seek you yours on the\nearth plane, you shall not labour in vain. Then shall a change of\nconsciousness carry you onward.\u201d\n\nHer voice died away, and with it the spell. Released from her magnetic\ngaze, the Master of Storton\u2019s eyes wandered to the dead man\u2019s face, and\nas he stared he almost thought he saw a quiet smile of triumph disturb\nthe impassive features. He started, and rising to his feet was about\nto speak, when he saw that the Abbess was standing with bent head, and\nclasped hands, as though in prayer over the clay house that had once\nimprisoned the companion of her destiny.\n\nFor some time she stood thus, then with a deep sigh she turned, and\nsaid calmly:\n\n\u201cCome, Monsieur, I would depart\u2014my task is accomplished.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n                              CHAPTER XXVI\n\n                           TILL THE STARS MEET\n\n\nThey buried the body of Agar Halfi quietly and without ceremony in the\nvillage churchyard, and when the Rev. Philip Alletson read the burial\nservice it was a characteristic group that stood in silent reverence\nover the Hindoo mystic\u2019s earthly remains.\n\nElsie Hobson and Arthur Shepperton were there, in acknowledgment of all\nthat that strange man had done for them; also Herbert Canning, who had\ncome to pay his last respects to the man who had saved his life.\n\nClose to the grave stood the Master of Storton, pale and set, a look of\nstern sorrow on his handsome face. Not far away, deeply veiled, was the\nAbbess, silent and still. By her side stood Constance, with trembling\nlips and wet eyes.\n\nThey all knew what had transpired\u2014omitting certain details, and with\nMadame Limonaire\u2019s permission, Brentwood had frankly explained to the\nrest, the final act in this mysterious drama. At that meeting, whatever\nresentment the young solicitor may have had against the Master of\nStorton vanished. He was not ungenerous, and when\u2014to the surprise of\neveryone except the Abbess\u2014Brentwood had offered his hand, Shepperton\nhad gripped it genuinely, and the Master of Storton turned a one-time\nenemy into a friend.\n\nAs for Constance, the words she had once spoken to Philip, _i.e._ that\nif he were innocent she would never be able to look him in the face\nagain for very shame, came home to her forcefully now, and while she\nstood listening to her brother\u2019s voice by the graveside, she cast one\nor two nervous glances at the motionless figure of the man she loved.\n\u201cWhen it was over, would he speak to her?\u201d she thought. If he did, she\nfelt she would have to apologise, and she was afraid\u2014not of having to\napologise, but of herself!\n\nHowever, beyond the usual formalities, he did not address her, and when\nhis carriage had departed, the reaction of the strain she had put upon\nherself made her tremble. It was then that a gentle pressure on her arm\nmade her turn, to find herself looking into the calm, beautiful eyes of\nH\u00e9lo\u00efse Limonaire.\n\nThe trembling stopped almost immediately, and she was aware of a\nrestful feeling, similar to that which she had experienced when she\nfirst met Agar Halfi.\n\n\u201cPeace, child,\u201d she whispered in her sweet voice, \u201cdo not distress\nyourself. There is sunshine with the rain, and that which you were\ntold, by him whose body lies yonder, will soon come to pass!\u201d\n\nThe next moment the Abbess had stepped into her carriage, and before\nConstance could reply it had rolled away, leaving the Vicar\u2019s sister\nto reproach herself for being selfish. Surely, if any person wanted\nsympathy just then, it was Madame Limonaire, and yet the great generous\nspirit of that remarkable woman had swept on one side her own trouble,\njust to give comfort to a sister, whom she had realised was suffering\nquietly, when they stood side by side at the grave of Agar Halfi the\nMystic.\n\nAbout a week later, one beautiful sunny morning, Mr. Brentwood was\nsitting on an old rustic seat beneath a great oak, somewhere in one of\nthe corners of his immense garden.\n\nSince the death of his friend he had changed visibly. For one thing,\nthe hard stern lines of his face, which had been so characteristic of\nthe man and made people avoid him, had vanished; while the cold look\nof his deep brown eyes was no longer discernible. But his countenance\nbore traces of suffering, and a close inspection would have revealed a\ndistinct touch of grey in his dark hair.\n\nNot until Agar Halfi had passed over did the Master of Storton realise\nhow much he was attached to him, and there was a lonely feeling in his\nheart when at times he unconsciously listened, expecting to hear the\nfamiliar voice, and then suddenly remembered the loss he had sustained.\n\nBut as there is no \u201ccloud without a silver lining,\u201d so the grief of\nthis reserved, proud man was slowly but surely being superseded by a\nnew and mysterious power.\n\nEver since his memorable interview with the Abbess, the Master of\nStorton had realised that the loneliness he had sometimes experienced\nduring his life was due to the fact that man is not meant to live in a\nsolitary state, neither physically, mentally, nor spiritually. As he\nhad become convinced of this, his eyes seemed to be opened, and one\nday he suddenly understood why he had been troubled because a certain\nindividual had suspected him of being the perpetrator of the Worlstoke\nMystery.\n\nNow it happened that this particular morning he sat deeply thinking\nabout these things, when all at once he started up, and calling Hector,\nwho lay lazily asleep at his feet, he put on his hat and went out.\n\nHalf an hour later he stood in the Vicarage drawing-room, whither\nMartha had shown him, when he had asked for Miss Alletson.\n\nA minute later the door opened, and the Vicar entered.\n\n\u201cReally, Brentwood, I am glad to see you again,\u201d he said warmly. \u201cOf\ncourse you will now stop to lunch?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I hardly know,\u201d he replied uncertainly. \u201cDid you understand why\nI called?\u201d\n\nThe Vicar looked at him mystified, then replied:\n\n\u201cNo, I\u2019m afraid I don\u2019t quite grasp what you mean.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I will tell you, Alletson\u2014I called to see your sister.\u201d\n\n\u201cSister!\u201d echoed the other.\n\n\u201cYes, Alletson. Listen: I\u2019m going to ask her to marry me,\u201d he said\ncoolly.\n\nFor some time the two men looked at each other steadily. The Vicar was\na little startled, yet in his heart he rejoiced. Like certain other\npeople, he knew his sister\u2019s secret, and the fact that a happy ending\nto what even an hour ago seemed to be a tragedy, unnerved him for the\nmoment. At length he took the Master of Storton\u2019s hand in his, and\nsaid, in a voice deep with emotion:\n\n\u201cBrentwood, it is a surprise to me; I had no idea, but for my sister\u2019s\nsake I could not wish anything better. Constance went out about an hour\nago, and I think she went for a walk in the woods. Go and find her,\nBrentwood, and God speed you.\u201d\n\nIt was Hector who first found her. She was standing at the end of the\npath that overlooks the village of Worlstoke, and was evidently on the\nway home.\n\nShe turned in surprise as the dog came bounding up to her, then her\nheart fluttered, for she found herself face to face with the man who\nheld all the world for her.\n\nJust for a few seconds they looked at each other, and she could not\nhelp noticing that his face was cold and hard.\n\nThen she recovered her self-possession, and said almost normally:\n\n\u201cMr. Brentwood, how can I satisfactorily apologise to you?\u201d\n\n\u201cFor what?\u201d he asked, although he knew all the while what she meant.\n\nShe paused uncertainly\u2014didn\u2019t he understand?\n\n\u201cMy\u2014my suspicions of you.\u201d\n\nHe laughed oddly, and answered indifferently:\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t need any apology!\u201d\n\nShe grew proud in an instant. Why had she spoken? The man seemed made\nof marble.\n\n\u201cIf I have offended too deeply, I regret it; I cannot do more.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou can!\u201d\n\nThe colour went from her cheeks; his tone did not assure her, and she\ncould not understand his attitude.\n\n\u201cMr. Brentwood, what do you mean?\u201d\n\n\u201cConstance!\u201d\n\nThe intense feeling in his voice caused her to draw in a deep breath.\nDuring the pause which followed, their eyes met, and as in her dream\nshe saw the cold brown eyes grow warm, then unspeakably tender. Her\nlips quivered, her breast heaved, and as she realised what it all\nmeant, she gave a smothered cry and dropped her gaze.\n\nHe took her hand, and she felt his grasp warm and strong. It thrilled\nher, and as in a dream she heard his voice:\n\n\u201cConstance, I came to find you, with the hope that I may never leave\nyou again. Can I hope so much?\u201d\n\nAs she understood his words the woman, who at the touch of his hand had\nfelt helpless, realised her power.\n\nShe raised her eyes, with a light in them which made the blood rush to\nhis heart.\n\n\u201cHugo Brentwood, I loved you long ago,\u201d she said simply.\n\nShe looked into his eyes, this time quite without fear, for not a trace\ncould she discern of the dread evil which, the last time their eyes\nmet, had held her in a grip of horror. All she saw was her own fair\nface reflected in the dark pupils, and she was restfully conscious that\nthe cry which had come from her soul that dreadful night at the Manor\nhad at last been answered.\n\nTheir lips met\u2014and Hector, who was standing a dumb witness to this\nplighting of their troth, slowly wagged his tail as if with approval.\n\n\n\n\n                              CHAPTER XXVII\n\n                          AT LAST! OH BELOVED!\n\n\nOne evening about a fortnight later, when that moon whose birth\nsignalised the death of Agar Halfi was on the wane, in the early\ntwilight hour, the last rays of the setting sun gradually crept round\nthe west wall of the \u201cCh\u00e2let,\u201d until they shone through the window of a\nroom on the ground floor which was utilised as a chapel.\n\nThere they revealed the solitary figure of H\u00e9lo\u00efse Limonaire, kneeling\nat an altar, a large gold cross clasped to her breast, and an intense\nethereal look in her marvellous eyes, from which seemed to blaze forth\nthe light of her fettered soul.\n\nIn the small hours of the morning, just before the dawn, the silver\nrays of the dying moon reached the same window, and piercing the gloom,\ndiscovered the Abbess still there, but not kneeling.\n\nShe was lying at the foot of the altar, quietly still, her right hand\ntightly clasping the gold cross to her heart, her left arm hanging\nlistlessly by her side. Closed were the spiritual eyes, and on her\nalmost perfect features was a rare smile of happiness, as though she\nwere peacefully sleeping. But there was not the gentlest movement of\nher bosom to denote that she breathed, and\u2014and her body was colder than\nthe cold moonbeams that kissed her cheek.\n\nShe had been released from her earthly prison; at last had she gone to\njoin her affinity\u2014and the smile on her countenance seemed to say, as\nthough in triumphant answer to the words, \u201cSeek, and ye shall find\u201d:\n\n                   \u201c+I have Sought, and I have Found+\u201d\n\n\n                                 THE END\n\n\n                  Printed by +Ballantyne, Hanson & Co.+\n                           Edinburgh & London\n\n\n\n\n                        Rider\u2019s Popular Fiction.\n\n                          Uniform with DRACULA.\n\n=THE LADY OF THE SHROUD.= By +Bram Stoker+.\n  Small crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 1s. net.\n\n\n            The latest addition to Rider\u2019s Popular Fiction.\n\n\u201cA wild and whirling romance no less fascinating than his first\nhorribly grim story of \u2018DRACULA.\u2019\u201d\u2014_Daily Telegraph._\n\n\u201cA veritable feast of horrors and excitements\u2014one is left aghast at the\nfertility of Mr. Stoker\u2019s imagination and the vigour of his pen.\u201d\u2014_The\nWorld._\n\n                        TWENTY-SEVENTH THOUSAND.\n\n=DRACULA.= By +Bram Stoker+. 1s. net.\n\n\u201cThe very weirdest of weird tales.\u201d\u2014_Punch._\n\n\u201cIts fascination is so great that it is impossible to lay it\naside.\u201d\u2014_The Lady._\n\n=THE MYSTERY OF THE SEA.= By +Bram Stoker+. 1s. net.\n\n\u201cTo anyone who loves an enthralling tale told with unflagging zest\nand good spirits we recommend \u2018The Mystery of the Sea.\u2019\u201d\u2014_Pall Mall\nGazette._\n\n=THE JEWEL OF THE SEVEN STARS.= By +Bram Stoker+. 1s. net.\n\n\u201cIn mystery and interest the book is thrilling, and at times\nsensational.\u201d\u2014_Daily Graphic._\n\n=WIND ALONG THE WASTE. A Story of Parisian Life.= By +Maude\n  Annesley+. Uniform with above. Crown 8vo, cloth, 1s. net.\n\n\u201cA dashing and spirited novel.\u201d\u2014_Pall Mall Gazette._\n\n\n                      New Series of Popular Novels.\n\n      Crown 8vo. Artistically bound in illustrated coloured jacket.\n                              1s. net each.\n\n           THE BEST VALUE EVER OFFERED TO THE READING PUBLIC.\n\n=POSSESSED.= By +Firth Scott+, Author of \u201cThe Rider of Waroona,\u201d\n  \u201cThe Last Lemurian,\u201d &c.                               [_Now ready._\n\n\u201cWe can say with assurance that no one who begins reading this book\nwill be inclined to put it down until the last page has been turned....\nThis is such a tale of mystery and imagination as Poe himself would\nhave been proud to own.\u201d\u2014_The Globe._\n\n=THE RAKE\u2019S PROGRESS.= By +Marjorie Bowen+, Author of \u201cThe Viper of\n  Milan,\u201d \u201cI Will Maintain,\u201d &c. 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Crown 8vo, cloth gilt,\n224 pp., =3=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=Christianity and Spiritualism.= (_Christianisme et Spiritualisme._) By\nL\u00e9on Denis. Translated by Helen Draper Speakman. Crown 8vo, =3=s. =6=d.\nnet.\n\n=Here and Hereafter.= (_Apr\u00e8s la Mort._) Being a Scientific and\nRational Solution of the Problems of Life and Death. Translated by\nGeorge G. Fleurot from the French of L\u00e9on Denis. Second edition,\nrevised, cloth gilt, crown 8vo, 352 pp., =3=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=Mors Janua Vitae?= A Discussion of Certain Communications purporting\nto come from Frederic W. H. Myers. By H. A. Dallas. With Introduction\nby Sir W. F. Barrett, F.R.S. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, =2=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=Colloquies with an Unseen Friend.= Edited by Walburga, Lady Paget.\nCrown 8vo, white linen, =3=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=Death: Its Causes and Phenomena.= By Hereward Carrington and John R.\nMeader. Ornamental cloth, gilt, 8\u00bein. \u00d7 5\u00bdin., 552 pp., new and cheaper\nedition =5=s. net.\n\n=Reincarnation and Christianity.= A Discussion of the relation of\nOrthodoxy to the Reincarnation Hypothesis. By a Clergyman of the Church\nof England. Crown 8vo, stiff boards, 96 pp., =1=s. net.\n\n=Stranger than Fiction.= Being Tales from the Byways of Ghost and\nFolk-lore. By Mary L. Lewes. Crown 8vo, paper cover 234 pp., =3/6= net.\n\n=Shadows Cast Before.= Being Records of Fulfilled Predictions,\ncollected and edited by Claud Field. Crown 8vo, 223 pp., paper cover,\n=1=/- net.\n\n\n                               PHILOSOPHY.\n\n=Comte de Gabalis.= By the Abb\u00e9 N. de Montfaucon de Villars. Rendered\ninto English, with a Commentary. Demy 8vo, illustrated, =7=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=The Secret Doctrine in Israel.= A study of The Zohar and its\nConnections. By Arthur Edward Waite. Med. 8vo, about 350 pp., cloth\ngilt, =10=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=Re-Incarnation.= A Study of Forgotten Truth. By E. D. Walker. New and\nCheaper Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, =3=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=The Great Initiates.= Complete Edition of Edouard Schur\u00e9\u2019s \u201cLes Grands\nIniti\u00e9s,\u201d with an Introduction to Esoteric Teaching, and a Frontispiece\nPortrait of the Author. Translated by F. Rothwell, B.A. Two Volumes.\nCrown 8vo, cloth gilt, =7=s. =6=d. net.\u2014N.B. Volumes not sold singly.\n\n=Jesus: The Last Great Initiate.= Translated from \u201cLes Grands Initi\u00e9s\u201d\nof Edouard Schur\u00e9, by F. Rothwell, B.A. Crown 8vo, cloth, =2=s. net.\n\n=Krishna and Orpheus=, the Great Initiates of the East and West. By\nEdouard Schur\u00e9. Translated by F. Rothwell, B.A. Crown 8vo, cloth, =2=s.\nnet.\n\n=Pythagoras=, and His System of Philosophy, (The Delphic Mysteries.) By\nEdouard Schur\u00e9. Translated by F. Rothwell, B.A. Crown 8vo, cloth, =2=s.\nnet.\n\n=Hermes and Plato.= The Mysteries of Egypt and the Mysteries of\nEleusis, by Edouard Schur\u00e9. Translated by F. Rothwell, B.A. Crown 8vo,\ncloth, =1=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=Rama and Moses.= The Aryan Cycle and the Mission of Israel. Translated\nfrom \u201cLes Grands Initi\u00e9s\u201d of Edouard Schur\u00e9 by F. Rothwell, B.A. Crown\n8vo, cloth, =2=s. net.\n\n  N.B.\u2014This volume completes the series.\n\n=With the Adepts=: An Adventure among the Rosicrucians. By Dr. Franz\nHartmann. New and Revised Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, =2=s. =6=d.\nnet.\n\n=The Book of the Simple Way.= By Laotze (\u201cThe Old Boy\u201d). A New\nTranslation of \u201cThe Tao-Teh King.\u201d With Introduction and Commentary by\nWalter Gorn Old, M.R.A.S. New edition, crown 8vo, cloth, =2=s. net.\n\n=Obermann.= By \u00c9tienne Pivet de Senancour. Translated from the French,\nwith Biographical and Critical Introduction by Arthur Edward Waite.\nCrown 8vo, ornamental cloth, gilt tops, 423 pp., =6=s. net.\n\n=Psychic Philosophy=, +as the Foundation of a Religion of Natural\nCauses+. By V. C. Desertis. With Introduction by Prof. A. R. Wallace,\nO.M., D.C.L., LL.D., F.R.S. New and cheaper edition, cloth gilt, crown\n8vo, 421 pp., =3=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=A Short History of Marriage.= By Ethel Urlin. Crown 8vo, 268 pp.,\ncloth gilt, =3=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=Select Works of Plotinus.= Translated from the Greek. A new edition\nwith Preface and Bibliography by G. R. S. Mead, B.A., M.R.A.S. Crown\n8vo, 334 + xxxviii pp, cloth, =3=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=The Wisdom of Plotinus.= A Metaphysical Study, by C. J. Whitby, M.D.\n120 pp. crown 8vo, cloth gilt, =2=s. net.\n\n=The World We Live In.= By E. A. Brackett, with Portrait of the Author.\nCrown 8vo, 121 pp., cloth gilt, gilt tops, =2=s. net.\n\n=The Alternate Sex=, or the Female Intellect in Man and the Masculine\nin Woman. By Charles Godfrey Leland, F.R.L.S., A.M., Harvard. New and\nCheaper Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth, =2=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=Yoga, or Transformation.= A Comparative Statement of the various\nReligions and Dogmas concerning the Soul and its Destiny, and\nof Akkadian, Hindu, Taoist, Egyptian, Hebrew, Greek, Christian,\nMohammedan, Japanese and other Magic. By William J. Flagg. Royal 8vo,\n376 pp., cloth gilt. =6=s. net.\n\n=Occult Science in India and among the Ancients.= With an account\nof their Mystic Initiations and the History of Spiritism. By Louis\nJacolliot. Translated from the French by Willard L. Felt. Royal 8vo,\n276 pp., cheap edition, =6=s. net.\n\n=The Transparent Jewel.= By Mabel Collins, Author of \u201cLight on The\nPath,\u201d etc. Small crown 8vo, cloth, gilt tops, =2=s. net. An exposition\nof Patanjali\u2019s philosophy.\n\n=Atma Jnan; or, The Garden of the Heart.= By Brother Ramananda and\nMeredith Starr. =1=s. net.\n\n=Science and the Infinite=, or Through a Window in the Blank Wall. By\nSydney T. Klein. Crown 8vo, 183 pp., =2=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=Matter, Spirit and the Cosmos.= Some Suggestions towards a Better\nUnderstanding of the Whence and Why of their Existence. By H. Stanley\nRedgrove, B.Sc. (Lond.), F.C.S., Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, =2=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=God in the Universe= (The Immanent Deity). By J. W. Prings, Author of\nthe \u201cOccult Arts.\u201d Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 256pp., =3=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=A Mathematical Theory of Spirit.= By H. Stanley Redgrove, B.Sc. Author\nof \u201cAlchemy: Ancient and Modern,\u201d etc. Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt.\n=2=s. =6=d. net.\n\n\n                               BIOGRAPHY.\n\n=Stead, the Man.= Personal Reminiscences by Edith K. Harper. Demy 8vo,\nabout 260pp., with 8 full-page illustrations. =7=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=The Inferno.= By August Strindberg. Translated by Claud Field. Crown\n8vo, cloth gilt, =2=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=The Son of a Servant.= By August Strindberg. Translated by Claud\nField. With frontispiece portrait and brief Essay on the Life and\nWritings of Strindberg, by H. Vacher-Burch. Crown 8vo, 240pp., cloth\ngilt, =3=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=The Growth of a Soul.= By August Strindberg. Translated by Claud\nField. Crown 8vo, cloth, =3=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=A Psychic Autobiography.= By Amanda T. Jones, Author of \u201cUah,\u201d\n\u201cAtlantis,\u201d etc. With live Portraits and an Introduction by Prof. James\nH. Hyslop. Crown 8vo, 456pp. Price =4=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=The Life of Louis Claude de Saint-Martin=, the Unknown Philosopher,\nand the Substance of his Transcendental Doctrine. By Arthur Edward\nWaite, Demy 8vo, 464 pp., =6=s. net.\n\n\n                         HIGHER LIFE HANDBOOKS.\n\nCrown 8vo. Uniformly Bound in Handsome Dark Green Cloth. Gilt\nOrnamental Design and Lettering.\n\n=Life and Power from Within.= By W. J. 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Crown 8vo, 296pp, cloth gilt, =3=s.\n=6=d. net.\n\n  A constructive system of universal symbology applied to problems of\n  science, philosophy and religion.\n\n=The Tarot of the Bohemians.= The Most Ancient Book in the World, for\nthe Exclusive Use of Initiates. By Papus. Translated from the French\nby A. P. Morton. New Edition. Revised throughout, with Introduction\nby A. E. Waite. Cr. 8vo, cloth gilt, gilt tops, 384 pp., profusely\nillustrated, =6=s. net.\n\n=A Pack of 78 Tarot Cards.= Exquisitely Drawn and Coloured from New and\nOriginal Designs, by Pamela Coleman Smith. Price =6=s. net, in box,\npost free.\n\n=The Key to the Tarot.= Giving the History of the Tarot Cards, their\nallegorical meaning and the methods of divination for which they are\nadapted. By Arthur Edward Waite. Royal 32mo, cloth gilt, =2=s. net.\nEssential to the interpretation of the Tarot Cards. The Cards and Key\nin neat red box 8s. post free.\n\n=The Pictorial Key to the Tarot.= Being an Enlarged and Revised Edition\nof the Key to the Tarot, with seventy-eight full-page Reproductions\nof the Tarot Cards facing their descriptive matter, and considerable\nadditional matter dealing specially with the subject of Fortune-telling\nby means of the Tarot. By A. E. Waite. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, gilt\ntops, 340 pp., =5=s. net.\n\n=The Book of Ceremonial Magic.= Including the Rites and Mysteries of\nGo\u00ebtic Theurgy, Sorcery, and Infernal Necromancy. By A. E. Waite.\nCrown 4to, gilt tops, 376pp., illustrated with about 180 engravings,\nbeautifully bound in art canvas, with design in gold, price =15=s. net.\n\n=A Manual of Occultism.= A Complete Exposition of the Occult Arts and\nSciences, by \u201cSepharial,\u201d Author or \u201cA Manual of Astrology,\u201d etc., etc.\nWith numerous Diagrams, 368 pp., handsomely bound in cloth gilt, gilt\ntops, crown 8vo, =6=s. net.\n\n=The Book of Talismans, Amulets, and Zodiacal Gems.= By William T. and\nKate Pavitt. Demy 8vo, fully illustrated, =7=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=Astrology=: How to make and read your own Horoscope. By \u201cSepharial.\u201d\nNew Edition, with two additional Chapters, crown 8vo, 126pp, cloth,\n=1=s. net.\n\n=Hypnotism and Suggestion.= A Practical Handbook. By Edwin Ash, M.D.,\nB.Sc. London, M.D.C.S. New and cheaper Edition. Crown 8vo, 137pp and\nIndex, cloth, =1=s. net.\n\n=Hand Reading.= By an Adept. New Edition uniform with \u201cHypnotism &\nSuggestion\u201d with Plates. Crown 8vo, cloth, =1=s. net.\n\n=Popular Phrenology.= By J. Millott Severn. Crown 8vo, cloth, =1=s.\nnet. Illustrated.\n\n=Card-Reading.= Practical Methods of Divination by Cards, clearly\nexplained by Minetta. Crown 8vo, cloth, with four plates and diagrams.\n=1=s. net.\n\n=The Brain Book= and How to Read It. Being an Exposition of Phrenology\nin Theory and Practice. By H. C. Donovan. Fully illustrated. Crown 8vo,\n519 pp. New edition, =5=s. net.\n\n=What is Occultism?= A Critical and Philosophical Study. By Papus.\nTranslated from the French by F. Rothwell. Crown 8vo, cloth =2=s. net.\n\n=The Occult Arts.= An examination of the claims made for the existence\nand practice of super-normal powers, and an attempted justification of\nsome of them by the conclusions of the researches of modern science. By\nJ. W. Frings. Crown 8vo, 236 pp., cloth gilt, =2=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=A Manual of Cartomancy=, Fortune-telling and Occult Divination,\nincluding the Oracle of Human Destiny, Cagliostro\u2019s Mystic Alphabet of\nthe Magi, etc., etc. Fifth Edition, with new sections. Crown 8vo, cloth\n278 pp., =2=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=The Book of Destiny.= By Grand Orient, Author of \u201cA Manual of\nCartomancy.\u201d Containing The Great Oracle of the Gods. The Occult\nScience of Jewels. The Wheel of Wisdom. The Mystery and Interpretation\nof Dreams, etc., etc. Crown 8vo., cloth gilt, uniform with above, about\n280 pp., =2=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=Numbers: Their Meaning and Magic.= By Isidore Kosminsky. With\nfrontispiece portrait of Author. New and Enlarged Edition. Re-written\nthroughout. Crown 8vo., paper wrappers. =1=s. net.\n\n=Second Sight.= A Study of Natural and Induced Clairvoyance. By\n\u201cSepharial.\u201d Crown 8vo, 96pp., cloth boards, =1=s. net.\n\n=Cheiro\u2019s Language of the Hand.= A Complete Practical Work on the\nSciences of Cheirognomy and Cheiromancy, containing the System, Rules\nand Experience of Cheiro. Fifty-five Full-page Illustrations and over\n200 Engravings of Lines, Mounts and Marks. Fifteenth edition, 10\u00bcin. \u00d7\n8\u00bcin., =10=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=Alchemy: Ancient and Modern.= By H. Stanley Redgrove, B.Sc. (Lond.),\nF.C.S. With 16 full-page illustrations. Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, =4=s.\n=6=d net.\n\n=Your Fortune in your Name, or Kabalistic Astrology.= New and cheaper\nEdition. Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, =2=s. net. By \u201cSepharial.\u201d\n\n=The Kabala of Numbers.= Part I. A Handbook dealing with the\nTraditional Interpretation of Numbers and their Predictive Value. By\n\u201cSepharial,\u201d Author of \u201cA Manual of Occultism,\u201d etc., etc. 168pp.,\ncrown 8vo, cloth gilt, =2=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=Kabala of Numbers.=\u2014Part II. By \u201cSepharial.\u201d Author of \u201cThe New Manual\nof Astrology,\u201d etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, =2=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=Geomancy.= By Franz Hartmann, M.D. Large crown 8vo, about 200 pp.,\ncloth gilt, with numerous diagrams, =3=s. =6=d. net.\n\n  This book is a Revised Version of the Treatise on Geomancy, or\n  Sand-divining, by the well-known Austrian Physician and Occultist,\n  following the lines of the teaching of Cornelius Agrippa.\n\n=The History of Magic.= Including a clear and precise exposition of its\nProcesses, Rites and Mysteries. By Eliphas L\u00e9vi. Translated by Arthur\nEdward Waite. 536pp., large demy 8vo, cloth gilt, =15=s. net. Edition\nde Luxe printed on rag paper, bound in white vellum, gilt, =21=s. net.\n\n\n                   MENTAL PATHOLOGY AND THERAPEUTICS.\n\n=Hypnotism: Its History, Practice and Theory.= By J. Milne Bramwell,\nM.B., C.M. Author of \u201cHypnotism and Treatment by suggestion,\u201d etc.\nThird and Cheaper Edition. Med. 8vo, xvi. + 480pp., cloth, =12=s. =6=d.\nnet.\n\n=Psycho-Therapy: Its Doctrine and Practice.= By Elizabeth Severn, Ph.D.\nNew Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, =3=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=The Vital Balance.= A short survey of some of the more Important\nAspects of Health. By Albert Gresswell, M.A., M.D., and George\nGresswell, M.B. Crown 8vo, cloth, =2=s. net.\n\n=Health for Young and Old, Its Principles and Practice.= An\nUnconventional Manual. By A. T. Schofield, M.D., M.R.C.S., author of\n\u201cElementary Hygiene,\u201d \u201cHow to Keep Fit,\u201d etc. Crown 8vo, 272 pp., cloth\ngilt, price, =3=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=Elementary Textbook of Mental Therapeutics.= By W. J. Colville, author\nof \u201cCreative Thought,\u201d etc., with Introduction. Demy 8vo, paper covers,\n80pp, =1=s. net.\n\n=The Mastery of Death.= By A. Osborne Eaves. Author of \u201cThe Colour\nCure.\u201d Crown 8vo, cloth, =2=s. net.\n\n=The Art of Luck.= By A. Osborne Eaves. Author of \u201cThe Colour Cure,\u201d\netc. 5in. \u00d7 4\u00bein. paper covers, =1=s. net.\n\n=Psycho-Pathological Researches.= Studies in Mental Dissociation. With\nText Figures and 10 Plates. By Boris Sidis, M.A., Ph.D., Director of\nthe Psycho-Pathological Laboratory of New York. Royal 8vo, 329 pp.,\n=8=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=Abnormal Psychology.= By Isador H. Coriat, M.D., Senior Assistant\nPhysician for Diseases of the Nervous System, Boston City Hospital;\nNeurologist to the Mt. Sinai Hospital. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 340 pp.,\n=5=s. net.\n\n\n                    RIDER\u2019S MIND AND BODY HAND-BOOKS.\n\nThese Hand-books deal with the subject of mental and bodily health\nin the new light of psycho-therapeutics, mental healing and\nauto-suggestion. The following volumes are now ready:\u2014\n\n=Nature\u2019s Help to Happiness.= By John Warren Achorn, M.D. Small crown\n8vo, 55 pp., cloth gilt, =1=s. net, paper =6=d. net.\n\n=How to Rest and be Rested.= By Grace Dawson. 46pp., red paper cover,\n=6=d. net, cloth =1=s. net.\n\n=The Secret of Efficiency.= By Grace Dawson, uniform with the above,\ncloth, =1=s. net.\n\n=What is Health?= By Grace Dawson, Author of \u201cHow to Rest.\u201d Small crown\n8vo, 72pp, =1=s. net.\n\n=Nervousness.= A Brief and Popular Review of the Moral Treatment of\nDisordered Nerves. By Alfred T. Schofield, M.D., M.R.C.S. Small crown\n8vo, cloth gilt, 88pp., =1=s. net.\n\n=The Power of Self-Suggestion.= By Rev. Samuel McComb, D.D. Small crown\n8vo, 72 pp., cloth gilt, =1=s. net.\n\n=How to Keep Fit.= An Unconventional Manual. By Alfred T. Schofield,\nM.D., M.R.C.S., Author of \u201cNervousness,\u201d etc., etc. Small crown 8vo,\ncloth gilt, 80pp., =1=s. net.\n\n=From Passion to Peace=; or, The Pathway of the Pure. By James Allen,\nAuthor of \u201cThe Mastery of Destiny,\u201d \u201cFrom Poverty to Power,\u201d \u201cAs a Man\nThinketh,\u201d etc., etc. Small crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 72 pp., =1=s. net.\n\n=Studies in Self-Healing=; or, Cure by Meditation. A practical\napplication of the principles of the true mystic healing of the ages.\nBy Ernest E. Munday. Small crown 8vo, 79 pp., cloth gilt, =1=s. net.\n\n=The Influence of the Mind on the Body.= By Dr. Paul Dubois, Professor\nof Neuro-Pathology in the University of Berne, Author of \u201cThe Psychic\nTreatment of Nervous Disorders,\u201d \u201cSelf-Control, and How to Secure It,\u201d\netc. Translated from the Fifth French Edition by L. B. Gallatin. Small\ncrown 8vo, 64 pp., cloth gilt, =1=s. net.\n\n=Man, King of Mind, Body and Circumstance.= By James Allen, Author of\n\u201cAs a Man Thinketh,\u201d etc., etc. Small crown 8vo, 70 pp., cloth gilt,\n=1=s. net.\n\n\n                                THEOLOGY.\n\n=The Unescapable Christ, and Other Sermons.= An Expression of the New\nTheology. By Rev. Edward W. Lewis, M.A., B.D. Crown 8vo, cloth, =3=s.\n=6=d. net.\n\n=Some Better Thing for Us.= By A. S. L. Second Impression. Demy 12mo,\ncloth gilt, =3=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=God the Beautiful.= An Artist\u2019s Creed; and The Religion of Beauty\nContrasted with Buddhism. By E.P.B. Second Edition (translated into\nJapanese and German). Foolscap 8vo, =2=s. =6=d. net.\n\n=Transformed Hinduism.= By the Author of \u201cGod the Beautiful.\u201d 2 vols,\nf\u2019cap 8vo, =5=s. net.\n\n=Where is Heaven?= Musings on the Life Eternal. By Emil P. 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