AT THE DOOR
Between the trees the darkness was as if you might have cut it.
Where the lantern looked there were momentary revelations as
they strode along. Its rays seemed to cut pieces out of the
surrounding gloom. But the pieces were small. Its penetrating
power was slight; where its penetration ceased the darkness was
blacker than before. The silence which prevailed had its own
peculiar property; it served to exaggerate the slightest
disturbance. Their very footsteps were differentiated with an
almost morbid clearness. The firm, resolute descent of the
woman's foot, the loose, indeterminate shuffle of the man's; the
sounds seemed to set themselves against each other and to ring
through the trees. They gradually became conscious of the
movements of unseen creatures among the grasses and the herbage,
disturbed by their approach. Once she observed, as she swung the
lantern to one side--
"That's a rabbit. There used to be thousands of them when I was
here. I expect there are more now. I daresay the whole place is
overrun with them."
"It may be a rabbit, though, with due deference to your superior
woodcraft, I doubt if there are many rabbits abroad at this hour
of the night----But that's not!"
"What? Where?"
"Are there deer about the place as well?"
"Deer? I don't think so. I don't remember seeing any."
"Then give me the lantern!"
Mrs. Lamb was holding the lantern out in front of her. Snatching
it, he swung it slightly round. As he did so it went out.
"Luker!" she exclaimed. "How did you manage that? What a clumsy
fool you are!"
There was a new intonation in his voice.
"Some one blew it out. Hollo, where are you coming to? Who the
devil, sir, are you? Confound the man, where's he gone?"
"Luker, what's the matter?"
"Some one was walking behind us--didn't you hear him? I not only
heard but I felt him; he was as close as that. When I swung the
lantern round I almost dashed it against his face. He blew it
out. He tried to snatch it from me; I felt his fingers. Can you
hear him?"
"Is that a footstep?"
"He stepped upon a twig. There's more than one. I tell you
they're all round us. The lantern serves as a beacon; they can
see us though we can't see them."
They were speaking in whispers.
"Is that another footstep?"
"Curse the fellow, I believe he's still within three or four
feet of us. I believe I heard him breathe. I've a revolver in my
pocket; I've half a mind----"
"I also have a revolver, and I've a whole mind. Look out! I'm
going to fire!"
There was a flash; a report which seemed to wake the echoes of
the forest for miles and miles; then a scream which rose high
above the echoes, and seemed to hang quivering in, and rending,
the silent air. The stillness which again ensued was rendered
the more striking by its contrast with the previous turmoil.
"You've shot some one."
"Not I!--that wasn't a man. I shouldn't be surprised if it was
some kind of a bird. There are birds in these woods which make
noises at night which go right through you. Where's your
friend?"
"I'll strike a match and try to get a light again. You cover me
while I'm doing it."
The instant the match flickered into flame there was a crashing
sound among the bushes as of a heavy object in headlong flight.
"There he is! He's making off! I'll have another pop at him!"
Again a revolver clamoured, but this time there was no answering
sound, only stillness followed. Luker had succeeded in lighting
the lantern. He held it well out. Together they peered into the
cave of light which it hollowed out in front of them. It was
broken by trees, by bushes, by bracken, but, so far as they
could see, by nothing else. Luker spoke in a whisper.
"He's gone. They're too much for us, and too many. For all we
can tell there's some one behind each of those trees; they're
all of them big enough to shelter a man. This kind of thing's a
new experience to me--altogether out of my usual line. It's a
job for which I have no sort of stomach. What the game is I
don't know, but it's one in which all the odds are against us--I
do know that. I wish to the devil I'd stayed in town!"
"You didn't; you've come down into the country with me, and in
the country for the present you've got to stay. Give me that
lantern, and don't you snatch at it again. Whoever blows it out
while I've got hold of it will be clever. Pretend to be a man,
even if you aren't one. As for that game about which you're
talking, if there is one on, I promise you that whoever scores
in it, I shall."
They continued their progress, the lady again holding the
lantern, moving onwards with her long, regular strides, swinging
it a little as she walked. Mr. Luker, shuffling alongside,
seemed to be unwilling to drop behind, and to find it difficult
to keep up with her. As he went he glanced continually from side
to side, and over his shoulder at the darkness which followed
them. There was no attempt on either side at conversation, they
simply went straight on.
They had gone some distance without anything happening to
occasion them further concern, when the lady came to a sudden
stop.
"Here we are!" she exclaimed. "That's the house in front of us."
She held out the lantern, so that its farthest rays just touched
a building which loomed mysteriously in the blackness. There was
a note of triumph in her voice as she went on. "Luker, you're
nearer to that thousand pounds than you perhaps think, and in a
very few minutes I'll be within reach of that quarter of a
million. Then I'll show them!--all the lot of them!"
Quite what she meant by that last vague threat she only knew.
Before she had a chance to offer an explanation, if it was her
intention to offer one, she was interrupted by Mr. Luker, who
seemed destined that night to act as a harbinger of coming evil.
"What's that?" he cried. "Who--my God!--who is this coming along
the path?"
He was not only shrinking as close to her as he could get, he
was gripping her arm with convulsive fingers, which she could
feel were trembling. He was looking in one direction, she in
another. She turned to see what he was staring at; when she saw,
it is possible that she began to be in a less exultant mood.
Some one, something, was moving along the avenue and coming
towards them. It was not easy to determine what it was; it came
and went. It was rendered visible by a light which seemed to
emanate from its own body, as if it were a kind of
phosphorescence. When the light gleamed it was there plainly, if
dimly, to be seen; when the light ceased to gleam, it--the
something!--seemed to go with it; there was nothing but the
black darkness. This continued, this coming and going, for
perhaps thirty seconds. Then, suddenly, the light not only grew
brighter, it remained. They could see what the something was--it
was a man. But what a man! A huge, unwieldy, bloated, shapeless
creature, covered from head to foot with some white garment
which was swathed round him like a sheet. He seemed to be
floating, rather than walking. They could see no movement of his
limbs, and yet he came steadily towards them until he was within
five or six feet of where they were standing, when the light
faded as suddenly as it had come, and there was nothing but
darkness there.
For some instants they remained motionless, both being probably
under the impression that though the figure was no longer
visible it still was advancing towards them. While they waited,
on the alert to discover what was next about to happen, the
silence was broken by a curious noise, as by a series of quick,
broken gasps, as if some one panted, struggled, for breath.
When all again was still, Mr. Luker asked, in a tone of voice in
which was what sounded uncommonly like a note of banter--
"Well, my friend, aren't we to see any more of you? Is that the
end of the performance? Won't you favour us with another private
view?"
In Mrs. Lamb's voice, on the other hand, there was a suggestion
of preternatural gravity.
"It was Cuthbert Grahame."
"What?"
"It was Cuthbert Grahame. Didn't you hear him fighting for
breath?"
"Cuthbert fiddlesticks! It was some damned trick, and not over
well done either. This entertainment has been prepared for our
special benefit; it occurs to me that it has been insufficiently
rehearsed. We've been treated to the first part up to now; the
second part is waiting for us inside the house--if we ever get
as far. The prelude's been mere foolery. I imagine that the
serious business is to come."
"It was Cuthbert Grahame."
"Nonsense! Where were your eyes, not to speak of your senses?
Didn't you notice----"
"He is waiting for us inside the house."
"Mrs. Lamb, if you'll exercise a little common-sense and allow
me to finish, I think I shall be able to prove, even to your
satisfaction, that what you've just now witnessed----"
"Don't you see him? He beckons to us. Can't you hear how hard he
fights for his breath?"
"No; nor you either. Aren't you well? Is this one of those fits
of which you were telling me trying to come back, in which you
see things? If so, keep it off as long as you conveniently can.
So far as I'm concerned it will only need that to put a crown
and climax on my night's enjoyment. Listen to me, Isabel----"
"Come!" Taking him by the arm, she led him up to the house. When
they reached the front door she took a key out of the bag which
she still carried. After a momentary hesitation she held it up,
as if to call his attention to something that was taking place
within. "Listen! Don't you hear? He calls to us! Let us go to
him. I've often heard him calling to me like that in the
night--often."
During the last few seconds, for some occult reason, a change
had taken place in her which had apparently revolutionised the
whole woman externally as well as internally; her bearing, her
manner, her voice, and especially her face, had changed. The
alteration in the latter was nothing short of amazing. Just now
its predominating expression was one of boldness, defiance,
reckless rage. She had looked as if she feared neither man nor
devil; her looks had probably only mirrored her actual feelings.
This air of wildness, of careless contempt for the unknown,
unseen perils, which, according to her companion, hemmed her in
on every side, had been accentuated by the fact that, having
lost her hat when the cart was overturned, her thick black hair
had broken loose from its fastenings and hung in tangled masses
about her face. She had looked what she emphatically was, a
dangerous woman in a dangerous frame of mind. Now all that had
changed. She looked no longer angry or defiant; all traces of
boldness had vanished altogether. Instead, a stolid, fixed
expression had come upon her face, one which, as it were, was
void of all expression. In her wide-open eyes there was a
strained, staring look, which conveyed an uncomfortable
impression that she was gazing at something which only she could
see, gazing with a fixed intensity of vision as if she was bent
on not losing even the minutest details.
As she stood there, with uplifted face, the rays of the lantern
lighting up her rigid features, Mr. Luker observed her with an
appearance of unmistakable discomfort. The significance of the
change which had taken place in her was borne in on him with
uncomfortable force. The change in her affected him; he was
obviously becoming each second more uneasy. He seemed to make a
desperate attempt to conquer his own increasing apprehension,
and to restore her to her former state of mind.
"Isabel, you didn't use to be an utter fool. Before you put that
key into the lock, before you move another step, rub that look
of stark, staring midsummer madness off your face. It doesn't
become you, God knows. Listen to what I have to say; try not to
be a fool. Don't you understand----"
Before he could explain what was the appeal he was about to make
to her understanding, some one, or something, came swirling at
them from the side of the house. The light disappeared in the
lantern; the lantern itself was snatched from the lady's hands.
She made no effort to regain it, nor to ascertain how the thing
had happened. She stood in the darkness, motionless. Presently
she said--
"Luker! Luker!"
There was no answer. She put out her hand to feel for her
companion who, a moment before, had been standing close at her
side. He was not there.