As I pushed my way through the tangle of weeds and undergrowth, Jack
followed closely at my heels.
The dark figure leapt away in an instant, and dashed round the corner
by the ruined conservatory, but I was too quick for him. I caught him
up when he gained the front of the house, and there, in the light of
the street-lamp, my eyes fell upon a strange-looking object.
He proved to be a ragged, hunchbacked youth, so deformed as to be
extremely ugly, both in face and figure. His hair, long and lank, hung
about his shoulders, while his dark eyes stood out in terror when I
ordered him to halt, and covered him with my shining weapon.
His was the most weird figure that I had seen for many a day. I judged
him to be about eighteen or nineteen, though he looked older. His legs
were short, his head seemed far too big for his crooked body, while
his arms were long and ape-like, and his fingers thin, like talons.
"Now then, what are you doing here?" I demanded in a firm, commanding
voice.
But he only quivered, and crouched against the wall like a whipped
dog.
"Speak!" I said. "Who are you?"
He gave vent to a loud, harsh laugh, almost a screech, and then
grinned horribly in my face.
"Who are you?" I repeated. "Where do you live?"
But though his mouth moved, as though he replied, no sound escaped
him.