IV

Only a few minutes later, so it seemed to him, Cosmo Waynflete became

doubtfully aware of another change of time and place--of another

transformation of his own being. He knew himself to be alone once more,

and even without his trusty charger. Again he found himself groping in

the dark. But in a little while there was a faint radiance of light,

and at last the moon came out behind a tower. Then he saw that he was

not by the roadside in Japan or in the desert of Persia, but now in

some unknown city of Southern Europe, where the architecture was

hispano-moresque. By the silver rays of the moon he was able to make

out the beautiful design damascened upon the blade of the sword which

he held now in his hand ready drawn for self-defence.

Then he heard hurried footfalls down the empty street, and a man rushed

around the corner pursued by two others, who had also weapons in their

hands. For a moment Cosmo Waynflete was a Spaniard, and to him it was a

point of honor to aid the weaker party. He cried to the fugitive to

pluck up heart and to withstand the enemy stoutly. But the hunted man

fled on, and after him went one of the pursuers, a tall, thin fellow,

with a long black cloak streaming behind him as he ran.

The other of the two, a handsome lad with fair hair, came to a halt and

crossed swords with Cosmo, and soon showed himself to be skilled in the

art of fence. So violent was the young fellow's attack that in the

ardor of self-defence Cosmo ran the boy through the body before he had

time to hold his hand or even to reflect.

The lad toppled over sideways. "Oh, my mother!" he cried, and in a

second he was dead. While Cosmo bent over the body, hasty footsteps

again echoed along the silent thoroughfare. Cosmo peered around the

corner, and by the struggling moonbeams he could see that it was the

tall, thin fellow in the black cloak, who was returning with half a

score of retainers, all armed, and some of them bearing torches.

Cosmo turned and fled swiftly, but being a stranger in the city he soon

lost himself in its tortuous streets. Seeing a light in a window and

observing a vine that trailed from the balcony before it, he climbed up

boldly, and found himself face to face with a gray-haired lady, whose

visage was beautiful and kindly and noble. In a few words he told her

his plight and besought sanctuary. She listened to him in silence, with

exceeding courtesy of manner, as though she were weighing his words

before making up her mind. She raised the lamp on her table and let its

beams fall on his lineaments. And still she made no answer to his

appeal.

Then came a glare of torches in the street below and a knocking at the

door. Then at last the old lady came to a resolution; she lifted the

tapestry at the head of her bed and told him to bestow himself there.

No sooner was he hidden than the tall, thin man in the long black cloak

entered hastily. He greeted the elderly lady as his aunt, and he told

her that her son had been set upon by a stranger in the street and had

been slain. She gave a great cry and never took her eyes from his face.

Then he said that a servant had seen an unknown man climb to the

balcony of her house. What if it were the assassin of her son? The

blood left her face and she clutched at the table behind her, as she

gave orders to have the house searched.

When the room was empty at last she went to the head of the bed and

bade the man concealed there to come forth and begone, but to cover his

face, that she might not be forced to know him again. So saying, she

dropped on her knees before a crucifix, while he slipped out of the

window again and down to the deserted street.

He sped to the corner and turned it undiscovered, and breathed a sigh

of relief and of regret. He kept on steadily, gliding stealthily along

in the shadows, until he found himself at the city gate as the bell of

the cathedral tolled the hour of midnight.

V

How it was that he passed through the gate he could not declare with

precision, for seemingly a mist had settled about him. Yet a few

minutes later he saw that in some fashion he must have got beyond the

walls of the town, for he recognized the open country all around. And,

oddly enough, he now discovered himself to be astride a bony steed. He

could not say what manner of horse it was he was riding, but he felt

sure that it was not the faithful charger that had saved his life in

Persia, once upon a time, in days long gone by, as it seemed to him

then. He was not in Persia now--of that he was certain, nor in Japan,

nor in the Iberian peninsula. Where he was he did not know.

In the dead hush of midnight he could hear the barking of a dog on the

opposite shore of a dusky and indistinct waste of waters that spread

itself far below him. The night grew darker and darker, the stars

seemed to sink deeper in the sky, and driving clouds occasionally hid

them from his sight. He had never felt so lonely and dismal. In the

centre of the road stood an enormous tulip-tree; its limbs were gnarled

and fantastic, large enough to form trunks for ordinary trees, twisting

down almost to the earth, and rising again into the air. As he

approached this fearful tree he thought he saw something white hanging

in the midst of it, but on looking more narrowly he perceived it was a

place where it had been scathed by lightning and the white wood laid

bare. About two hundred yards from the tree a small brook crossed the

road; and as he drew near he beheld--on the margin of this brook, and

in the dark shadow of the grove--he beheld something huge, misshapen,

black, and towering. It stirred not, but seemed gathered up in the

gloom like some gigantic monster ready to spring upon the traveller.

He demanded, in stammering accents, "Who are you?" He received no

reply. He repeated his demand in a still more agitated voice. Still

there was no answer. And then the shadowy object of alarm put itself in

motion, and with a scramble and a bound stood in the middle of the

road. He appeared to be a horseman of large dimensions and mounted on a

black horse of powerful frame. Having no relish for this strange

midnight companion, Cosmo Waynflete urged on his steed in hopes of

leaving the apparition behind; but the stranger quickened his horse

also to an equal pace. And when the first horseman pulled up, thinking

to lag behind, the second did likewise. There was something in the

moody and dogged silence of this pertinacious companion that was

mysterious and appalling. It was soon fearfully accounted for. On

mounting a rising ground which brought the figure of his

fellow-traveller against the sky, gigantic in height and muffled in a

cloak, he was horror-struck to discover the stranger was headless!--but

his horror was still more increased in observing that the head which

should have rested on the shoulders was carried before the body on the

pommel of the saddle.

The terror of Cosmo Waynflete rose to desperation, and he spurred his

steed suddenly in the hope of giving his weird companion the slip. But

the headless horseman started full jump with him. His own horse, as

though possessed by a demon, plunged headlong down the hill. He could

hear, however, the black steed panting and blowing close behind him; he

even fancied that he felt the hot breath of the pursuer. When he

ventured at last to cast a look behind, he saw the goblin rising in the

stirrups, and in the very act of hurling at him the grisly head. He

fell out of the saddle to the ground; and the black steed and the

goblin rider passed by him like a whirlwind.