Tales of Terror and Mystery ..............................................................................................................................1

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle ...........................................................................................................................1

The idea that the extraordinary narrative which has been called the JoyceArmstrong Fragment is an

elaborate practical joke evolved by some unknown person, cursed by a perverted and sinister sense of

humour, has now been abandoned by all who have examined the matter. The most macabre and imaginative

of plotters would hesitate before linking his morbid fancies with the unquestioned and tragic facts which

reinforce the statement. Though the assertions contained in it are amazing and even monstrous, it is none the

less forcing itself upon the general intelligence that they are true, and that we must readjust our ideas to the

new situation. This world of ours appears to be separated by a slight and precarious margin of safety from a

most singular and unexpected danger. I will endeavour in this narrative, which reproduces the original

document in its necessarily somewhat fragmentary form, to lay before the reader the whole of the facts up to

date, prefacing my statement by saying that, if there be any who doubt the narrative of JoyceArmstrong,

there can be no question at all as to the facts concerning Lieutenant Myrtle, R. N., and Mr. Hay Connor, who

The JoyceArmstrong Fragment was found in the field which is called Lower Haycock, lying one mile to the

westward of the village of Withyham, upon the Kent and Sussex border. It was on the 15th September last

that an agricultural labourer, James Flynn, in the employment of Mathew Dodd, farmer, of the Chauntry

Farm, Withyham, perceived a briar pipe lying near the footpath which skirts the hedge in Lower Haycock. A

few paces farther on he picked up a pair of broken binocular glasses. Finally, among some nettles in the ditch,

he caught sight of a flat, canvasbacked book, which proved to be a notebook with detachable leaves, some

of which had come loose and were fluttering along the base of the hedge. These he collected, but some,

including the first, were never recovered, and leave a deplorable hiatus in this allimportant statement. The

notebook was taken by the labourer to his master, who in turn showed it to Dr. J. H. Atherton, of Hartfield.

This gentleman at once recognized the need for an expert examination, and the manuscript was forwarded to

The first two pages of the manuscript are missing. There is also one torn away at the end of the narrative,

though none of these affect the general coherence of the story. It is conjectured that the missing opening is

concerned with the record of Mr. JoyceArmstrong' s qualifications as an aeronaut, which can be gathered

from other sources and are admitted to be unsurpassed among the airpilots of England. For many years he

has been looked upon as among the most daring and the most intellectual of flying men, a combination which

has enabled him to both invent and test several new devices, including the common gyroscopic attachment

which is known by his name. The main body of the manuscript is written neatly in ink, but the last few lines

are in pencil and are so ragged as to be hardly legibleexactly, in fact, as they might be expected to appear

if they were scribbled off hurriedly from the seat of a moving aeroplane. There are, it may be added, several

stains, both on the last page and on the outside cover which have been pronounced by the Home Office

experts to be bloodprobably human and certainly mammalian. The fact that something closely resembling

the organism of malaria was discovered in this blood, and that JoyceArmstrong is known to have suffered

from intermittent fever, is a remarkable example of the new weapons which modern science has placed in the

And now a word as to the personality of the author of this epochmaking statement. JoyceArmstrong,

according to the few friends who really knew something of the man, was a poet and a dreamer, as well as a

mechanic and an inventor. He was a man of considerable wealth, much of which he had spent in the pursuit

of his aeronautical hobby. He had four private aeroplanes in his hangars near Devizes, and is said to have

made no fewer than one hundred and seventy ascents in the course of last year. He was a retiring man with

dark moods, in which he would avoid the society of his fellows. Captain Dangerfield, who knew him better

than anyone, says that there were times when his eccentricity threatened to develop into something more

serious. His habit of carrying a shotgun with him in his aeroplane was one manifestation of it.

Another was the morbid effect which the fall of Lieutenant Myrtle had upon his mind. Myrtle, who was

attempting the height record, fell from an altitude of something over thirty thousand feet. Horrible to narrate,

his head was entirely obliterated, though his body and limbs preserved their configuration. At every gathering

of airmen, JoyceArmstrong, according to Dangerfield, would ask, with an enigmatic smile: "And where,

On another occasion after dinner, at the mess of the Flying School on Salisbury Plain, he started a debate as

to what will be the most permanent danger which airmen will have to encounter. Having listened to

successive opinions as to airpockets, faulty construction, and overbanking, he ended by shrugging his

shoulders and refusing to put forward his own views, though he gave the impression that they differed from

It is worth remarking that after his own complete disappearance it was found that his private affairs were

arranged with a precision which may show that he had a strong premonition of disaster. With these essential

explanations I will now give the narrative exactly as it stands, beginning at page three of the bloodsoaked

"Nevertheless, when I dined at Rheims with Coselli and Gustav Raymond I found that neither of them was

aware of any particular danger in the higher layers of the atmosphere. I did not actually say what was in my

thoughts, but I got so near to it that if they had any corresponding idea they could not have failed to express

it. But then they are two empty, vainglorious fellows with no thought beyond seeing their silly names in the

newspaper. It is interesting to note that neither of them had ever been much beyond the

twentythousandfoot level. Of course, men have been higher than this both in balloons and in the ascent of

mountains. It must be well above that point that the aeroplane enters the danger zonealways presuming

"Aeroplaning has been with us now for more than twenty years, and one might well ask: Why should this

peril be only revealing itself in our day? The answer is obvious. In the old days of weak engines, when a

hundred horsepower Gnome or Green was considered ample for every need, the flights were very restricted.

Now that three hundred horsepower is the rule rather than the exception, visits to the upper layers have

become easier and more common. Some of us can remember how, in our youth, Garros made a worldwide

reputation by attaining nineteen thousand feet, and it was considered a remarkable achievement to fly over

the Alps. Our standard now has been immeasurably raised, and there are twenty high flights for one in former

years. Many of them have been undertaken with impunity. The thirtythousandfoot level has been reached

time after time with no discomfort beyond cold and asthma. What does this prove? A visitor might descend

upon this planet a thousand times and never see a tiger. Yet tigers exist, and if he chanced to come down into

a jungle he might be devoured. There are jungles of the upper air, and there are worse things than tigers

which inhabit them. I believe in time they will map these jungles accurately out. Even at the present moment

I could name two of them. One of them lies over the PauBiarritz district of France. Another is just over my

head as I write here in my house in Wiltshire. I rather think there is a third in the HomburgWiesbaden district.

"It was the disappearance of the airmen that first set me thinking. Of course, everyone said that they had

fallen into the sea, but that did not satisfy me at all. First, there was Verrier in France; his machine was found

near Bayonne, but they never got his body. There was the case of Baxter also, who vanished, though his

engine and some of the iron fixings were found in a wood in Leicestershire. In that case, Dr. Middleton, of

Amesbury, who was watching the flight with a telescope, declares that just before the clouds obscured the

view he saw the machine, which was at an enormous height, suddenly rise perpendicularly upwards in a

succession of jerks in a manner that he would have thought to be impossible. That was the last seen of Baxter.

There was a correspondence in the papers, but it never led to anything. There were several other similar

cases, and then there was the death of Hay Connor. What a cackle there was about an unsolved mystery of the

air, and what columns in the halfpenny papers, and yet how little was ever done to get to the bottom of the

business! He came down in a tremendous volplane from an unknown height. He never got off his machine

and died in his pilot's seat. Died of what? `Heart disease,' said the doctors. Rubbish! Hay Connor's heart was

as sound as mine is. What did Venables say? Venables was the only man who was at his side when he died.

He said that he was shivering and looked like a man who had been badly scared. `Died of fright,' said

Venables, but could not imagine what he was frightened about. Only said one word to Venables, which

sounded like `Monstrous.' They could make nothing of that at the inquest. But I could make something of it.

Monsters! That was the last word of poor Harry Hay Connor. And he DID die of fright, just as Venables

"And then there was Myrtle's head. Do you really believedoes anybody really believethat a man's head

could be driven clean into his body by the force of a fall? Well, perhaps it may be possible, but I, for one,

have never believed that it was so with Myrtle. And the grease upon his clothes`all slimy with grease,' said

somebody at the inquest. Queer that nobody got thinking after that! I didbut, then, I had been thinking for a

good long time. I've made three ascentshow Dangerfield used to chaff me about my shotgunbut I've

never been high enough. Now, with this new, light Paul Veroner machine and its one hundred and

seventyfive Robur, I should easily touch the thirty thousand tomorrow. I'll have a shot at the record. Maybe

I shall have a shot at something else as well. Of course, it's dangerous. If a fellow wants to avoid danger he

had best keep out of flying altogether and subside finally into flannel slippers and a dressinggown. But I'll

visit the airjungle tomorrowand if there's anything there I shall know it. If I return, I'll find myself a bit of

a celebrity. If I don't this notebook may explain what I am trying to do, and how I lost my life in doing it.

"I chose my Paul Veroner monoplane for the job. There's nothing like a monoplane when real work is to be

done. Beaumont found that out in very early days. For one thing it doesn't mind damp, and the weather looks

as if we should be in the clouds all the time. It's a bonny little model and answers my hand like a

tendermouthed horse. The engine is a tencylinder rotary Robur working up to one hundred and

seventyfive. It has all the modern improvementsenclosed fuselage, highcurved landing skids, brakes,

gyroscopic steadiers, and three speeds, worked by an alteration of the angle of the planes upon the

Venetianblind principle. I took a shotgun with me and a dozen cartridges filled with buckshot. You

should have seen the face of Perkins, my old mechanic, when I directed him to put them in. I was dressed like

an Arctic explorer, with two jerseys under my overalls, thick socks inside my padded boots, a stormcap with

flaps, and my talc goggles. It was stifling outside the hangars, but I was going for the summit of the

Himalayas, and had to dress for the part. Perkins knew there was something on and implored me to take him

with me. Perhaps I should if I were using the biplane, but a monoplane is a oneman showif you want to

get the last foot of life out of it. Of course, I took an oxygen bag; the man who goes for the altitude record

"I had a good look at the planes, the rudderbar, and the elevating lever before I got in. Everything was in

order so far as I could see. Then I switched on my engine and found that she was running sweetly. When they

let her go she rose almost at once upon the lowest speed. I circled my home field once or twice just to warm

her up, and then with a wave to Perkins and the others, I flattened out my planes and put her on her highest.

She skimmed like a swallow down wind for eight or ten miles until I turned her nose up a little and she began

to climb in a great spiral for the cloudbank above me. It's allimportant to rise slowly and adapt yourself to

"It was a close, warm day for an English September, and there was the hush and heaviness of impending rain.

Now and then there came sudden puffs of wind from the southwestone of them so gusty and unexpected

that it caught me napping and turned me halfround for an instant. I remember the time when gusts and

whirls and airpockets used to be things of dangerbefore we learned to put an overmastering power into our

engines. Just as I reached the cloudbanks, with the altimeter marking three thousand, down came the rain.

My word, how it poured! It drummed upon my wings and lashed against my face, blurring my glasses so that

I could hardly see. I got down on to a low speed, for it was painful to travel against it. As I got higher it

became hail, and I had to turn tail to it. One of my cylinders was out of actiona dirty plug, I should

imagine, but still I was rising steadily with plenty of power. After a bit the trouble passed, whatever it was,

and I heard the full, deepthroated purrthe ten singing as one. That's where the beauty of our modern

silencers comes in. We can at last control our engines by ear. How they squeal and squeak and sob when they

are in trouble! All those cries for help were wasted in the old days, when every sound was swallowed up by

the monstrous racket of the machine. If only the early aviators could come back to see the beauty and

"About ninethirty I was nearing the clouds. Down below me, all blurred and shadowed with rain, lay the

vast expanse of Salisbury Plain. Half a dozen flying machines were doing hackwork at the thousandfoot

level, looking like little black swallows against the green background. I dare say they were wondering what I

was doing up in cloudland. Suddenly a grey curtain drew across beneath me and the wet folds of vapours

were swirling round my face. It was clammily cold and miserable. But I was above the hailstorm, and that

was something gained. The cloud was as dark and thick as a London fog. In my anxiety to get clear, I cocked

her nose up until the automatic alarmbell rang, and I actually began to slide backwards. My sopped and

dripping wings had made me heavier than I thought, but presently I was in lighter cloud, and soon had cleared

the first layer. There was a secondopalcoloured and fleecyat a great height above my head, a white,

unbroken ceiling above, and a dark, unbroken floor below, with the monoplane labouring upwards upon a

vast spiral between them. It is deadly lonely in these cloudspaces. Once a great flight of some small

waterbirds went past me, flying very fast to the westwards. The quick whir of their wings and their musical

cry were cheery to my ear. I fancy that they were teal, but I am a wretched zoologist. Now that we humans

"The wind down beneath me whirled and swayed the broad cloudpain. Once a great eddy formed in it, a

whirlpool of vapour, and through it, as down a funnel, I caught sight of the distant world. A large white

biplane was passing at a vast depth beneath me. I fancy it was the morning mail service betwixt Bristol and

London. Then the drift swirled inwards again and the great solitude was unbroken.

"Just after ten I touched the lower edge of the upper cloudstratum. It consisted of fine diaphanous vapour

drifting swiftly from the westwards. The wind had been steadily rising all this time and it was now blowing a

sharp breezetwentyeight an hour by my gauge. Already it was very cold, though my altimeter only

marked nine thousand. The engines were working beautifully, and we went droning steadily upwards. The

cloudbank was thicker than I had expected, but at last it thinned out into a golden mist before me, and then

in an instant I had shot out from it, and there was an unclouded sky and a brilliant sun above my headall

blue and gold above, all shining silver below, one vast, glimmering plain as far as my eyes could reach. It

was a quarter past ten o'clock, and the barograph needle pointed to twelve thousand eight hundred. Up I went

and up, my ears concentrated upon the deep purring of my motor, my eyes busy always with the watch, the

revolution indicator, the petrol lever, and the oil pump. No wonder aviators are said to be a fearless race.

With so many things to think of there is no time to trouble about oneself. About this time I noted how

unreliable is the compass when above a certain height from earth. At fifteen thousand feet mine was pointing

"I had hoped to reach an eternal stillness in these high altitudes, but with every thousand feet of ascent the

gale grew stronger. My machine groaned and trembled in every joint and rivet as she faced it, and swept

away like a sheet of paper when I banked her on the turn, skimming down wind at a greater pace, perhaps,

than ever mortal man has moved. Yet I had always to turn again and tack up in the wind's eye, for it was not

merely a height record that I was after. By all my calculations it was above little Wiltshire that my airjungle

lay, and all my labour might be lost if I struck the outer layers at some farther point.

"When I reached the nineteenthousandfoot level, which was about midday, the wind was so severe that I

looked with some anxiety to the stays of my wings, expecting momentarily to see them snap or slacken. I

even cast loose the parachute behind me, and fastened its hook into the ring of my leathern belt, so as to be

ready for the worst. Now was the time when a bit of scamped work by the mechanic is paid for by the life of

the aeronaut. But she held together bravely. Every cord and strut was humming and vibrating like so many

harpstrings, but it was glorious to see how, for all the beating and the buffeting, she was still the conqueror

of Nature and the mistress of the sky. There is surely something divine in man himself that he should rise so

superior to the limitations which Creation seemed to imposerise, too, by such unselfish, heroic devotion as

this airconquest has shown. Talk of human degeneration! When has such a story as this been written in the

"These were the thoughts in my head as I climbed that monstrous, inclined plane with the wind sometimes

beating in my face and sometimes whistling behind my ears, while the cloudland beneath me fell away to

such a distance that the folds and hummocks of silver had all smoothed out into one flat, shining plain. But

suddenly I had a horrible and unprecedented experience. I have known before what it is to be in what our

neighbours have called a tourbillon, but never on such a scale as this. That huge, sweeping river of wind of

which I have spoken had, as it appears, whirlpools within it which were as monstrous as itself. Without a

moment's warning I was dragged suddenly into the heart of one. I spun round for a minute or two with such

velocity that I almost lost my senses, and then fell suddenly, left wing foremost, down the vacuum funnel in

the centre. I dropped like a stone, and lost nearly a thousand feet. It was only my belt that kept me in my seat,

and the shock and breathlessness left me hanging halfinsensible over the side of the fuselage. But I am always

capable of a supreme effortit is my one great merit as an aviator. I was conscious that the descent was

slower. The whirlpool was a cone rather than a funnel, and I had come to the apex. With a terrific wrench,

throwing my weight all to one side, I levelled my planes and brought her head away from the wind. In an

instant I had shot out of the eddies and was skimming down the sky. Then, shaken but victorious, I turned her

nose up and began once more my steady grind on the upward spiral. I took a large sweep to avoid the

dangerspot of the whirlpool, and soon I was safely above it. Just after one o'clock I was twentyone

thousand feet above the sealevel. To my great joy I had topped the gale, and with every hundred feet of

ascent the air grew stiller. On the other hand, it was very cold, and I was conscious of that peculiar nausea

which goes with rarefaction of the air. For the first time I unscrewed the mouth of my oxygen bag and took

an occasional whiff of the glorious gas. I could feel it running like a cordial through my veins, and I was

exhilarated almost to the point of drunkenness. I shouted and sang as I soared upwards into the cold, still

"It is very clear to me that the insensibility which came upon Glaisher, and in a lesser degree upon Coxwell,

when, in 1862, they ascended in a balloon to the height of thirty thousand feet, was due to the extreme speed

with which a perpendicular ascent is made. Doing it at an easy gradient and accustoming oneself to the

lessened barometric pressure by slow degrees, there are no such dreadful symptoms. At the same great height

I found that even without my oxygen inhaler I could breathe without undue distress. It was bitterly cold,

however, and my thermometer was at zero, Fahrenheit. At onethirty I was nearly seven miles above the

surface of the earth, and still ascending steadily. I found, however, that the rarefied air was giving markedly

less support to my planes, and that my angle of ascent had to be considerably lowered in consequence. It was

already clear that even with my light weight and strong enginepower there was a point in front of me where

I should be held. To make matters worse, one of my sparkingplugs was in trouble again and there was

intermittent misfiring in the engine. My heart was heavy with the fear of failure.

"It was about that time that I had a most extraordinary experience. Something whizzed past me in a trail of

smoke and exploded with a loud, hissing sound, sending forth a cloud of steam. For the instant I could not

imagine what had happened. Then I remembered that the earth is for ever being bombarded by meteor stones,

and would be hardly inhabitable were they not in nearly every case turned to vapour in the outer layers of the

atmosphere. Here is a new danger for the highaltitude man, for two others passed me when I was nearing

the fortythousandfoot mark. I cannot doubt that at the edge of the earth's envelope the risk would be a very

"My barograph needle marked fortyone thousand three hundred when I became aware that I could go no

farther. Physically, the strain was not as yet greater than I could bear but my machine had reached its limit.

The attenuated air gave no firm support to the wings, and the least tilt developed into sideslip, while she

seemed sluggish on her controls. Possibly, had the engine been at its best, another thousand feet might have

been within our capacity, but it was still misfiring, and two out of the ten cylinders appeared to be out of

action. If I had not already reached the zone for which I was searching then I should never see it upon this

journey. But was it not possible that I had attained it? Soaring in circles like a monstrous hawk upon the

fortythousand foot level I let the monoplane guide herself, and with my Mannheim glass I made a careful

observation of my surroundings. The heavens were perfectly clear; there was no indication of those dangers

"I have said that I was soaring in circles. It struck me suddenly that I would do well to take a wider sweep and

open up a new airtract. If the hunter entered an earthjungle he would drive through it if he wished to find his

game. My reasoning had led me to believe that the airjungle which I had imagined lay somewhere over

Wiltshire. This should be to the south and west of me. I took my bearings from the sun, for the compass was

hopeless and no trace of earth was to be seennothing but the distant, silver cloudplain. However, I got my

direction as best I might and kept her head straight to the mark. I reckoned that my petrol supply would not

last for more than another hour or so, but I could afford to use it to the last drop, since a single magnificent

"Suddenly I was aware of something new. The air in front of me had lost its crystal clearness. It was full of

long, ragged wisps of something which I can only compare to very fine cigarette smoke. It hung about in

wreaths and coils, turning and twisting slowly in the sunlight. As the monoplane shot through it, I was aware

of a faint taste of oil upon my lips, and there was a greasy scum upon the woodwork of the machine. Some

infinitely fine organic matter appeared to be suspended in the atmosphere. There was no life there. It was

inchoate and diffuse, extending for many square acres and then fringing off into the void. No, it was not life.

But might it not be the remains of life? Above all, might it not be the food of life, of monstrous life, even as

the humble grease of the ocean is the food for the mighty whale? The thought was in my mind when my eyes

looked upwards and I saw the most wonderful vision that ever man has seen. Can I hope to convey it to you

"Conceive a jellyfish such as sails in our summer seas, bellshaped and of enormous sizefar larger, I

should judge, than the dome of St. Paul's. It was of a light pink colour veined with a delicate green, but the

whole huge fabric so tenuous that it was but a fairy outline against the dark blue sky. It pulsated with a

delicate and regular rhythm. From it there depended two long, drooping, green tentacles, which swayed

slowly backwards and forwards. This gorgeous vision passed gently with noiseless dignity over my head, as

"I had halfturned my monoplane, that I might look after this beautiful creature, when, in a moment, I found

myself amidst a perfect fleet of them, of all sizes, but none so large as the first. Some were quite small, but

the majority about as big as an average balloon, and with much the same curvature at the top. There was in

them a delicacy of texture and colouring which reminded me of the finest Venetian glass. Pale shades of pink

and green were the prevailing tints, but all had a lovely iridescence where the sun shimmered through their

dainty forms. Some hundreds of them drifted past me, a wonderful fairy squadron of strange unknown

argosies of the skycreatures whose forms and substance were so attuned to these pure heights that one

"But soon my attention was drawn to a new phenomenonthe serpents of the outer air. These were long,

thin, fantastic coils of vapourlike material, which turned and twisted with great speed, flying round and

round at such a pace that the eyes could hardly follow them. Some of these ghostlike creatures were twenty

or thirty feet long, but it was difficult to tell their girth, for their outline was so hazy that it seemed to fade

away into the air around them. These airsnakes were of a very light grey or smoke colour, with some darker

lines within, which gave the impression of a definite organism. One of them whisked past my very face, and I

was conscious of a cold, clammy contact, but their composition was so unsubstantial that I could not connect

them with any thought of physical danger, any more than the beautiful belllike creatures which had

preceded them. There was no more solidity in their frames than in the floating spume from a broken wave.

"But a more terrible experience was in store for me. Floating downwards from a great height there came a

purplish patch of vapour, small as I saw it first, but rapidly enlarging as it approached me, until it appeared to

be hundreds of square feet in size. Though fashioned of some transparent, jellylike substance, it was none

the less of much more definite outline and solid consistence than anything which I had seen before. There

were more traces, too, of a physical organization, especially two vast, shadowy, circular plates upon either

side, which may have been eyes, and a perfectly solid white projection between them which was as curved

"The whole aspect of this monster was formidable and threatening, and it kept changing its colour from a

very light mauve to a dark, angry purple so thick that it cast a shadow as it drifted between my monoplane

and the sun. On the upper curve of its huge body there were three great projections which I can only describe

as enormous bubbles, and I was convinced as I looked at them that they were charged with some extremely

light gas which served to buoy up the misshapen and semisolid mass in the rarefied air. The creature moved

swiftly along, keeping pace easily with the monoplane, and for twenty miles or more it formed my horrible

escort, hovering over me like a bird of prey which is waiting to pounce. Its method of progressiondone so

swiftly that it was not easy to followwas to throw out a long, glutinous streamer in front of it, which in turn

seemed to draw forward the rest of the writhing body. So elastic and gelatinous was it that never for two

successive minutes was it the same shape, and yet each change made it more threatening and loathsome than

"I knew that it meant mischief. Every purple flush of its hideous body told me so. The vague, goggling eyes

which were turned always upon me were cold and merciless in their viscid hatred. I dipped the nose of my

monoplane downwards to escape it. As I did so, as quick as a flash there shot out a long tentacle from this

mass of floating blubber, and it fell as light and sinuous as a whiplash across the front of my machine. There

was a loud hiss as it lay for a moment across the hot engine, and it whisked itself into the air again, while the

huge, flat body drew itself together as if in sudden pain. I dipped to a volpique, but again a tentacle fell over

the monoplane and was shorn off by the propeller as easily as it might have cut through a smoke wreath. A

long, gliding, sticky, serpentlike coil came from behind and caught me round the waist, dragging me out of

the fuselage. I tore at it, my fingers sinking into the smooth, gluelike surface, and for an instant I disengaged

myself, but only to be caught round the boot by another coil, which gave me a jerk that tilted me almost on to

"As I fell over I blazed off both barrels of my gun, though, indeed, it was like attacking an elephant with a

peashooter to imagine that any human weapon could cripple that mighty bulk. And yet I aimed better than I

knew, for, with a loud report, one of the great blisters upon the creature's back exploded with the puncture of

the buckshot. It was very clear that my conjecture was right, and that these vast, clear bladders were

distended with some lifting gas, for in an instant the huge, cloudlike body turned sideways, writhing

desperately to find its balance, while the white beak snapped and gaped in horrible fury. But already I had

shot away on the steepest glide that I dared to attempt, my engine still full on, the flying propeller and the

force of gravity shooting me downwards like an aerolite. Far behind me I saw a dull, purplish smudge

growing swiftly smaller and merging into the blue sky behind it. I was safe out of the deadly jungle of the

"Once out of danger I throttled my engine, for nothing tears a machine to pieces quicker than running on full

power from a height. It was a glorious, spiral volplane from nearly eight miles of altitudefirst, to the level

of the silver cloudbank, then to that of the stormcloud beneath it, and finally, in beating rain, to the surface

of the earth. I saw the Bristol Channel beneath me as I broke from the clouds, but, having still some petrol in

my tank, I got twenty miles inland before I found myself stranded in a field half a mile from the village of

Ashcombe. There I got three tins of petrol from a passing motorcar, and at ten minutes past six that evening

I alighted gently in my own home meadow at Devizes, after such a journey as no mortal upon earth has ever

yet taken and lived to tell the tale. I have seen the beauty and I have seen the horror of the heightsand

"And now it is my plan to go once again before I give my results to the world. My reason for this is that I

must surely have something to show by way of proof before I lay such a tale before my fellowmen. It is true

that others will soon follow and will confirm what I have said, and yet I should wish to carry conviction from

the first. Those lovely iridescent bubbles of the air should not be hard to capture. They drift slowly upon their

way, and the swift monoplane could intercept their leisurely course. It is likely enough that they would

dissolve in the heavier layers of the atmosphere, and that some small heap of amorphous jelly might be all

that I should bring to earth with me. And yet something there would surely be by which I could substantiate

my story. Yes, I will go, even if I run a risk by doing so. These purple horrors would not seem to be

numerous. It is probable that I shall not see one. If I do I shall dive at once. At the worst there is always the

Here a page of the manuscript is unfortunately missing. On the next page is written, in large, straggling

"Fortythree thousand feet. I shall never see earth again. They are beneath me, three of them. God help me; it

Such in its entirety is the JoyceArmstrong Statement. Of the man nothing has since been seen. Pieces of his

shattered monoplane have been picked up in the preserves of Mr. BuddLushington upon the borders of Kent

and Sussex, within a few miles of the spot where the notebook was discovered. If the unfortunate aviator's

theory is correct that this airjungle, as he called it, existed only over the southwest of England, then it

would seem that he had fled from it at the full speed of his monoplane, but had been overtaken and devoured

by these horrible creatures at some spot in the outer atmosphere above the place where the grim relics were

found. The picture of that monoplane skimming down the sky, with the nameless terrors flying as swiftly

beneath it and cutting it off always from the earth while they gradually closed in upon their victim, is one

upon which a man who valued his sanity would prefer not to dwell. There are many, as I am aware, who still

jeer at the facts which I have here set down, but even they must admit that JoyceArmstrong has disappeared,

and I would commend to them his own words: "This notebook may explain what I am trying to do, and how

I lost my life in doing it. But no drivel about accidents or mysteries, if YOU please."

My friend, Lionel Dacre, lived in the Avenue de Wagram, Paris. His house was that small one, with the iron

railings and grass plot in front of it, on the lefthand side as you pass down from the Arc de Triomphe. I

fancy that it had been there long before the avenue was constructed, for the grey tiles were stained with

lichens, and the walls were mildewed and discoloured with age. It looked a small house from the street, five

windows in front, if I remember right, but it deepened into a single long chamber at the back. It was here that

Dacre had that singular library of occult literature, and the fantastic curiosities which served as a hobby for

himself, and an amusement for his friends. A wealthy man of refined and eccentric tastes, he had spent much

of his life and fortune in gathering together what was said to be a unique private collection of Talmudic,

cabalistic, and magical works, many of them of great rarity and value. His tastes leaned toward the

marvellous and the monstrous, and I have heard that his experiments in the direction of the unknown have

passed all the bounds of civilization and of decorum. To his English friends he never alluded to such matters,

and took the tone of the student and virtuoso; but a Frenchman whose tastes were of the same nature has

assured me that the worst excesses of the black mass have been perpetrated in that large and lofty hall, which

Dacre's appearance was enough to show that his deep interest in these psychic matters was intellectual rather

than spiritual. There was no trace of asceticism upon his heavy face, but there was much mental force in his

huge, domelike skull, which curved upward from amongst his thinning locks, like a snowpeak above its

fringe of fir trees. His knowledge was greater than his wisdom, and his powers were far superior to his

character. The small bright eyes, buried deeply in his fleshy face, twinkled with intelligence and an unabated

curiosity of life, but they were the eyes of a sensualist and an egotist. Enough of the man, for he is dead now,

poor devil, dead at the very time that he had made sure that he had at last discovered the elixir of life. It is not

with his complex character that I have to deal, but with the very strange and inexplicable incident which had

I had known Dacre in England, for my researches in the Assyrian Room of the British Museum had been

conducted at the time when he was endeavouring to establish a mystic and esoteric meaning in the

Babylonian tablets, and this community of interests had brought us together. Chance remarks had led to daily

conversation, and that to something verging upon friendship. I had promised him that on my next visit to

Paris I would call upon him. At the time when I was able to fulfil my compact I was living in a cottage at

Fontainebleau, and as the evening trains were inconvenient, he asked me to spend the night in his house.

"I have only that one spare couch," said he, pointing to a broad sofa in his large salon; "I hope that you will

It was a singular bedroom, with its high walls of brown volumes, but there could be no more agreeable

furniture to a bookworm like myself, and there is no scent so pleasant to my nostrils as that faint, subtle reek

which comes from an ancient book. I assured him that I could desire no more charming chamber, and no

"If the fittings are neither convenient nor conventional, they are at least costly," said he, looking round at his

shelves. "I have expended nearly a quarter of a million of money upon these objects which surround you.

Books, weapons, gems, carvings, tapestries, imagesthere is hardly a thing here which has not its history,

He was seated as he spoke at one side of the open fireplace, and I at the other. His readingtable was on his

right, and the strong lamp above it ringed it with a very vivid circle of golden light. A halfrolled palimpsest

lay in the centre, and around it were many quaint articles of bricabrac. One of these was a large funnel,

such as is used for filling wine casks. It appeared to be made of black wood, and to be rimmed with

"Ah!" said he, "it is the very question which I have had occasion to ask myself. I would give a good deal to

I did so, and found that what I had imagined to be wood was in reality leather, though age had dried it into an

extreme hardness. It was a large funnel, and might hold a quart when full. The brass rim encircled the wide

"I should imagine that it belonged to some vintner or maltster in the Middle Ages," said I. "I have seen in

England leathern drinking flagons of the seventeenth century'black jacks' as they were calledwhich were

"I dare say the date would be about the same," said Dacre, "and, no doubt, also, it was used for filling a vessel

with liquid. If my suspicions are correct, however, it was a queer vintner who used it, and a very singular

cask which was filled. Do you observe nothing strange at the spout end of the funnel."

As I held it to the light I observed that at a spot some five inches above the brass tip the narrow neck of the

leather funnel was all haggled and scored, as if someone had notched it round with a blunt knife. Only at that

"It is torn and lacerated. It must have taken some strength to leave these marks on such tough material,

whatever the instrument may have been. But what do you think of it? I can tell that you know more than you

"Have you included the psychology of dreams among your learned studies?" he asked.

"My dear sir, that shelf above the gem case is filled with volumes, from Albertus Magnus onward, which deal

"The charlatan is always the pioneer. From the astrologer came the astronomer, from the alchemist the

chemist, from the mesmerist the experimental psychologist. The quack of yesterday is the professor of

tomorrow. Even such subtle and elusive things as dreams will in time be reduced to system and order. When

that time comes the researches of our friends on the bookshelf yonder will no longer be the amusement of the

"Supposing that is so, what has the science of dreams to do with a large, black, brassrimmed funnel?"

"I will tell you. You know that I have an agent who is always on the lookout for rarities and curiosities for

my collection. Some days ago he heard of a dealer upon one of the Quais who had acquired some old rubbish

found in a cupboard in an ancient house at the back of the Rue Mathurin, in the Quartier Latin. The

diningroom of this old house is decorated with a coat of arms, chevrons, and bars rouge upon a field argent,

which prove, upon inquiry, to be the shield of Nicholas de la Reynie, a high official of King Louis XIV.

There can be no doubt that the other articles in the cupboard date back to the early days of that king. The

inference is, therefore, that they were all the property of this Nicholas de la Reynie, who was, as I understand,

the gentleman specially concerned with the maintenance and execution of the Draconic laws of that epoch."

"I would ask you now to take the funnel into your hands once more and to examine the upper brass rim. Can

There were certainly some scratches upon it, almost obliterated by time. The general effect was of several

"Exactly! That's the beauty of it. He owned this curious object, and yet he had someone else's initials upon it.

"Well, I might, perhaps, guess. Do you observe something drawn a little farther along the rim?"

"It is undoubtedly a crown; but if you examine it in a good light, you will convince yourself that it is not an

ordinary crown. It is a heraldic crowna badge of rank, and it consists of an alternation of four pearls and

strawberry leaves, the proper badge of a marquis. We may infer, therefore, that the person whose initials end

"Or to some member of the family of a marquis," said he. "So much we have clearly gathered from this

"But what has all this to do with dreams?" I do not know whether it was from a look upon Dacre's face, or

from some subtle suggestion in his manner, but a feeling of repulsion, of unreasoning horror, came upon me

"I have more than once received important information through my dreams," said my companion in the

didactic manner which he loved to affect. "I make it a rule now when I am in doubt upon any material point

to place the article in question beside me as I sleep, and to hope for some enlightenment. The process does

not appear to me to be very obscure, though it has not yet received the blessing of orthodox science.

According to my theory, any object which has been intimately associated with any supreme paroxysm of

human emotion, whether it be joy or pain, will retain a certain atmosphere or association which it is capable

of communicating to a sensitive mind. By a sensitive mind I do not mean an abnormal one, but such a trained

"You mean, for example, that if I slept beside that old sword upon the wall, I might dream of some bloody

"An excellent example, for, as a matter of fact, that sword was used in that fashion by me, and I saw in my

sleep the death of its owner, who perished in a brisk skirmish, which I have been unable to identify, but

which occurred at the time of the wars of the Frondists. If you think of it, some of our popular observances

show that the fact has already been recognized by our ancestors, although we, in our wisdom, have classed it

"Well, the placing of the bride's cake beneath the pillow in order that the sleeper may have pleasant dreams.

That is one of several instances which you will find set forth in a small brochure which I am myself writing

upon the subject. But to come back to the point, I slept one night with this funnel beside me, and I had a

"I dreamed" He paused, and an intent look of interest came over his massive face. "By Jove, that's well

thought of," said he. "This really will be an exceedingly interesting experiment. You are yourself a psychic

"Then we shall test you tonight. Might I ask you as a very great favour, when you occupy that couch tonight,

The request seemed to me a grotesque one; but I have myself, in my complex nature, a hunger after all which

is bizarre and fantastic. I had not the faintest belief in Dacre's theory, nor any hopes for success in such an

experiment; yet it amused me that the experiment should be made. Dacre, with great gravity, drew a small

stand to the head of my settee, and placed the funnel upon it. Then, after a short conversation, he wished me

I sat for some little time smoking by the smouldering fire, and turning over in my mind the curious incident

which had occurred, and the strange experience which might lie before me. Sceptical as I was, there was

something impressive in the assurance of Dacre's manner, and my extraordinary surroundings, the huge room

with the strange and often sinister objects which were hung round it, struck solemnity into my soul. Finally I

undressed, and turning out the lamp, I lay down. After long tossing I fell asleep. Let me try to describe as

accurately as I can the scene which came to me in my dreams. It stands out now in my memory more clearly

than anything which I have seen with my waking eyes. There was a room which bore the appearance of a

vault. Four spandrels from the corners ran up to join a sharp, cupshaped roof. The architecture was rough,

Three men in black, with curious, topheavy, black velvet hats, sat in a line upon a redcarpeted dais. Their

faces were very solemn and sad. On the left stood two longgowned men with portfolios in their hands,

which seemed to be stuffed with papers. Upon the right, looking toward me, was a small woman with blonde

hair and singular, lightblue eyesthe eyes of a child. She was past her first youth, but could not yet be

called middleaged. Her figure was inclined to stoutness and her bearing was proud and confident. Her face

was pale, but serene. It was a curious face, comely and yet feline, with a subtle suggestion of cruelty about

the straight, strong little mouth and chubby jaw. She was draped in some sort of loose, white gown. Beside

her stood a thin, eager priest, who whispered in her ear, and continually raised a crucifix before her eyes. She

turned her head and looked fixedly past the crucifix at the three men in black, who were, I felt, her judges.

As I gazed the three men stood up and said something, but I could distinguish no words, though I was aware

that it was the central one who was speaking. They then swept out of the room, followed by the two men with

the papers. At the same instant several roughlooking fellows in stout jerkins came bustling in and removed

first the red carpet, and then the boards which formed the dais, so as to entirely clear the room. When this

screen was removed I saw some singular articles of furniture behind it. One looked like a bed with wooden

rollers at each end, and a winch handle to regulate its length. Another was a wooden horse. There were

several other curious objects, and a number of swinging cords which played over pulleys. It was not unlike a

When the room had been cleared there appeared a new figure upon the scene. This was a tall, thin person clad

in black, with a gaunt and austere face. The aspect of the man made me shudder. His clothes were all shining

with grease and mottled with stains. He bore himself with a slow and impressive dignity, as if he took

command of all things from the instant of his entrance. In spite of his rude appearance and sordid dress, it

was now his business, his room, his to command. He carried a coil of light ropes over his left forearm. The

lady looked him up and down with a searching glance, but her expression was unchanged. It was

confidenteven defiant. But it was very different with the priest. His face was ghastly white, and I saw the

moisture glisten and run on his high, sloping forehead. He threw up his hands in prayer and he stooped

The man in black now advanced, and taking one of the cords from his left arm, he bound the woman's hands

together. She held them meekly toward him as he did so. Then he took her arm with a rough grip and led her

toward the wooden horse, which was little higher than her waist. On to this she was lifted and laid, with her

back upon it, and her face to the ceiling, while the priest, quivering with horror, had rushed out of the room.

The woman's lips were moving rapidly, and though I could hear nothing I knew that she was praying. Her

feet hung down on either side of the horse, and I saw that the rough varlets in attendance had fastened cords

My heart sank within me as I saw these ominous preparations, and yet I was held by the fascination of horror,

and I could not take my eyes from the strange spectacle. A man had entered the room with a bucket of water

in either hand. Another followed with a third bucket. They were laid beside the wooden horse. The second

man had a wooden dippera bowl with a straight handlein his other hand. This he gave to the man in

black. At the same moment one of the varlets approached with a dark object in his hand, which even in my

dream filled me with a vague feeling of familiarity. It was a leathern filler. With horrible energy he thrust

itbut I could stand no more. My hair stood on end with horror. I writhed, I struggled, I broke through the

bonds of sleep, and I burst with a shriek into my own life, and found myself lying shivering with terror in the

huge library, with the moonlight flooding through the window and throwing strange silver and black traceries

upon the opposite wall. Oh, what a blessed relief to feel that I was back in the nineteenth centuryback out

of that mediaeval vault into a world where men had human hearts within their bosoms. I sat up on my couch,

trembling in every limb, my mind divided between thankfulness and horror. To think that such things were

ever donethat they could be done without God striking the villains dead. Was it all a fantasy, or did it

really stand for something which had happened in the black, cruel days of the world's history? I sank my

throbbing head upon my shaking hands. And then, suddenly, my heart seemed to stand still in my bosom, and

I could not even scream, so great was my terror. Something was advancing toward me through the darkness

It is a horror coming upon a horror which breaks a man's spirit. I could not reason, I could not pray; I could

only sit like a frozen image, and glare at the dark figure which was coming down the great room. And then it

moved out into the white lane of moonlight, and I breathed once more. It was Dacre, and his face showed that

"It rang through the house. The servants are all terrified." He struck a match and lit the lamp. "I think we may

get the fire to burn up again," he added, throwing some logs upon the embers. "Good God, my dear chap,

"I wouldn't sleep near the infernal thing again for all the money you could offer me."

"I expected that you would have a lively night of it," said he. "You took it out of me in return, for that scream

of yours wasn't a very pleasant sound at two in the morning. I suppose from what you say that you have seen

"The torture of the waterthe `Extraordinary Question,' as it was called in the genial days of `Le Roi Soleil.'

"Ah! it is just as well for you. I held out till the third bucket. Well, it is an old story, and they are all in their

graves now, anyhow, so what does it matter how they got there? I suppose that you have no idea what it was

"The torture of some criminal. She must have been a terrible malefactor indeed if her crimes are in proportion

"Well, we have that small consolation," said Dacre, wrapping his dressinggown round him and crouching

closer to the fire. "They WERE in proportion to her penalty. That is to say, if I am correct in the lady's

"Just listen to this," said he; "it is in the French of the seventeenth century, but I will give a rough translation

"`The prisoner was brought before the Grand Chambers and Tournelles of Parliament, sitting as a court of

justice, charged with the murder of Master Dreux d'Aubray, her father, and of her two brothers, MM.

d'Aubray, one being civil lieutenant, and the other a counsellor of Parliament. In person it seemed hard to

believe that she had really done such wicked deeds, for she was of a mild appearance, and of short stature,

with a fair skin and blue eyes. Yet the Court, having found her guilty, condemned her to the ordinary and to

the extraordinary question in order that she might be forced to name her accomplices, after which she should

be carried in a cart to the Place de Greve, there to have her head cut off, her body being afterwards burned

"It is interesting," said I, "but not convincing. How do you prove the two women to be the same?"

"I am coming to that. The narrative goes on to tell of the woman's behaviour when questioned. `When the

executioner approached her she recognized him by the cords which he held in his hands, and she at once held

out her own hands to him, looking at him from head to foot without uttering a word.' How's that?"

"`She gazed without wincing upon the wooden horse and rings which had twisted so many limbs and caused

so many shrieks of agony. When her eyes fell upon the three pails of water, which were all ready for her, she

said with a smile, "All that water must have been brought here for the purpose of drowning me, Monsieur.

You have no idea, I trust, of making a person of my small stature swallow it all."' Shall I read the details of

"Here is a sentence which must surely show you that what is here recorded is the very scene which you have

gazed upon tonight: `The good Abbe Pirot, unable to contemplate the agonies which were suffered by his

"It does entirely. There can be no question that it is indeed the same event. But who, then, is this lady whose

For answer Dacre came across to me, and placed the small lamp upon the table which stood by my bed.

Lifting up the illomened filler, he turned the brass rim so that the light fell full upon it. Seen in this way the

"We have already agreed that this is the badge of a marquis or of a marquise," said he. "We have also settled

"I now suggest to you that the other letters from left to right are, M, M, a small d, A, a small d, and then the

"Yes, I am sure that you are right. I can make out the two small d's quite plainly."

"What I have read to you tonight," said Dacre, "is the official record of the trial of Marie Madeleine

d'Aubray, Marquise de Brinvilliers, one of the most famous poisoners and murderers of all time."

I sat in silence, overwhelmed at the extraordinary nature of the incident, and at the completeness of the proof

with which Dacre had exposed its real meaning. In a vague way I remembered some details of the woman's

career, her unbridled debauchery, the coldblooded and protracted torture of her sick father, the murder of her

brothers for motives of petty gain. I recollected also that the bravery of her end had done something to atone

for the horror of her life, and that all Paris had sympathized with her last moments, and blessed her as a

martyr within a few days of the time when they had cursed her as a murderess. One objection, and one only,

"How came her initials and her badge of rank upon the filler? Surely they did not carry their mediaeval

homage to the nobility to the point of decorating instruments of torture with their titles?"

"I was puzzled with the same point," said Dacre, "but it admits of a simple explanation. The case excited

extraordinary interest at the time, and nothing could be more natural than that La Reynie, the head of the

police, should retain this filler as a grim souvenir. It was not often that a marchioness of France underwent

the extraordinary question. That he should engrave her initials upon it for the information of others was

"She was a cruel tigress," said Dacre, as he turned away. "I think it is evident that like other tigresses her

The two famous students of Roman remains sat together in Kennedy's comfortable room overlooking the

Corso. The night was cold, and they had both pulled up their chairs to the unsatisfactory Italian stove which

threw out a zone of stuffiness rather than of warmth. Outside under the bright winter stars lay the modern

Rome, the long, double chain of the electric lamps, the brilliantly lighted cafes, the rushing carriages, and the

dense throng upon the footpaths. But inside, in the sumptuous chamber of the rich young English

archaelogist, there was only old Rome to be seen. Cracked and timeworn friezes hung upon the walls, grey

old busts of senators and soldiers with their fighting heads and their hard, cruel faces peered out from the

corners. On the centre table, amidst a litter of inscriptions, fragments, and ornaments, there stood the famous

reconstruction by Kennedy of the Baths of Caracalla, which excited such interest and admiration when it was

exhibited in Berlin. Amphorae hung from the ceiling, and a litter of curiosities strewed the rich red Turkey

carpet. And of them all there was not one which was not of the most unimpeachable authenticity, and of the

utmost rarity and value; for Kennedy, though little more than thirty, had a European reputation in this

particular branch of research, and was, moreover, provided with that long purse which either proves to be a

fatal handicap to the student's energies, or, if his mind is still true to its purpose, gives him an enormous

advantage in the race for fame. Kennedy had often been seduced by whim and pleasure from his studies, but

his mind was an incisive one, capable of long and concentrated efforts which ended in sharp reactions of

sensuous languor. His handsome face, with its high, white forehead, its aggressive nose, and its somewhat

loose and sensual mouth, was a fair index of the compromise between strength and weakness in his nature.

Of a very different type was his companion, Julius Burger. He came of a curious blend, a German father and

an Italian mother, with the robust qualities of the North mingling strangely with the softer graces of the

South. Blue Teutonic eyes lightened his sunbrowned face, and above them rose a square, massive forehead,

with a fringe of close yellow curls lying round it. His strong, firm jaw was cleanshaven, and his companion

had frequently remarked how much it suggested those old Roman busts which peered out from the shadows

in the corners of his chamber. Under its bluff German strength there lay always a suggestion of Italian

subtlety, but the smile was so honest, and the eyes so frank, that one understood that this was only an

indication of his ancestry, with no actual bearing upon his character. In age and in reputation, he was on the

same level as his English companion, but his life and his work had both been far more arduous. Twelve years

before, he had come as a poor student to Rome, and had lived ever since upon some small endowment for

research which had been awarded to him by the University of Bonn. Painfully, slowly, and doggedly, with

extraordinary tenacity and singlemindedness, he had climbed from rung to rung of the ladder of fame, until

now he was a member of the Berlin Academy, and there was every reason to believe that he would shortly be

promoted to the Chair of the greatest of German Universities. But the singleness of purpose which had

brought him to the same high level as the rich and brilliant Englishman, had caused him in everything outside

their work to stand infinitely below him. He had never found a pause in his studies in which to cultivate the

social graces. It was only when he spoke of his own subject that his face was filled with life and soul. At

other times he was silent and embarrassed, too conscious of his own limitations in larger subjects, and

impatient of that small talk which is the conventional refuge of those who have no thoughts to express.

And yet for some years there had been an acquaintanceship which appeared to be slowly ripening into a

friendship between these two very different rivals. The base and origin of this lay in the fact that in their own

studies each was the only one of the younger men who had knowledge and enthusiasm enough to properly

appreciate the other. Their common interests and pursuits had brought them together, and each had been

attracted by the other's knowledge. And then gradually something had been added to this. Kennedy had been

amused by the frankness and simplicity of his rival, while Burger in turn had been fascinated by the brilliancy

and vivacity which had made Kennedy such a favourite in Roman society. I say "had," because just at the

moment the young Englishman was somewhat under a cloud. A loveaffair, the details of which had never

quite come out, had indicated a heartlessness and callousness upon his part which shocked many of his

friends. But in the bachelor circles of students and artists in which he preferred to move there is no very rigid

code of honour in such matters, and though a head might be shaken or a pair of shoulders shrugged over the

flight of two and the return of one, the general sentiment was probably one of curiosity and perhaps of envy

"Look here, Burger," said Kennedy, looking hard at the placid face of his companion, "I do wish that you

As he spoke he waved his hand in the direction of a rug which lay upon the floor. On the rug stood a long,

shallow fruitbasket of the light wickerwork which is used in the Campagna, and this was heaped with a

litter of objects, inscribed tiles, broken inscriptions, cracked mosaics, torn papyri, rusty metal ornaments,

which to the uninitiated might have seemed to have come straight from a dustman's bin, but which a

specialist would have speedily recognized as unique of their kind. The pile of odds and ends in the flat

wickerwork basket supplied exactly one of those missing links of social development which are of such

interest to the student. It was the German who had brought them in, and the Englishman's eyes were hungry

"I won't interfere with your treasuretrove, but I should very much like to hear about it," he continued, while

Burger very deliberately lit a cigar. "It is evidently a discovery of the first importance. These inscriptions will

"For every one here there are a million there!" said the German. "There are so many that a dozen savants

might spend a lifetime over them, and build up a reputation as solid as the Castle of St. Angelo."

Kennedy sat thinking with his fine forehead wrinkled and his fingers playing with his long, fair moustache.

"You have given yourself away, Burger!" said he at last. "Your words can only apply to one thing. You have

"I had no doubt that you had already come to that conclusion from an examination of these objects."

"Well, they certainly appeared to indicate it, but your last remarks make it certain. There is no place except a

"Ah, that is my secret, my dear Kennedy. Suffice it that it is so situated that there is not one chance in a

million of anyone else coming upon it. Its date is different from that of any known catacomb, and it has been

reserved for the burial of the highest Christians, so that the remains and the relics are quite different from

anything which has ever been seen before. If I was not aware of your knowledge and of your energy, my

friend, I would not hesitate, under the pledge of secrecy, to tell you everything about it. But as it is I think

that I must certainly prepare my own report of the matter before I expose myself to such formidable

Kennedy loved his subject with a love which was almost a maniaa love which held him true to it, amidst

all the distractions which come to a wealthy and dissipated young man. He had ambition, but his ambition

was secondary to his mere abstract joy and interest in everything which concerned the old life and history of

the city. He yearned to see this new underworld which his companion had discovered.

"Look here, Burger," said he, earnestly, "I assure you that you can trust me most implicitly in the matter.

Nothing would induce me to put pen to paper about anything which I see until I have your express

permission. I quite understand your feeling and I think it is most natural, but you have really nothing

whatever to fear from me. On the other hand, if you don't tell me I shall make a systematic search, and I shall

most certainly discover it. In that case, of course, I should make what use I liked of it, since I should be under

"I have noticed, friend Kennedy," said he, "that when I want information over any point you are not always

"When did you ever ask me anything that I did not tell you? You remember, for example, my giving you the

"Ah, well, that was not a matter of much importance. If I were to question you upon some intimate thing

would you give me an answer, I wonder! This new catacomb is a very intimate thing to me, and I should

"What you are driving at I cannot imagine," said the Englishman, "but if you mean that you will answer my

question about the catacomb if I answer any question which you may put to me I can assure you that I will

"Well, then," said Burger, leaning luxuriously back in his settee, and puffing a blue tree of cigarsmoke into

"What the devil do you mean?" he cried. "What sort of a question is this? You may mean it as a joke, but you

"No, I don't mean it as a joke," said Burger, simply. "I am really rather interested in the details of the matter. I

don't know much about the world and women and social life and that sort of thing, and such an incident has

the fascination of the unknown for me. I know you, and I knew her by sightI had even spoken to her once

or twice. I should very much like to hear from your own lips exactly what it was which occurred between

"That's all right. It was only my whim to see if you would give up a secret as easily as you expected me to

give up my secret of the new catacomb. You wouldn't, and I didn't expect you to. But why should you expect

otherwise of me? There's Saint John's clock striking ten. It is quite time that I was going home."

"No; wait a bit, Burger," said Kennedy; "this is really a ridiculous caprice of yours to wish to know about an

old loveaffair which has burned out months ago. You know we look upon a man who kisses and tells as the

"Certainly," said the German, gathering up his basket of curiosities, "when he tells anything about a girl

which is previously unknown he must be so. But in this case, as you must be aware, it was a public matter

which was the common talk of Rome, so that you are not really doing Miss Mary Saunderson any injury by

discussing her case with me. But still, I respect your scruples; and so good night!"

"Wait a bit, Burger," said Kennedy, laying his hand upon the other's arm; "I am very keen upon this catacomb

business, and I can't let it drop quite so easily. Would you mind asking me something else in

"No, no; you have refused, and there is an end of it," said Burger, with his basket on his arm. "No doubt you

are quite right not to answer, and no doubt I am quite right alsoand so again, my dear Kennedy, good

The Englishman watched Burger cross the room, and he had his hand on the handle of the door before his

host sprang up with the air of a man who is making the best of that which cannot be helped.

"Hold on, old fellow," said he; "I think you are behaving in a most ridiculous fashion; but still; if this is your

condition, I suppose that I must submit to it. I hate saying anything about a girl, but, as you say, it is all over

Rome, and I don't suppose I can tell you anything which you do not know already. What was it you wanted to

The German came back to the stove, and, laying down his basket, he sank into his chair once more.

"May I have another cigar?" said he. "Thank you very much! I never smoke when I work, but I enjoy a chat

much more when I am under the influence of tobacco. Now, as regards this young lady, with whom you had

"You must excuse my curiosity, my dear Kennedy, and you must put it down to my ignorance of the world.

No doubt it is quite a simple thing to persuade a young lady to go off with you for three weeks or so, and then

"Quite soat Twickenham. But it is something so entirely outside my own experience that I cannot even

imagine how you set about it. For example, if you had loved this girl your love could hardly disappear in

three weeks, so I presume that you could not have loved her at all. But if you did not love her why should you

"That's a logical way of looking at it, certainly," said he. "Love is a big word, and it represents a good many

different shades of feeling. I liked her, andwell, you say you've seen her you know how charming she

could look. But still I am willing to admit, looking back, that I could never have really loved her."

"Where would the variety of life be without them? It was for an adventure that I first began to pay my

attentions to her I've chased a good deal of game in my time, but there's no chase like that of a pretty woman.

There was the piquant difficulty of it also, for, as she was the companion of Lady Emily Rood, it was almost

impossible to see her alone. On the top of all the other obstacles which attracted me, I learned from her own

"I do not think that anyone knows that. So that made the adventure more alluring, did it?"

"My dear fellow, you can remember that the apple you stole from your neighbour's tree was always sweeter

"Oh, no, it took about three months of sapping and mining. But at last I won her over. She understood that my

judicial separation from my wife made it impossible for me to do the right thing by herbut she came all the

"I suppose it is the survival of the fittest," said he. "If he had been the better man she would not have deserted

"Well, we had both cooled down a bit, you understand. She absolutely refused, under any circumstances, to

come back to face the people she had known in Rome. Now, of course, Rome is necessary to me, and I was

already pining to be back at my workso there was one obvious cause of separation. Then, again, her old

father turned up at the hotel in London, and there was a scene, and the whole thing became so unpleasant that

reallythough I missed her dreadfully at firstI was very glad to slip out of it. Now, I rely upon you not to

"My dear Kennedy, I should not dream of repeating it. But all that you say interests me very much, for it

gives me an insight into your way of looking at things, which is entirely different from mine, for I have seen

so little of life. And now you want to know about my new catacomb. There's no use my trying to describe it,

for you would never find it by that. There is only one thing, and that is for me to take you there."

"Well, it is a beautiful nightthough a trifle cold. Suppose we start in an hour. We must be very careful to

keep the matter to ourselves. If anyone saw us hunting in couples they would suspect that there was

"We had better do so, then. A cabman's suspicions would be aroused if he dropped us both at some lonely

"Quite so. I think it would be best for us to meet at the Gate of the Appian Way at midnight. I must go back

"All right, Burger! I think it is very kind of you to let me into this secret, and I promise you that I will write

nothing about it until you have published your report. Goodbye for the present! You will find me at the Gate

The cold, clear air was filled with the musical chimes from that city of clocks as Burger, wrapped in an

Italian overcoat, with a lantern hanging from his hand, walked up to the rendezvous. Kennedy stepped out of

"Not such a fool! By Jove, I am chilled to the bone! Come on, Burger, let us warm ourselves by a spurt of

Their footsteps sounded loud and crisp upon the rough stone paving of the disappointing road which is all

that is left of the most famous highway of the world. A peasant or two going home from the wineshop, and

a few carts of country produce coming up to Rome, were the only things which they met. They swung along,

with the huge tombs looming up through the darkness upon each side of them, until they had come as far as

the Catacombs of St. Calistus, and saw against a rising moon the great circular bastion of Cecilia Metella in

"Your legs are longer than mine, and you are more accustomed to walking," said he, laughing. "I think that

the place where we turn off is somewhere here. Yes, this is it, round the corner of the trattoria. Now, it is a

He had lit his lantern, and by its light they were enabled to follow a narrow and devious track which wound

across the marshes of the Campagna. The great Aqueduct of old Rome lay like a monstrous caterpillar across

the moonlit landscape, and their road led them under one of its huge arches, and past the circle of crumbling

bricks which marks the old arena. At last Burger stopped at a solitary wooden cowhouse, and he drew a key

"The entrance to it is. That is just the safeguard which we have against anyone else discovering it."

"Not he. He had found one or two objects which made me almost certain that his house was built on the

entrance to such a place. So I rented it from him, and did my excavations for myself. Come in, and shut the

It was a long, empty building, with the mangers of the cows along one wall. Burger put his lantern down on

the ground, and shaded its light in all directions save one by draping his overcoat round it.

"It might excite remark if anyone saw a light in this lonely place," said he. "Just help me to move this

The flooring was loose in the corner, and plank by plank the two savants raised it and leaned it against the

wall. Below there was a square aperture and a stair of old stone steps which led away down into the bowels of

"Be careful!" cried Burger, as Kennedy, in his impatience, hurried down them. "It is a perfect rabbits'warren

below, and if you were once to lose your way there the chances would be a hundred to one against your ever

"I had some very narrow escapes at first, but I have gradually learned to go about. There is a certain system to

it, but it is one which a lost man, if he were in the dark, could not possibly find out. Even now I always spin

out a ball of string behind me when I am going far into the catacomb. You can see for yourself that it is

difficult, but every one of these passages divides and subdivides a dozen times before you go a hundred

They had descended some twenty feet from the level of the byre, and they were standing now in a square

chamber cut out of the soft tufa. The lantern cast a flickering light, bright below and dim above, over the

cracked brown walls. In every direction were the black openings of passages which radiated from this

"I want you to follow me closely, my friend," said Burger. "Do not loiter to look at anything upon the way,

for the place to which I will take you contains all that you can see, and more. It will save time for us to go

He led the way down one of the corridors, and the Englishman followed closely at his heels. Every now and

then the passage bifurcated, but Burger was evidently following some secret marks of his own, for he neither

stopped nor hesitated. Everywhere along the walls, packed like the berths upon an emigrant ship, lay the

Christians of old Rome. The yellow light flickered over the shrivelled features of the mummies, and gleamed

upon rounded skulls and long, white armbones crossed over fleshless chests. And everywhere as he passed

Kennedy looked with wistful eyes upon inscriptions, funeral vessels, pictures, vestments, utensils, all lying as

pious hands had placed them so many centuries ago. It was apparent to him, even in those hurried, passing

glances, that this was the earliest and finest of the catacombs, containing such a storehouse of Roman remains

"I have a spare candle and a box of matches in my pocket. By the way, Kennedy, have you any matches?"

"How far are we going? It seems to me that we have walked at least a quarter of a mile."

"More than that, I think. There is really no limit to the tombsat least, I have never been able to find any.

He fastened one end of it to a projecting stone and he carried the coil in the breast of his coat, paying it out as

he advanced. Kennedy saw that it was no unnecessary precaution, for the passages had become more

complex and tortuous than ever, with a perfect network of intersecting corridors. But these all ended in one

large circular hall with a square pedestal of tufa topped with a slab of marble at one end of it.

"By Jove!" cried Kennedy in an ecstasy, as Burger swung his lantern over the marble. "It is a Christian

altarprobably the first one in existence. Here is the little consecration cross cut upon the corner of it. No

"Precisely," said Burger. "If I had more time I should like to show you all the bodies which are buried in

these niches upon the walls, for they are the early popes and bishops of the Church, with their mitres, their

Kennedy went across, and stared at the ghastly head which lay loosely on the shredded and mouldering mitre.

"This is most interesting," said he, and his voice seemed to boom against the concave vault. "As far as my

experience goes, it is unique. Bring the lantern over, Burger, for I want to see them all."

But the German had strolled away, and was standing in the middle of a yellow circle of light at the other side

"Do you know how many wrong turnings there are between this and the stairs?" he asked. "There are over

two thousand. No doubt it was one of the means of protection which the Christians adopted. The odds are two

thousand to one against a man getting out, even if he had a light; but if he were in the dark it would, of

"And the darkness is something dreadful. I tried it once for an experiment. Let us try it again!" He stooped to

the lantern, and in an instant it was as if an invisible hand was squeezed tightly over each of Kennedy's eyes.

Never had he known what such darkness was. It seemed to press upon him and to smother him. It was a solid

obstacle against which the body shrank from advancing. He put his hands out to push it back from him.

But his companion began to laugh, and in that circular room the sound seemed to come from every side at

"It's very strange, Kennedy, but I could not in the least tell by the sound in which direction you stand. Could

"If it were not for this string which I hold in my hand I should not have a notion which way to go."

"Well, Kennedy, there are two things which I understand that you are very fond of. The one is an adventure,

and the other is an obstacle to surmount. The adventure must be the finding of your way out of this catacomb.

The obstacle will be the darkness and the two thousand wrong turns which make the way a little difficult to

find. But you need not hurry, for you have plenty of time, and when you halt for a rest now and then, I should

like you just to think of Miss Mary Saunderson, and whether you treated her quite fairly."

"You devil, what do you mean?" roared Kennedy. He was running about in little circles and clasping at the

"Goodbye," said the mocking voice, and it was already at some distance. "I really do not think, Kennedy,

even by your own showing that you did the right thing by that girl. There was only one little thing which you

appeared not to know, and I can supply it. Miss Saunderson was engaged to a poor ungainly devil of a

There was a rustle somewhere, the vague sound of a foot striking a stone, and then there fell silence upon that

old Christian churcha stagnant, heavy silence which closed round Kennedy and shut him in like water

Some two months afterwards the following paragraph made the round of the European Press:

"One of the most interesting discoveries of recent years is that of the new catacomb in Rome, which lies some

distance to the east of the wellknown vaults of St. Calixtus. The finding of this important burialplace,

which is exceeding rich in most interesting early Christian remains, is due to the energy and sagacity of Dr.

Julius Burger, the young German specialist, who is rapidly taking the first place as an authority upon ancient

Rome. Although the first to publish his discovery, it appears that a less fortunate adventurer had anticipated

Dr. Burger. Some months ago Mr. Kennedy, the wellknown English student, disappeared suddenly from his

rooms in the Corso, and it was conjectured that his association with a recent scandal had driven him to leave

Rome. It appears now that he had in reality fallen a victim to that fervid love of archaeology which had raised

him to a distinguished place among living scholars. His body was discovered in the heart of the new

catacomb, and it was evident from the condition of his feet and boots that he had tramped for days through

the tortuous corridors which make these subterranean tombs so dangerous to explorers. The deceased

gentleman had, with inexplicable rashness, made his way into this labyrinth without, as far as can be

discovered, taking with him either candles or matches, so that his sad fate was the natural result of his own

temerity. What makes the matter more painful is that Dr. Julius Burger was an intimate friend of the

deceased. His joy at the extraordinary find which he has been so fortunate as to make has been greatly marred

The relations between Douglas Stone and the notorious Lady Sannox were very well known both among the

fashionable circles of which she was a brilliant member, and the scientific bodies which numbered him

among their most illustrious confreres. There was naturally, therefore, a very widespread interest when it was

announced one morning that the lady had absolutely and for ever taken the veil, and that the world would see

her no more. When, at the very tail of this rumour, there came the assurance that the celebrated operating

surgeon, the man of steel nerves, had been found in the morning by his valet, seated on one side of his bed,

smiling pleasantly upon the universe, with both legs jammed into one side of his breeches and his great brain

about as valuable as a cap full of porridge, the matter was strong enough to give quite a little thrill of interest

to folk who had never hoped that their jaded nerves were capable of such a sensation.

Douglas Stone in his prime was one of the most remarkable men in England. Indeed, he could hardly be said

to have ever reached his prime, for he was but nineandthirty at the time of this little incident. Those who

knew him best were aware that famous as he was as a surgeon, he might have succeeded with even greater

rapidity in any of a dozen lines of life. He could have cut his way to fame as a soldier, struggled to it as an

explorer, bullied for it in the courts, or built it out of stone and iron as an engineer. He was born to be great,

for he could plan what another man dare not do, and he could do what another man dare not plan. In surgery

none could follow him. His nerve, his judgement, his intuition, were things apart. Again and again his knife

cut away death, but grazed the very springs of life in doing it, until his assistants were as white as the patient.

His energy, his audacity, his fullblooded selfconfidencedoes not the memory of them still linger to the

His vices were as magnificent as his virtues, and infinitely more picturesque. Large as was his income, and it

was the third largest of all professional men in London, it was far beneath the luxury of his living. Deep in his

complex nature lay a rich vein of sensualism, at the sport of which he placed all the prizes of his life. The eye,

the ear, the touch, the palate, all were his masters. The bouquet of old vintages, the scent of rare exotics, the

curves and tints of the daintiest potteries of Europe, it was to these that the quickrunning stream of gold was

transformed. And then there came his sudden mad passion for Lady Sannox, when a single interview with

two challenging glances and a whispered word set him ablaze. She was the loveliest woman in London and

the only one to him. He was one of the handsomest men in London, but not the only one to her. She had a

liking for new experiences, and was gracious to most men who wooed her. It may have been cause or it may

He was a quiet, silent, neutraltinted man, this lord, with thin lips and heavy eyelids, much given to

gardening, and full of homelike habits. He had at one time been fond of acting, had even rented a theatre in

London, and on its boards had first seen Miss Marion Dawson, to whom he had offered his hand, his title, and

the third of a county. Since his marriage his early hobby had become distasteful to him. Even in private

theatricals it was no longer possible to persuade him to exercise the talent which he had often showed that he

possessed. He was happier with a spud and a wateringcan among his orchids and chrysanthemums.

It was quite an interesting problem whether he was absolutely devoid of sense, or miserably wanting in spirit.

Did he know his lady's ways and condone them, or was he a mere blind, doting fool? It was a point to be

discussed over the teacups in snug little drawingrooms, or with the aid of a cigar in the bow windows of

clubs. Bitter and plain were the comments among men upon his conduct. There was but one who had a good

word to say for him, and he was the most silent member in the smokingroom. He had seen him break in a

horse at the University, and it seemed to have left an impression upon his mind.

But when Douglas Stone became the favourite all doubts as to Lord Sannox's knowledge or ignorance were

set for ever at rest. There was no subterfuge about Stone. In his highhanded, impetuous fashion, he set all

caution and discretion at defiance. The scandal became notorious. A learned body intimated that his name

had been struck from the list of its vicepresidents. Two friends implored him to consider his professional

credit. He cursed them all three, and spent forty guineas on a bangle to take with him to the lady. He was at

her house every evening, and she drove in his carriage in the afternoons. There was not an attempt on either

side to conceal their relations; but there came at last a little incident to interrupt them.

It was a dismal winter's night, very cold and gusty, with the wind whooping in the chimneys and blustering

against the windowpanes. A thin spatter of rain tinkled on the glass with each fresh sough of the gale,

drowning for the instant the dull gurgle and drip from the eaves. Douglas Stone had finished his dinner, and

sat by his fire in the study, a glass of rich port upon the malachite table at his elbow. As he raised it to his

lips, he held it up against the lamplight, and watched with the eye of a connoisseur the tiny scales of

beeswing which floated in its rich ruby depths. The fire, as it spurted up, threw fitful lights upon his bald,

clearcut face, with its widelyopened grey eyes, its thick and yet firm lips, and the deep, square jaw, which

had something Roman in its strength and its animalism. He smiled from time to time as he nestled back in his

luxurious chair. Indeed, he had a right to feel well pleased, for, against the advice of six colleagues, he had

performed an operation that day of which only two cases were on record, and the result had been brilliant

beyond all expectation. No other man in London would have had the daring to plan, or the skill to execute,

But he had promised Lady Sannox to see her that evening and it was already halfpast eight. His hand was

outstretched to the bell to order the carriage when he heard the dull thud of the knocker. An instant later there

The butler presented it upon the gold salver which had been given to his master by the wife of a Prime

"Yes, sir. He seems as if he came from abroad, sir. And he's in a terrible way."

"Tut, tut! I have an engagement. I must go somewhere else. But I'll see him. Show him in here, Pim."

A few moments later the butler swung open the door and ushered in a small and decrepit man, who walked

with a bent back and with the forward push of the face and blink of the eyes which goes with extreme short

sight. His face was swarthy, and his hair and beard of the deepest black. In one hand he held a turban of white

"Good evening," said Douglas Stone, when the butler had closed the door. "You speak English, I presume?"

"I could come in the morning, but I have an engagement which prevents me from seeing your wife tonight."

The Turk's answer was a singular one. He pulled the string which closed the mouth of the chamoisleather

"There are one hundred pounds there," said he, "and I promise you that it will not take you an hour. I have a

Douglas Stone glanced at his watch. An hour would not make it too late to visit Lady Sannox. He had been

there later. And the fee was an extraordinarily high one. He had been pressed by his creditors lately, and he

"Oh, it is so sad a one! So sad a one! You have not, perhaps heard of the daggers of the Almohades?"

"Ah, they are Eastern daggers of a great age and of a singular shape, with the hilt like what you call a stirrup.

I am a curiosity dealer, you understand, and that is why I have come to England from Smyrna, but next week

I go back once more. Many things I brought with me, and I have a few things left, but among them, to my

"You will remember that I have an appointment, sir," said the surgeon, with some irritation; "pray confine

"You will see that it is necessary. Today my wife fell down in a faint in the room in which I keep my wares,

"Yes, and there is no man, East or West, who can tell now what is the poison or what the cure. But all that is

known I know, for my father was in this trade before me, and we have had much to do with these poisoned

"And you say there is no cure. Why then should you pay me this considerable fee?"

"That is it. If it be on the finger, take the finger off. So said my father always. But think of where this wound

But familiarity with such grim matters may take the finer edge from a man's sympathy. To Douglas Stone this

was already an interesting case, and he brushed aside as irrelevant the feeble objections of the husband.

"It appears to be that or nothing," said he brusquely. "It is better to loose a lip than a life."

"Ah, yes, I know that you are right. Well, well, it is kismet, and it must be faced. I have the cab, and you will

Douglas Stone took his case of bistouries from a drawer, and placed it with a roll of bandage and a compress

of lint in his pocket. He must waste no more time if he were to see Lady Sannox.

"I am ready," said he, pulling on his overcoat. "Will you take a glass of wine before you go out into this cold

"You forget that I am a Mussulman, and a true follower of the Prophet," said he. "But tell me what is the

"Ah, that also is forbidden to us. It is a spirit, and we make no use of such things."

"What! You would allow your wife to go through an operation without an anaesthetic?"

"Ah! she will feel nothing, poor soul. The deep sleep has already come on, which is the first working of the

poison. And then I have given her of our Smyrna opium. Come, sir, for already an hour has passed."

As they stepped out into the darkness, a sheet of rain was driven in upon their faces, and the hall lamp, which

dangled from the arm of a marble Caryatid, went out with a fluff. Pim, the butler, pushed the heavy door to,

straining hard with his shoulder against the wind, while the two men groped their way towards the yellow

glare which showed where the cab was waiting. An instant later they were rattling upon their journey.

The surgeon pressed the spring of his repeater and listened to the little tings which told him the hour. It was a

quarter past nine. He calculated the distances, and the short time which it would take him to perform so trivial

an operation. He ought to reach Lady Sannox by ten o'clock. Through the fogged windows he saw the blurred

gas lamps dancing past, with occasionally the broader glare of a shop front. The rain was pelting and rattling

upon the leathern top of the carriage, and the wheels swashed as they rolled through puddle and mud.

Opposite to him the white headgear of his companion gleamed faintly through the obscurity. The surgeon felt

in his pockets and arranged his needles, his ligatures and his safetypins, that no time might be wasted when

But the cab slowed down at last and pulled up. In an instant Douglas Stone was out, and the Smyrna

It was a meanlooking house in a narrow and sordid street. The surgeon, who knew his London well, cast a

swift glance into the shadows, but there was nothing distinctiveno shop, no movement, nothing but a

double line of dull, flatfaced houses, a double stretch of wet flagstones which gleamed in the lamplight, and

a double rush of water in the gutters which swirled and gurgled towards the sewer gratings. The door which

faced them was blotched and discoloured, and a faint light in the fan pane above, it served to show the dust

and the grime which covered it. Above in one of the bedroom windows, there was a dull yellow glimmer. The

merchant knocked loudly, and, as he turned his dark face towards the light, Douglas Stone could see that it

was contracted with anxiety. A bolt was drawn, and an elderly woman with a taper stood in the doorway,

The merchant closed the door, and Douglas Stone walked down the narrow passage, glancing about him in

some surprise as he did so. There was no oilcloth, no mat, no hatrack. Deep grey dust and heavy festoons

of cobwebs met his eyes everywhere. Following the old woman up the winding stair, his firm footfall echoed

The bedroom was on the second landing. Douglas Stone followed the old nurse into it, with the merchant at

his heels. Here, at least, there was furniture and to spare. The floor was littered and the corners piled with

Turkish cabinets, inlaid tables, coats of chain mail, strange pipes, and grotesque weapons. A single small

lamp stood upon a bracket on the wall. Douglas Stone took it down, and picking his way among the lumber,

walked over to a couch in the corner, on which lay a woman dressed in the Turkish fashion, with yashmak

and veil. The lower part of the face was exposed, and the surgeon saw a jagged cut which zigzagged along

"You will forgive the yashmak," said the Turk. "You know our views about women in the East."

But the surgeon was not thinking about the yashmak. This was no longer a woman to him. It was a case. He

"There are no signs of irritation," said he. "We might delay the operation until local symptoms develop."

"Oh! sir, sir," he cried. "Do not trifle. You do not know. It is deadly. I know, and I give you my assurance

"That is enough," the Turk cried, angrily. "Every minute is of importance, and I cannot stand here and see my

wife allowed to sink. It only remains for me to give you my thanks for having come, and to call in some other

Douglas Stone hesitated. To refund that hundred pounds was no pleasant matter. But of course if he left the

case he must return the money. And if the Turk were right and the woman died, his position before a coroner

Douglas Stone turned fiercely upon the man. The speech was a brutal one. But the Turk has his own fashion

of talk and of thought, and there was no time for wrangling. Douglas Stone drew a bistoury from his case,

opened it and felt the keen straight edge with his forefinger. Then he held the lamp closer to the bed. Two

dark eyes were gazing up at him through the slit in the yashmak. They were all iris, and the pupil was hardly

He glanced again at the dark eyes which looked straight at his own. They were dull and lustreless, but, even

The same thought had crossed the surgeon's mind. He grasped the wounded lip with his forceps, and with two

swift cuts he took out a broad Vshaped piece. The woman sprang up on the couch with a dreadful gurgling

scream. Her covering was torn from her face. It was a face that he knew. In spite of that protruding upper lip

and that slobber of blood, it was a face that he knew, She kept on putting her hand up to the gap and

screaming. Douglas Stone sat down at the foot of the couch with his knife and his forceps. The room was

whirling round, and he had felt something go like a ripping seam behind his ear. A bystander would have said

that his face was the more ghastly of the two. As in a dream, or as if he had been looking at something at the

play, he was conscious that the Turk's hair and beard lay upon the table, and that Lord Sannox was leaning

against the wall with his hand to his side, laughing silently. The screams had died away now, and the dreadful

head had dropped back again upon the pillow, but Douglas Stone still sat motionless, and Lord Sannox still

"It was really very necessary for Marion, this operation," said he, "not physically, but morally, you know,

Douglas Stone stooped for yards and began to play with the fringe of the coverlet. His knife tinkled down

"I had long intended to make a little example," said Lord Sannox, suavely. "Your note of Wednesday

miscarried, and I have it here in my pocketbook. I took some pains in carrying out my idea. The wound, by

He glanced keenly at his silent companion, and cocked the small revolver which he held in his coat pocket.

And at that Douglas Stone began to laugh. He laughed long and loudly. But Lord Sannox did not laugh now.

Something like fear sharpened and hardened his features. He walked from the room, and he walked on tiptoe.

Then he went down to the street. The cab was at the door, and the driver raised his hand to his hat.

"John," said Lord Sannox, "you will take the doctor home first. He will want leading downstairs, I think. Tell

"Oh, my address for the next few months will be Hotel di Roma, Venice. Just see that the letters are sent on.

And tell Stevens to exhibit all the purple chrysanthemums next Monday, and to wire me the result."

The following narrative was found among the papers of Dr. James Hardcastle, who died of phthisis on

February 4th, 1908, at 36, Upper Coventry Flats, South Kensington. Those who knew him best, while

refusing to express an opinion upon this particular statement, are unanimous in asserting that he was a man of

a sober and scientific turn of mind, absolutely devoid of imagination, and most unlikely to invent any

abnormal series of events. The paper was contained in an envelope, which was docketed, "A Short Account

of the Circumstances which occurred near Miss Allerton's Farm in NorthWest Derbyshire in the Spring of

Last Year." The envelope was sealed, and on the other side was written in pencil

"It may interest, and perhaps pain you, to know that the incredulity with which you met my story has

prevented me from ever opening my mouth upon the subject again. I leave this record after my death, and

Inquiry has failed to elicit who this Seaton may have been. I may add that the visit of the deceased to

Allerton's Farm, and the general nature of the alarm there, apart from his particular explanation, have been

absolutely established. With this foreword I append his account exactly as he left it. It is in the form of a

April 17.Already I feel the benefit of this wonderful upland air. The farm of the Allertons lies fourteen

hundred and twenty feet above sealevel, so it may well be a bracing climate. Beyond the usual morning

cough I have very little discomfort, and, what with the fresh milk and the homegrown mutton, I have every

The two Miss Allertons are charmingly quaint and kind, two dear little hardworking old maids, who are

ready to lavish all the heart which might have gone out to husband and to children upon an invalid stranger.

Truly, the old maid is a most useful person, one of the reserve forces of the community. They talk of the

superfluous woman, but what would the poor superfluous man do without her kindly presence? By the way,

in their simplicity they very quickly let out the reason why Saunderson recommended their farm. The

Professor rose from the ranks himself, and I believe that in his youth he was not above scaring crows in these

It is a most lonely spot, and the walks are picturesque in the extreme. The farm consists of grazing land lying

at the bottom of an irregular valley. On each side are the fantastic limestone hills, formed of rock so soft that

you can break it away with your hands. All this country is hollow. Could you strike it with some gigantic

hammer it would boom like a drum, or possibly cave in altogether and expose some huge subterranean sea. A

great sea there must surely be, for on all sides the streams run into the mountain itself, never to reappear.

There are gaps everywhere amid the rocks, and when you pass through them you find yourself in great

caverns, which wind down into the bowels of the earth. I have a small bicycle lamp, and it is a perpetual joy

to me to carry it into these weird solitudes, and to see the wonderful silver and black effect when I throw its

light upon the stalactites which drape the lofty roofs. Shut off the lamp, and you are in the blackest darkness.

But there is one of these strange openings in the earth which has a special interest, for it is the handiwork, not

of nature, but of man. I had never heard of Blue John when I came to these parts. It is the name given to a

peculiar mineral of a beautiful purple shade, which is only found at one or two places in the world. It is so

rare that an ordinary vase of Blue John would be valued at a great price. The Romans, with that extraordinary

instinct of theirs, discovered that it was to be found in this valley, and sank a horizontal shaft deep into the

mountain side. The opening of their mine has been called Blue John Gap, a cleancut arch in the rock, the

mouth all overgrown with bushes. It is a goodly passage which the Roman miners have cut, and it intersects

some of the great waterworn caves, so that if you enter Blue John Gap you would do well to mark your

steps and to have a good store of candles, or you may never make your way back to the daylight again. I have

not yet gone deeply into it, but this very day I stood at the mouth of the arched tunnel, and peering down into

the black recesses beyond, I vowed that when my health returned I would devote some holiday to exploring

those mysterious depths and finding out for myself how far the Roman had penetrated into the Derbyshire

Strange how superstitious these countrymen are! I should have thought better of young Armitage, for he is a

man of some education and character, and a very fine fellow for his station in life. I was standing at the Blue

"Of it," said he, with a jerk of his thumb towards the black vault, "of the Terror that lives in the Blue John

How absurdly easy it is for a legend to arise in a lonely countryside! I examined him as to the reasons for his

weird belief. It seems that from time to time sheep have been missing from the fields, carried bodily away,

according to Armitage. That they could have wandered away of their own accord and disappeared among the

mountains was an explanation to which he would not listen. On one occasion a pool of blood had been found,

and some tufts of wool. That also, I pointed out, could be explained in a perfectly natural way. Further, the

nights upon which sheep disappeared were invariably very dark, cloudy nights with no moon. This I met with

the obvious retort that those were the nights which a commonplace sheepstealer would naturally choose for

his work. On one occasion a gap had been made in a wall, and some of the stones scattered for a considerable

distance. Human agency again, in my opinion. Finally, Armitage clinched all his arguments by telling me that

he had actually heard the Creatureindeed, that anyone could hear it who remained long enough at the Gap.

It was a distant roaring of an immense volume. I could not but smile at this, knowing, as I do, the strange

reverberations which come out of an underground water system running amid the chasms of a limestone

formation. My incredulity annoyed Armitage so that he turned and left me with some abruptness.

And now comes the queer point about the whole business. I was still standing near the mouth of the cave

turning over in my mind the various statements of Armitage, and reflecting how readily they could be

explained away, when suddenly, from the depth of the tunnel beside me, there issued a most extraordinary

sound. How shall I describe it? First of all, it seemed to be a great distance away, far down in the bowels of

the earth. Secondly, in spite of this suggestion of distance, it was very loud. Lastly, it was not a boom, nor a

crash, such as one would associate with falling water or tumbling rock, but it was a high whine, tremulous

and vibrating, almost like the whinnying of a horse. It was certainly a most remarkable experience, and one

which for a moment, I must admit, gave a new significance to Armitage's words. I waited by the Blue John

Gap for half an hour or more, but there was no return of the sound, so at last I wandered back to the

farmhouse, rather mystified by what had occurred. Decidedly I shall explore that cavern when my strength is

restored. Of course, Armitage's explanation is too absurd for discussion, and yet that sound was certainly very

April 20.In the last three days I have made several expeditions to the Blue John Gap, and have even

penetrated some short distance, but my bicycle lantern is so small and weak that I dare not trust myself very

far. I shall do the thing more systematically. I have heard no sound at all, and could almost believe that I had

been the victim of some hallucination suggested, perhaps, by Armitage's conversation. Of course, the whole

idea is absurd, and yet I must confess that those bushes at the entrance of the cave do present an appearance

as if some heavy creature had forced its way through them. I begin to be keenly interested. I have said

nothing to the Miss Allertons, for they are quite superstitious enough already, but I have bought some

I observed this morning that among the numerous tufts of sheep's wool which lay among the bushes near the

cavern there was one which was smeared with blood. Of course, my reason tells me that if sheep wander into

such rocky places they are likely to injure themselves, and yet somehow that splash of crimson gave me a

sudden shock, and for a moment I found myself shrinking back in horror from the old Roman arch. A fetid

breath seemed to ooze from the black depths into which I peered. Could it indeed be possible that some

nameless thing, some dreadful presence, was lurking down yonder? I should have been incapable of such

feelings in the days of my strength, but one grows more nervous and fanciful when one's health is shaken.

For the moment I weakened in my resolution, and was ready to leave the secret of the old mine, if one exists,

for ever unsolved. But tonight my interest has returned and my nerves grown more steady. Tomorrow I trust

April 22.Let me try and set down as accurately as I can my extraordinary experience of yesterday. I started

in the afternoon, and made my way to the Blue John Gap. I confess that my misgivings returned as I gazed

into its depths, and I wished that I had brought a companion to share my exploration. Finally, with a return of

resolution, I lit my candle, pushed my way through the briars, and descended into the rocky shaft.

It went down at an acute angle for some fifty feet, the floor being covered with broken stone. Thence there

extended a long, straight passage cut in the solid rock. I am no geologist, but the lining of this corridor was

certainly of some harder material than limestone, for there were points where I could actually see the

toolmarks which the old miners had left in their excavation, as fresh as if they had been done yesterday.

Down this strange, oldworld corridor I stumbled, my feeble flame throwing a dim circle of light around me,

which made the shadows beyond the more threatening and obscure. Finally, I came to a spot where the

Roman tunnel opened into a waterworn caverna huge hall, hung with long white icicles of lime deposit.

From this central chamber I could dimly perceive that a number of passages worn by the subterranean

streams wound away into the depths of the earth. I was standing there wondering whether I had better return,

or whether I dare venture farther into this dangerous labyrinth, when my eyes fell upon something at my feet

The greater part of the floor of the cavern was covered with boulders of rock or with hard incrustations of

lime, but at this particular point there had been a drip from the distant roof, which had left a patch of soft

mud. In the very centre of this there was a huge markan illdefined blotch, deep, broad and irregular, as if

a great boulder had fallen upon it. No loose stone lay near, however, nor was there anything to account for the

impression. It was far too large to be caused by any possible animal, and besides, there was only the one, and

the patch of mud was of such a size that no reasonable stride could have covered it. As I rose from the

examination of that singular mark and then looked round into the black shadows which hemmed me in, I

must confess that I felt for a moment a most unpleasant sinking of my heart, and that, do what I could, the

I soon recovered my nerve, however, when I reflected how absurd it was to associate so huge and shapeless a

mark with the track of any known animal. Even an elephant could not have produced it. I determined,

therefore, that I would not be scared by vague and senseless fears from carrying out my exploration. Before

proceeding, I took good note of a curious rock formation in the wall by which I could recognize the entrance

of the Roman tunnel. The precaution was very necessary, for the great cave, so far as I could see it, was

intersected by passages. Having made sure of my position, and reassured myself by examining my spare

candles and my matches, I advanced slowly over the rocky and uneven surface of the cavern.

And now I come to the point where I met with such sudden and desperate disaster. A stream, some twenty

feet broad, ran across my path, and I walked for some little distance along the bank to find a spot where I

could cross dryshod. Finally, I came to a place where a single flat boulder lay near the centre, which I could

reach in a stride. As it chanced, however, the rock had been cut away and made topheavy by the rush of the

stream, so that it tilted over as I landed on it and shot me into the icecold water. My candle went out, and I

I staggered to my feet again, more amused than alarmed by my adventure. The candle had fallen from my

hand, and was lost in the stream, but I had two others in my pocket, so that it was of no importance. I got one

of them ready, and drew out my box of matches to light it. Only then did I realize my position. The box had

A cold hand seemed to close round my heart as I realized my position. The darkness was opaque and horrible.

It was so utter one put one's hand up to one's face as if to press off something solid. I stood still, and by an

effort I steadied myself. I tried to reconstruct in my mind a map of the floor of the cavern as I had last seen it.

Alas! the bearings which had impressed themselves upon my mind were high on the wall, and not to be found

by touch. Still, I remembered in a general way how the sides were situated, and I hoped that by groping my

way along them I should at last come to the opening of the Roman tunnel. Moving very slowly, and

But I very soon realized how impossible it was. In that black, velvety darkness one lost all one's bearings in

an instant. Before I had made a dozen paces, I was utterly bewildered as to my whereabouts. The rippling of

the stream, which was the one sound audible, showed me where it lay, but the moment that I left its bank I

was utterly lost. The idea of finding my way back in absolute darkness through that limestone labyrinth was

I sat down upon a boulder and reflected upon my unfortunate plight. I had not told anyone that I proposed to

come to the Blue John mine, and it was unlikely that a search party would come after me. Therefore I must

trust to my own resources to get clear of the danger. There was only one hope, and that was that the matches

might dry. When I fell into the river, only half of me had got thoroughly wet. My left shoulder had remained

above the water. I took the box of matches, therefore, and put it into my left armpit. The moist air of the

cavern might possibly be counteracted by the heat of my body, but even so, I knew that I could not hope to

By good luck I had slipped several biscuits into my pocket before I left the farmhouse. These I now

devoured, and washed them down with a draught from that wretched stream which had been the cause of all

my misfortunes. Then I felt about for a comfortable seat among the rocks, and, having discovered a place

where I could get a support for my back, I stretched out my legs and settled myself down to wait. I was

wretchedly damp and cold, but I tried to cheer myself with the reflection that modern science prescribed open

windows and walks in all weather for my disease. Gradually, lulled by the monotonous gurgle of the stream,

How long this lasted I cannot say. It may have been for an hour, it may have been for several. Suddenly I sat

up on my rock couch, with every nerve thrilling and every sense acutely on the alert. Beyond all doubt I had

heard a soundsome sound very distinct from the gurgling of the waters. It had passed, but the reverberation

of it still lingered in my ear. Was it a search party? They would most certainly have shouted, and vague as

this sound was which had wakened me, it was very distinct from the human voice. I sat palpitating and hardly

daring to breathe. There it was again! And again! Now it had become continuous. It was a tread yes, surely

it was the tread of some living creature. But what a tread it was! It gave one the impression of enormous

weight carried upon spongelike feet, which gave forth a muffled but earfilling sound. The darkness was as

complete as ever, but the tread was regular and decisive. And it was coming beyond all question in my

My skin grew cold, and my hair stood on end as I listened to that steady and ponderous footfall. There was

some creature there, and surely by the speed of its advance, it was one which could see in the dark. I

crouched low on my rock and tried to blend myself into it. The steps grew nearer still, then stopped, and

presently I was aware of a loud lapping and gurgling. The creature was drinking at the stream. Then again

there was silence, broken by a succession of long sniffs and snorts of tremendous volume and energy. Had it

caught the scent of me? My own nostrils were filled by a low fetid odour, mephitic and abominable. Then I

heard the steps again. They were on my side of the stream now. The stones rattled within a few yards of

where I lay. Hardly daring to breathe, I crouched upon my rock. Then the steps drew away. I heard the splash

as it returned across the river, and the sound died away into the distance in the direction from which it had

For a long time I lay upon the rock, too much horrified to move. I thought of the sound which I had heard

coming from the depths of the cave, of Armitage's fears, of the strange impression in the mud, and now came

this final and absolute proof that there was indeed some inconceivable monster, something utterly unearthly

and dreadful, which lurked in the hollow of the mountain. Of its nature or form I could frame no conception,

save that it was both lightfooted and gigantic. The combat between my reason, which told me that such

things could not be, and my senses, which told me that they were, raged within me as I lay. Finally, I was

almost ready to persuade myself that this experience had been part of some evil dream, and that my abnormal

condition might have conjured up an hallucination. But there remained one final experience which removed

I had taken my matches from my armpit and felt them. They seemed perfectly hard and dry. Stooping down

into a crevice of the rocks, I tried one of them. To my delight it took fire at once. I lit the candle, and, with a

terrified backward glance into the obscure depths of the cavern, I hurried in the direction of the Roman

passage. As I did so I passed the patch of mud on which I had seen the huge imprint. Now I stood astonished

before it, for there were three similar imprints upon its surface, enormous in size, irregular in outline, of a

depth which indicated the ponderous weight which had left them. Then a great terror surged over me.

Stooping and shading my candle with my hand, I ran in a frenzy of fear to the rocky archway, hastened up it,

and never stopped until, with weary feet and panting lungs, I rushed up the final slope of stones, broke

through the tangle of briars, and flung myself exhausted upon the soft grass under the peaceful light of the

stars. It was three in the morning when I reached the farmhouse, and today I am all unstrung and quivering

after my terrific adventure. As yet I have told no one. I must move warily in the matter. What would the poor

lonely women, or the uneducated yokels here think of it if I were to tell them my experience? Let me go to

April 25.I was laid up in bed for two days after my incredible adventure in the cavern. I use the adjective

with a very definite meaning, for I have had an experience since which has shocked me almost as much as the

other. I have said that I was looking round for someone who could advise me. There is a Dr. Mark Johnson

who practices some few miles away, to whom I had a note of recommendation from Professor Saunderson.

To him I drove, when I was strong enough to get about, and I recounted to him my whole strange experience.

He listened intently, and then carefully examined me, paying special attention to my reflexes and to the pupils

of my eyes. When he had finished, he refused to discuss my adventure, saying that it was entirely beyond

him, but he gave me the card of a Mr. Picton at Castleton, with the advice that I should instantly go to him

and tell him the story exactly as I had done to himself. He was, according to my adviser, the very man who

was preeminently suited to help me. I went on to the station, therefore, and made my way to the little town,

which is some ten miles away. Mr. Picton appeared to be a man of importance, as his brass plate was

displayed upon the door of a considerable building on the outskirts of the town. I was about to ring his bell,

when some misgiving came into my mind, and, crossing to a neighbouring shop, I asked the man behind the

counter if he could tell me anything of Mr. Picton. "Why," said he, "he is the best mad doctor in Derbyshire,

and yonder is his asylum." You can imagine that it was not long before I had shaken the dust of Castleton

from my feet and returned to the farm, cursing all unimaginative pedants who cannot conceive that there may

be things in creation which have never yet chanced to come across their mole's vision. After all, now that I

am cooler, I can afford to admit that I have been no more sympathetic to Armitage than Dr. Johnson has been

April 27. When I was a student I had the reputation of being a man of courage and enterprise. I remember that

when there was a ghosthunt at Coltbridge it was I who sat up in the haunted house. Is it advancing years

(after all, I am only thirtyfive), or is it this physical malady which has caused degeneration? Certainly my

heart quails when I think of that horrible cavern in the hill, and the certainty that it has some monstrous

occupant. What shall I do? There is not an hour in the day that I do not debate the question. If I say nothing,

then the mystery remains unsolved. If I do say anything, then I have the alternative of mad alarm over the

whole countryside, or of absolute incredulity which may end in consigning me to an asylum. On the whole, I

think that my best course is to wait, and to prepare for some expedition which shall be more deliberate and

better thought out than the last. As a first step I have been to Castleton and obtained a few essentialsa large

acetylene lantern for one thing, and a good doublebarrelled sporting rifle for another. The latter I have hired,

but I have bought a dozen heavy game cartridges, which would bring down a rhinoceros. Now I am ready for

my troglodyte friend. Give me better health and a little spate of energy, and I shall try conclusions with him

yet. But who and what is he? Ah! there is the question which stands between me and my sleep. How many

theories do I form, only to discard each in turn! It is all so utterly unthinkable. And yet the cry, the footmark,

the tread in the cavernno reasoning can get past these I think of the oldworld legends of dragons and of

other monsters. Were they, perhaps, not such fairytales as we have thought? Can it be that there is some fact

which underlies them, and am I, of all mortals, the one who is chosen to expose it?

May 3.For several days I have been laid up by the vagaries of an English spring, and during those days

there have been developments, the true and sinister meaning of which no one can appreciate save myself. I

may say that we have had cloudy and moonless nights of late, which according to my information were the

seasons upon which sheep disappeared. Well, sheep have disappeared. Two of Miss Allerton's, one of old

Pearson's of the Cat Walk, and one of Mrs. Moulton's. Four in all during three nights. No trace is left of them

at all, and the countryside is buzzing with rumours of gipsies and of sheepstealers.

But there is something more serious than that. Young Armitage has disappeared also. He left his moorland

cottage early on Wednesday night and has never been heard of since. He was an unattached man, so there is

less sensation than would otherwise be the case. The popular explanation is that he owes money, and has

found a situation in some other part of the country, whence he will presently write for his belongings. But I

have grave misgivings. Is it not much more likely that the recent tragedy of the sheep has caused him to take

some steps which may have ended in his own destruction? He may, for example, have lain in wait for the

creature and been carried off by it into the recesses of the mountains. What an inconceivable fate for a

civilized Englishman of the twentieth century! And yet I feel that it is possible and even probable. But in that

case, how far am I answerable both for his death and for any other mishap which may occur? Surely with the

knowledge I already possess it must be my duty to see that something is done, or if necessary to do it myself.

It must be the latter, for this morning I went down to the local policestation and told my story. The inspector

entered it all in a large book and bowed me out with commendable gravity, but I heard a burst of laughter

before I had got down his garden path. No doubt he was recounting my adventure to his family.

June 10.I am writing this, propped up in bed, six weeks after my last entry in this journal. I have gone

through a terrible shock both to mind and body, arising from such an experience as has seldom befallen a

human being before. But I have attained my end. The danger from the Terror which dwells in the Blue John

Gap has passed never to return. Thus much at least I, a broken invalid, have done for the common good. Let

The night of Friday, May 3rd, was dark and cloudythe very night for the monster to walk. About eleven

o'clock I went from the farmhouse with my lantern and my rifle, having first left a note upon the table of my

bedroom in which I said that, if I were missing, search should be made for me in the direction of the Gap. I

made my way to the mouth of the Roman shaft, and, having perched myself among the rocks close to the

opening, I shut off my lantern and waited patiently with my loaded rifle ready to my hand.

It was a melancholy vigil. All down the winding valley I could see the scattered lights of the farmhouses,

and the church clock of ChapelleDale tolling the hours came faintly to my ears. These tokens of my

fellowmen served only to make my own position seem the more lonely, and to call for a greater effort to

overcome the terror which tempted me continually to get back to the farm, and abandon for ever this

dangerous quest. And yet there lies deep in every man a rooted selfrespect which makes it hard for him to

turn back from that which he has once undertaken. This feeling of personal pride was my salvation now, and

it was that alone which held me fast when every instinct of my nature was dragging me away. I am glad now

that I had the strength. In spite of all that is has cost me, my manhood is at least above reproach.

Twelve o'clock struck in the distant church, then one, then two. It was the darkest hour of the night. The

clouds were drifting low, and there was not a star in the sky. An owl was hooting somewhere among the

rocks, but no other sound, save the gentle sough of the wind, came to my ears. And then suddenly I heard it!

From far away down the tunnel came those muffled steps, so soft and yet so ponderous. I heard also the rattle

of stones as they gave way under that giant tread. They drew nearer. They were close upon me. I heard the

crashing of the bushes round the entrance, and then dimly through the darkness I was conscious of the loom

of some enormous shape, some monstrous inchoate creature, passing swiftly and very silently out from the

tunnel. I was paralysed with fear and amazement. Long as I had waited, now that it had actually come I was

unprepared for the shock. I lay motionless and breathless, whilst the great dark mass whisked by me and was

But now I nerved myself for its return. No sound came from the sleeping countryside to tell of the horror

which was loose. In no way could I judge how far off it was, what it was doing, or when it might be back. But

not a second time should my nerve fail me, not a second time should it pass unchallenged. I swore it between

And yet it nearly happened. There was no warning of approach now as the creature passed over the grass.

Suddenly, like a dark, drifting shadow, the huge bulk loomed up once more before me, making for the

entrance of the cave. Again came that paralysis of volition which held my crooked forefinger impotent upon

the trigger. But with a desperate effort I shook it off. Even as the brushwood rustled, and the monstrous beast

blended with the shadow of the Gap, I fired at the retreating form. In the blaze of the gun I caught a glimpse

of a great shaggy mass, something with rough and bristling hair of a withered grey colour, fading away to

white in its lower parts, the huge body supported upon short, thick, curving legs. I had just that glance, and

then I heard the rattle of the stones as the creature tore down into its burrow. In an instant, with a triumphant

revulsion of feeling, I had cast my fears to the wind, and uncovering my powerful lantern, with my rifle in my

hand, I sprang down from my rock and rushed after the monster down the old Roman shaft.

My splendid lamp cast a brilliant flood of vivid light in front of me, very different from the yellow glimmer

which had aided me down the same passage only twelve days before. As I ran, I saw the great beast lurching

along before me, its huge bulk filling up the whole space from wall to wall. Its hair looked like coarse faded

oakum, and hung down in long, dense masses which swayed as it moved. It was like an enormous unclipped

sheep in its fleece, but in size it was far larger than the largest elephant, and its breadth seemed to be nearly as

great as its height. It fills me with amazement now to think that I should have dared to follow such a horror

into the bowels of the earth, but when one's blood is up, and when one's quarry seems to be flying, the old

primeval huntingspirit awakes and prudence is cast to the wind. Rifle in hand, I ran at the top of my speed

I had seen that the creature was swift. Now I was to find out to my cost that it was also very cunning. I had

imagined that it was in panic flight, and that I had only to pursue it. The idea that it might turn upon me never

entered my excited brain. I have already explained that the passage down which I was racing opened into a

great central cave. Into this I rushed, fearful lest I should lose all trace of the beast. But he had turned upon

That picture, seen in the brilliant white light of the lantern, is etched for ever upon my brain. He had reared

up on his hind legs as a bear would do, and stood above me, enormous, menacing such a creature as no

nightmare had ever brought to my imagination. I have said that he reared like a bear, and there was something

bearlikeif one could conceive a bear which was tenfold the bulk of any bear seen upon earthin his

whole pose and attitude, in his great crooked forelegs with their ivorywhite claws, in his rugged skin, and in

his red, gaping mouth, fringed with monstrous fangs. Only in one point did he differ from the bear, or from

any other creature which walks the earth, and even at that supreme moment a shudder of horror passed over

me as I observed that the eyes which glistened in the glow of my lantern were huge, projecting bulbs, white

and sightless. For a moment his great paws swung over my head. The next he fell forward upon me, I and my

When I came to myself I was back in the farmhouse of the Allertons. Two days had passed since my terrible

adventure in the Blue John Gap. It seems that I had lain all night in the cave insensible from concussion of

the brain, with my left arm and two ribs badly fractured. In the morning my note had been found, a search

party of a dozen farmers assembled, and I had been tracked down and carried back to my bedroom, where I

had lain in high delirium ever since. There was, it seems, no sign of the creature, and no bloodstain which

would show that my bullet had found him as he passed. Save for my own plight and the marks upon the mud,

Six weeks have now elapsed, and I am able to sit out once more in the sunshine. Just opposite me is the steep

hillside, grey with shaly rock, and yonder on its flank is the dark cleft which marks the opening of the Blue

John Gap. But it is no longer a source of terror. Never again through that illomened tunnel shall any strange

shape flit out into the world of men. The educated and the scientific, the Dr. Johnsons and the like, may smile

at my narrative, but the poorer folk of the countryside had never a doubt as to its truth. On the day after my

recovering consciousness they assembled in their hundreds round the Blue John Gap. As the Castleton

"It was useless for our correspondent, or for any of the adventurous gentlemen who had come from Matlock,

Buxton, and other parts, to offer to descend, to explore the cave to the end, and to finally test the

extraordinary narrative of Dr. James Hardcastle. The country people had taken the matter into their own

hands, and from an early hour of the morning they had worked hard in stopping up the entrance of the tunnel.

There is a sharp slope where the shaft begins, and great boulders, rolled along by many willing hands, were

thrust down it until the Gap was absolutely sealed. So ends the episode which has caused such excitement

throughout the country. Local opinion is fiercely divided upon the subject. On the one hand are those who

point to Dr. Hardcastle's impaired health, and to the possibility of cerebral lesions of tubercular origin giving

rise to strange hallucinations. Some idee fixe, according to these gentlemen, caused the doctor to wander

down the tunnel, and a fall among the rocks was sufficient to account for his injuries. On the other hand, a

legend of a strange creature in the Gap has existed for some months back, and the farmers look upon Dr.

Hardcastle's narrative and his personal injuries as a final corroboration. So the matter stands, and so the

matter will continue to stand, for no definite solution seems to us to be now possible. It transcends human wit

Perhaps before the Courier published these words they would have been wise to send their representative to

me. I have thought the matter out, as no one else has occasion to do, and it is possible that I might have

removed some of the more obvious difficulties of the narrative and brought it one degree nearer to scientific

acceptance. Let me then write down the only explanation which seems to me to elucidate what I know to my

cost to have been a series of facts. My theory may seem to be wildly improbable, but at least no one can

My view isand it was formed, as is shown by my diary, before my personal adventurethat in this part of

England there is a vast subterranean lake or sea, which is fed by the great number of streams which pass

down through the limestone. Where there is a large collection of water there must also be some evaporation,

mists or rain, and a possibility of vegetation. This in turn suggests that there may be animal life, arising, as

the vegetable life would also do, from those seeds and types which had been introduced at an early period of

the world's history, when communication with the outer air was more easy. This place had then developed a

fauna and flora of its own, including such monsters as the one which I had seen, which may well have been

the old cavebear, enormously enlarged and modified by its new environment. For countless aeons the

internal and the external creation had kept apart, growing steadily away from each other. Then there had

come some rift in the depths of the mountain which had enabled one creature to wander up and, by means of

the Roman tunnel, to reach the open air. Like all subterranean life, it had lost the power of sight, but this had

no doubt been compensated for by nature in other directions. Certainly it had some means of finding its way

about, and of hunting down the sheep upon the hillside. As to its choice of dark nights, it is part of my theory

that light was painful to those great white eyeballs, and that it was only a pitchblack world which it could

tolerate. Perhaps, indeed, it was the glare of my lantern which saved my life at that awful moment when we

were face to face. So I read the riddle. I leave these facts behind me, and if you can explain them, do so; or if

you choose to doubt them, do so. Neither your belief nor your incredulity can alter them, nor affect one

It is hard luck on a young fellow to have expensive tastes, great expectations, aristocratic connections, but no

actual money in his pocket, and no profession by which he may earn any. The fact was that my father, a good,

sanguine, easygoing man, had such confidence in the wealth and benevolence of his bachelor elder brother,

Lord Southerton, that he took it for granted that I, his only son, would never be called upon to earn a living

for myself. He imagined that if there were not a vacancy for me on the great Southerton Estates, at least there

would be found some post in that diplomatic service which still remains the special preserve of our privileged

classes. He died too early to realize how false his calculations had been. Neither my uncle nor the State took

the slightest notice of me, or showed any interest in my career. An occasional brace of pheasants, or basket of

hares, was all that ever reached me to remind me that I was heir to Otwell House and one of the richest

estates in the country. In the meantime, I found myself a bachelor and man about town, living in a suite of

apartments in Grosvenor Mansions, with no occupation save that of pigeonshooting and poloplaying at

Hurlingham. Month by month I realized that it was more and more difficult to get the brokers to renew my

bills, or to cash any further postobits upon an unentailed property. Ruin lay right across my path, and every

What made me feel my own poverty the more was that, apart from the great wealth of Lord Southerton, all

my other relations were fairly welltodo. The nearest of these was Everard King, my father's nephew and

my own first cousin, who had spent an adventurous life in Brazil, and had now returned to this country to

settle down on his fortune. We never knew how he made his money, but he appeared to have plenty of it, for

he bought the estate of Greylands, near CliptonontheMarsh, in Suffolk. For the first year of his residence

in England he took no more notice of me than my miserly uncle; but at last one summer morning, to my very

great relief and joy, I received a letter asking me to come down that very day and spend a short visit at

Greylands Court. I was expecting a rather long visit to Bankruptcy Court at the time, and this interruption

seemed almost providential. If I could only get on terms with this unknown relative of mine, I might pull

through yet. For the family credit he could not let me go entirely to the wall. I ordered my valet to pack my

After changing at Ipswich, a little local train deposited me at a small, deserted station lying amidst a rolling

grassy country, with a sluggish and winding river curving in and out amidst the valleys, between high, silted

banks, which showed that we were within reach of the tide. No carriage was awaiting me (I found afterwards

that my telegram had been delayed), so I hired a dogcart at the local inn. The driver, an excellent fellow, was

full of my relative's praises, and I learned from him that Mr. Everard King was already a name to conjure

with in that part of the county. He had entertained the schoolchildren, he had thrown his grounds open to

visitors, he had subscribed to charitiesin short, his benevolence had been so universal that my driver could

My attention was drawn away from my driver's panegyric by the appearance of a very beautiful bird which

settled on a telegraphpost beside the road. At first I thought that it was a jay, but it was larger, with a brighter

plumage. The driver accounted for its presence at once by saying that it belonged to the very man whom we

were about to visit. It seems that the acclimatization of foreign creatures was one of his hobbies, and that he

had brought with him from Brazil a number of birds and beasts which he was endeavouring to rear in

England. When once we had passed the gates of Greylands Park we had ample evidence of this taste of his.

Some small spotted deer, a curious wild pig known, I believe, as a peccary, a gorgeously feathered oriole,

some sort of armadillo, and a singular lumbering intoed beast like a very fat badger, were among the

Mr. Everard King, my unknown cousin, was standing in person upon the steps of his house, for he had seen

us in the distance, and guessed that it was I. His appearance was very homely and benevolent, short and stout,

fortyfive years old, perhaps, with a round, goodhumoured face, burned brown with the tropical sun, and

shot with a thousand wrinkles. He wore white linen clothes, in true planter style, with a cigar between his

lips, and a large Panama hat upon the back of his head. It was such a figure as one associates with a

verandahed bungalow, and it looked curiously out of place in front of this broad, stone English mansion, with

"My dear!" he cried, glancing over his shoulder; "my dear, here is our guest! Welcome, welcome to

Greylands! I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Cousin Marshall, and I take it as a great compliment

Nothing could be more hearty than his manner, and he set me at my ease in an instant. But it needed all his

cordiality to atone for the frigidity and even rudeness of his wife, a tall, haggard woman, who came forward

at his summons. She was, I believe, of Brazilian extraction, though she spoke excellent English, and I

excused her manners on the score of her ignorance of our customs. She did not attempt to conceal, however,

either then or afterwards, that I was no very welcome visitor at Greylands Court. Her actual words were, as a

rule, courteous, but she was the possessor of a pair of particularly expressive dark eyes, and I read in them

very clearly from the first that she heartily wished me back in London once more.

However, my debts were too pressing and my designs upon my wealthy relative were too vital for me to

allow them to be upset by the illtemper of his wife, so I disregarded her coldness and reciprocated the

extreme cordiality of his welcome. No pains had been spared by him to make me comfortable. My room was

a charming one. He implored me to tell him anything which could add to my happiness. It was on the tip of

my tongue to inform him that a blank cheque would materially help towards that end, but I felt that it might

be premature in the present state of our acquaintance. The dinner was excellent, and as we sat together

afterwards over his Havanas and coffee, which later he told me was specially prepared upon his own

plantation, it seemed to me that all my driver's eulogies were justified, and that I had never met a more

But, in spite of his cheery good nature, he was a man with a strong will and a fiery temper of his own. Of this

I had an example upon the following morning. The curious aversion which Mrs. Everard King had conceived

towards me was so strong, that her manner at breakfast was almost offensive. But her meaning became

"But I was not thinking of going today," I answered, frankly perhaps even defiantly, for I was determined

"Oh, if it rests with you" said she, and stopped with a most insolent expression in her eyes.

"I am sure," I answered, "that Mr. Everard King would tell me if I were outstaying my welcome."

"What's this? What's this?" said a voice, and there he was in the room. He had overheard my last words, and a

glance at our faces had told him the rest. In an instant his chubby, cheery face set into an expression of

"Might I trouble you to walk outside, Marshall?" said he. (I may mention that my own name is Marshall

He closed the door behind me, and then, for an instant, I heard him talking in a low voice of concentrated

passion to his wife. This gross breach of hospitality had evidently hit upon his tenderest point. I am no

eavesdropper, so I walked out on to the lawn. Presently I heard a hurried step behind me, and there was the

"My husband has asked me to apologize to you, Mr. Marshall King," said she, standing with downcast eyes

"You fool!" she hissed, with frantic vehemence, and turning on her heel swept back to the house.

The insult was so outrageous, so insufferable, that I could only stand staring after her in bewilderment. I was

"You must not take it seriously," said he. "It would grieve me inexpressibly if you curtailed your visit by one

hour. The fact isthere is no reason why there should be any concealment between relativesthat my poor

dear wife is incredibly jealous. She hates that anyonemale or femaleshould for an instant come between

us. Her ideal is a desert island and an eternal teteatete. That gives you the clue to her actions, which are, I

confess, upon this particular point, not very far removed from mania. Tell me that you will think no more of

The whole afternoon was occupied by this inspection, which included all the birds, beasts, and even reptiles

which he had imported. Some were free, some in cages, a few actually in the house. He spoke with

enthusiasm of his successes and his failures, his births and his deaths, and he would cry out in his delight, like

a schoolboy, when, as we walked, some gaudy bird would flutter up from the grass, or some curious beast

slink into the cover. Finally he led me down a corridor which extended from one wing of the house. At the

end of this there was a heavy door with a sliding shutter in it, and beside it there projected from the wall an

iron handle attached to a wheel and a drum. A line of stout bars extended across the passage.

"I am about to show you the jewel of my collection," said he. "There is only one other specimen in Europe,

"You will soon see that," said he, laughing. "Will you kindly draw that shutter and look through?"

I did so, and found that I was gazing into a large, empty room, with stone flags, and small, barred windows

upon the farther wall. In the centre of this room, lying in the middle of a golden patch of sunlight, there was

stretched a huge creature, as large as a tiger, but as black and sleek as ebony. It was simply a very enormous

and very wellkept black cat, and it cuddled up and basked in that yellow pool of light exactly as a cat would

do. It was so graceful, so sinewy, and so gently and smoothly diabolical, that I could not take my eyes from

"Some people call it a black puma, but really it is not a puma at all. That fellow is nearly eleven feet from tail

to tip. Four years ago he was a little ball of back fluff, with two yellow eyes staring out of it. He was sold me

as a newborn cub up in the wild country at the headwaters of the Rio Negro. They speared his mother to

"The most absolutely treacherous and bloodthirsty creatures upon earth. You talk about a Brazilian cat to an

upcountry Indian, and see him get the jumps. They prefer humans to game. This fellow has never tasted

living blood yet, but when he does he will be a terror. At present he won't stand anyone but me in his den.

Even Baldwin, the groom, dare not go near him. As to me, I am his mother and father in one."

As he spoke he suddenly, to my astonishment, opened the door and slipped in, closing it instantly behind him.

At the sound of his voice the huge, lithe creature rose, yawned and rubbed its round, black head affectionately

The monstrous cat walked over to one side of the room and coiled itself up under a grating. Everard King

came out, and taking the iron handle which I have mentioned, he began to turn it. As he did so the line of bars

in the corridor began to pass through a slot in the wall and closed up the front of this grating, so as to make an

effective cage. When it was in position he opened the door once more and invited me into the room, which

"That's how we work it," said he. "We give him the run of the room for exercise, and then at night we put him

in his cage. You can let him out by turning the handle from the passage, or you can, as you have seen, coop

I had put my hand between the bars to pat the glossy, heaving flank. He pulled it back, with a serious face.

"I assure you that he is not safe. Don't imagine that because I can take liberties with him anyone else can. He

is very exclusive in his friendsaren't you, Tommy? Ah, he hears his lunch coming to him! Don't you, boy?"

A step sounded in the stoneflagged passage, and the creature had sprung to his feet, and was pacing up and

down the narrow cage, his yellow eyes gleaming, and his scarlet tongue rippling and quivering over the white

line of his jagged teeth. A groom entered with a coarse joint upon a tray, and thrust it through the bars to him.

He pounced lightly upon it, carried it off to the corner, and there, holding it between his paws, tore and

wrenched at it, raising his bloody muzzle every now and then to look at us. It was a malignant and yet

"You can't wonder that I am fond of him, can you?" said my host, as we left the room, "especially when you

consider that I have had the rearing of him. It was no joke bringing him over from the centre of South

America; but here he is safe and soundand, as I have said, far the most perfect specimen in Europe. The

people at the Zoo are dying to have him, but I really can't part with him. Now, I think that I have inflicted my

hobby upon you long enough, so we cannot do better than follow Tommy's example, and go to our lunch."

My South American relative was so engrossed by his grounds and their curious occupants, that I hardly gave

him credit at first for having any interests outside them. That he had some, and pressing ones, was soon borne

in upon me by the number of telegrams which he received. They arrived at all hours, and were always opened

by him with the utmost eagerness and anxiety upon his face. Sometimes I imagined that it must be the Turf,

and sometimes the Stock Exchange, but certainly he had some very urgent business going forwards which

was not transacted upon the Downs of Suffolk. During the six days of my visit he had never fewer than three

I had occupied these six days so well, that by the end of them I had succeeded in getting upon the most

cordial terms with my cousin. Every night we had sat up late in the billiardroom, he telling me the most

extraordinary stories of his adventures in Americastories so desperate and reckless, that I could hardly

associate them with the brown little, chubby man before me. In return, I ventured upon some of my own

reminiscences of London life, which interested him so much, that he vowed he would come up to Grosvenor

Mansions and stay with me. He was anxious to see the faster side of city life, and certainly, though I say it, he

could not have chosen a more competent guide. It was not until the last day of my visit that I ventured to

approach that which was on my mind. I told him frankly about my pecuniary difficulties and my impending

ruin, and I asked his advicethough I hoped for something more solid. He listened attentively, puffing hard

"No, no, I have heard of his miserly ways. My poor Marshall, your position has been a very hard one. By the

"Exactlya creaking hinge, if ever there was one. Your inheritance may be a long way off. Dear me, how

"I had some hopes, sir, that you, knowing all the facts, might be inclined to advance"

"Don't say another word, my dear boy," he cried, with the utmost cordiality; "we shall talk it over tonight, and

I was not sorry that my visit was drawing to a close, for it is unpleasant to feel that there is one person in the

house who eagerly desires your departure. Mrs. King's sallow face and forbidding eyes had become more and

more hateful to me. She was no longer actively rudeher fear of her husband prevented herbut she

pushed her insane jealousy to the extent of ignoring me, never addressing me, and in every way making my

stay at Greylands as uncomfortable as she could. So offensive was her manner during that last day, that I

should certainly have left had it not been for that interview with my host in the evening which would, I

It was very late when it occurred, for my relative, who had been receiving even more telegrams than usual

during the day, went off to his study after dinner, and only emerged when the household had retired to bed. I

heard him go round locking the doors, as custom was of a night, and finally he joined me in the billiardroom.

His stout figure was wrapped in a dressinggown, and he wore a pair of red Turkish slippers without any

heels. Settling down into an armchair, he brewed himself a glass of grog, in which I could not help noticing

It was, indeed. The wind was howling and screaming round the house, and the latticed windows rattled and

shook as if they were coming in. The glow of the yellow lamps and the flavour of our cigars seemed the

"Now, my boy," said my host, "we have the house and the night to ourselves. Let me have an idea of how

your affairs stand, and I will see what can be done to set them in order. I wish to hear every detail."

Thus encouraged, I entered into a long exposition, in which all my tradesmen and creditors from my landlord

to my valet, figured in turn. I had notes in my pocketbook, and I marshalled my facts, and gave, I flatter

myself, a very businesslike statement of my own unbusinesslike ways and lamentable position. I was

depressed, however, to notice that my companion's eyes were vacant and his attention elsewhere. When he

did occasionally throw out a remark it was so entirely perfunctory and pointless, that I was sure he had not in

the least followed my remarks. Every now and then he roused himself and put on some show of interest,

asking me to repeat or to explain more fully, but it was always to sink once more into the same brown study.

"I'll tell you what, my boy," said he. "I never had a head for figures, so you will excuse me. You must jot it

all down upon paper, and let me have a note of the amount. I'll understand it when I see it in black and

"And now it's time we were in bed. By Jove, there's one o'clock striking in the hall."

The tingling of the chiming clock broke through the deep roar of the gale. The wind was sweeping past with

"I must see my cat before I go to bed," said my host. "A high wind excites him. Will you come?"

We passed quietly down the lamplit Persianrugged hall, and through the door at the farther end. All was

dark in the stone corridor, but a stable lantern hung on a hook, and my host took it down and lit it. There was

A deep growling as we entered showed that the storm had really excited the creature. In the flickering light of

the lantern, we saw it, a huge black mass coiled in the corner of its den and throwing a squat, uncouth shadow

"Poor Tommy is not in the best of tempers," said Everard King, holding up the lantern and looking in at him.

"What a black devil he looks, doesn't he? I must give him a little supper to put him in a better humour. Would

"His larder is just outside here," said he. "You will excuse me for an instant won't you?" He passed out, and

That hard crisp sound made my heart stand still. A sudden wave of terror passed over me. A vague perception

of some monstrous treachery turned me cold. I sprang to the door, but there was no handle upon the inner

"All right! Don't make a row!" said my host from the passage. "You've got the light all right."

"Let me out, sir!" I repeated angrily. "I tell you I don't allow practical jokes of this sort."

"Practical is the word," said he, with another hateful chuckle. And then suddenly I heard, amidst the roar of

the storm, the creak and whine of the winchhandle turning and the rattle of the grating as it passed through

In the light of the lantern I saw the bars sliding slowly before me. Already there was an opening a foot wide

at the farther end. With a scream I seized the last bar with my hands and pulled with the strength of a

madman. I WAS a madman with rage and horror. For a minute or more I held the thing motionless. I knew

that he was straining with all his force upon the handle, and that the leverage was sure to overcome me. I

gave inch by inch, my feet sliding along the stones, and all the time I begged and prayed this inhuman

monster to save me from this horrible death. I conjured him by his kinship. I reminded him that I was his

guest; I begged to know what harm I had ever done him. His only answers were the tugs and jerks upon the

handle, each of which, in spite of all my struggles, pulled another bar through the opening. Clinging and

clutching, I was dragged across the whole front of the cage, until at last, with aching wrists and lacerated

fingers, I gave up the hopeless struggle. The grating clanged back as I released it, and an instant later I heard

the shuffle of the Turkish slippers in the passage, and the slam of the distant door. Then everything was

The creature had never moved during this time. He lay still in the corner, and his tail had ceased switching.

This apparition of a man adhering to his bars and dragged screaming across him had apparently filled him

with amazement. I saw his great eyes staring steadily at me. I had dropped the lantern when I seized the bars,

but it still burned upon the floor, and I made a movement to grasp it, with some idea that its light might

protect me. But the instant I moved, the beast gave a deep and menacing growl. I stopped and stood still,

quivering with fear in every limb. The cat (if one may call so fearful a creature by so homely a name) was not

more than ten feet from me. The eyes glimmered like two disks of phosphorus in the darkness. They appalled

and yet fascinated me. I could not take my own eyes from them. Nature plays strange tricks with us at such

moments of intensity, and those glimmering lights waxed and waned with a steady rise and fall. Sometimes

they seemed to be tiny points of extreme brilliancylittle electric sparks in the black obscuritythen they

would widen and widen until all that corner of the room was filled with their shifting and sinister light. And

The beast had closed its eyes. I do not know whether there may be any truth in the old idea of the dominance

of the human gaze, or whether the huge cat was simply drowsy, but the fact remains that, far from showing

any symptom of attacking me, it simply rested its sleek, black head upon its huge forepaws and seemed to

sleep. I stood, fearing to move lest I should rouse it into malignant life once more. But at least I was able to

think clearly now that the baleful eyes were off me. Here I was shut up for the night with the ferocious beast.

My own instincts, to say nothing of the words of the plausible villain who laid this trap for me, warned me

that the animal was as savage as its master. How could I stave it off until morning? The door was hopeless,

and so were the narrow, barred windows. There was no shelter anywhere in the bare, stoneflagged room. To

cry for assistance was absurd. I knew that this den was an outhouse, and that the corridor which connected it

with the house was at least a hundred feet long. Besides, with the gale thundering outside, my cries were not

And then, with a fresh wave of horror, my eyes fell upon the lantern. The candle had burned low, and was

already beginning to gutter. In ten minutes it would be out. I had only ten minutes then in which to do

something, for I felt that if I were once left in the dark with that fearful beast I should be incapable of action.

The very thought of it paralysed me. I cast my despairing eyes round this chamber of death, and they rested

upon one spot which seemed to promise I will not say safety, but less immediate and imminent danger than

I have said that the cage had a top as well as a front, and this top was left standing when the front was wound

through the slot in the wall. It consisted of bars at a few inches' interval, with stout wire netting between, and

it rested upon a strong stanchion at each end. It stood now as a great barred canopy over the crouching figure

in the corner. The space between this iron shelf and the roof may have been from two or three feet. If I could

only get up there, squeezed in between bars and ceiling, I should have only one vulnerable side. I should be

safe from below, from behind, and from each side. Only on the open face of it could I be attacked. There, it is

true, I had no protection whatever; but at least, I should be out of the brute's path when he began to pace

about his den. He would have to come out of his way to reach me. It was now or never, for if once the light

were out it would be impossible. With a gulp in my throat I sprang up, seized the iron edge of the top, and

swung myself panting on to it. I writhed in face downwards, and found myself looking straight into the

terrible eyes and yawning jaws of the cat. Its fetid breath came up into my face like the steam from some foul

It appeared, however, to be rather curious than angry. With a sleek ripple of its long, black back it rose,

stretched itself, and then rearing itself on its hind legs, with one forepaw against the wall, it raised the other,

and drew its claws across the wire meshes beneath me. One sharp, white hook tore through my trousersfor

I may mention that I was still in evening dressand dug a furrow in my knee. It was not meant as an attack,

but rather as an experiment, for upon my giving a sharp cry of pain he dropped down again, and springing

lightly into the room, he began walking swiftly round it, looking up every now and again in my direction. For

my part I shuffled backwards until I lay with my back against the wall, screwing myself into the smallest

space possible. The farther I got the more difficult it was for him to attack me.

He seemed more excited now that he had begun to move about, and he ran swiftly and noiselessly round and

round the 1den, passing continually underneath the iron couch upon which I lay. It was wonderful to see so

great a bulk passing like a shadow, with hardly the softest thudding of velvety pads. The candle was burning

lowso low that I could hardly see the creature. And then, with a last flare and splutter it went out

It helps one to face a danger when one knows that one has done all that possibly can be done. There is

nothing for it then but to quietly await the result. In this case, there was no chance of safety anywhere except

the precise spot where I was. I stretched myself out, therefore, and lay silently, almost breathlessly, hoping

that the beast might forget my presence if I did nothing to remind him. I reckoned that it must already be two

o'clock. At four it would be full dawn. I had not more than two hours to wait for daylight.

Outside, the storm was still raging, and the rain lashed continually against the little windows. Inside, the

poisonous and fetid air was overpowering. I could neither hear nor see the cat. I tried to think about other

thingsbut only one had power enough to draw my mind from my terrible position. That was the

contemplation of my cousin's villainy, his unparalleled hypocrisy, his malignant hatred of me. Beneath that

cheerful face there lurked the spirit of a mediaeval assassin. And as I thought of it I saw more clearly how

cunningly the thing had been arranged. He had apparently gone to bed with the others. No doubt he had his

witness to prove it. Then, unknown to them, he had slipped down, had lured me into his den and abandoned

me. His story would be so simple. He had left me to finish my cigar in the billiardroom. I had gone down on

my own account to have a last look at the cat. I had entered the room without observing that the cage was

opened, and I had been caught. How could such a crime be brought home to him? Suspicion, perhapsbut

How slowly those dreadful two hours went by! Once I heard a low, rasping sound, which I took to be the

creature licking its own fur. Several times those greenish eyes gleamed at me through the darkness, but never

in a fixed stare, and my hopes grew stronger that my presence had been forgotten or ignored. At last the least

faint glimmer of light came through the windowsI first dimly saw them as two grey squares upon the black

wall, then grey turned to white, and I could see my terrible companion once more. And he, alas, could see

It was evident to me at once that he was in a much more dangerous and aggressive mood than when I had

seen him last. The cold of the morning had irritated him, and he was hungry as well. With a continual growl

he paced swiftly up and down the side of the room which was farthest from my refuge, his whiskers bristling

angrily, and his tail switching and lashing. As he turned at the corners his savage eyes always looked upwards

at me with a dreadful menace. I knew then that he meant to kill me. Yet I found myself even at that moment

admiring the sinuous grace of the devilish thing, its long, undulating, rippling movements, the gloss of its

beautiful flanks, the vivid, palpitating scarlet of the glistening tongue which hung from the jetblack muzzle.

And all the time that deep, threatening growl was rising and rising in an unbroken crescendo. I knew that the

It was a miserable hour to meet such a deathso cold, so comfortless, shivering in my light dress clothes

upon this gridiron of torment upon which I was stretched. I tried to brace myself to it, to raise my soul above

it, and at the same time, with the lucidity which comes to a perfectly desperate man, I cast round for some

possible means of escape. One thing was clear to me. If that front of the cage was only back in its position

once more, I could find a sure refuge behind it. Could I possibly pull it back? I hardly dared to move for fear

of bringing the creature upon me. Slowly, very slowly, I put my hand forward until it grasped the edge of the

front, the final bar which protruded through the wall. To my surprise it came quite easily to my jerk. Of

course the difficulty of drawing it out arose from the fact that I was clinging to it. I pulled again, and three

inches of it came through. It ran apparently on wheels. I pulled again . . . and then the cat sprang!

It was so quick, so sudden, that I never saw it happen. I simply heard the savage snarl, and in an instant

afterwards the blazing yellow eyes, the flattened black head with its red tongue and flashing teeth, were

within reach of me. The impact of the creature shook the bars upon which I lay, until I thought (as far as I

could think of anything at such a moment) that they were coming down. The cat swayed there for an instant,

the head and front paws quite close to me, the hind paws clawing to find a grip upon the edge of the grating. I

heard the claws rasping as they clung to the wirenetting, and the breath of the beast made me sick. But its

bound had been miscalculated. It could not retain its position. Slowly, grinning with rage, and scratching

madly at the bars, it swung backwards and dropped heavily upon the floor. With a growl it instantly faced

I knew that the next few moments would decide my fate. The creature had learned by experience. It would

not miscalculate again. I must act promptly, fearlessly, if I were to have a chance for life. In an instant I had

formed my plan. Pulling off my dresscoat, I threw it down over the head of the beast. At the same moment I

dropped over the edge, seized the end of the front grating, and pulled it frantically out of the wall.

It came more easily than I could have expected. I rushed across the room, bearing it with me; but, as I rushed,

the accident of my position put me upon the outer side. Had it been the other way, I might have come off

scathless. As it was, there was a moment's pause as I stopped it and tried to pass in through the opening

which I had left. That moment was enough to give time to the creature to toss off the coat with which I had

blinded him and to spring upon me. I hurled myself through the gap and pulled the rails to behind me, but he

seized my leg before I could entirely withdraw it. One stroke of that huge paw tore off my calf as a shaving of

wood curls off before a plane. The next moment, bleeding and fainting, I was lying among the foul straw with

a line of friendly bars between me and the creature which ramped so frantically against them.

Too wounded to move, and too faint to be conscious of fear, I could only lie, more dead than alive, and watch

it. It pressed its broad, black chest against the bars and angled for me with its crooked paws as I have seen a

kitten do before a mousetrap. It ripped my clothes, but, stretch as it would, it could not quite reach me. I

have heard of the curious numbing effect produced by wounds from the great carnivora, and now I was

destined to experience it, for I had lost all sense of personality, and was as interested in the cat's failure or

success as if it were some game which I was watching. And then gradually my mind drifted away into strange

vague dreams, always with that black face and red tongue coming back into them, and so I lost myself in the

Tracing the course of events afterwards, I conclude that I must have been insensible for about two hours.

What roused me to consciousness once more was that sharp metallic click which had been the precursor of

my terrible experience. It was the shooting back of the spring lock. Then, before my senses were clear enough

to entirely apprehend what they saw, I was aware of the round, benevolent face of my cousin peering in

through the open door. What he saw evidently amazed him. There was the cat crouching on the floor. I was

stretched upon my back in my shirtsleeves within the cage, my trousers torn to ribbons and a great pool of

blood all round me. I can see his amazed face now, with the morning sunlight upon it. He peered at me, and

peered again. Then he closed the door behind him, and advanced to the cage to see if I were really dead.

I cannot undertake to say what happened. I was not in a fit state to witness or to chronicle such events. I can

only say that I was suddenly conscious that his face was away from methat he was looking towards the

Suddenly even in my bemuddled brain a remembrance came of those words of his when he had said that the

taste of blood would turn the cat into a fiend. My blood had done it, but he was to pay the price.

And then I heard him fall, and rise, and fall again, with a sound like the ripping of sacking. His screams grew

fainter until they were lost in the worrying snarl. And then, after I thought that he was dead, I saw, as in a

nightmare, a blinded, tattered, bloodsoaked figure running wildly round the roomand that was the last

I was many months in my recoveryin fact, I cannot say that I have ever recovered, for to the end of my

days I shall carry a stick as a sign of my night with the Brazilian cat. Baldwin, the groom, and the other

servants could not tell what had occurred, when, drawn by the deathcries of their master, they found me

behind the bars, and his remainsor what they afterwards discovered to be his remainsin the clutch of the

creature which he had reared. They stalled him off with hot irons, and afterwards shot him through the

loophole of the door before they could finally extricate me. I was carried to my bedroom, and there, under the

roof of my wouldbe murderer, I remained between life and death for several weeks. They had sent for a

surgeon from Clipton and a nurse from London, and in a month I was able to be carried to the station, and so

I have one remembrance of that illness, which might have been part of the everchanging panorama conjured

up by a delirious brain were it not so definitely fixed in my memory. One night, when the nurse was absent,

the door of my chamber opened, and a tall woman in blackest mourning slipped into the room. She came

across to me, and as she bent her sallow face I saw by the faint gleam of the nightlight that it was the

Brazilian woman whom my cousin had married. She stared intently into my face, and her expression was

"Well; then, I only wished to say to you that you have yourself to blame. Did I not do all I could for you?

From the beginning I tried to drive you from the house. By every means, short of betraying my husband, I

tried to save you from him. I knew that he had a reason for bringing you here. I knew that he would never let

you get away again. No one knew him as I knew him, who had suffered from him so often. I did not dare to

tell you all this. He would have killed me. But I did my best for you. As things have turned out, you have

been the best friend that I have ever had. You have set me free, and I fancied that nothing but death would do

that. I am sorry if you are hurt, but I cannot reproach myself. I told you that you were a fooland a fool you

have been." She crept out of the room, the bitter, singular woman, and I was never destined to see her again.

With what remained from her husband's property she went back to her native land, and I have heard that she

It was not until I had been back in London for some time that the doctors pronounced me to be well enough

to do business. It was not a very welcome permission to me, for I feared that it would be the signal for an

inrush of creditors; but it was Summers, my lawyer, who first took advantage of it.

"I am very glad to see that your lordship is so much better," said he. "I have been waiting a long time to offer

"I mean what I say," he answered. "You have been Lord Southerton for the last six weeks, but we feared that

Lord Southerton! One of the richest peers in England! I could not believe my ears. And then suddenly I

"His death occurred upon that very day." Summers looked hard at me as I spoke, and I am convincedfor he

was a very shrewd fellowthat he had guessed the true state of the case. He paused for a moment as if

awaiting a confidence from me, but I could not see what was to be gained by exposing such a family scandal.

"Yes, a very curious coincidence," he continued, with the same knowing look. "Of course, you are aware that

your cousin Everard King was the next heir to the estates. Now, if it had been you instead of him who had

been torn to pieces by this tiger, or whatever it was, then of course he would have been Lord Southerton at

"And he took such an interest in it," said Summers. "I happen to know that the late Lord Southerton's valet

was in his pay, and that he used to have telegrams from him every few hours to tell him how he was getting

on. That would be about the time when you were down there. Was it not strange that he should wish to be so

"Very strange," said I. "And now, Summers, if you will bring me my bills and a new chequebook, we will

The confession of Herbert de Lernac, now lying under sentence of death at Marseilles, has thrown a light

upon one of the most inexplicable crimes of the centuryan incident which is, I believe, absolutely

unprecedented in the criminal annals of any country: Although there is a reluctance to discuss the matter in

official circles, and little information has been given to the Press, there are still indications that the statement

of this archcriminal is corroborated by the facts, and that we have at last found a solution for a most

astounding business. As the matter is eight years old, and as its importance was somewhat obscured by a

political crisis which was engaging the public attention at the time, it may be as well to state the facts as far as

we have been able to ascertain them. They are collated from the Liverpool papers of that date, from the

proceedings at the inquest upon John Slater, the enginedriver, and from the records of the London and West

Coast Railway Company, which have been courteously put at my disposal. Briefly, they are as follows:

On the 3rd of June, 1890, a gentleman, who gave his name as Monsieur Louis Caratal, desired an interview

with Mr. James Bland, the superintendent of the London and West Coast Central Station in Liverpool. He

was a small man, middleaged and dark, with a stoop which was so marked that it suggested some deformity

of the spine. He was accompanied by a friend, a man of imposing physique, whose deferential manner and

constant attention showed that his position was one of dependence. This friend or companion, whose name

did not transpire, was certainly a foreigner, and probably from his swarthy complexion, either a Spaniard or a

South American. One peculiarity was observed in him. He carried in his left hand a small black, leather

dispatch box, and it was noticed by a sharpeyed clerk in the Central office that this box was fastened to his

wrist by a strap. No importance was attached to the fact at the time, but subsequent events endowed it with

some significance. Monsieur Caratal was shown up to Mr. Bland's office, while his companion remained

Monsieur Caratal's business was quickly dispatched. He had arrived that afternoon from Central America.

Affairs of the utmost importance demanded that he should be in Paris without the loss of an unnecessary

hour. He had missed the London express. A special must be provided. Money was of no importance. Time

was everything. If the company would speed him on his way, they might make their own terms.

Mr. Bland struck the electric bell, summoned Mr. Potter Hood, the traffic manager, and had the matter

arranged in five minutes. The train would start in threequarters of an hour. It would take that time to insure

that the line should be clear. The powerful engine called Rochdale (No. 247 on the company's register) was

attached to two carriages, with a guard's van behind. The first carriage was solely for the purpose of

decreasing the inconvenience arising from the oscillation. The second was divided, as usual, into four

compartments, a firstclass, a firstclass smoking, a secondclass, and a secondclass smoking. The first

compartment, which was nearest to the engine, was the one allotted to the travellers. The other three were

empty. The guard of the special train was James McPherson, who had been some years in the service of the

Monsieur Caratal, upon leaving the superintendent's office, rejoined his companion, and both of them

manifested extreme impatience to be off. Having paid the money asked, which amounted to fifty pounds five

shillings, at the usual special rate of five shillings a mile, they demanded to be shown the carriage, and at

once took their seats in it, although they were assured that the better part of an hour must elapse before the

line could be cleared. In the meantime a singular coincidence had occurred in the office which Monsieur

A request for a special is not a very uncommon circumstance in a rich commercial centre, but that two should

be required upon the same afternoon was most unusual. It so happened, however, that Mr. Bland had hardly

dismissed the first traveller before a second entered with a similar request. This was a Mr. Horace Moore, a

gentlemanly man of military appearance, who alleged that the sudden serious illness of his wife in London

made it absolutely imperative that he should not lose an instant in starting upon the journey. His distress and

anxiety were so evident that Mr. Bland did all that was possible to meet his wishes. A second special was out

of the question, as the ordinary local service was already somewhat deranged by the first. There was the

alternative, however, that Mr. Moore should share the expense of Monsieur Caratal's train, and should travel

in the other empty firstclass compartment, if Monsieur Caratal objected to having him in the one which he

occupied. It was difficult to see any objection to such an arrangement, and yet Monsieur Caratal, upon the

suggestion being made to him by Mr. Potter Hood, absolutely refused to consider it for an instant. The train

was his, he said, and he would insist upon the exclusive use of it. All argument failed to overcome his

ungracious objections, and finally the plan had to be abandoned. Mr. Horace Moore left the station in great

distress, after learning that his only course was to take the ordinary slow train which leaves Liverpool at six

o'clock. At four thirtyone exactly by the station clock the special train, containing the crippled Monsieur

Caratal and his gigantic companion, steamed out of the Liverpool station. The line was at that time clear, and

The trains of the London and West Coast Railway run over the lines of another company as far as this town,

which should have been reached by the special rather before six o'clock. At a quarter after six considerable

surprise and some consternation were caused amongst the officials at Liverpool by the receipt of a telegram

from Manchester to say that it had not yet arrived. An inquiry directed to St. Helens, which is a third of the

"To James Bland, Superintendent, Central L. & W. C., Liverpool.Special passed here at 4:52, well up to

This telegram was received at sixforty. At sixfifty a second message was received from Manchester

"Presume some mistake as to proposed running of special. Local train from St. Helens timed to follow it has

The matter was assuming a most amazing aspect, although in some respects the last telegram was a relief to

the authorities at Liverpool. If an accident had occurred to the special, it seemed hardly possible that the local

train could have passed down the same line without observing it. And yet, what was the alternative? Where

could the train be? Had it possibly been sidetracked for some reason in order to allow the slower train to go

past? Such an explanation was possible if some small repair had to be effected. A telegram was dispatched to

each of the stations between St. Helens and Manchester, and the superintendent and traffic manager waited in

the utmost suspense at the instrument for the series of replies which would enable them to say for certain

what had become of the missing train. The answers came back in the order of questions, which was the order

"Absolutely unprecedented and inexplicable, sir. The special has gone wrong between Kenyon Junction and

"And yet there is no siding, so far as my memory serves me, between the two stations. The special must have

"But how could the fourfifty parliamentary pass over the same line without observing it?"

"There's no alternative, Mr. Hood. It must be so. Possibly the local train may have observed something which

may throw some light upon the matter. We will wire to Manchester for more information, and to Kenyon

Junction with instructions that the line be examined instantly as far as Barton Moss." The answer from

"No news of missing special. Driver and guard of slow train positive no accident between Kenyon Junction

"That driver and guard will have to go," said Mr. Bland, grimly. "There has been a wreck and they have

missed it. The special has obviously run off the metals without disturbing the linehow it could have done

so passes my comprehensionbut so it must be, and we shall have a wire from Kenyon or Barton Moss

But Mr. Bland's prophecy was not destined to be fulfilled. Half an hour passed, and then there arrived the

"There are no traces of the missing special. It is quite certain that she passed here, and that she did not arrive

at Barton Moss. We have detached engine from goods train, and I have myself ridden down the line, but all is

"This is rank lunacy, Hood!" he cried. "Does a train vanish into thin air in England in broad daylight? The

thing is preposterous. An engine, a tender, two carriages, a van, five human beingsand all lost on a straight

line of railway! Unless we get something positive within the next hour I'll take Inspector Collins, and go

And then at last something positive did occur. It took the shape of another telegram from Kenyon Junction.

"Regret to report that the dead body of John Slater, driver of the special train, has just been found among the

gorse bushes at a point two and a quarter miles from the Junction. Had fallen from his engine, pitched down

the embankment, and rolled among the bushes. Injuries to his head, from the fall, appear to be cause of death.

Ground has now been carefully examined, and there is no trace of the missing train."

The country was, as has already been stated, in the throes of a political crisis, and the attention of the public

was further distracted by the important and sensational developments in Paris, where a huge scandal

threatened to destroy the Government and to wreck the reputations of many of the leading men in France. The

papers were full of these events, and the singular disappearance of the special train attracted less attention

than would have been the case in more peaceful times. The grotesque nature of the event helped to detract

from its importance, for the papers were disinclined to believe the facts as reported to them. More than one of

the London journals treated the matter as an ingenious hoax, until the coroner's inquest upon the unfortunate

driver (an inquest which elicited nothing of importance) convinced them of the tragedy of the incident.

Mr. Bland, accompanied by Inspector Collins, the senior detective officer in the service of the company, went

down to Kenyon Junction the same evening, and their research lasted throughout the following day, but was

attended with purely negative results. Not only was no trace found of the missing train, but no conjecture

could be put forward which could possibly explain the facts. At the same time, Inspector Collins's official

report (which lies before me as I write) served to show that the possibilities were more numerous than might

"In the stretch of railway between these two points," said he, "the country is dotted with ironworks and

collieries. Of these, some are being worked and some have been abandoned. There are no fewer than twelve

which have smallgauge lines which run trollycars down to the main line. These can, of course, be

disregarded. Besides these, however, there are seven which have, or have had, proper lines running down and

connecting with points to the main line, so as to convey their produce from the mouth of the mine to the great

centres of distribution. In every case these lines are only a few miles in length. Out of the seven, four belong

to collieries which are worked out, or at least to shafts which are no longer used. These are the Redgauntlet,

Hero, Slough of Despond, and Heartsease mines, the latter having ten years ago been one of the principal

mines in Lancashire. These four side lines may be eliminated from our inquiry, for, to prevent possible

accidents, the rails nearest to the main line have been taken up, and there is no longer any connection. There

"Of these the Big Ben line is not more than a quarter of a mile long, and ends at a dead wall of coal waiting

removal from the mouth of the mine. Nothing had been seen or heard there of any special. The Carnstock

Iron Works line was blocked all day upon the 3rd of June by sixteen truckloads of hematite. It is a single line,

and nothing could have passed. As to the Perseverance line, it is a large double line, which does a

considerable traffic, for the output of the mine is very large. On the 3rd of June this traffic proceeded as

usual; hundreds of men including a gang of railway platelayers were working along the two miles and a

quarter which constitute the total length of the line, and it is inconceivable that an unexpected train could

have come down there without attracting universal attention. It may be remarked in conclusion that this

branch line is nearer to St. Helens than the point at which the enginedriver was discovered, so that we have

every reason to believe that the train was past that point before misfortune overtook her.

"As to John Slater, there is no clue to be gathered from his appearance or injuries. We can only say that, so

far as we can see, he met his end by falling off his engine, though why he fell, or what became of the engine

after his fall, is a question upon which I do not feel qualified to offer an opinion." In conclusion, the inspector

offered his resignation to the Board, being much nettled by an accusation of incompetence in the London

A month elapsed, during which both the police and the company prosecuted their inquiries without the

slightest success. A reward was offered and a pardon promised in case of crime, but they were both

unclaimed. Every day the public opened their papers with the conviction that so grotesque a mystery would at

last be solved, but week after week passed by, and a solution remained as far off as ever. In broad daylight,

upon a June afternoon in the most thickly inhabited portion of England, a train with its occupants had

disappeared as completely as if some master of subtle chemistry had volatilized it into gas. Indeed, among the

various conjectures which were put forward in the public Press, there were some which seriously asserted that

supernatural, or, at least, preternatural, agencies had been at work, and that the deformed Monsieur Caratal

was probably a person who was better known under a less polite name. Others fixed upon his swarthy

companion as being the author of the mischief, but what it was exactly which he had done could never be

Amongst the many suggestions put forward by various newspapers or private individuals, there were one or

two which were feasible enough to attract the attention of the public. One which appeared in The Times, over

the signature of an amateur reasoner of some celebrity at that date, attempted to deal with the matter in a

critical and semiscientific manner. An extract must suffice, although the curious can see the whole letter in

"It is one of the elementary principles of practical reasoning," he remarked, "that when the impossible has

been eliminated the residuum, HOWEVER IMPROBABLE, must contain the truth. It is certain that the train

left Kenyon Junction. It is certain that it did not reach Barton Moss. It is in the highest degree unlikely, but

still possible, that it may have taken one of the seven available side lines. It is obviously impossible for a train

to run where there are no rails, and, therefore, we may reduce our improbables to the three open lines, namely

the Carnstock Iron Works, the Big Ben, and the Perserverance. Is there a secret society of colliers, an English

Camorra, which is capable of destroying both train and passengers? It is improbable, but it is not impossible.

I confess that I am unable to suggest any other solution. I should certainly advise the company to direct all

their energies towards the observation of those three lines, and of the workmen at the end of them. A careful

supervision of the pawnbrokers' shops of the district might possibly bring some suggestive facts to light."

The suggestion coming from a recognized authority upon such matters created considerable interest, and a

fierce opposition from those who considered such a statement to be a preposterous libel upon an honest and

deserving set of men. The only answer to this criticism was a challenge to the objectors to lay any more

feasible explanations before the public. In reply to this two others were forthcoming (Times, July 7th and

9th). The first suggested that the train might have run off the metals and be lying submerged in the

Lancashire and Staffordshire Canal, which runs parallel to the railway for some hundred of yards. This

suggestion was thrown out of court by the published depth of the canal, which was entirely insufficient to

conceal so large an object. The second correspondent wrote calling attention to the bag which appeared to be

the sole luggage which the travellers had brought with them, and suggesting that some novel explosive of

immense and pulverizing power might have been concealed in it. The obvious absurdity, however, of

supposing that the whole train might be blown to dust while the metals remained uninjured reduced any such

explanation to a farce. The investigation had drifted into this hopeless position when a new and most

This was nothing less than the receipt by Mrs. McPherson of a letter from her husband, James McPherson,

who had been the guard on the missing train. The letter, which was dated July 5th, 1890, was posted from

New York and came to hand upon July 14th. Some doubts were expressed as to its genuine character but Mrs.

McPherson was positive as to the writing, and the fact that it contained a remittance of a hundred dollars in

fivedollar notes was enough in itself to discount the idea of a hoax. No address was given in the letter,

"I have been thinking a great deal, and I find it very hard to give you up. The same with Lizzie. I try to fight

against it, but it will always come back to me. I send you some money which will change into twenty English

pounds. This should be enough to bring both Lizzie and you across the Atlantic, and you will find the

Hamburg boats which stop at Southampton very good boats, and cheaper than Liverpool. If you could come

here and stop at the Johnston House I would try and send you word how to meet, but things are very difficult

with me at present, and I am not very happy, finding it hard to give you both up. So no more at present, from

For a time it was confidently anticipated that this letter would lead to the clearing up of the whole matter, the

more so as it was ascertained that a passenger who bore a close resemblance to the missing guard had

travelled from Southampton under the name of Summers in the Hamburg and New York liner Vistula, which

started upon the 7th of June. Mrs. McPherson and her sister Lizzie Dolton went across to New York as

directed and stayed for three weeks at the Johnston House, without hearing anything from the missing man. It

is probable that some injudicious comments in the Press may have warned him that the police were using

them as a bait. However, this may be, it is certain that he neither wrote nor came, and the women were

And so the matter stood, and has continued to stand up to the present year of 1898. Incredible as it may seem,

nothing has transpired during these eight years which has shed the least light upon the extraordinary

disappearance of the special train which contained Monsieur Caratal and his companion. Careful inquiries

into the antecedents of the two travellers have only established the fact that Monsieur Caratal was well known

as a financier and political agent in Central America, and that during his voyage to Europe he had betrayed

extraordinary anxiety to reach Paris. His companion, whose name was entered upon the passenger lists as

Eduardo Gomez, was a man whose record was a violent one, and whose reputation was that of a bravo and a

bully. There was evidence to show, however, that he was honestly devoted to the interests of Monsieur

Caratal, and that the latter, being a man of puny physique, employed the other as a guard and protector. It

may be added that no information came from Paris as to what the objects of Monsieur Caratal's hurried

journey may have been. This comprises all the facts of the case up to the publication in the Marseilles papers

of the recent confession of Herbert de Lernac, now under sentence of death for the murder of a merchant

"It is not out of mere pride or boasting that I give this information, for, if that were my object, I could tell a

dozen actions of mine which are quite as splendid; but I do it in order that certain gentlemen in Paris may

understand that I, who am able here to tell about the fate of Monsieur Caratal, can also tell in whose interest

and at whose request the deed was done, unless the reprieve which I am awaiting comes to me very quickly.

Take warning, messieurs, before it is too late! You know Herbert de Lernac, and you are aware that his deeds

"At present I shall mention no namesif you only heard the names, what would you not think!but I shall

merely tell you how cleverly I did it. I was true to my employers then, and no doubt they will be true to me

now. I hope so, and until I am convinced that they have betrayed me, these names, which would convulse

"In a word, then, there was a famous trial in Paris, in the year 1890, in connection with a monstrous scandal

in politics and finance. How monstrous that scandal was can never be known save by such confidential agents

as myself. The honour and careers of many of the chief men in France were at stake. You have seen a group

of ninepins standing, all so rigid, and prim, and unbending. Then there comes the ball from far away and pop,

pop, popthere are your ninepins on the floor. Well, imagine some of the greatest men in France as these

ninepins and then this Monsieur Caratal was the ball which could be seen coming from far away. If he

arrived, then it was pop, pop, pop for all of them. It was determined that he should not arrive.

"I do not accuse them all of being conscious of what was to happen. There were, as I have said, great

financial as well as political interests at stake, and a syndicate was formed to manage the business. Some

subscribed to the syndicate who hardly understood what were its objects. But others understood very well,

and they can rely upon it that I have not forgotten their names. They had ample warning that Monsieur

Caratal was coming long before he left South America, and they knew that the evidence which he held would

certainly mean ruin to all of them. The syndicate had the command of an unlimited amount of

moneyabsolutely unlimited, you understand. They looked round for an agent who was capable of wielding

this gigantic power. The man chosen must be inventive, resolute, adaptivea man in a million. They chose

"My duties were to choose my subordinates, to use freely the power which money gives, and to make certain

that Monsieur Caratal should never arrive in Paris. With characteristic energy I set about my commission

within an hour of receiving my instructions, and the steps which I took were the very best for the purpose

"A man whom I could trust was dispatched instantly to South America to travel home with Monsieur Caratal.

Had he arrived in time the ship would never have reached Liverpool; but alas! it had already started before

my agent could reach it. I fitted out a small armed brig to intercept it, but again I was unfortunate. Like all

great organizers I was, however, prepared for failure, and had a series of alternatives prepared, one or the

other of which must succeed. You must not underrate the difficulties of my undertaking, or imagine that a

mere commonplace assassination would meet the case. We must destroy not only Monsieur Caratal, but

Monsieur Caratal's documents, and Monsieur Caratal's companions also, if we had reason to believe that he

had communicated his secrets to them. And you must remember that they were on the alert, and keenly

suspicious of any such attempt. It was a task which was in every way worthy of me, for I am always most

"I was all ready for Monsieur Caratal's reception in Liverpool, and I was the more eager because I had reason

to believe that he had made arrangements by which he would have a considerable guard from the moment

that he arrived in London. Anything which was to be done must be done between the moment of his setting

foot upon the Liverpool quay and that of his arrival at the London and West Coast terminus in London. We

prepared six plans, each more elaborate than the last; which plan would be used would depend upon his own

movements. Do what he would, we were ready for him. If he had stayed in Liverpool, we were ready. If he

took an ordinary train, an express, or a special, all was ready. Everything had been foreseen and provided for.

"You may imagine that I could not do all this myself. What could I know of the English railway lines? But

money can procure willing agents all the world over, and I soon had one of the acutest brains in England to

assist me. I will mention no names, but it would be unjust to claim all the credit for myself. My English ally

was worthy of such an alliance. He knew the London and West Coast line thoroughly, and he had the

command of a band of workers who were trustworthy and intelligent. The idea was his, and my own

judgement was only required in the details. We bought over several officials, amongst whom the most

important was James McPherson, whom we had ascertained to be the guard most likely to be employed upon

a special train. Smith, the stoker, was also in our employ. John Slater, the enginedriver, had been

approached, but had been found to be obstinate and dangerous, so we desisted. We had no certainty that

Monsieur Caratal would take a special, but we thought it very probable, for it was of the utmost importance to

him that he should reach Paris without delay. It was for this contingency, therefore, that we made special

preparations preparations which were complete down to the last detail long before his steamer had sighted

the shores of England. You will be amused to learn that there was one of my agents in the pilotboat which

"The moment that Caratal arrived in Liverpool we knew that he suspected danger and was on his guard. He

had brought with him as an escort a dangerous fellow, named Gomez, a man who carried weapons, and was

prepared to use them. This fellow carried Caratal's confidential papers for him, and was ready to protect

either them or his master. The probability was that Caratal had taken him into his counsels, and that to

remove Caratal without removing Gomez would be a mere waste of energy. It was necessary that they should

be involved in a common fate, and our plans to that end were much facilitated by their request for a special

train. On that special train you will understand that two out of the three servants of the company were really

in our employ, at a price which would make them independent for a lifetime. I do not go so far as to say that

the English are more honest than any other nation, but I have found them more expensive to buy.

"I have already spoken of my English agentwho is a man with a considerable future before him, unless

some complaint of the throat carries him off before his time. He had charge of all arrangements at Liverpool,

whilst I was stationed at the inn at Kenyon, where I awaited a cipher signal to act. When the special was

arranged for, my agent instantly telegraphed to me and warned me how soon I should have everything ready.

He himself under the name of Horace Moore applied immediately for a special also, in the hope that he

would be sent down with Monsieur Caratal, which might under certain circumstances have been helpful to us.

If, for example, our great coup had failed, it would then have become the duty of my agent to have shot them

both and destroyed their papers. Caratal was on his guard, however, and refused to admit any other traveller.

My agent then left the station, returned by another entrance, entered the guard's van on the side farthest from

"In the meantime you will be interested to know what my movements were. Everything had been prepared for

days before, and only the finishing touches were needed. The side line which we had chosen had once joined

the main line, but it had been disconnected. We had only to replace a few rails to connect it once more. These

rails had been laid down as far as could be done without danger of attracting attention, and now it was merely

a case of completing a juncture with the line, and arranging the points as they had been before. The sleepers

had never been removed, and the rails, fishplates and rivets were all ready, for we had taken them from a

siding on the abandoned portion of the line. With my small but competent band of workers, we had

everything ready long before the special arrived. When it did arrive, it ran off upon the small side line so

easily that the jolting of the points appears to have been entirely unnoticed by the two travellers.

"Our plan had been that Smith, the stoker, should chloroform John Slater, the driver, so that he should vanish

with the others. In this respect, and in this respect only, our plans miscarriedI except the criminal folly of

McPherson in writing home to his wife. Our stoker did his business so clumsily that Slater in his struggles

fell off the engine, and though fortune was with us so far that he broke his neck in the fall, still he remained

as a blot upon that which would otherwise have been one of those complete masterpieces which are only to

be contemplated in silent admiration. The criminal expert will find in John Slater the one flaw in all our

admirable combinations. A man who has had as many triumphs as I can afford to be frank, and I therefore lay

"But now I have got our special train upon the small line two kilometres, or rather more than one mile, in

length, which leads, or rather used to lead, to the abandoned Heartsease mine, once one of the largest coal

mines in England. You will ask how it is that no one saw the train upon this unused line. I answer that along

its entire length it runs through a deep cutting, and that, unless someone had been on the edge of that cutting,

he could not have seen it. There WAS someone on the edge of that cutting. I was there. And now I will tell

"My assistant had remained at the points in order that he might superintend the switching off of the train. He

had four armed men with him, so that if the train ran off the linewe thought it probable, because the points

were very rustywe might still have resources to fall back upon. Having once seen it safely on the side line,

he handed over the responsibility to me. I was waiting at a point which overlooks the mouth of the mine, and

I was also armed, as were my two companions. Come what might, you see, I was always ready.

"The moment that the train was fairly on the side line, Smith, the stoker, sloweddown the engine, and then,

having turned it on to the fullest speed again, he and McPherson, with my English lieutenant, sprang off

before it was too late. It may be that it was this slowingdown which first attracted the attention of the

travellers, but the train was running at full speed again before their heads appeared at the open window. It

makes me smile to think how bewildered they must have been. Picture to yourself your own feelings if, on

looking out of your luxurious carriage, you suddenly perceived that the lines upon which you ran were rusted

and corroded, red and yellow with disuse and decay! What a catch must have come in their breath as in a

second it flashed upon them that it was not Manchester but Death which was waiting for them at the end of

that sinister line. But the train was running with frantic speed, rolling and rocking over the rotten line, while

the wheels made a frightful screaming sound upon the rusted surface. I was close to them, and could see their

faces. Caratal was praying, I thinkthere was something like a rosary dangling out of his hand. The other

roared like a bull who smells the blood of the slaughterhouse. He saw us standing on the bank, and he

beckoned to us like a madman. Then he tore at his wrist and threw his dispatchbox out of the window in our

direction. Of course, his meaning was obvious. Here was the evidence, and they would promise to be silent if

their lives were spared. It would have been very agreeable if we could have done so, but business is business.

"He ceased howling when the train rattled round the curve and they saw the black mouth of the mine yawning

before them. We had removed the boards which had covered it, and we had cleared the square entrance. The

rails had formerly run very close to the shaft for the convenience of loading the coal, and we had only to add

two or three lengths of rail in order to lead to the very brink of the shaft. In fact, as the lengths would not

quite fit, our line projected about three feet over the edge. We saw the two heads at the window: Caratal

below, Gomez above; but they had both been struck silent by what they saw. And yet they could not

"I had wondered how the train running at a great speed would take the pit into which I had guided it, and I

was much interested in watching it. One of my colleagues thought that it would actually jump it, and indeed it

was not very far from doing so. Fortunately, however, it fell short, and the buffers of the engine struck the

other lip of the shaft with a tremendous crash. The funnel flew off into the air. The tender, carriages, and van

were all smashed up into one jumble, which, with the remains of the engine, choked for a minute or so the

mouth of the pit. Then something gave way in the middle, and the whole mass of green iron, smoking coals,

brass fittings, wheels, woodwork, and cushions all crumbled together and crashed down into the mine. We

heard the rattle, rattle, rattle, as the debris struck against the walls, and then, quite a long time afterwards,

there came a deep roar as the remains of the train struck the bottom. The boiler may have burst, for a sharp

crash came after the roar, and then a dense cloud of steam and smoke swirled up out of the black depths,

falling in a spray as thick as rain all round us. Then the vapour shredded off into thin wisps, which floated

"And now, having carried out our plans so successfully, it only remained to leave no trace behind us. Our

little band of workers at the other end had already ripped up the rails and disconnected the side line, replacing

everything as it had been before. We were equally busy at the mine. The funnel and other fragments were

thrown in, the shaft was planked over as it used to be, and the lines which led to it were torn up and taken

away. Then, without flurry, but without delay, we all made our way out of the country, most of us to Paris,

my English colleague to Manchester, and McPherson to Southampton, whence he emigrated to America. Let

the English papers of that date tell how throughly we had done our work, and how completely we had thrown

"You will remember that Gomez threw his bag of papers out of the window, and I need not say that I secured

that bag and brought them to my employers. It may interest my employers now, however, to learn that out of

that bag I took one or two little papers as a souvenir of the occasion. I have no wish to publish these papers;

but, still, it is every man for himself in this world, and what else can I do if my friends will not come to my

aid when I want them? Messieurs, you may believe that Herbert de Lernac is quite as formidable when he is

against you as when he is with you, and that he is not a man to go to the guillotine until he has seen that every

one of you is en route for New Caledonia. For your own sake, if not for mine, make haste, Monsieur de,

and General, and Baron (you can fill up the blanks for yourselves as you read this). I promise you

"P.S.As I look over my statement there is only one omission which I can see. It concerns the unfortunate

man McPherson, who was foolish enough to write to his wife and to make an appointment with her in New

York. It can be imagined that when interests like ours were at stake, we could not leave them to the chance of

whether a man in that class of life would or would not give away his secrets to a woman. Having once broken

his oath by writing to his wife, we could not trust him any more. We took steps therefore to insure that he

should not see his wife. I have sometimes thought that it would be a kindness to write to her and to assure her

A curious experience? said the Doctor. Yes, my friends, I have had one very curious experience. I never

expect to have another, for it is against all doctrines of chances that two such events would befall any one

man in a single lifetime. You may believe me or not, but the thing happened exactly as I tell it.

I had just become a medical man, but I had not started in practice, and I lived in rooms in Gower Street. The

street has been renumbered since then, but it was in the only house which has a bowwindow, upon the

lefthand side as you go down from the Metropolitan Station. A widow named Murchison kept the house at

that time, and she had three medical students and one engineer as lodgers. I occupied the top room, which

was the cheapest, but cheap as it was it was more than I could afford. My small resources were dwindling

away, and every week it became more necessary that I should find something to do. Yet I was very unwilling

to go into general practice, for my tastes were all in the direction of science, and especially of zoology,

towards which I had always a strong leaning. I had almost given the fight up and resigned myself to being a

medical drudge for life, when the turningpoint of my struggles came in a very extraordinary way.

One morning I had picked up the Standard and was glancing over its contents. There was a complete absence

of news, and I was about to toss the paper down again, when my eyes were caught by an advertisement at the

"Wanted for one or more days the services of a medical man. It is essential that he should be a man of strong

physique, of steady nerves, and of a resolute nature. Must be an entomologist coleopterist preferred.

Apply, in person, at 77B, Brook Street. Application must be made before twelve o'clock today."

Now, I have already said that I was devoted to zoology. Of all branches of zoology, the study of insects was

the most attractive to me, and of all insects beetles were the species with which I was most familiar. Butterfly

collectors are numerous, but beetles are far more varied, and more accessible in these islands than are

butterflies. It was this fact which had attracted my attention to them, and I had myself made a collection

which numbered some hundred varieties. As to the other requisites of the advertisement, I knew that my

nerves could be depended upon, and I had won the weightthrowing competition at the interhospital sports.

Clearly, I was the very man for the vacancy. Within five minutes of my having read the advertisement I was

As I drove, I kept turning the matter over in my head and trying to make a guess as to what sort of

employment it could be which needed such curious qualifications. A strong physique, a resolute nature, a

medical training, and a knowledge of beetles what connection could there be between these various

requisites? And then there was the disheartening fact that the situation was not a permanent one, but

terminable from day to day, according to the terms of the advertisement. The more I pondered over it the

more unintelligible did it become; but at the end of my meditations I always came back to the ground fact

that, come what might, I had nothing to lose, that I was completely at the end of my resources, and that I was

ready for any adventure, however desperate, which would put a few honest sovereigns into my pocket. The

man fears to fail who has to pay for his failure, but there was no penalty which Fortune could exact from me.

I was like the gambler with empty pockets, who is still allowed to try his luck with the others.

No. 77B, Brook Street, was one of those dingy and yet imposing houses, duncoloured and flatfaced, with

the intensely respectable and solid air which marks the Georgian builder. As I alighted from the cab, a young

man came out of the door and walked swiftly down the street. In passing me, I noticed that he cast an

inquisitive and somewhat malevolent glance at me, and I took the incident as a good omen, for his

appearance was that of a rejected candidate, and if he resented my application it meant that the vacancy was

not yet filled up. Full of hope, I ascended the broad steps and rapped with the heavy knocker.

A footman in powder and livery opened the door. Clearly I was in touch with the people of wealth and

"Quite so, sir," said the footman. "Lord Linchmere will see you at once in the library."

Lord Linchmere! I had vaguely heard the name, but could not for the instant recall anything about him.

Following the footman, I was shown into a large, booklined room in which there was seated behind a

writingdesk a small man with a pleasant, cleanshaven, mobile face, and long hair shot with grey, brushed

back from his forehead. He looked me up and down with a very shrewd, penetrating glance, holding the card

which the footman had given him in his right hand. Then he smiled pleasantly, and I felt that externally at any

"Well, I believe that you would. I have the more confidence in you because you do not pretend to be certain

as to what you would do in a position that was new to you. My impression is that, so far as personal qualities

go, you are the very man of whom I am in search. That being settled, we may pass on to the next point."

I looked across to see if he was joking, but, on the contrary, he was leaning eagerly forward across his desk,

"On the contrary, sir, it is the one scientific subject about which I feel that I really do know something."

I talked. I do not profess to have said anything original upon the subject, but I gave a short sketch of the

characteristics of the beetle, and ran over the more common species, with some allusions to the specimens in

my own little collection and to the article upon "Burying Beetles" which I had contributed to the Journal of

"What! not a collector?" cried Lord Linchmere. "You don't mean that you are yourself a collector?" His eyes

"You are certainly the very man in London for my purpose. I thought that among five millions of people there

must be such a man, but the difficulty is to lay one's hands upon him. I have been extraordinarily fortunate in

"Ask Lady Rossiter to have the goodness to step this way," said his lordship, and a few moments later the

lady was ushered into the room. She was a small, middleaged woman, very like Lord Linchmere in

appearance, with the same quick, alert features and greyblack hair. The expression of anxiety, however,

which I had observed upon his face was very much more marked upon hers. Some great grief seemed to have

cast its shadow over her features. As Lord Linchmere presented me she turned her face full upon me, and I

was shocked to observe a halfhealed scar extending for two inches over her right eyebrow. It was partly

concealed by plaster, but none the less I could see that it had been a serious wound and not long inflicted.

"Dr. Hamilton is the very man for our purpose, Evelyn," said Lord Linchmere. "He is actually a collector of

"Really!" said Lady Rossiter. "Then you must have heard of my husband. Everyone who knows anything

For the first time a thin little ray of light began to break into the obscure business. Here, at last, was a

connection between these people and beetles. Sir Thomas Rossiter he was the greatest authority upon the

subject in the world. He had made it his lifelong study, and had written a most exhaustive work upon it. I

The lady was standing beside the desk, and she put her hand upon his shoulder. It was obvious to me as I saw

"Are you really prepared for this, Charles? It is noble of you, but you fill me with fears." Her voice quavered

with apprehension, and he appeared to me to be equally moved, though he was making strong efforts to

"Yes, yes, dear; it is all settled, it is all decided; in fact, there is no other possible way, that I can see."

"No, no, Evelyn, I shall never abandon younever. It will come rightdepend upon it; it will come right,

and surely it looks like the interference of Providence that so perfect an instrument should be put into our

My position was embarrassing, for I felt that for the instant they had forgotten my presence. But Lord

"The business for which I want you, Dr. Hamilton, is that you should put yourself absolutely at my disposal. I

wish you to come for a short journey with me, to remain always at my side, and to promise to do without

question whatever I may ask you, however unreasonable it may appear to you to be."

"Unfortunately I cannot put it more plainly, for I do not myself know what turn matters may take. You may

be sure, however, that you will not be asked to do anything which your conscience does not approve; and I

promise you that, when all is over, you will be proud to have been concerned in so good a work."

"It is a rare combination of qualities, as must have struck you when you first read the advertisement," said

Lord Linchmere; "such varied gifts may well command a high return, and I do not conceal from you that your

duties might be arduous or even dangerous. Besides, it is possible that one or two days may bring the matter

"Your first duty will be to return to your home. You will pack up whatever you may need for a short visit to

"As far as Pangbourne. Meet me at the bookstall at 3:30. I shall have the tickets. Goodbye, Dr. Hamilton!

And, by the way, there are two things which I should be very glad if you would bring with you, in case you

have them. One is your case for collecting beetles, and the other is a stick, and the thicker and heavier the

You may imagine that I had plenty to think of from the time that I left Brook Street until I set out to meet

Lord Linchmere at Paddington. The whole fantastic business kept arranging and rearranging itself in

kaleidoscopic forms inside my brain, until I had thought out a dozen explanations, each of them more

grotesquely improbable than the last. And yet I felt that the truth must be something grotesquely improbable

also. At last I gave up all attempts at finding a solution, and contented myself with exactly carrying out the

instructions which I had received. With a hand valise, specimencase, and a loaded cane, I was waiting at the

Paddington bookstall when Lord Linchmere arrived. He was an even smaller man than I had thoughtfrail

and peaky, with a manner which was more nervous than it had been in the morning. He wore a long, thick

travelling ulster, and I observed that he carried a heavy blackthorn cudgel in his hand.

"This is our train. I have engaged a carriage, for I am particularly anxious to impress one or two things upon

And yet all that he had to impress upon me might have been said in a sentence, for it was that I was to

remember that I was there as a protection to himself, and that I was not on any consideration to leave him for

an instant. This he repeated again and again as our journey drew to a close, with an insistence which showed

"Yes," he said at last, in answer to my looks rather than to my words, "I AM nervous, Dr. Hamilton. I have

always been a timid man, and my timidity depends upon my frail physical health. But my soul is firm, and I

can bring myself up to face a danger which a lessnervous man might shrink from. What I am doing now is

done from no compulsion, but entirely from a sense of duty, and yet it is, beyond doubt, a desperate risk. If

This eternal reading of riddles was too much for me. I felt that I must put a term to it.

"I think it would very much better, sir, if you were to trust me entirely," said I. "It is impossible for me to act

effectively, when I do not know what are the objects which we have in view, or even where we are going."

"Oh, as to where we are going, there need be no mystery about that," said he; "we are going to Delamere

Court, the residence of Sir Thomas Rossiter, with whose work you are so conversant. As to the exact object

of our visit, I do not know that at this stage of the proceedings anything would be gained, Dr. Hamilton, by

taking you into my complete confidence. I may tell you that we are actingI say `we,' because my sister,

Lady Rossiter, takes the same view as myselfwith the one object of preventing anything in the nature of a

family scandal. That being so, you can understand that I am loth to give any explanations which are not

absolutely necessary. It would be a different matter, Dr. Hamilton, if I were asking your advice. As matters

stand, it is only your active help which I need, and I will indicate to you from time to time how you can best

There was nothing more to be said, and a poor man can put up with a good deal for twenty pounds a day, but

I felt none the less that Lord Linchmere was acting rather scurvily towards me. He wished to convert me into

a passive tool, like the blackthorn in his hand. With his sensitive disposition I could imagine, however, that

scandal would be abhorrent to him, and I realized that he would not take me into his confidence until no other

course was open to him. I must trust to my own eyes and ears to solve the mystery, but I had every

Delamere Court lies a good five miles from Pangbourne Station, and we drove for that distance in an open

fly. Lord Linchmere sat in deep thought during the time, and he never opened his mouth until we were close

to our destination. When he did speak it was to give me a piece of information which surprised me.

"Yes, I qualified in my younger days, when there were several lives between me and the peerage. I have not

had occasion to practise, but I have found it a useful education, all the same. I never regretted the years which

We had come to two high pillars crowned with heraldic monsters which flanked the opening of a winding

avenue. Over the laurel bushes and rhododendrons, I could see a long, manygabled mansion, girdled with

ivy, and toned to the warm, cheery, mellow glow of old brickwork. My eyes were still fixed in admiration

A tall, thin figure, curiously angular and bony, had emerged through a gap in the hedge of laurels. In his hand

he held a spud, and he wore gauntleted gardener's gloves. A broadbrimmed, grey hat cast his face into

shadow, but it struck me as exceedingly austere, with an illnourished beard and harsh, irregular features.

But the heartiness was by no means reciprocal. The owner of the grounds glared at me over his

brotherinlaw's shoulder, and I caught broken scraps of sentences"wellknown wishes . . . hatred of

strangers . . . unjustifiable intrusion . . . perfectly inexcusable." Then there was a muttered explanation, and

"Let me present you to Sir Thomas Rossiter, Dr. Hamilton," said Lord Linchmere. "You will find that you

I bowed. Sir Thomas stood very stiffly, looking at me severely from under the broad brim of his hat.

"Lord Linchmere tells me that you know something about beetles," said he. "What do you know about

"I know what I have learned from your work upon the coleoptera, Sir Thomas," I answered.

"Give me the names of the betterknown species of the British scarabaei," said he.

I had not expected an examination, but fortunately I was ready for one. My answers seemed to please him, for

"You appear to have read my book with some profit, sir," said he. "It is a rare thing for me to meet anyone

who takes an intelligent interest in such matters. People can find time for such trivialities as sport or society,

and yet the beetles are overlooked. I can assure you that the greater part of the idiots in this part of the

country are unaware that I have ever written a book at allI, the first man who ever described the true

function of the elytra. I am glad to see you, sir, and I have no doubt that I can show you some specimens

which will interest you." He stepped into the fly and drove up with us to the house, expounding to me as we

I have said that Sir Thomas Rossiter wore a large hat drawn down over his brows. As he entered the hall he

uncovered himself, and I was at once aware of a singular characteristic which the hat had concealed. His

forehead, which was naturally high, and higher still on account of receding hair, was in a continual state of

movement. Some nervous weakness kept the muscles in a constant spasm, which sometimes produced a mere

twitching and sometimes a curious rotary movement unlike anything which I had ever seen before. It was

strikingly visible as he turned towards us after entering the study, and seemed the more singular from the

contrast with the hard, steady, grey eyes which looked out from underneath those palpitating brows.

"I am sorry," said he, "that Lady Rossiter is not here to help me to welcome you. By the way, Charles, did

"She wished to stay in town for a few more days," said Lord Linchmere. "You know how ladies' social duties

accumulate if they have been for some time in the country. My sister has many old friends in London at

"Well, she is her own mistress, and I should not wish to alter her plans, but I shall be glad when I see her

"I was afraid that you might find it so, and that was partly why I ran down. My young friend, Dr. Hamilton, is

so much interested in the subject which you have made your own, that I thought you would not mind his

"I lead a retired life, Dr. Hamilton, and my aversion to strangers grows upon me," said our host. "I have

sometimes thought that my nerves are not so good as they were. My travels in search of beetles in my

younger days took me into many malarious and unhealthy places. But a brother coleopterist like yourself is

always a welcome guest, and I shall be delighted if you will look over my collection, which I think that I may

And so no doubt it was. He had a huge, oaken cabinet arranged in shallow drawers, and here, neatly ticketed

and classified, were beetles from every corner of the earth, black, brown, blue, green, and mottled. Every now

and then as he swept his hand over the lines and lines of impaled insects he would catch up some rare

specimen, and, handling it with as much delicacy and reverence as if it were a precious relic, he would hold

forth upon its peculiarities and the circumstances under which it came into his possession. It was evidently an

unusual thing for him to meet with a sympathetic listener, and he talked and talked until the spring evening

had deepened into night, and the gong announced that it was time to dress for dinner. All the time Lord

Linchmere said nothing, but he stood at his brotherinlaw's elbow, and I caught him continually shooting

curious little, questioning glances into his face. And his own features expressed some strong emotion,

apprehension, sympathy, expectation: I seemed to read them all. I was sure that Lord Linchmere was fearing

something and awaiting something, but what that something might be I could not imagine.

The evening passed quietly but pleasantly, and I should have been entirely at my ease if it had not been for

that continual sense of tension upon the part of Lord Linchmere. As to our host, I found that he improved

upon acquaintance. He spoke constantly with affection of his absent wife, and also of his little son, who had

recently been sent to school. The house, he said, was not the same without them. If it were not for his

scientific studies, he did not know how he could get through the days. After dinner we smoked for some time

And then it was that, for the first time, the suspicion that Lord Linchmere was a lunatic crossed my mind. He

"Doctor," said he, speaking in a low, hurried voice, "you must come with me. You must spend the night in

"I prefer not to explain. But this is part of your duties. My room is close by, and you can return to your own

"Because I am nervous of being alone," said he. "That's the reason, since you must have a reason."

It seemed rank lunacy, but the argument of those twenty pounds would overcome many objections. I

It looked more and more like lunacy. However, there was nothing for it but to submit. I shrugged my

"We will divide the night. If you will watch until two, I will watch the remainder."

"Keep your ears open, and if you hear any sounds wake me instantlyinstantly, you hear?"

"And for God's sake don't go to sleep," said he, and so, taking off only his coat, he threw the coverlet over

It was a melancholy vigil, and made more so by my own sense of its folly. Supposing that by any chance

Lord Linchmere had cause to suspect that he was subject to danger in the house of Sir Thomas Rossiter, why

on earth could he not lock his door and so protect himself?" His own answer that he might wish to be

attacked was absurd. Why should he possibly wish to be attacked? And who would wish to attack him?

Clearly, Lord Linchmere was suffering from some singular delusion, and the result was that on an imbecile

pretext I was to be deprived of my night's rest. Still, however absurd, I was determined to carry out his

injunctions to the letter as long as I was in his employment. I sat, therefore, beside the empty fireplace, and

listened to a sonorous chiming clock somewhere down the passage which gurgled and struck every quarter of

an hour. It was an endless vigil. Save for that single clock, an absolute silence reigned throughout the great

house. A small lamp stood on the table at my elbow, throwing a circle of light round my chair, but leaving the

corners of the room draped in shadow. On the bed Lord Linchmere was breathing peacefully. I envied him

his quiet sleep, and again and again my own eyelids drooped, but every time my sense of duty came to my

help, and I sat up, rubbing my eyes and pinching myself with a determination to see my irrational watch to an

And I did so. From down the passage came the chimes of two o'clock, and I laid my hand upon the shoulder

of the sleeper. Instantly he was sitting up, with an expression of the keenest interest upon his face.

I lay down under the coverlet as he had done and was soon unconscious. My last recollection was of that

circle of lamplight, and of the small, hunchedup figure and strained, anxious face of Lord Linchmere in the

How long I slept I do not know; but I was suddenly aroused by a sharp tug at my sleeve. The room was in

darkness, but a hot smell of oil told me that the lamp had only that instant been extinguished.

"Over here!" he whispered, and pulled me into a corner of the room. "Hush! Listen!"

In the silence of the night I could distinctly hear that someone was coming down the corridor. It was a

stealthy step, faint and intermittent, as of a man who paused cautiously after every stride. Sometimes for half

a minute there was no sound, and then came the shuffle and creak which told of a fresh advance. My

companion was trembling with excitement. His hand, which still held my sleeve, twitched like a branch in the

I was conscious now that someone was trying the door. There was the faintest little rattle from the handle,

and then I dimly saw a thin slit of subdued light. There was a lamp burning somewhere far down the passage,

and it just sufficed to make the outside visible from the darkness of our room. The greyish slit grew broader

and broader, very gradually, very gently, and then outlined against it I saw the dark figure of a man. He was

squat and crouching, with the silhouette of a bulky and misshapen dwarf. Slowly the door swung open with

this ominous shape framed in the centre of it. And then, in an instant, the crouching figure shot up, there was

a tiger spring across the room and thud, thud, thud, came three tremendous blows from some heavy object

I was so paralysed with amazement that I stood motionless and staring until I was aroused by a yell for help

from my companion. The open door shed enough light for me to see the outline of things, and there was little

Lord Linchmere with his arms round the neck of his brotherinlaw, holding bravely on to him like a game

bullterrier with its teeth into a gaunt deerhound. The tall, bony man dashed himself about, writhing round

and round to get a grip upon his assailant; but the other, clutching on from behind, still kept his hold, though

his shrill, frightened cries showed how unequal he felt the contest to be. I sprang to the rescue, and the two of

us managed to throw Sir Thomas to the ground, though he made his teeth meet in my shoulder. With all my

youth and weight and strength, it was a desperate struggle before we could master his frenzied struggles; but

at last we secured his arms with the waistcord of the dressinggown which he was wearing. I was holding his

legs while Lord Linchmere was endeavouring to relight the lamp, when there came the pattering of many feet

in the passage, and the butler and two footmen, who had been alarmed by the cries, rushed into the room.

With their aid we had no further difficulty in securing our prisoner, who lay foaming and glaring upon the

ground. One glance at his face was enough to prove that he was a dangerous maniac, while the short, heavy

"Do not use any violence!" said Lord Linchmere, as we raised the struggling man to his feet. "He will have a

period of stupor after this excitement. I believe that it is coming on already." As he spoke the convulsions

became less violent, and the madman's head fell forward upon his breast, as if he were overcome by sleep.

We led him down the passage and stretched him upon his own bed, where he lay unconscious, breathing

"Two of you will watch him," said Lord Linchmere. "And now, Dr. Hamilton, if you will return with me to

my room, I will give you the explanation which my horror of scandal has perhaps caused me to delay too

long. Come what may, you will never have cause to regret your share in this night's work.

"The case may be made clear in a very few words," he continued, when we were alone. "My poor

brotherinlaw is one of the best fellows upon earth, a loving husband and an estimable father, but he comes

from a stock which is deeply tainted with insanity. He has more than once had homicidal outbreaks, which

are the more painful because his inclination is always to attack the very person to whom he is most attached.

His son was sent away to school to avoid this danger, and then came an attempt upon my sister, his wife,

from which she escaped with injuries that you may have observed when you met her in London. You

understand that he knows nothing of the matter when he is in his sound senses, and would ridicule the

suggestion that he could under any circumstances injure those whom he loves so dearly. It is often, as you

know, a characteristic of such maladies that it is absolutely impossible to convince the man who suffers from

"Our great object was, of course, to get him under restraint before he could stain his hands with blood, but the

matter was full of difficulty. He is a recluse in his habits, and would not see any medical man. Besides, it was

necessary for our purpose that the medical man should convince himself of his insanity; and he is sane as you

or I, save on these very rare occasions. But, fortunately, before he has these attacks he always shows certain

premonitory symptoms, which are providential dangersignals, warning us to be upon our guard. The chief of

these is that nervous contortion of the forehead which you must have observed. This is a phenomenon which

always appears from three to four days before his attacks of frenzy. The moment it showed itself his wife

"It remained for me to convince a medical man of Sir Thomas's insanity, without which it was impossible to

put him where he could do no harm. The first problem was how to get a medical man into his house. I

bethought me of his interest in beetles, and his love for anyone who shared his tastes. I advertised, therefore,

and was fortunate enough to find in you the very man I wanted. A stout companion was necessary, for I knew

that the lunacy could only be proved by a murderous assault, and I had every reason to believe that that

assault would be made upon myself, since he had the warmest regard for me in his moments of sanity. I think

your intelligence will supply all the rest. I did not know that the attack would come by night, but I thought it

very probable, for the crises of such cases usually do occur in the early hours of the morning. I am a very

nervous man myself, but I saw no other way in which I could remove this terrible danger from my sister's

"You forget that I am myself a holder of a medical degree. I have the papers on a sidetable here, so if you

will be good enough to sign them now, we can have the patient removed in the morning."

So that was my visit to Sir Thomas Rossiter, the famous beetlehunter, and that was also my first step upon the

ladder of success, for Lady Rossiter and Lord Linchmere have proved to be staunch friends, and they have

never forgotten my association with them in the time of their need. Sir Thomas is out and said to be cured,

but I still think that if I spent another night at Delamere Court, I should be inclined to lock my door upon the

There are many who will still bear in mind the singular circumstances which, under the heading of the Rugby

Mystery, filled many columns of the daily Press in the spring of the year 1892. Coming as it did at a period of

exceptional dullness, it attracted perhaps rather more attention than it deserved, but it offered to the public

that mixture of the whimsical and the tragic which is most stimulating to the popular imagination. Interest

drooped, however, when, after weeks of fruitless investigation, it was found that no final explanation of the

facts was forthcoming, and the tragedy seemed from that time to the present to have finally taken its place in

the dark catalogue of inexplicable and unexpiated crimes. A recent communication (the authenticity of which

appears to be above question) has, however, thrown some new and clear light upon the matter. Before laying

it before the public it would be as well, perhaps, that I should refresh their memories as to the singular facts

At five o'clock on the evening of the 18th of March in the year already mentioned a train left Euston Station

for Manchester. It was a rainy, squally day, which grew wilder as it progressed, so it was by no means the

weather in which anyone would travel who was not driven to do so by necessity. The train, however, is a

favourite one among Manchester business men who are returning from town, for it does the journey in four

hours and twenty minutes, with only three stoppages upon the way. In spite of the inclement evening it was,

therefore, fairly well filled upon the occasion of which I speak. The guard of the train was a tried servant of

the companya man who had worked for twentytwo years without a blemish or complaint. His name was

The station clock was upon the stroke of five, and the guard was about to give the customary signal to the

enginedriver when he observed two belated passengers hurrying down the platform. The one was an

exceptionally tall man, dressed in a long black overcoat with astrakhan collar and cuffs. I have already said

that the evening was an inclement one, and the tall traveller had the high, warm collar turned up to protect his

throat against the bitter March wind. He appeared, as far as the guard could judge by so hurried an inspection,

to be a man between fifty and sixty years of age, who had retained a good deal of the vigour and activity of

his youth. In one hand he carried a brown leather Gladstone bag. His companion was a lady, tall and erect,

walking with a vigorous step which outpaced the gentleman beside her. She wore a long, fawncoloured

dustcloak, a black, closefitting toque, and a dark veil which concealed the greater part of her face. The two

might very well have passed as father and daughter. They walked swiftly down the line of carriages, glancing

The guard turned the handle of the nearest door. In the carriage which he had opened, there sat a small man

with a cigar in his mouth. His appearance seems to have impressed itself upon the guard's memory, for he

was prepared, afterwards, to describe or to identify him. He was a man of thirtyfour or thirtyfive years of

age, dressed in some grey material, sharpnosed, alert, with a ruddy, weatherbeaten face, and a small,

closely cropped, black beard. He glanced up as the door was opened. The tall man paused with his foot upon

"This is a smoking compartment. The lady dislikes smoke," said he, looking round at the guard.

"All right! Here you are, sir!" said John Palmer. He slammed the door of the smoking carriage, opened that of

the next one, which was empty, and thrust the two travellers in. At the same moment he sounded his whistle

and the wheels of the train began to move. The man with the cigar was at the window of his carriage, and said

something to the guard as he rolled past him, but the words were lost in the bustle of the departure. Palmer

stepped into the guard's van, as it came up to him, and thought no more of the incident.

Twelve minutes after its departure the train reached Willesden Junction, where it stopped for a very short

interval. An examination of the tickets has made it certain that no one either joined or left it at this time, and

no passenger was seen to alight upon the platform. At 5:14 the journey to Manchester was resumed, and

At Rugby the attention of the station officials was drawn to the fact that the door of one of the firstclass

carriages was open. An examination of that compartment, and of its neighbour, disclosed a remarkable state

The smoking carriage in which the short, redfaced man with the black beard had been seen was now empty.

Save for a halfsmoked cigar, there was no trace whatever of its recent occupant. The door of this carriage

was fastened. In the next compartment, to which attention had been originally drawn, there was no sign either

of the gentleman with the astrakhan collar or of the young lady who accompanied him. All three passengers

had disappeared. On the other hand, there was found upon the floor of this carriagethe one in which the tall

traveller and the lady had beena young man fashionably dressed and of elegant appearance. He lay with his

knees drawn up, and his head resting against the farther door, an elbow upon either seat. A bullet had

penetrated his heart and his death must have been instantaneous. No one had seen such a man enter the train,

and no railway ticket was found in his pocket, neither were there any markings upon his linen, nor papers nor

personal property which might help to identify him. Who he was, whence he had come, and how he had met

his end were each as great a mystery as what had occurred to the three people who had started an hour and a

I have said that there was no personal property which might help to identify him, but it is true that there was

one peculiarity about this unknown young man which was much commented upon at the time. In his pockets

were found no fewer than six valuable gold watches, three in the various pockets of his waistcoat, one in his

ticketpocket, one in his breastpocket, and one small one set in a leather strap and fastened round his left

wrist. The obvious explanation that the man was a pickpocket, and that this was his plunder, was discounted

by the fact that all six were of American make and of a type which is rare in England. Three of them bore the

mark of the Rochester Watchmaking Company; one was by Mason, of Elmira; one was unmarked; and the

small one, which was highly jewelled and ornamented, was from Tiffany, of New York. The other contents of

his pocket consisted of an ivory knife with a corkscrew by Rodgers, of Sheffield; a small, circular mirror, one

inch in diameter; a readmission slip to the Lyceum Theatre; a silver box full of vesta matches, and a brown

leather cigarcase containing two cherootsalso two pounds fourteen shillings in money. It was clear, then,

that whatever motives may have led to his death, robbery was not among them. As already mentioned, there

were no markings upon the man's linen, which appeared to be new, and no tailor's name upon his coat. In

appearance he was young, short, smoothcheeked, and delicately featured. One of his front teeth was

On the discovery of the tragedy an examination was instantly made of the tickets of all passengers, and the

number of the passengers themselves was counted. It was found that only three tickets were unaccounted for,

corresponding to the three travellers who were missing. The express was then allowed to proceed, but a new

guard was sent with it, and John Palmer was detained as a witness at Rugby. The carriage which included the

two compartments in question was uncoupled and sidetracked. Then, on the arrival of Inspector Vane, of

Scotland Yard, and of Mr. Henderson, a detective in the service of the railway company, an exhaustive

That crime had been committed was certain. The bullet, which appeared to have come from a small pistol or

revolver, had been fired from some little distance, as there was no scorching of the clothes. No weapon was

found in the compartment (which finally disposed of the theory of suicide), nor was there any sign of the

brown leather bag which the guard had seen in the hand of the tall gentleman. A lady's parasol was found

upon the rack, but no other trace was to be seen of the travellers in either of the sections. Apart from the

crime, the question of how or why three passengers (one of them a lady) could get out of the train, and one

other get in during the unbroken run between Willesden and Rugby, was one which excited the utmost

curiosity among the general public, and gave rise to much speculation in the London Press.

John Palmer, the guard was able at the inquest to give some evidence which threw a little light upon the

matter. There was a spot between Tring and Cheddington, according to his statement, where, on account of

some repairs to the line, the train had for a few minutes slowed down to a pace not exceeding eight or ten

miles an hour. At that place it might be possible for a man, or even for an exceptionally active woman, to

have left the train without serious injury. It was true that a gang of platelayers was there, and that they had

seen nothing, but it was their custom to stand in the middle between the metals, and the open carriage door

was upon the far side, so that it was conceivable that someone might have alighted unseen, as the darkness

would by that time be drawing in. A steep embankment would instantly screen anyone who sprang out from

The guard also deposed that there was a good deal of movement upon the platform at Willesden Junction, and

that though it was certain that no one had either joined or left the train there, it was still quite possible that

some of the passengers might have changed unseen from one compartment to another. It was by no means

uncommon for a gentleman to finish his cigar in a smoking carriage and then to change to a clearer

atmosphere. Supposing that the man with the black beard had done so at Willesden (and the halfsmoked

cigar upon the floor seemed to favour the supposition), he would naturally go into the nearest section, which

would bring him into the company of the two other actors in this drama. Thus the first stage of the affair

might be surmised without any great breach of probability. But what the second stage had been, or how the

final one had been arrived at, neither the guard nor the experienced detective officers could suggest.

A careful examination of the line between Willesden and Rugby resulted in one discovery which might or

might not have a bearing upon the tragedy. Near Tring, at the very place where the train slowed down, there

was found at the bottom of the embankment a small pocket Testament, very shabby and worn. It was printed

by the Bible Society of London, and bore an inscription: "From John to Alice. Jan. 13th, 1856," upon the

flyleaf. Underneath was written: "James. July 4th, 1859," and beneath that again: "Edward. Nov. 1st, 1869,"

all the entries being in the same handwriting. This was the only clue, if it could be called a clue, which the

police obtained, and the coroner's verdict of "Murder by a person or persons unknown" was the unsatisfactory

ending of a singular case. Advertisement, rewards, and inquiries proved equally fruitless, and nothing could

be found which was solid enough to form the basis for a profitable investigation.

It would be a mistake, however, to suppose that no theories were formed to account for the facts. On the

contrary, the Press, both in England and in America, teemed with suggestions and suppositions, most of

which were obviously absurd. The fact that the watches were of American make, and some peculiarities in

connection with the gold stopping of his front tooth, appeared to indicate that the deceased was a citizen of

the United States, though his linen, clothes and boots were undoubtedly of British manufacture. It was

surmised, by some, that he was concealed under the seat, and that, being discovered, he was for some reason,

possibly because he had overheard their guilty secrets, put to death by his fellowpassengers. When coupled

with generalities as to the ferocity and cunning of anarchical and other secret societies, this theory sounded as

The fact that he should be without a ticket would be consistent with the idea of concealment, and it was well

known that women played a prominent part in the Nihilistic propaganda. On the other hand, it was clear, from

the guard's statement, that the man must have been hidden there BEFORE the others arrived, and how

unlikely the coincidence that conspirators should stray exactly into the very compartment in which a spy was

already concealed! Besides, this explanation ignored the man in the smoking carriage, and gave no reason at

all for his simultaneous disappearance. The police had little difficulty in showing that such a theory would

not cover the facts, but they were unprepared in the absence of evidence to advance any alternative

There was a letter in the Daily Gazette, over the signature of a wellknown criminal investigator, which gave

rise to considerable discussion at the time. He had formed a hypothesis which had at least ingenuity to

"Whatever may be the truth," said he, "it must depend upon some bizarre and rare combination of events, so

we need have no hesitation in postulating such events in our explanation. In the absence of data we must

abandon the analytic or scientific method of investigation, and must approach it in the synthetic fashion. In a

word, instead of taking known events and deducing from them what has occurred, we must build up a

fanciful explanation if it will only be consistent with known events. We can then test this explanation by any

fresh facts which may arise. If they all fit into their places, the probability is that we are upon the right track,

and with each fresh fact this probability increases in a geometrical progression until the evidence becomes

"Now, there is one most remarkable and suggestive fact which has not met with the attention which it

deserves. There is a local train running through Harrow and King's Langley, which is timed in such a way

that the express must have overtaken it at or about the period when it eased down its speed to eight miles an

hour on account of the repairs of the line. The two trains would at that time be travelling in the same direction

at a similar rate of speed and upon parallel lines. It is within every one's experience how, under such

circumstances, the occupant of each carriage can see very plainly the passengers in the other carriages

opposite to him. The lamps of the express had been lit at Willesden, so that each compartment was brightly

"Now, the sequence of events as I reconstruct them would be after this fashion. This young man with the

abnormal number of watches was alone in the carriage of the slow train. His ticket, with his papers and

gloves and other things, was, we will suppose, on the seat beside him. He was probably an American, and

also probably a man of weak intellect. The excessive wearing of jewellery is an early symptom in some forms

"As he sat watching the carriages of the express which were (on account of the state of the line) going at the

same pace as himself, he suddenly saw some people in it whom he knew. We will suppose for the sake of our

theory that these people were a woman whom he loved and a man whom he hatedand who in return hated

him. The young man was excitable and impulsive. He opened the door of his carriage, stepped from the

footboard of the local train to the footboard of the express, opened the other door, and made his way into the

presence of these two people. The feat (on the supposition that the trains were going at the same pace) is by

"Having now got our young man, without his ticket, into the carriage in which the elder man and the young

woman are travelling, it is not difficult to imagine that a violent scene ensued. It is possible that the pair were

also Americans, which is the more probable as the man carried a weaponan unusual thing in England. If

our supposition of incipient mania is correct, the young man is likely to have assaulted the other. As the

upshot of the quarrel the elder man shot the intruder, and then made his escape from the carriage, taking the

young lady with him. We will suppose that all this happened very rapidly, and that the train was still going at

so slow a pace that it was not difficult for them to leave it. A woman might leave a train going at eight miles

"And now we have to fit in the man in the smoking carriage. Presuming that we have, up to this point,

reconstructed the tragedy correctly, we shall find nothing in this other man to cause us to reconsider our

conclusions. According to my theory, this man saw the young fellow cross from one train to the other, saw

him open the door, heard the pistolshot, saw the two fugitives spring out on to the line, realized that murder

had been done, and sprang out himself in pursuit. Why he has never been heard of sincewhether he met his

own death in the pursuit, or whether, as is more likely, he was made to realize that it was not a case for his

interferenceis a detail which we have at present no means of explaining. I acknowledge that there are some

difficulties in the way. At first sight, it might seem improbable that at such a moment a murderer would

burden himself in his flight with a brown leather bag. My answer is that he was well aware that if the bag

were found his identity would be established. It was absolutely necessary for him to take it with him. My

theory stands or falls upon one point, and I call upon the railway company to make strict inquiry as to

whether a ticket was found unclaimed in the local train through Harrow and King's Langley upon the 18th of

March. If such a ticket were found my case is proved. If not, my theory may still be the correct one, for it is

conceivable either that he travelled without a ticket or that his ticket was lost."

To this elaborate and plausible hypothesis the answer of the police and of the company was, first, that no such

ticket was found; secondly, that the slow train would never run parallel to the express; and, thirdly, that the

local train had been stationary in King's Langley Station when the express, going at fifty miles an hour, had

flashed past it. So perished the only satisfying explanation, and five years have elapsed without supplying a

new one. Now, at last, there comes a statement which covers all the facts, and which must be regarded as

authentic. It took the shape of a letter dated from New York, and addressed to the same criminal investigator

whose theory I have quoted. It is given here in extenso, with the exception of the two opening paragraphs,

"You'll excuse me if I'm not very free with names. There's less reason now than there was five years ago

when mother was still living. But for all that, I had rather cover up our tracks all I can. But I owe you an

explanation, for if your idea of it was wrong, it was a mighty ingenious one all the same. I'll have to go back a

"My people came from Bucks, England, and emigrated to the States in the early fifties. They settled in

Rochester, in the State of New York, where my father ran a large dry goods store. There were only two sons:

myself, James, and my brother, Edward. I was ten years older than my brother, and after my father died I sort

of took the place of a father to him, as an elder brother would. He was a bright, spirited boy, and just one of

the most beautiful creatures that ever lived. But there was always a soft spot in him, and it was like mould in

cheese, for it spread and spread, and nothing that you could do would stop it. Mother saw it just as clearly as I

did, but she went on spoiling him all the same, for he had such a way with him that you could refuse him

"At last he fairly got his head, and nothing that we could do would stop him. He got off into New York, and

went rapidly from bad to worse. At first he was only fast, and then he was criminal; and then, at the end of a

year or two, he was one of the most notorious young crooks in the city. He had formed a friendship with

Sparrow MacCoy, who was at the head of his profession as a buncosteerer, green goodsman and general

rascal. They took to cardsharping, and frequented some of the best hotels in New York. My brother was an

excellent actor (he might have made an honest name for himself if he had chosen), and he would take the

parts of a young Englishman of title, of a simple lad from the West, or of a college undergraduate, whichever

suited Sparrow MacCoy's purpose. And then one day he dressed himself as a girl, and he carried it off so

well, and made himself such a valuable decoy, that it was their favourite game afterwards. They had made it

right with Tammany and with the police, so it seemed as if nothing could ever stop them, for those were in

the days before the Lexow Commission, and if you only had a pull, you could do pretty nearly everything

"And nothing would have stopped them if they had only stuck to cards and New York, but they must needs

come up Rochester way, and forge a name upon a cheque. It was my brother that did it, though everyone

knew that it was under the influence of Sparrow MacCoy. I bought up that cheque, and a pretty sum it cost

me. Then I went to my brother, laid it before him on the table, and swore to him that I would prosecute if he

did not clear out of the country. At first he simply laughed. I could not prosecute, he said, without breaking

our mother's heart, and he knew that I would not do that. I made him understand, however, that our mother's

heart was being broken in any case, and that I had set firm on the point that I would rather see him in

Rochester gaol than in a New York hotel. So at last he gave in, and he made me a solemn promise that he

would see Sparrow MacCoy no more, that he would go to Europe, and that he would turn his hand to any

honest trade that I helped him to get. I took him down right away to an old family friend, Joe Willson, who is

an exporter of American watches and clocks, and I got him to give Edward an agency in London, with a

small salary and a 15 per cent commission on all business. His manner and appearance were so good that he

won the old man over at once, and within a week he was sent off to London with a case full of samples.

"It seemed to me that this business of the cheque had really given my brother a fright, and that there was

some chance of his settling down into an honest line of life. My mother had spoken with him, and what she

said had touched him, for she had always been the best of mothers to him and he had been the great sorrow of

her life. But I knew that this man Sparrow MacCoy had a great influence over Edward and my chance of

keeping the lad straight lay in breaking the connection between them. I had a friend in the New York

detective force, and through him I kept a watch upon MacCoy. When, within a fortnight of my brother's

sailing, I heard that MacCoy had taken a berth in the Etruria, I was as certain as if he had told me that he was

going over to England for the purpose of coaxing Edward back again into the ways that he had left. In an

instant I had resolved to go also, and to pit my influence against MacCoy's. I knew it was a losing fight, but I

thought, and my mother thought, that it was my duty. We passed the last night together in prayer for my

success, and she gave me her own Testament that my father had given her on the day of their marriage in the

"I was a fellowtraveller, on the steamship, with Sparrow MacCoy, and at least I had the satisfaction of

spoiling his little game for the voyage. The very first night I went into the smokingroom, and found him at

the head of a cardtable, with a half a dozen young fellows who were carrying their full purses and their

empty skulls over to Europe. He was settling down for his harvest, and a rich one it would have been. But I

"Up he jumped with a bottle in his hand, but he remembered that he was under the flag of the effete Old

Country, where law and order run, and Tammany has no pull. Gaol and the gallows wait for violence and

"`I will!' said I. `If you will turn up your right shirtsleeve to the shoulder, I will either prove my words or I

"He turned white and said not a word. You see, I knew something of his ways, and I was aware of that part of

the mechanism which he and all such sharpers use consists of an elastic down the arm with a clip just above

the wrist. It is by means of this clip that they withdraw from their hands the cards which they do not want,

while they substitute other cards from another hiding place. I reckoned on it being there, and it was. He

cursed me, slunk out of the saloon, and was hardly seen again during the voyage. For once, at any rate, I got

"But he soon had his revenge upon me, for when it came to influencing my brother he outweighed me every

time. Edward had kept himself straight in London for the first few weeks, and had done some business with

his American watches, until this villain came across his path once more. I did my best, but the best was little

enough. The next thing I heard there had been a scandal at one of the Northumberland Avenue hotels: a

traveller had been fleeced of a large sum by two confederate cardsharpers, and the matter was in the hands

of Scotland Yard. The first I learned of it was in the evening paper, and I was at once certain that my brother

and MacCoy were back at their old games. I hurried at once to Edward's lodgings. They told me that he and a

tall gentleman (whom I recognized as MacCoy) had gone off together, and that he had left the lodgings and

taken his things with him. The landlady had heard them give several directions to the cabman, ending with

Euston Station, and she had accidentally overheard the tall gentleman saying something about Manchester.

"A glance at the timetable showed me that the most likely train was at five, though there was another at 4:35

which they might have caught. I had only time to get the later one, but found no sign of them either at the

depot or in the train. They must have gone on by the earlier one, so I determined to follow them to

Manchester and search for them in the hotels there. One last appeal to my brother by all that he owed to my

mother might even now be the salvation of him. My nerves were overstrung, and I lit a cigar to steady them.

At that moment, just as the train was moving off, the door of my compartment was flung open, and there

"They were both disguised, and with good reason, for they knew that the London police were after them.

MacCoy had a great astrakhan collar drawn up, so that only his eyes and nose were showing. My brother was

dressed like a woman, with a black veil half down his face, but of course it did not deceive me for an instant,

nor would it have done so even if I had not known that he had often used such a dress before. I started up, and

as I did so MacCoy recognized me. He said something, the conductor slammed the door, and they were

shown into the next compartment. I tried to stop the train so as to follow them, but the wheels were already

"When we stopped at Willesden, I instantly changed my carriage. It appears that I was not seen to do so,

which is not surprising, as the station was crowded with people. MacCoy, of course, was expecting me, and

he had spent the time between Euston and Willesden in saying all he could to harden my brother's heart and

set him against me. That is what I fancy, for I had never found him so impossible to soften or to move. I tried

this way and I tried that; I pictured his future in an English gaol; I described the sorrow of his mother when I

came back with the news; I said everything to touch his heart, but all to no purpose. He sat there with a fixed

sneer upon his handsome face, while every now and then Sparrow MacCoy would throw in a taunt at me, or

"`Why don't you run a Sundayschool?' he would say to me, and then, in the same breath: `He thinks you

have no will of your own. He thinks you are just the baby brother and that he can lead you where he likes.

"It was those words of his which set me talking bitterly. We had left Willesden, you understand, for all this

took some time. My temper got the better of me, and for the first time in my life I let my brother see the

rough side of me. Perhaps it would have been better had I done so earlier and more often.

"`A man!' said I. `Well, I'm glad to have your friend's assurance of it, for no one would suspect it to see you

like a boardingschool missy. I don't suppose in all this country there is a more contemptiblelooking

creature than you are as you sit there with that Dolly pinafore upon you.' He coloured up at that, for he was a

"`It's only a dustcloak,' said he, and he slipped it off. `One has to throw the coppers off one's scent, and I had

no other way to do it.' He took his toque off with the veil attached, and he put both it and the cloak into his

brown bag. `Anyway, I don't need to wear it until the conductor comes round,' said he.

"`Nor then, either,' said I, and taking the bag I slung it with all my force out of the window. `Now,' said I,

`you'll never make a Mary Jane of yourself while I can help it. If nothing but that disguise stands between

"That was the way to manage him. I felt my advantage at once. His supple nature was one which yielded to

roughness far more readily than to entreaty. He flushed with shame, and his eyes filled with tears. But

"`He's my brother, and you shall not ruin him,' said I. `I believe a spell of prison is the very best way of

"`Oh, you would squeal, would you?' he cried, and in an instant he whipped out his revolver. I sprang for his

hand, but saw that I was too late, and jumped aside. At the same instant he fired, and the bullet which would

"He dropped without a groan upon the floor of the compartment, and MacCoy and I, equally horrified, knelt

at each side of him, trying to bring back some signs of life. MacCoy still held the loaded revolver in his hand,

but his anger against me and my resentment towards him had both for the moment been swallowed up in this

sudden tragedy. It was he who first realized the situation. The train was for some reason going very slowly at

the moment, and he saw his opportunity for escape. In an instant he had the door open, but I was as quick as

he, and jumping upon him the two of us fell off the footboard and rolled in each other's arms down a steep

embankment. At the bottom I struck my head against a stone, and I remembered nothing more. When I came

to myself I was lying among some low bushes, not far from the railroad track, and somebody was bathing my

"`I guess I couldn't leave you,' said he. `I didn't want to have the blood of two of you on my hands in one day.

You loved your brother, I've no doubt; but you didn't love him a cent more than I loved him, though you'll

say that I took a queer way to show it. Anyhow, it seems a mighty empty world now that he is gone, and I

"He had turned his ankle in the fall, and there we sat, he with his useless foot, and I with my throbbing head,

and we talked and talked until gradually my bitterness began to soften and to turn into something like

sympathy. What was the use of revenging his death upon a man who was as much stricken by that death as I

was? And then, as my wits gradually returned, I began to realize also that I could do nothing against MacCoy

which would not recoil upon my mother and myself. How could we convict him without a full account of my

brother's career being made publicthe very thing which of all others we wished to avoid? It was really as

much our interest as his to cover the matter up, and from being an avenger of crime I found myself changed

to a conspirator against Justice. The place in which we found ourselves was one of those pheasant preserves

which are so common in the Old Country, and as we groped our way through it I found myself consulting the

"I soon realized from what he said that unless there were some papers of which we knew nothing in my

brother's pockets, there was really no possible means by which the police could identify him or learn how he

had got there. His ticket was in MacCoy's pocket, and so was the ticket for some baggage which they had left

at the depot. Like most Americans, he had found it cheaper and easier to buy an outfit in London than to

bring one from New York, so that all his linen and clothes were new and unmarked. The bag, containing the

dustcloak, which I had thrown out of the window, may have fallen among some bramble patch where it is

still concealed, or may have been carried off by some tramp, or may have come into the possession of the

police, who kept the incident to themselves. Anyhow, I have seen nothing about it in the London papers. As

to the watches, they were a selection from those which had been intrusted to him for business purposes. It

may have been for the same business purposes that he was taking them to Manchester, butwell, it's too late

"I don't blame the police for being at fault. I don't see how it could have been otherwise. There was just one

little clue that they might have followed up, but it was a small one. I mean that small, circular mirror which

was found in my brother's pocket. It isn't a very common thing for a young man to carry about with him, is it?

But a gambler might have told you what such a mirror may mean to a cardsharper. If you sit back a little

from the table, and lay the mirror, face upwards, upon your lap, you can see, as you deal, every card that you

give to your adversary. It is not hard to say whether you see a man or raise him when you know his cards as

well as your own. It was as much a part of a sharper's outfit as the elastic clip upon Sparrow MacCoy's arm.

Taking that, in connection with the recent frauds at the hotels, the police might have got hold of one end of

"I don't think there is much more for me to explain. We got to a village called Amersham that night in the

character of two gentlemen upon a walking tour, and afterwards we made our way quietly to London, whence

MacCoy went on to Cairo and I returned to New York. My mother died six months afterwards, and I am glad

to say that to the day of her death she never knew what happened. She was always under the delusion that

Edward was earning an honest living in London, and I never had the heart to tell her the truth. He never

wrote; but, then, he never did write at any time, so that made no difference. His name was the last upon her

"There's just one other thing that I have to ask you, sir, and I should take it as a kind return for all this

explanation, if you could do it for me. You remember that Testament that was picked up. I always carried it

in my inside pocket, and it must have come out in my fall. I value it very highly, for it was the family book

with my birth and my brother's marked by my father in the beginning of it. I wish you would apply at the

proper place and have it sent to me. It can be of no possible value to anyone else. If you address it to X,

It WAS a curious thing, said the private tutor; one of those grotesque and whimsical incidents which occur to

one as one goes through life. I lost the best situation which I am ever likely to have through it. But I am glad

that I went to Thorpe Place, for I gainedwell, as I tell you the story you will learn what I gained.

I don't know whether you are familiar with that part of the Midlands which is drained by the Avon. It is the

most English part of England. Shakespeare, the flower of the whole race, was born right in the middle of it. It

is a land of rolling pastures, rising in higher folds to the westwards, until they swell into the Malvern Hills.

There are no towns, but numerous villages, each with its grey Norman church. You have left the brick of the

southern and eastern counties behind you, and everything is stone stone for the walls, and lichened slabs of

stone for the roofs. It is all grim and solid and massive, as befits the heart of a great nation.

It was in the middle of this country, not very far from Evesham, that Sir John Bollamore lived in the old

ancestral home of Thorpe Place, and thither it was that I came to teach his two little sons. Sir John was a

widowerhis wife had died three years beforeand he had been left with these two lads aged eight and ten,

and one dear little girl of seven. Miss Witherton, who is now my wife, was governess to this little girl. I was

tutor to the two boys. Could there be a more obvious prelude to an engagement? She governs me now, and I

tutor two little boys of our own. But, thereI have already revealed what it was which I gained in Thorpe

It was a very, very old house, incredibly oldpreNorman, some of itand the Bollamores claimed to have

lived in that situation since long before the Conquest. It struck a chill to my heart when first I came there,

those enormously thick grey walls, the rude crumbling stones, the smell as from a sick animal which exhaled

from the rotting plaster of the aged building. But the modern wing was bright and the garden was well kept.

No house could be dismal which had a pretty girl inside it and such a show of roses in front.

Apart from a very complete staff of servants there were only four of us in the household. These were Miss

Witherton, who was at that time fourandtwenty and as prettywell, as pretty as Mrs. Colmore is

nowmyself, Frank Colmore, aged thirty, Mrs. Stevens, the housekeeper, a dry, silent woman, and Mr.

Richards, a tall militarylooking man, who acted as steward to the Bollamore estates. We four always had

our meals together, but Sir John had his usually alone in the library. Sometimes he joined us at dinner, but on

For he was a very formidable person. Imagine a man six feet three inches in height, majestically built, with a

highnosed, aristocratic face, brindled hair, shaggy eyebrows, a small, pointed Mephistophelian beard, and

lines upon his brow and round his eyes as deep as if they had been carved with a penknife. He had grey eyes,

weary, hopelesslooking eyes, proud and yet pathetic, eyes which claimed your pity and yet dared you to

show it. His back was rounded with study, but otherwise he was as fine a looking man of his

But his presence was not a cheerful one. He was always courteous, always refined, but singularly silent and

retiring. I have never lived so long with any man and known so little of him. If he were indoors he spent his

time either in his own small study in the Eastern Tower, or in the library in the modern wing. So regular was

his routine that one could always say at any hour exactly where he would be. Twice in the day he would visit

his study, once after breakfast, and once about ten at night. You might set your watch by the slam of the

heavy door. For the rest of the day he would be in his librarysave that for an hour or two in the afternoon

he would take a walk or a ride, which was solitary like the rest of his existence. He loved his children, and

was keenly interested in the progress of their studies, but they were a little awed by the silent,

shaggybrowed figure, and they avoided him as much as they could. Indeed, we all did that.

It was some time before I came to know anything about the circumstances of Sir John Bollamore's life, for

Mrs. Stevens, the housekeeper, and Mr. Richards, the landsteward, were too loyal to talk easily of their

employer's affairs. As to the governess, she knew no more than I did, and our common interest was one of the

causes which drew us together. At last, however, an incident occurred which led to a closer acquaintance with

The immediate cause of this was no less than the falling of Master Percy, the youngest of my pupils, into the

millrace, with imminent danger both to his life and to mine, since I had to risk myself in order to save him.

Dripping and exhaustedfor I was far more spent than the childI was making for my room when Sir John,

who had heard the hubbub, opened the door of his little study and asked me what was the matter. I told him

of the accident, but assured him that his child was in no danger, while he listened with a rugged, immobile

face, which expressed in its intense eyes and tightened lips all the emotion which he tried to conceal.

"One moment! Step in here! Let me have the details!" said he, turning back through the open door.

And so I found myself within that little sanctum, inside which, as I afterwards learned, no other foot had for

three years been set save that of the old servant who cleaned it out. It was a round room, conforming to the

shape of the tower in which it was situated, with a low ceiling, a single narrow, ivywreathed window, and

the simplest of furniture. An old carpet, a single chair, a deal table, and a small shelf of books made up the

whole contents. On the table stood a fulllength photograph of a womanI took no particular notice of the

features, but I remember, that a certain gracious gentleness was the prevailing impression. Beside it were a

large black japanned box and one or two bundles of letters or papers fastened together with elastic bands.

Our interview was a short one, for Sir John Bollamore perceived that I was soaked, and that I should change

without delay. The incident led, however, to an instructive talk with Richards, the agent, who had never

penetrated into the chamber which chance had opened to me. That very afternoon he came to me, all

curiosity, and walked up and down the garden path with me, while my two charges played tennis upon the

"You hardly realize the exception which has been made in your favour," said he. "That room has been kept

such a mystery, and Sir John's visits to it have been so regular and consistent, that an almost superstitious

feeling has arisen about it in the household. I assure you that if I were to repeat to you the tales which are

flying about, tales of mysterious visitors there, and of voices overheard by the servants, you might suspect

"Is it possible," said he, "that Sir John Bollamore's previous history is unknown to you?"

"You astound me. I thought that every man in England knew something of his antecedents. I should not

mention the matter if it were not that you are now one of ourselves, and that the facts might come to your ears

in some harsher form if I were silent upon them. I always took it for granted that you knew that you were in

"Ah, you are young and the world moves fast, but twenty years ago the name of `Devil' Bollamore was one of

the best known in London. He was the leader of the fastest set, bruiser, driver, gambler, drunkarda survival

"The greatest rip and debauchee in England! All between ourselves, Colmore. But you understand now what I

mean when I say that a woman's voice in his room might even now give rise to suspicions."

"Little Beryl Clare, when she took the risk of becoming his wife. That was the turning point. He had got so

far that his own fast set had thrown him over. There is a world of difference, you know, between a man who

drinks and a drunkard. They all drink, but they taboo a drunkard. He had become a slave to ithopeless and

helpless. Then she stepped in, saw the possibilities of a fine man in the wreck, took her chance in marrying

him though she might have had the pick of a dozen, and, by devoting her life to it, brought him back to

manhood and decency. You have observed that no liquor is ever kept in the house. There never has been any

since her foot crossed its threshold. A drop of it would be like blood to a tiger even now."

"That is the wonder of it. When she died three years ago, we all expected and feared that he would fall back

into his old ways. She feared it herself, and the thought gave a terror to death, for she was like a guardian

angel to that man, and lived only for the one purpose. By the way, did you see a black japanned box in his

"I fancy it contains her letters. If ever he has occasion to be away, if only for a single night, he invariably

takes his black japanned box with him. Well, well, Colmore, perhaps I have told you rather more than I

should, but I shall expect you to reciprocate if anything of interest should come to your knowledge."

I could see that the worthy man was consumed with curiosity and just a little piqued that I, the newcomer,

should have been the first to penetrate into the untrodden chamber. But the fact raised me in his esteem, and

And now the silent and majestic figure of my employer became an object of greater interest to me. I began to

understand that strangely human look in his eyes, those deep lines upon his careworn face. He was a man

who was fighting a ceaseless battle, holding at arm's length, from morning till night, a horrible adversary who

was forever trying to close with himan adversary which would destroy him body and soul could it but fix

its claws once more upon him. As I watched the grim, roundbacked figure pacing the corridor or walking in

the garden, this imminent danger seemed to take bodily shape, and I could almost fancy that I saw this most

loathsome and dangerous of all the fiends crouching closely in his very shadow, like a halfcowed beast

which slinks beside its keeper, ready at any unguarded moment to spring at his throat. And the dead woman,

the woman who had spent her life in warding off this danger, took shape also to my imagination, and I saw

her as a shadowy but beautiful presence which intervened for ever with arms uplifted to screen the man

In some subtle way he divined the sympathy which I had for him, and he showed in his own silent fashion

that he appreciated it. He even invited me once to share his afternoon walk, and although no word passed

between us on this occasion, it was a mark of confidence which he had never shown to anyone before. He

asked me also to index his library (it was one of the best private libraries in England), and I spent many hours

in the evening in his presence, if not in his society, he reading at his desk and I sitting in a recess by the

window reducing to order the chaos which existed among his books. In spite of these close relations I was

And then came my revulsion of feeling. A single incident changed all my sympathy to loathing, and made me

realize that my employer still remained all that he had ever been, with the additional vice of hypocrisy. What

One evening Miss Witherton had gone down to Broadway, the neighbouring village, to sing at a concert for

some charity, and I, according to my promise, had walked over to escort her back. The drive sweeps round

under the eastern turret, and I observed as I passed that the light was lit in the circular room. It was a summer

evening, and the window, which was a little higher than our heads, was open. We were, as it happened,

engrossed in our own conversation at the moment and we had paused upon the lawn which skirts the old

turret, when suddenly something broke in upon our talk and turned our thoughts away from our own affairs.

It was a voicethe voice undoubtedly of a woman. It was low so low that it was only in that still night air

that we could have heard it, but, hushed as it was, there was no mistaking its feminine timbre. It spoke

hurriedly, gaspingly for a few sentences, and then was silenta piteous, breathless, imploring sort of voice.

Miss Witherton and I stood for an instant staring at each other. Then we walked quickly in the direction of the

"We must not play the part of eavesdroppers," she answered. "We must forget that we have ever heard it."

There was an absence of surprise in her manner which suggested a new idea to me.

"I could not help it. My own room is higher up on the same turret. It has happened frequently."

Her voice was enough to show me what she thought. But granting that our employer led a double and dubious

life, who could she be, this mysterious woman who kept him company in the old tower? I knew from my own

inspection how bleak and bare a room it was. She certainly did not live there. But in that case where did she

come from? It could not be anyone of the household. They were all under the vigilant eyes of Mrs. Stevens.

And then suddenly I remembered how ancient this building was, and how probable that some mediaeval

passage existed in it. There is hardly an old castle without one. The mysterious room was the basement of the

turret, so that if there were anything of the sort it would open through the floor. There were numerous

cottages in the immediate vicinity. The other end of the secret passage might lie among some tangle of

bramble in the neighbouring copse. I said nothing to anyone, but I felt that the secret of my employer lay

And the more convinced I was of this the more I marvelled at the manner in which he concealed his true

nature. Often as I watched his austere figure, I asked myself if it were indeed possible that such a man should

be living this double life, and I tried to persuade myself that my suspicions might after all prove to be

illfounded. But there was the female voice, there was the secret nightly rendezvous in the

turretchamberhow could such facts admit of an innocent interpretation. I conceived a horror of the man. I

Only once during all those months did I ever see him without that sad but impassive mask which he usually

presented towards his fellowman. For an instant I caught a glimpse of those volcanic fires which he had

damped down so long. The occasion was an unworthy one, for the object of his wrath was none other than the

aged charwoman whom I have already mentioned as being the one person who was allowed within his

mysterious chamber. I was passing the corridor which led to the turretfor my own room lay in that

directionwhen I heard a sudden, startled scream, and merged in it the husky, growling note of a man who

is inarticulate with passion. It was the snarl of a furious wild beast. Then I heard his voice thrilling with

anger. "You would dare!" he cried. "You would dare to disobey my directions!" An instant later the

charwoman passed me, flying down the passage, whitefaced and tremulous, while the terrible voice

thundered behind her. "Go to Mrs. Stevens for your money! Never set foot in Thorpe Place again!"

Consumed with curiosity, I could not help following the woman, and found her round the corner leaning

"It's master!" she gasped. "Oh, 'ow 'e frightened me! If you had seen 'is eyes, Mr. Colmore, sir. I thought 'e

"Done, sir! Nothing. At least nothing to make so much of. Just laid my 'and on that black box of 'is'adn't

even opened it, when in 'e came and you 'eard the way 'e went on. I've lost my place, and glad I am of it, for I

So it was the japanned box which was the cause of this outburstthe box from which he would never permit

himself to be separated. What was the connection, or was there any connection between this and the secret

visits of the lady whose voice I had overheard? Sir John Bollamore's wrath was enduring as well as fiery, for

from that day Mrs. Brown, the charwoman, vanished from our ken, and Thorpe Place knew her no more.

And now I wish to tell you the singular chance which solved all these strange questions and put my

employer's secret in my possession. The story may leave you with some lingering doubts as to whether my

curiosity did not get the better of my honour, and whether I did not condescend to play the spy. If you choose

to think so I cannot help it, but can only assure you that, improbable as it may appear, the matter came about

The first stage in this denouement was that the small room in the turret became uninhabitable. This occurred

through the fall of the wormeaten oaken beam which supported the ceiling. Rotten with age, it snapped in

the middle one morning, and brought down a quantity of plaster with it. Fortunately Sir John was not in the

room at the time. His precious box was rescued from amongst the debris and brought into the library, where,

henceforward, it was locked within his bureau. Sir John took no steps to repair the damage, and I never had

an opportunity of searching for that secret passage, the existence of which I had surmised. As to the lady, I

had thought that this would have brought her visits to an end, had I not one evening heard Mr. Richards

asking Mrs. Stevens who the woman was whom he had overheard talking to Sir John in the library. I could

not catch her reply, but I saw from her manner that it was not the first time that she had had to answer or

"But I heard it from the library only last night. I passed the doors as I was going to bed, and I heard

"There are more things in heaven and earth," said he. "If it is a woman, how does she get there?"

"No, nor I. But if it is the other thingbut there, for a practical business man at the end of the nineteenth

century this is rather a ridiculous line of conversation." He turned away, but I saw that he felt even more than

he had said. To all the old ghost stories of Thorpe Place a new one was being added before our very eyes. It

may by this time have taken its permanent place, for though an explanation came to me, it never reached the

And my explanation came in this way. I had suffered a sleepless night from neuralgia, and about midday I

had taken a heavy dose of chlorodyne to alleviate the pain. At that time I was finishing the indexing of Sir

John Bollamore's library, and it was my custom to work there from five till seven. On this particular day I

struggled against the double effect of my bad night and the narcotic. I have already mentioned that there was

a recess in the library, and in this it was my habit to work. I settled down steadily to my task, but my

weariness overcame me and, falling back upon the settee, I dropped into a heavy sleep.

How long I slept I do not know, but it was quite dark when I awoke. Confused by the chlorodyne which I had

taken, I lay motionless in a semiconscious state. The great room with its high walls covered with books

loomed darkly all round me. A dim radiance from the moonlight came through the farther window, and

against this lighter background I saw that Sir John Bollamore was sitting at his study table. His wellset head

and clearly cut profile were sharply outlined against the glimmering square behind him. He bent as I watched

him, and I heard the sharp turning of a key and the rasping of metal upon metal. As if in a dream I was

vaguely conscious that this was the japanned box which stood in front of him, and that he had drawn

something out of it, something squat and uncouth, which now lay before him upon the table. I never

realizedit never occurred to my bemuddled and torpid brain that I was intruding upon his privacy, that he

imagined himself to be alone in the room. And then, just as it rushed upon my horrified perceptions, and I

had half risen to announce my presence, I heard a strange, crisp, metallic clicking, and then the voice.

Yes, it was a woman's voice; there could not be a doubt of it. But a voice so charged with entreaty and with

yearning love, that it will ring for ever in my ears. It came with a curious faraway tinkle, but every word was

"I am not really gone, John," said the thin, gasping voice. "I am here at your very elbow, and shall be until we

meet once more. I die happy to think that morning and night you will hear my voice. Oh, John, be strong, be

I say that I had risen in order to announce my presence, but I could not do so while the voice was sounding. I

could only remain half lying, half sitting, paralysed, astounded, listening to those yearning distant musical

words. And hehe was so absorbed that even if I had spoken he might not have heard me. But with the

silence of the voice came my half articulated apologies and explanations. He sprang across the room,

switched on the electric light, and in its white glare I saw him, his eyes gleaming with anger, his face twisted

With halting words I explained it all, my neuralgia, the narcotic, my luckless sleep and singular awakening.

As he listened the glow of anger faded from his face, and the sad, impassive mask closed once more over his

"My secret is yours, Mr. Colmore," said he. "I have only myself to blame for relaxing my precautions. Half

confidences are worse than no confidences, and so you may know all since you know so much. The story

may go where you will when I have passed away, but until then I rely upon your sense of honour that no

human soul shall hear it from your lips. I am proud stillGod help me!or, at least, I am proud enough to

resent that pity which this story would draw upon me. I have smiled at envy, and disregarded hatred, but pity

"You have heard the source from which the voice comesthat voice which has, as I understand, excited so

much curiosity in my household. I am aware of the rumours to which it has given rise. These speculations,

whether scandalous or superstitious, are such as I can disregard and forgive. What I should never forgive

would be a disloyal spying and eavesdropping in order to satisfy an illicit curiosity. But of that, Mr. Colmore,

"When I was a young man, sir, many years younger than you are now, I was launched upon town without a

friend or adviser, and with a purse which brought only too many false friends and false advisers to my side. I

drank deeply of the wine of lifeif there is a man living who has drunk more deeply he is not a man whom I

envy. My purse suffered, my character suffered, my constitution suffered, stimulants became a necessity to

me, I was a creature from whom my memory recoils. And it was at that time, the time of my blackest

degradation, that God sent into my life the gentlest, sweetest spirit that ever descended as a ministering angel

from above. She loved me, broken as I was, loved me, and spent her life in making a man once more of that

"But a fell disease struck her, and she withered away before my eyes. In the hour of her agony it was never of

herself, of her own sufferings and her own death that she thought. It was all of me. The one pang which her

fate brought to her was the fear that when her influence was removed I should revert to that which I had been.

It was in vain that I made oath to her that no drop of wine would ever cross my lips. She knew only too well

the hold that the devil had upon meshe who had striven so to loosen it and it haunted her night and day

"It was from some friend's gossip of the sick room that she heard of this inventionthis phonographand

with the quick insight of a loving woman she saw how she might use it for her ends. She sent me to London

to procure the best which money could buy. With her dying breath she gasped into it the words which have

held me straight ever since. Lonely and broken, what else have I in all the world to uphold me? But it is

enough. Please God, I shall face her without shame when He is pleased to reunite us! That is my secret, Mr.

Bishop's Crossing is a small village lying ten miles in a southwesterly direction from Liverpool. Here in the

early seventies there settled a doctor named Aloysius Lana. Nothing was known locally either of his

antecedents or of the reasons which had prompted him to come to this Lancashire hamlet. Two facts only

were certain about him; the one that he had gained his medical qualification with some distinction at

Glasgow; the other that he came undoubtedly of a tropical race, and was so dark that he might almost have

had a strain of the Indian in his composition. His predominant features were, however, European, and he

possessed a stately courtesy and carriage which suggested a Spanish extraction. A swarthy skin, ravenblack

hair, and dark, sparkling eyes under a pair of heavilytufted brows made a strange contrast to the flaxen or

chestnut rustics of England, and the newcomer was soon known as "The Black Doctor of Bishop's Crossing."

At first it was a term of ridicule and reproach; as the years went on it became a title of honour which was

familiar to the whole countryside, and extended far beyond the narrow confines of the village.

For the newcomer proved himself to be a capable surgeon and an accomplished physician. The practice of

that district had been in the hands of Edward Rowe, the son of Sir William Rowe, the Liverpool consultant,

but he had not inherited the talents of his father, and Dr. Lana, with his advantages of presence and of

manner, soon beat him out of the field. Dr. Lana's social success was as rapid as his professional. A

remarkable surgical cure in the case of the Hon. James Lowry, the second son of Lord Belton, was the means

of introducing him to county society, where he became a favourite through the charm of his conversation and

the elegance of his manners. An absence of antecedents and of relatives is sometimes an aid rather than an

impediment to social advancement, and the distinguished individuality of the handsome doctor was its own

His patients had one faultand one fault onlyto find with him. He appeared to be a confirmed bachelor.

This was the more remarkable since the house which he occupied was a large one, and it was known that his

success in practice had enabled him to save considerable sums. At first the local matchmakers were

continually coupling his name with one or other of the eligible ladies, but as years passed and Dr. Lana

remained unmarried, it came to be generally understood that for some reason he must remain a bachelor.

Some even went so far as to assert that he was already married, and that it was in order to escape the

consequence of an early misalliance that he had buried himself at Bishop's Crossing. And, then, just as the

matchmakers had finally given him up in despair, his engagement was suddenly announced to Miss Frances

Miss Morton was a young lady who was well known upon the countryside, her father, James Haldane

Morton, having been the Squire of Bishop's Crossing. Both her parents were, however, dead, and she lived

with her only brother, Arthur Morton, who had inherited the family estate. In person Miss Morton was tall

and stately, and she was famous for her quick, impetuous nature and for her strength of character. She met

Dr. Lana at a gardenparty, and a friendship, which quickly ripened into love, sprang up between them.

Nothing could exceed their devotion to each other. There was some discrepancy in age, he being

thirtyseven, and she twentyfour; but, save in that one respect, there was no possible objection to be found

with the match. The engagement was in February, and it was arranged that the marriage should take place in

Upon the 3rd of June Dr. Lana received a letter from abroad. In a small village the postmaster is also in a

position to be the gossipmaster, and Mr. Bankley, of Bishop's Crossing, had many of the secrets of his

neighbours in his possession. Of this particular letter he remarked only that it was in a curious envelope, that

it was in a man's handwriting, that the postscript was Buenos Ayres, and the stamp of the Argentine Republic.

It was the first letter which he had ever known Dr. Lana to have from abroad and this was the reason why his

attention was particularly called to it before he handed it to the local postman. It was delivered by the evening

Next morningthat is, upon the 4th of JuneDr. Lana called upon Miss Morton, and a long interview

followed, from which he was observed to return in a state of great agitation. Miss Morton remained in her

room all that day, and her maid found her several times in tears. In the course of a week it was an open secret

to the whole village that the engagement was at an end, that Dr. Lana had behaved shamefully to the young

lady, and that Arthur Morton, her brother, was talking of horsewhipping him. In what particular respect the

doctor had behaved badly was unknownsome surmised one thing and some another; but it was observed,

and taken as the obvious sign of a guilty conscience, that he would go for miles round rather than pass the

windows of Leigh Hall, and that he gave up attending morning service upon Sundays where he might have

met the young lady. There was an advertisement also in the Lancet as to the sale of a practice which

mentioned no names, but which was thought by some to refer to Bishop's Crossing, and to mean that Dr.

Lana was thinking of abandoning the scene of his success. Such was the position of affairs when, upon the

evening of Monday, June 21st, there came a fresh development which changed what had been a mere village

scandal into a tragedy which arrested the attention of the whole nation. Some detail is necessary to cause the

The sole occupants of the doctor's house were his housekeeper, an elderly and most respectable woman,

named Martha Woods, and a young servantMary Pilling. The coachman and the surgeryboy slept out. It

was the custom of the doctor to sit at night in his study, which was next the surgery in the wing of the house

which was farthest from the servants' quarters. This side of the house had a door of its own for the

convenience of patients, so that it was possible for the doctor to admit and receive a visitor there without the

knowledge of anyone. As a matter of fact, when patients came late it was quite usual for him to let them in

and out by the surgery entrance, for the maid and the housekeeper were in the habit of retiring early.

On this particular night Martha Woods went into the doctor's study at halfpast nine, and found him writing

at his desk. She bade him good night, sent the maid to bed, and then occupied herself until a quarter to eleven

in household matters. It was striking eleven upon the hall clock when she went to her own room. She had

been there about a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes when she heard a cry or call, which appeared to come

from within the house. She waited some time, but it was not repeated. Much alarmed, for the sound was loud

and urgent, she put on a dressinggown, and ran at the top of her speed to the doctor's study.

"I beg that you will leave me in peace. Go back to your room this instant!" cried the voice, which was, to the

best of her belief, that of her master. The tone was so harsh and so unlike her master's usual manner, that she

"I thought I heard you calling, sir," she explained, but no answer was given to her. Mrs. Woods looked at the

At some period between eleven and twelve (she could not be positive as to the exact hour) a patient called

upon the doctor and was unable to get any reply from him. This late visitor was Mrs. Madding, the wife of

the village grocer, who was dangerously ill of typhoid fever. Dr. Lana had asked her to look in the last thing

and let him know how her husband was progressing. She observed that the light was burning in the study, but

having knocked several times at the surgery door without response, she concluded that the doctor had been

There is a short, winding drive with a lamp at the end of it leading down from the house to the road. As Mrs.

Madding emerged from the gate a man was coming along the footpath. Thinking that it might be Dr. Lana

returning from some professional visit, she waited for him, and was surprised to see that it was Mr. Arthur

Morton, the young squire. In the light of the lamp she observed that his manner was excited, and that he

carried in his hand a heavy huntingcrop. He was turning in at the gate when she addressed him.

"I see a light," said the young squire, looking up the drive. "That is in his study, is it not?"

"Well, he must come in again," said young Morton, and passed through the gate while Mrs. Madding went

At three o'clock that morning her husband suffered a sharp relapse, and she was so alarmed by his symptoms

that she determined to call the doctor without delay. As she passed through the gate she was surprised to see

someone lurking among the laurel bushes. It was certainly a man, and to the best of her belief Mr. Arthur

Morton. Preoccupied with her own troubles, she gave no particular attention to the incident, but hurried on

When she reached the house she perceived to her surprise that the light was still burning in the study. She

therefore tapped at the surgery door. There was no answer. She repeated the knocking several times without

effect. It appeared to her to be unlikely that the doctor would either go to bed or go out leaving so brilliant a

light behind him, and it struck Mrs. Madding that it was possible that he might have dropped asleep in his

chair. She tapped at the study window, therefore, but without result. Then, finding that there was an opening

The small room was brilliantly lighted from a large lamp on the central table, which was littered with the

doctor's books and instruments. No one was visible, nor did she see anything unusual, except that in the

farther shadow thrown by the table a dingy white glove was lying upon the carpet. And then suddenly, as her

eyes became more accustomed to the light, a boot emerged from the other end of the shadow, and she

realized, with a thrill of horror, that what she had taken to be a glove was the hand of a man, who was

prostrate upon the floor. Understanding that something terrible had occurred, she rang at the front door,

roused Mrs. Woods, the housekeeper, and the two women made their way into the study, having first

At the side of the table, away from the window, Dr. Lana was discovered stretched upon his back and quite

dead. It was evident that he had been subjected to violence, for one of his eyes was blackened and there were

marks of bruises about his face and neck. A slight thickening and swelling of his features appeared to suggest

that the cause of his death had been strangulation. He was dressed in his usual professional clothes, but wore

cloth slippers, the soles of which were perfectly clean. The carpet was marked all over, especially on the side

of the door, with traces of dirty boots, which were presumably left by the murderer. It was evident that

someone had entered by the surgery door, had killed the doctor, and had then made his escape unseen. That

the assailant was a man was certain, from the size of the footprints and from the nature of the injuries. But

There were no signs of robbery, and the doctor's gold watch was safe in his pocket. He kept a heavy

cashbox in the room, and this was discovered to be locked but empty. Mrs. Woods had an impression that a

large sum was usually kept there, but the doctor had paid a heavy corn bill in cash only that very day, and it

was conjectured that it was to this and not to a robber that the emptiness of the box was due. One thing in the

room was missing but that one thing was suggestive. The portrait of Miss Morton, which had always stood

upon the sidetable, had been taken from its frame, and carried off. Mrs. Woods had observed it there when

she waited upon her employer that evening, and now it was gone. On the other hand, there was picked up

from the floor a green eyepatch, which the housekeeper could not remember to have seen before. Such a

patch might, however, be in the possession of a doctor, and there was nothing to indicate that it was in any

Suspicion could only turn in one direction, and Arthur Morton, the young squire, was immediately arrested.

The evidence against him was circumstantial, but damning. He was devoted to his sister, and it was shown

that since the rupture between her and Dr. Lana he had been heard again and again to express himself in the

most vindictive terms towards her former lover. He had, as stated, been seen somewhere about eleven o'clock

entering the doctor's drive with a huntingcrop in his hand. He had then, according to the theory of the police,

broken in upon the doctor, whose exclamation of fear or of anger had been loud enough to attract the

attention of Mrs. Woods. When Mrs. Woods descended, Dr. Lana had made up his mind to talk it over with

his visitor, and had, therefore, sent his housekeeper back to her room. This conversation had lasted a long

time, had become more and more fiery, and had ended by a personal struggle, in which the doctor lost his

life. The fact, revealed by a postmortem, that his heart was much diseasedan ailment quite unsuspected

during his lifewould make it possible that death might in his case ensue from injuries which would not be

fatal to a healthy man. Arthur Morton had then removed his sister's photograph, and had made his way

homeward, stepping aside into the laurel bushes to avoid Mrs. Madding at the gate. This was the theory of the

On the other hand, there were some strong points for the defence. Morton was highspirited and impetuous,

like his sister, but he was respected and liked by everyone, and his frank and honest nature seemed to be

incapable of such a crime. His own explanation was that he was anxious to have a conversation with Dr. Lana

about some urgent family matters (from first to last he refused even to mention the name of his sister). He did

not attempt to deny that this conversation would probably have been of an unpleasant nature. He had heard

from a patient that the doctor was out, and he therefore waited until about three in the morning for his return,

but as he had seen nothing of him up to that hour, he had given it up and had returned home. As to his death,

he knew no more about it than the constable who arrested him. He had formerly been an intimate friend of the

deceased man; but circumstances, which he would prefer not to mention, had brought about a change in his

There were several facts which supported his innocence. It was certain that Dr. Lana was alive and in his

study at halfpast eleven o'clock. Mrs. Woods was prepared to swear that it was at that hour that she had

heard his voice. The friends of the prisoner contended that it was probable that at that time Dr. Lana was not

alone. The sound which had originally attracted the attention of the housekeeper, and her master's unusual

impatience that she should leave him in peace, seemed to point to that. If this were so then it appeared to be

probable that he had met his end between the moment when the housekeeper heard his voice and the time

when Mrs. Madding made her first call and found it impossible to attract his attention. But if this were the

time of his death, then it was certain that Mr. Arthur Morton could not be guilty, as it was AFTER this that

If this hypothesis were correct, and someone was with Dr. Lana before Mrs. Madding met Mr. Arthur

Morton, then who was this someone, and what motives had he for wishing evil to the doctor? It was

universally admitted that if the friends of the accused could throw light upon this, they would have gone a

long way towards establishing his innocence. But in the meanwhile it was open to the public to sayas they

did saythat there was no proof that anyone had been there at all except the young squire; while, on the

other hand, there was ample proof that his motives in going were of a sinister kind. When Mrs. Madding

called, the doctor might have retired to his room, or he might, as she thought at the time, have gone out and

returned afterwards to find Mr. Arthur Morton waiting for him. Some of the supporters of the accused laid

stress upon the fact that the photograph of his sister Frances, which had been removed from the doctor's

room, had not been found in her brother's possession. This argument, however, did not count for much, as he

had ample time before his arrest to burn it or to destroy it. As to the only positive evidence in the casethe

muddy footmarks upon the floorthey were so blurred by the softness of the carpet that it was impossible to

make any trustworthy deduction from them. The most that could be said was that their appearance was not

inconsistent with the theory that they were made by the accused, and it was further shown that his boots were

very muddy upon that night. There had been a heavy shower in the afternoon, and all boots were probably in

Such is a bald statement of the singular and romantic series of events which centred public attention upon this

Lancashire tragedy. The unknown origin of the doctor, his curious and distinguished personality, the position

of the man who was accused of the murder, and the love affair which had preceded the crimes all combined

to make the affair one of those dramas which absorb the whole interest of a nation. Throughout the three

kingdoms men discussed the case of the Black Doctor of Bishop's Crossing, and many were the theories put

forward to explain the facts; but it may safely be said that among them all there was not one which prepared

the minds of the public for the extraordinary sequel, which caused so much excitement upon the first day of

the trial, and came to a climax upon the second. The long files of the Lancaster Weekly with their report of

the case lie before me as I write, but I must content myself with a synopsis of the case up to the point when,

upon the evening of the first day, the evidence of Miss Frances Morton threw a singular light upon the case.

Mr. Porlock Carr, the counsel for the prosecution, had marshalled his facts with his usual skill, and as the day

wore on, it became more and more evident how difficult was the task which Mr. Humphrey, who had been

retained for the defence, had before him. Several witnesses were put up to swear to the intemperate

expressions which the young squire had been heard to utter about the doctor, and the fiery manner in which

he resented the alleged illtreatment of his sister. Mrs. Madding repeated her evidence as to the visit which

had been paid late at night by the prisoner to the deceased, and it was shown by another witness that the

prisoner was aware that the doctor was in the habit of sitting up alone in this isolated wing of the house, and

that he had chosen this very late hour to call because he knew that his victim would then be at his mercy. A

servant at the squire's house was compelled to admit that he had heard his master return about three that

morning, which corroborated Mrs. Madding's statement that she had seen him among the laurel bushes near

the gate upon the occasion of her second visit. The muddy boots and an alleged similarity in the footprints

were duly dwelt upon, and it was felt when the case for the prosecution had been presented that, however

circumstantial it might be, it was none the less so complete and so convincing, that the fate of the prisoner

was sealed, unless something quite unexpected should be disclosed by the defence. It was three o'clock when

the prosecution closed. At halfpast four, when the court rose, a new and unlookedfor development had

occurred. I extract the incident, or part of it, from the journal which I have already mentioned, omitting the

Considerable sensation was caused in the crowded court when the first witness called for the defence proved

to be Miss Frances Morton, the sister of the prisoner. Our readers will remember that the young lady had been

engaged to Dr. Lana, and that it was his anger over the sudden termination of this engagement which was

thought to have driven her brother to the perpetration of this crime. Miss Morton had not, however, been

directly implicated in the case in any way, either at the inquest or at the policecourt proceedings, and her

appearance as the leading witness for the defence came as a surprise upon the public.

Miss Frances Morton, who was a tall and handsome brunette, gave her evidence in a low but clear voice,

though it was evident throughout that she was suffering from extreme emotion. She alluded to her

engagement to the doctor, touched briefly upon its termination, which was due, she said, to personal matters

connected with his family, and surprised the court by asserting that she had always considered her brother's

resentment to be unreasonable and intemperate. In answer to a direct question from her counsel, she replied

that she did not feel that she had any grievance whatever against Dr. Lana, and that in her opinion he had

acted in a perfectly honourable manner. Her brother, on an insufficient knowledge of the facts, had taken

another view, and she was compelled to acknowledge that, in spite of her entreaties, he had uttered threats of

personal violence against the doctor, and had, upon the evening of the tragedy, announced his intention of

"having it out with him." She had done her best to bring him to a more reasonable frame of mind, but he was

Up to this point the young lady's evidence had appeared to make against the prisoner rather than in his favour.

The questions of her counsel, however, soon put a very different light upon the matter, and disclosed an

The Judge: I cannot permit that question, Mr. Humphrey. We are here to decide upon questions of factnot

Mr. Humphrey: Do you know that your brother is not guilty of the death of Doctor Lana?

There followed a prolonged sensation in court, which interrupted the examination of the witness.

Miss Morton: Because I have received a letter from him since the date of his supposed death.

Mr. Humphrey: That being the day after his alleged death. Are you prepared to swear to this handwriting,

Mr. Humphrey: I am prepared to call six other witnesses, my lord, to testify that this letter is in the writing of

Mr. Porlock Carr (counsel for the prosecution): In the meantime, my lord, we claim possession of this

document, so that we may obtain expert evidence as to how far it is an imitation of the handwriting of the

gentleman whom we still confidently assert to be deceased. I need not point out that the theory so

unexpectedly sprung upon us may prove to be a very obvious device adopted by the friends of the prisoner in

order to divert this inquiry. I would draw attention to the fact that the young lady must, according to her own

account, have possessed this letter during the proceedings at the inquest and at the policecourt. She desires

us to believe that she permitted these to proceed, although she held in her pocket evidence which would at

A murmur of sympathy broke out in court, which was instantly suppressed by the Judge.

The Judge: Admitting this line of defence, it lies with you, Mr. Humphrey, to throw a light upon who this

man is whose body has been recognized by so many friends and patients of Dr. Lana as being that of the

This new development of the case excited the utmost interest among the general public. Press comment was

prevented by the fact that the trial was still undecided, but the question was everywhere argued as to how far

there could be truth in Miss Morton's declaration, and how far it might be a daring ruse for the purpose of

saving her brother. The obvious dilemma in which the missing doctor stood was that if by any extraordinary

chance he was not dead, then he must be held responsible for the death of this unknown man, who resembled

him so exactly, and who was found in his study. This letter which Miss Morton refused to produce was

possibly a confession of guilt, and she might find herself in the terrible position of only being able to save her

brother from the gallows by the sacrifice of her former lover. The court next morning was crammed to

overflowing, and a murmur of excitement passed over it when Mr. Humphrey was observed to enter in a state

of emotion, which even his trained nerves could not conceal, and to confer with the opposing counsel. A few

hurried wordswords which left a look of amazement upon Mr. Porlock Carr's facepassed between them,

and then the counsel for the defence, addressing the Judge, announced that, with the consent of the

prosecution, the young lady who had given evidence upon the sitting before would not be recalled.

The Judge: But you appear, Mr. Humphrey, to have left matters in a very unsatisfactory state.

The learned counsel has made many telling remarks in his day, but he has certainly never produced such a

sensation with so short a sentence. The court was simply stunned with amazement as the very man whose fate

had been the subject of so much contention appeared bodily before them in the witnessbox. Those among

the spectators who had known him at Bishop's Crossing saw him now, gaunt and thin, with deep lines of care

upon his face. But in spite of his melancholy bearing and despondent expression, there were few who could

say that they had ever seen a man of more distinguished presence. Bowing to the judge, he asked if he might

be allowed to make a statement, and having been duly informed that whatever he said might be used against

"My wish," said he, "is to hold nothing back, but to tell with perfect frankness all that occurred upon the night

of the 21st of June. Had I known that the innocent had suffered, and that so much trouble had been brought

upon those whom I love best in the world, I should have come forward long ago; but there were reasons

which prevented these things from coming to my ears. It was my desire that an unhappy man should vanish

from the world which had known him, but I had not foreseen that others would be affected by my actions. Let

"To anyone who is acquainted with the history of the Argentine Republic the name of Lana is well known.

My father, who came of the best blood of old Spain, filled all the highest offices of the State, and would have

been President but for his death in the riots of San Juan. A brilliant career might have been open to my twin

brother Ernest and myself had it not been for financial losses which made it necessary that we should earn our

own living. I apologize, sir, if these details appear to be irrelevant, but they are a necessary introduction to

"I had, as I have said, a twin brother named Ernest, whose resemblance to me was so great that even when we

were together people could see no difference between us. Down to the smallest detail we were exactly the

same. As we grew older this likeness became less marked because our expression was not the same, but with

"It does not become me to say too much of one who is dead, the more so as he is my only brother, but I leave

his character to those who knew him best. I will only sayfor I HAVE to say itthat in my early manhood

I conceived a horror of him, and that I had good reason for the aversion which filled me. My own reputation

suffered from his actions, for our close resemblance caused me to be credited with many of them. Eventually,

in a peculiarly disgraceful business, he contrived to throw the whole odium upon me in such a way that I was

forced to leave the Argentine for ever, and to seek a career in Europe. The freedom from his hated presence

more than compensated me for the loss of my native land. I had enough money to defray my medical studies

at Glasgow, and I finally settled in practice at Bishop's Crossing, in the firm conviction that in that remote

"For years my hopes were fulfilled, and then at last he discovered me. Some Liverpool man who visited

Buenos Ayres put him upon my track. He had lost all his money, and he thought that he would come over and

share mine. Knowing my horror of him, he rightly thought that I would be willing to buy him off. I received a

letter from him saying that he was coming. It was at a crisis in my own affairs, and his arrival might

conceivably bring trouble, and even disgrace, upon some whom I was especially bound to shield from

anything of the kind. I took steps to insure that any evil which might come should fall on me only, and

that"here he turned and looked at the prisoner"was the cause of conduct upon my part which has been

too harshly judged. My only motive was to screen those who were dear to me from any possible connection

with scandal or disgrace. That scandal and disgrace would come with my brother was only to say that what

"My brother arrived himself one night not very long after my receipt of the letter. I was sitting in my study

after the servants had gone to bed, when I heard a footstep upon the gravel outside, and an instant later I saw

his face looking in at me through the window. He was a cleanshaven man like myself, and the resemblance

between us was still so great that, for an instant, I thought it was my own reflection in the glass. He had a

dark patch over his eye, but our features were absolutely the same. Then he smiled in a sardonic way which

had been a trick of his from his boyhood, and I knew that he was the same brother who had driven me from

my native land, and brought disgrace upon what had been an honourable name. I went to the door and I

"When he came into the glare of the lamp, I saw at once that he had fallen upon very evil days. He had

walked from Liverpool, and he was tired and ill. I was quite shocked by the expression upon his face. My

medical knowledge told me that there was some serious internal malady. He had been drinking also, and his

face was bruised as the result of a scuffle which he had had with some sailors. It was to cover his injured eye

that he wore this patch, which he removed when he entered the room. He was himself dressed in a peajacket

and flannel shirt, and his feet were bursting through his boots. But his poverty had only made him more

savagely vindictive towards me. His hatred rose to the height of a mania. I had been rolling in money in

England, according to his account, while he had been starving in South America. I cannot describe to you the

threats which he uttered or the insults which he poured upon me. My impression is, that hardships and

debauchery had unhinged his reason. He paced about the room like a wild beast, demanding drink,

demanding money, and all in the foulest language. I am a hottempered man, but I thank God that I am able

to say that I remained master of myself, and that I never raised a hand against him. My coolness only irritated

him the more. He raved, he cursed, he shook his fists in my face, and then suddenly a horrible spasm passed

over his features, he clapped his hand to his side, and with a loud cry he fell in a heap at my feet. I raised him

up and stretched him upon the sofa, but no answer came to my exclamations, and the hand which I held in

mine was cold and clammy. His diseased heart had broken down. His own violence had killed him.

"For a long time I sat as if I were in some dreadful dream, staring at the body of my brother. I was aroused by

the knocking of Mrs. Woods, who had been disturbed by that dying cry. I sent her away to bed. Shortly

afterwards a patient tapped at the surgery door, but as I took no notice, he or she went off again. Slowly and

gradually as I sat there a plan was forming itself in my head in the curious automatic way in which plans do

form. When I rose from my chair my future movements were finally decided upon without my having been

conscious of any process of thought. It was an instinct which irresistibly inclined me towards one course.

"Ever since that change in my affairs to which I have alluded, Bishop's Crossing had become hateful to me.

My plans of life had been ruined, and I had met with hasty judgments and unkind treatment where I had

expected sympathy. It is true that any danger of scandal from my brother had passed away with his life; but

still, I was sore about the past, and felt that things could never be as they had been. It may be that I was

unduly sensitive, and that I had not made sufficient allowance for others, but my feelings were as I describe.

Any chance of getting away from Bishop's Crossing and of everyone in it would be most welcome to me.

And here was such a chance as I could never have dared to hope for, a chance which would enable me to

"There was this dead man lying upon the sofa, so like me that save for some little thickness and coarseness of

the features there was no difference at all. No one had seen him come and no one would miss him. We were

both cleanshaven, and his hair was about the same length as my own. If I changed clothes with him, then

Dr. Aloysius Lana would be found lying dead in his study, and there would be an end of an unfortunate

fellow, and of a blighted career. There was plenty of ready money in the room, and this I could carry away

with me to help me to start once more in some other land. In my brother's clothes I could walk by night

unobserved as far as Liverpool, and in that great seaport I would soon find some means of leaving the

country. After my lost hopes, the humblest existence where I was unknown was far preferable, in my

estimation, to a practice, however successful, in Bishop's Crossing, where at any moment I might come face

to face with those whom I should wish, if it were possible, to forget. I determined to effect the change.

"And I did so. I will not go into particulars, for the recollection is as painful as the experience; but in an hour

my brother lay, dressed down to the smallest detail in my clothes, while I slunk out by the surgery door, and

taking the back path which led across some fields, I started off to make the best of my way to Liverpool,

where I arrived the same night. My bag of money and a certain portrait were all I carried out of the house,

and I left behind me in my hurry the shade which my brother had been wearing over his eye. Everything else

"I give you my word, sir, that never for one instant did the idea occur to me that people might think that I had

been murdered, nor did I imagine that anyone might be caused serious danger through this stratagem by

which I endeavoured to gain a fresh start in the world. On the contrary, it was the thought of relieving others

from the burden of my presence which was always uppermost in my mind. A sailing vessel was leaving

Liverpool that very day for Corunna, and in this I took my passage, thinking that the voyage would give me

time to recover my balance, and to consider the future. But before I left my resolution softened. I bethought

me that there was one person in the world to whom I would not cause an hour of sadness. She would mourn

me in her heart, however harsh and unsympathetic her relatives might be. She understood and appreciated the

motives upon which I had acted, and if the rest of her family condemned me, she, at least, would not forget.

And so I sent her a note under the seal of secrecy to save her from a baseless grief. If under the pressure of

"It was only last night that I returned to England, and during all this time I have heard nothing of the

sensation which my supposed death had caused, nor of the accusation that Mr. Arthur Morton had been

concerned in it. It was in a late evening paper that I read an account of the proceedings of yesterday, and I

have come this morning as fast as an express train could bring me to testify to the truth."

Such was the remarkable statement of Dr. Aloysius Lana which brought the trial to a sudden termination. A

subsequent investigation corroborated it to the extent of finding out the vessel in which his brother Ernest

Lana had come over from South America. The ship's doctor was able to testify that he had complained of a

weak heart during the voyage, and that his symptoms were consistent with such a death as was described.

As to Dr. Aloysius Lana, he returned to the village from which he had made so dramatic a disappearance, and

a complete reconciliation was effected between him and the young squire, the latter having acknowledged

that he had entirely misunderstood the other's motives in withdrawing from his engagement. That another

reconciliation followed may be judged from a notice extracted from a prominent column in the Morning Post:

"A marriage was solemnized upon September 19th, by the Rev. Stephen Johnson, at the parish church of

Bishop's Crossing, between Aloysius Xavier Lana, son of Don Alfredo Lana, formerly Foreign Minister of

the Argentine Republic, and Frances Morton, only daughter of the late James Morton, J.P., of Leigh Hall,

My particular friend, Ward Mortimer, was one of the best men of his day at everything connected with

Oriental archaeology. He had written largely upon the subject, he had lived two years in a tomb at Thebes,

while he excavated in the Valley of the Kings, and finally he had created a considerable sensation by his

exhumation of the alleged mummy of Cleopatra in the inner room of the Temple of Horus, at Philae. With

such a record at the age of thirtyone, it was felt that a considerable career lay before him, and no one was

surprised when he was elected to the curatorship of the Belmore Street Museum, which carries with it the

lectureship at the Oriental College, and an income which has sunk with the fall in land, but which still

remains at that ideal sum which is large enough to encourage an investigator, but not so large as to enervate

There was only one reason which made Ward Mortimer's position a little difficult at the Belmore Street

Museum, and that was the extreme eminence of the man whom he had to succeed. Professor Andreas was a

profound scholar and a man of European reputation. His lectures were frequented by students from every part

of the world, and his admirable management of the collection intrusted to his care was a commonplace in all

learned societies. There was, therefore, considerable surprise when, at the age of fiftyfive, he suddenly

resigned his position and retired from those duties which had been both his livelihood and his pleasure. He

and his daughter left the comfortable suite of rooms which had formed his official residence in connection

with the museum, and my friend, Mortimer, who was a bachelor, took up his quarters there.

On hearing of Mortimer's appointment Professor Andreas had written him a very kindly and flattering

congratulatory letter. I was actually present at their first meeting, and I went with Mortimer round the

museum when the Professor showed us the admirable collection which he had cherished so long. The

Professor's beautiful daughter and a young man, Captain Wilson, who was, as I understood, soon to be her

husband, accompanied us in our inspection. There were fifteen rooms, but the Babylonian, the Syrian, and the

central hall, which contained the Jewish and Egyptian collection, were the finest of all. Professor Andreas

was a quiet, dry, elderly man, with a cleanshaven face and an impassive manner, but his dark eyes sparkled

and his features quickened into enthusiastic life as he pointed out to us the rarity and the beauty of some of

his specimens. His hand lingered so fondly over them, that one could read his pride in them and the grief in

He had shown us in turn his mummies, his papyri, his rare scarabs, his inscriptions, his Jewish relics, and his

duplication of the famous sevenbranched candlestick of the Temple, which was brought to Rome by Titus,

and which is supposed by some to be lying at this instant in the bed of the Tiber. Then he approached a case

which stood in the very centre of the hall, and he looked down through the glass with reverence in his attitude

"This is no novelty to an expert like yourself, Mr. Mortimer," said he; "but I daresay that your friend, Mr.

Leaning over the case I saw an object, some five inches square, which consisted of twelve precious stones in

a framework of gold, with golden hooks at two of the corners. The stones were all varying in sort and colour,

but they were of the same size. Their shapes, arrangement, and gradation of tint made me think of a box of

watercolour paints. Each stone had some hieroglyphic scratched upon its surface.

"The urim and thummim was a name given to the jewelled plate which lay upon the breast of the high priest

of the Jews. They had a very special feeling of reverence for itsomething of the feeling which an ancient

Roman might have for the Sibylline books in the Capitol. There are, as you see, twelve magnificent stones,

inscribed with mystical characters. Counting from the lefthand top corner, the stones are carnelian, peridot,

emerald, ruby, lapis lazuli, onyx, sapphire, agate, amethyst, topaz, beryl, and jasper."

"It is of great age and of immense value," said Professor Andreas. "Without being able to make an absolute

assertion, we have many reasons to think that it is possible that it may be the original urim and thummim of

Solomon's Temple. There is certainly nothing so fine in any collection in Europe. My friend, Captain Wilson,

here, is a practical authority upon precious stones, and he would tell you how pure these are."

Captain Wilson, a man with a dark, hard, incisive face, was standing beside his fiancee at the other side of the

"And the goldwork is also worthy of attention. The ancients excelled in"he was apparently about to

"You will see a finer example of their goldwork in this candlestick," said he, turning to another table, and

we all joined him in his admiration of its embossed stem and delicately ornamented branches. Altogether it

was an interesting and a novel experience to have objects of such rarity explained by so great an expert; and

when, finally, Professor Andreas finished our inspection by formally handing over the precious collection to

the care of my friend, I could not help pitying him and envying his successor whose life was to pass in so

pleasant a duty. Within a week, Ward Mortimer was duly installed in his new set of rooms, and had become

About a fortnight afterwards my friend gave a small dinner to half a dozen bachelor friends to celebrate his

promotion. When his guests were departing he pulled my sleeve and signalled to me that he wished me to

"You have only a few hundred yards to go," said heI was living in chambers in the Albany. "You may as

I relapsed into an armchair and lit one of his excellent Matronas. When he had returned from seeing the last

of his guests out, he drew a letter from his dressjacket and sat down opposite to me.

"This is an anonymous letter which I received this morning," said he. "I want to read it to you and to have

"This is how the note runs: `Sir,I should strongly advise you to keep a very careful watch over the many

valuable things which are committed to your charge. I do not think that the present system of a single

watchman is sufficient. Be upon your guard, or an irreparable misfortune may occur.'"

"Well," said I, "it is at least obvious that it was written by one of the limited number of people who are aware

Ward Mortimer handed me the note, with a curious smile. "Have you an eye for handwriting?" said he.

"Now, look at this!" He put another letter in front of me. "Look at the c in `congratulate' and the c in

`committed.' Look at the capital I. Look at the trick of putting in a dash instead of a stop!"

"They are undoubtedly from the same handwith some attempt at disguise in the case of this first one."

"The second," said Ward Mortimer, "is the letter of congratulation which was written to me by Professor

I stared at him in amazement. Then I turned over the letter in my hand, and there, sure enough, was "Martin

Andreas" signed upon the other side. There could be no doubt, in the mind of anyone who had the slightest

knowledge of the science of graphology, that the Professor had written an anonymous letter, warning his

"Precisely what I should wish to ask you. If he had any such misgivings, why could he not come and tell me

"At any rate," said I, "this warning is meant in a friendly spirit, and I should certainly act upon it. Are the

"I should have thought so. The public are only admitted from ten till five, and there is a guardian to every two

"When the public are gone, we at once put up the great iron shutters, which are absolutely burglarproof. The

watchman is a capable fellow. He sits in the lodge, but he walks round every three hours. We keep one

"It is difficult to suggest anything moreshort of keeping your day watches all night."

"At least, I should communicate with the police, and have a special constable put on outside in Belmore

Street," said I. "As to the letter, if the writer wishes to be anonymous, I think he has a right to remain so. We

must trust to the future to show some reason for the curious course which he has adopted."

So we dismissed the subject, but all that night after my return to my chambers I was puzzling my brain as to

what possible motive Professor Andreas could have for writing an anonymous warning letter to his

successorfor that the writing was his was as certain to me as if I had seen him actually doing it. He foresaw

some danger to the collection. Was it because he foresaw it that he abandoned his charge of it? But if so, why

should he hesitate to warn Mortimer in his own name? I puzzled and puzzled until at last I fell into a troubled

I was aroused in a singular and effective method, for about nine o'clock my friend Mortimer rushed into my

room with an expression of consternation upon his face. He was usually one of the most tidy men of my

acquaintance, but now his collar was undone at one end, his tie was flying, and his hat at the back of his head.

"I fear so! Those jewels! The jewels of the urim and thummim!" he gasped, for he was out of breath with

running. "I'm going on to the policestation. Come to the museum as soon as you can, Jackson! Goodbye!"

He rushed distractedly out of the room, and I heard him clatter down the stairs.

I was not long in following his directions, but I found when I arrived that he had already returned with a

police inspector, and another elderly gentleman, who proved to be Mr. Purvis, one of the partners of Morson

and Company, the wellknown diamond merchants. As an expert in stones he was always prepared to advise

the police. They were grouped round the case in which the breastplate of the Jewish priest had been exposed.

The plate had been taken out and laid upon the glass top of the case, and the three heads were bent over it.

"It is obvious that it has been tampered with," said Mortimer. "It caught my eye the moment that I passed

through the room this morning. I examined it yesterday evening, so that it is certain that this has happened

It was, as he had said, obvious that someone had been at work upon it. The settings of the uppermost row of

four stonesthe carnelian, peridot, emerald, and rubywere rough and jagged as if someone had scraped

all round them. The stones were in their places, but the beautiful goldwork which we had admired only a

"It looks to me," said the police inspector, "as if someone had been trying to take out the stones."

"My fear is," said Mortimer, "that he not only tried, but succeeded. I believe these four stones to be skilful

The same suspicion had evidently been in the mind of the expert, for he had been carefully examining the

four stones with the aid of a lens. He now submitted them to several tests, and finally turned cheerfully to

"I congratulate you, sir," said he, heartily. "I will pledge my reputation that all four of these stones are

The colour began to come back to my poor friend's frightened face, and he drew a long breath of relief.

"In that case one would expect him to take them out one at a time, but the setting of each of these has been

"It is certainly most extraordinary," said the inspector. "I never remember a case like it. Let us see the

The commissionaire was calleda soldierly, honestfaced man, who seemed as concerned as Ward

"No, sir, I never heard a sound," he answered, in reply to the questions of the inspector. "I made my rounds

four times, as usual, but I saw nothing suspicious. I've been in my position ten years, but nothing of the kind

"That is locked at night," my friend explained, "and in order to reach it anyone from the street would have to

"Well, well," said the inspector, "this is certainly very obscure. However, there has been no harm done,

"So that the case appears to be merely one of malicious damage. But none the less, I should be very glad to

go carefully round the premises, and to see if we can find any trace to show us who your visitor may have

His investigation, which lasted all the morning, was careful and intelligent, but it led in the end to nothing.

He pointed out to us that there were two possible entrances to the museum which we had not considered. The

one was from the cellars by a trapdoor opening in the passage. The other through a skylight from the

lumberroom, overlooking that very chamber to which the intruder had penetrated. As neither the cellar nor

the lumberroom could be entered unless the thief was already within the locked doors, the matter was not of

any practical importance, and the dust of cellar and attic assured us that no one had used either one or the

other. Finally, we ended as we began, without the slightest clue as to how, why, or by whom the setting of

There remained one course for Mortimer to take, and he took it. Leaving the police to continue their fruitless

researches, he asked me to accompany him that afternoon in a visit to Professor Andreas. He took with him

the two letters, and it was his intention to openly tax his predecessor with having written the anonymous

warning, and to ask him to explain the fact that he should have anticipated so exactly that which had actually

occurred. The Professor was living in a small villa in Upper Norwood, but we were informed by the servant

that he was away from home. Seeing our disappointment, she asked us if we should like to see Miss Andreas,

I have mentioned incidentally that the Professor's daughter was a very beautiful girl. She was a blonde, tall

and graceful, with a skin of that delicate tint which the French call "mat," the colour of old ivory, or of the

lighter petals of the sulphur rose. I was shocked, however, as she entered the room to see how much she had

changed in the last fortnight. Her young face was haggard and her bright eyes heavy with trouble.

"Father has gone to Scotland," she said. "He seems to be tired, and has had a good deal to worry him. He only

"Yes, he is with his brother, the Rev. David Andreas, 1, Arran Villas, Ardrossan."

Ward Mortimer made a note of the address, and we left without saying anything as to the object of our visit.

We found ourselves in Belmore Street in the evening in exactly the same position in which we had been in

the morning. Our only clue was the Professor's letter, and my friend had made up his mind to start for

Ardrossan next day, and to get to the bottom of the anonymous letter, when a new development came to alter

Very early on the following morning I was aroused from my sleep by a tap upon my bedroom door. It was a

When I obeyed his summons I found him pacing excitedly up and down the central room, while the old

"My dear Jackson," he cried, "I am so delighted that you have come, for this is a most inexplicable business."

I did so, and could not restrain a cry of surprise. The setting of the middle row of precious stones had been

profaned in the same manner as the upper ones. Of the twelve jewels eight had been now tampered with in

this singular fashion. The setting of the lower four was neat and smooth. The others jagged and irregular.

"No, I am certain that these upper four are the same which the expert pronounced to be genuine, for I

observed yesterday that little discoloration on the edge of the emerald. Since they have not extracted the

upper stones, there is no reason to think the lower have been transposed. You say that you heard nothing,

"No, sir," the commissionaire answered. "But when I made my round after daylight I had a special look at

these stones, and I saw at once that someone had been meddling with them. Then I called you, sir, and told

you. I was backwards and forwards all night, and I never saw a soul or heard a sound."

"Come up and have some breakfast with me," said Mortimer, and he took me into his own

"It is the most objectless, futile, idiotic business that ever I heard of. It can only be the work of a

A curious idea came into my head. "This object is a Jewish relic of great antiquity and sanctity," said I. "How

about the antiSemitic movement? Could one conceive that a fanatic of that way of thinking might

"No, no, no!" cried Mortimer. "That will never do! Such a man might push his lunacy to the length of

destroying a Jewish relic, but why on earth should he nibble round every stone so carefully that he can only

do four stones in a night? We must have a better solution than that, and we must find it for ourselves, for I do

not think that our inspector is likely to help us. First of all, what do you think of Simpson, the porter?"

"But why should he indulge in such wanton destruction? Nothing has been taken away. He has no motive."

"No, we shall find our solution nearer than Scotland. I will tell you what we shall do. You know that skylight

which overlooks the central hall? We will leave the electric lights in the hall, and we will keep watch in the

lumberroom, you and I, and solve the mystery for ourselves. If our mysterious visitor is doing four stones at

a time, he has four still to do, and there is every reason to think that he will return tonight and complete the

"We will keep our own secret, and say nothing either to the police or to Simpson. Will you join me?"

It was ten o'clock that night when I returned to the Belmore Street Museum. Mortimer was, as I could see, in

a state of suppressed nervous excitement, but it was still too early to begin our vigil, so we remained for an

hour or so in his chambers, discussing all the possibilities of the singular business which we had met to solve.

At last the roaring stream of hansom cabs and the rush of hurrying feet became lower and more intermittent

as the pleasureseekers passed on their way to their stations or their homes. It was nearly twelve when

Mortimer led the way to the lumberroom which overlooked the central hall of the museum.

He had visited it during the day, and had spread some sacking so that we could lie at our ease, and look

straight down into the museum. The skylight was of unfrosted glass, but was so covered with dust that it

would be impossible for anyone looking up from below to detect that he was overlooked. We cleared a small

piece at each corner, which gave us a complete view of the room beneath us. In the cold white light of the

electric lamps everything stood out hard and clear, and I could see the smallest detail of the contents of the

Such a vigil is an excellent lesson, since one has no choice but to look hard at those objects which we usually

pass with such halfhearted interest. Through my little peep hole I employed the hours in studying every

specimen, from the huge mummycase which leaned against the wall to those very jewels which had brought

us there, gleaming and sparkling in their glass case immediately beneath us. There was much precious

goldwork and many valuable stones scattered through the numerous cases, but those wonderful twelve

which made up the urim and thummim glowed and burned with a radiance which far eclipsed the others I

studied in turn the tombpictures of Sicara, the friezes from Karnak, the statues of Memphis, and the

inscriptions of Thebes, but my eyes would always come back to that wonderful Jewish relic, and my mind to

the singular mystery which surrounded it. I was lost in the thought of it when my companion suddenly drew

his breath sharply in, and seized my arm in a convulsive grip. At the same instant I saw what it was which

I have said that against the wallon the righthand side of the doorway (the righthand side as we looked at

it, but the left as one entered)there stood a large mummycase. To our unutterable amazement it was

slowly opening. Gradually, gradually the lid was swinging back, and the black slit which marked the opening

was becoming wider and wider. So gently and carefully was it done that the movement was almost

imperceptible. Then, as we breathlessly watched it, a white thin hand appeared at the opening, pushing back

the painted lid, then another hand, and finally a facea face which was familiar to us both, that of Professor

Andreas. Stealthily he slunk out of the mummycase, like a fox stealing from its burrow, his head turning

incessantly to left and to right, stepping, then pausing, then stepping again, the very image of craft and of

caution. Once some sound in the street struck him motionless, and he stood listening, with his ear turned,

ready to dart back to the shelter behind him. Then he crept onwards again upon tiptoe, very, very softly and

slowly, until he had reached the case in the centre of the room. There he took a bunch of keys from his

pocket, unlocked the case, took out the Jewish breastplate, and, laying it upon the glass in front of him, began

to work upon it with some sort of small, glistening tool. He was so directly underneath us that his bent head

covered his work, but we could guess from the movement of his hand that he was engaged in finishing the

I could realize from the heavy breathing of my companion, and the twitchings of the hand which still clutched

my wrist, the furious indignation which filled his heart as he saw this vandalism in the quarter of all others

where he could least have expected it. He, the very man who a fortnight before had reverently bent over this

unique relic, and who had impressed its antiquity and its sanctity upon us, was now engaged in this

outrageous profanation. It was impossible, unthinkableand yet there, in the white glare of the electric light

beneath us, was that dark figure with the bent grey head, and the twitching elbow. What inhuman hypocrisy,

what hateful depth of malice against his successor must underlie these sinister nocturnal labours. It was

painful to think of and dreadful to watch. Even I, who had none of the acute feelings of a virtuoso, could not

bear to look on and see this deliberate mutilation of so ancient a relic. It was a relief to me when my

companion tugged at my sleeve as a signal that I was to follow him as he softly crept out of the room. It was

not until we were within his own quarters that he opened his lips, and then I saw by his agitated face how

"He is a villain or a lunaticone or the other. We shall very soon see which. Come with me, Jackson, and we

A door opened out of the passage which was the private entrance from his rooms into the museum. This he

opened softly with his key, having first kicked off his shoes, an example which I followed. We crept together

through room after room, until the large hall lay before us, with that dark figure still stooping and working at

the central case. With an advance as cautious as his own we closed in upon him, but softly as we went we

could not take him entirely unawares. We were still a dozen yards from him when he looked round with a

"Simpson! Simpson!" roared Mortimer, and far away down the vista of electric lighted doors we saw the stiff

figure of the old soldier suddenly appear. Professor Andreas saw him also, and stopped running, with a

"Yes, yes, gentlemen," he panted, "I will come with you. To your room, Mr Ward Mortimer, if you please! I

My companion's indignation was so great that I could see that he dared not trust himself to reply. We walked

on each side of the old Professor, the astonished commissionaire bringing up the rear. When we reached the

violated case, Mortimer stopped and examined the breastplate. Already one of the stones of the lower row

had had its setting turned back in the same manner as the others. My friend held it up and glanced furiously at

"It is horriblehorrible!" said the Professor. "I don't wonder at your feelings. Take me to your room."

"But this shall not be left exposed!" cried Mortimer. He picked the breastplate up and carried it tenderly in his

hand, while I walked beside the Professor, like a policeman with a malefactor. We passed into Mortimer's

chambers, leaving the amazed old soldier to understand matters as best he could. The Professor sat down in

Mortimer's armchair, and turned so ghastly a colour that for the instant all our resentment was changed to

"There, I am better now!" said he. "These last few days have been too much for me. I am convinced that I

could not stand it any longer. It is a nightmarea horrible nightmarethat I should be arrested as a burglar

in what has been for so long my own museum. And yet I cannot blame you. You could not have done

otherwise. My hope always was that I should get it all over before I was detected. This would have been my

"By taking a very great liberty with your private door. But the object justified it. The object justified

everything. You will not be angry when you know everythingat least, you will not be angry with me. I had

a key to your side door and also to the museum door. I did not give them up when I left. And so you see it

was not difficult for me to let myself into the museum. I used to come in early before the crowd had cleared

from the street. Then I hid myself in the mummycase, and took refuge there whenever Simpson came round.

"But why? What on earth was your objectYOU to do a thing like that!" Mortimer pointed reproachfully at

"I could devise no other means. I thought and thought, but there was no alternate except a hideous public

scandal, and a private sorrow which would have clouded our lives. I acted for the best, incredible as it may

"I will hear what you have to say before I take any further steps," said Mortimer, grimly.

"I am determined to hold back nothing, and to take you both completely into my confidence. I will leave it to

"And yet you understand nothing. Let me go back to what passed a few weeks ago, and I will make it all clear

"You have met the person who calls himself Captain Wilson. I say `calls himself' because I have reason now

to believe that it is not his correct name. It would take me too long if I were to describe all the means by

which he obtained an introduction to me and ingratiated himself into my friendship and the affection of my

daughter. He brought letters from foreign colleagues which compelled me to show him some attention. And

then, by his own attainments, which are considerable, he succeeded in making himself a very welcome visitor

at my rooms. When I learned that my daughter's affections had been gained by him, I may have thought it

premature, but I certainly was not surprised, for he had a charm of manner and of conversation which would

"He was much interested in Oriental antiquities, and his knowledge of the subject justified his interest. Often

when he spent the evening with us he would ask permission to go down into the museum and have an

opportunity of privately inspecting the various specimens. You can imagine that I, as an enthusiast, was in

sympathy with such a request, and that I felt no surprise at the constancy of his visits. After his actual

engagement to Elise, there was hardly an evening which he did not pass with us, and an hour or two were

generally devoted to the museum. He had the free run of the place, and when I have been away for the

evening I had no objection to his doing whatever he wished here. This state of things was only terminated by

the fact of my resignation of my official duties and my retirement to Norwood, where I hoped to have the

"It was immediately after thiswithin a week or sothat I first realized the true nature and character of the

man whom I had so imprudently introduced into my family. The discovery came to me through letters from

my friends abroad, which showed me that his introductions to me had been forgeries. Aghast at the

revelation, I asked myself what motive this man could originally have had in practising this elaborate

deception upon me. I was too poor a man for any fortunehunter to have marked me down. Why, then, had

he come? I remembered that some of the most precious gems in Europe had been under my charge, and I

remembered also the ingenious excuses by which this man had made himself familiar with the cases in which

they were kept. He was a rascal who was planning some gigantic robbery. How could I, without striking my

own daughter, who was infatuated about him, prevent him from carrying out any plan which he might have

formed? My device was a clumsy one, and yet I could think of nothing more effective. If I had written a letter

under my own name, you would naturally have turned to me for details which I did not wish to give. I

"I may tell you that my change from Belmore Street to Norwood had not affected the visits of this man, who

had, I believe, a real and overpowering affection for my daughter. As to her, I could not have believed that

any woman could be so completely under the influence of a man as she was. His stronger nature seemed to

entirely dominate her. I had not realized how far this was the case, or the extent of the confidence which

existed between them, until that very evening when his true character for the first time was made clear to me.

I had given orders that when he called he should be shown into my study instead of to the drawingroom.

There I told him bluntly that I knew all about him, that I had taken steps to defeat his designs, and that neither

I nor my daughter desired ever to see him again. I added that I thanked God that I had found him out before

he had time to harm those precious objects which it had been the work of my lifetime to protect.

"He was certainly a man of iron nerve. He took my remarks without a sign either of surprise or of defiance,

but listened gravely and attentively until I had finished. Then he walked across the room without a word and

"My daughter entered, and the man closed the door behind her. Then he took her hand in his.

"`Elise,' said he, `your father has just discovered that I am a villain. He knows now what you knew before.'

"`Will you be true to me, or will you remove the last good influence which is ever likely to come into my

"`John,' she cried, passionately. `I will never abandon you! Never, never, not if the whole world were against

"In vain I argued and pleaded with her. It was absolutely useless. Her whole life was bound up in this man

before me. My daughter, gentlemen, is all that I have left to love, and it filled me with agony when I saw how

powerless I was to save her from her ruin. My helplessness seemed to touch this man who was the cause of

"`It may not be as bad as you think, sir,' said he, in his quiet, inflexible way. `I love Elise with a love which is

strong enough to rescue even one who has such a record as I have. It was but yesterday that I promised her

that never again in my whole life would I do a thing of which she should be ashamed. I have made up my

"He spoke with an air which carried conviction with it. As he concluded he put his hand into his pocket and

"`I am about to give you a proof of my determination,' said he. `This, Elise, shall be the firstfruits of your

redeeming influence over me. You are right, sir, in thinking that I had designs upon the jewels in your

possession. Such ventures have had a charm for me, which depended as much upon the risk run as upon the

value of the prize. Those famous and antique stones of the Jewish priest were a challenge to my daring and

"He opened the box, and tilted out the contents upon the corner of my desk. My hair rose and my flesh grew

cold as I looked. There were twelve magnificent square stones engraved with mystical characters. There

"`By the substitution of twelve others, made especially to my order, in which the originals are so carefully

"We all stood in silence, my daughter white with emotion, but still holding this man by the hand.

"`Yes, thanks to your influence! I leave the stones in your hands, sir. Do what you like about it. But

remember that whatever you do against me, is done against the future husband of your only daughter. You

will hear from me soon again, Elise. It is the last time that I will ever cause pain to your tender heart,' and

"My position was a dreadful one. Here I was with these precious relics in my possession, and how could I

return them without a scandal and an exposure? I knew the depth of my daughter's nature too well to suppose

that I would ever be able to detach her from this man now that she had entirely given him her heart. I was not

even sure how far it was right to detach her if she had such an ameliorating influence over him. How could I

expose him without injuring herand how far was I justified in exposing him when he had voluntarily put

himself into my power? I thought and thought until at last I formed a resolution which may seem to you to be

a foolish one, and yet, if I had to do it again, I believe it would be the best course open to me.

"My idea was to return the stones without anyone being the wiser. With my keys I could get into the museum

at any time, and I was confident that I could avoid Simpson, whose hours and methods were familiar to me. I

determined to take no one into my confidencenot even my daughterwhom I told that I was about to visit

my brother in Scotland. I wanted a free hand for a few nights, without inquiry as to my comings and goings.

To this end I took a room in Harding Street that very night, with an intimation that I was a Pressman, and that

"That night I made my way into the museum, and I replaced four of the stones. It was hard work, and took me

all night. When Simpson came round I always heard his footsteps, and concealed myself in the

mummycase. I had some knowledge of goldwork, but was far less skilful than the thief had been. He had

replaced the setting so exactly that I defy anyone to see the difference. My work was rude and clumsy.

However, I hoped that the plate might not be carefully examined, or the roughness of the setting observed,

until my task was done. Next night I replaced four more stones. And tonight I should have finished my task

had it not been for the unfortunate circumstance which has caused me to reveal so much which I should have

wished to keep concealed. I appeal to you, gentlemen, to your sense of honour and of compassion, whether

what I have told you should go any farther or not. My own happiness, my daughter's future, the hopes of this

"Which is," said my friend, "that all is well that ends well and that the whole matter ends here and at once.

Tomorrow the loose settings shall be tightened by an expert goldsmith, and so passes the greatest danger to

which, since the destruction of the Temple, the urim and thummim has been exposed. Here is my hand,

Professor Andreas, and I can only hope that under such difficult circumstances I should have carried myself

Just one footnote to this narrative. Within a month Elise Andreas was married to a man whose name, had I

the indiscretion to mention it, would appeal to my readers as one who is now widely and deservedly

honoured. But if the truth were known that honour is due not to him, but to the gentle girl who plucked him