"We've got enough to deal with as the thing stands. If you're going
to back it up with any old wives' tales of a bat-winged horse----"
"I'm not backing it up," Lessing retorted. "I'm only asking myself
whether the experiences that give rise to the tale of the Jersey
Devil have any connection with my own. The details don't matter. I
want to get at the origin of the thing."
"The two don't even tally!" I spoke sharply, for I had still
uncomfortably before my eyes the vision of the dead cyclist on the
stretch of empty road.
"They don't, on this point," Lessing continued coolly. "The Jersey
Devil has never, to my knowledge, been credited with any malevolent
intent. At the worst, assuming the tales to have some basis of
truth, it has merely scared one or two respectable farmers driving
home at night. Now the thing that attacked me, attacked me
deliberately, and with an almost extraordinary ferocity of onslaught.
I don't think there can be any question about that. That fact alone
puts the apparition theory out of the game. We are not dealing with
any mere visual phenomena. We are dealing with some actual existing
menace. There is just one point that can lead up to the connection,
if there is one, between the two."
"The attraction of the lamp?"
"Exactly. Those other people may have been carrying a lamp or they
may not. In any case, it was probably a lantern of so slight a power
as to escape notice. I said that the thing attacked me. But the
real object of its attack might very well have been the lamp, and not
me at all. I merely happened in each instance to be near it."
"But even admitting," I objected, "for the sake of argument, that the
thing was a bat, I am not certain about bats being actually attracted
by light. They blunder into it."
"Nor am I. As I say, I give you my only theory. And if you assume a
bat, you must assume a bat of sufficient size to strike a man down at
one blow. The whole thing's grotesque." He pulled out his watch,
and rose abruptly. "I must get back, or Mary will be worrying about
me. We'll talk over this another time. If you go into the thing
with me, we'll go into it thoroughly. Only you know now why I warned
you against cycling with a strong lantern."
"Even to the extent of slitting my bicycle tire?"
"Even to that extent," returned Lessing gravely. "You see, I wasn't
taking any risks."
We shook hands, and I followed him out to the porch. There was a
clear moon, and the road glimmered white between the black line of
the woods. As I watched the swing of his shoulders down the path I
was left, I admit, with a definite sense of comfort at the proximity
of my own four walls. And before sleep overtook me that night the
words of the reporter came back again and again to my mind:
"What's the animal that goes round in these woods that's strong
enough to wreck the steel tubing of a bicycle, that attacks with its
claws instead of its teeth, and that's quick enough to knock a man
down without the chance of a struggle?"