The Beetle by Richard Marsh First published in 1897 This ebook edition was created and published by Global Grey in 2021, and updated on the 12th February 2024 The artwork for the cover is Stag beetle painted by Hans Hoffmann. You can download this book on the site globalgreyebooks.combeetlerichardmarshebook.html GlobalGrey 2024globalgreyebooks.com Contents Book I. The House With The Open Window I. Outside II. Inside III. The Man in the Bed IV. A Lonely Vigil V. An Instruction to Commit Burglary VI. A Singular Felony VII. The Great Paul Lessingham VIII. The Man in the Street IX. The Contents of the Packet Book II. The Haunted Man X. Rejected XI. A Midnight Episode XII. A Morning Visitor XIII. The Picture XIV. The Duchess Ball XV. Mr. Lessingham Speaks XVI. Athertons Magic Vapour XVII. Magic?Or Miracle? XVIII. The Apotheosis of the Beetle XIX. The Lady Rages XX. A Heavy Father XXI. The Terror in the Night XXII. The Haunted Man Book III. The Terror By Night And The Terror By Day XXIII. The Way He Told Her XXIV. A Womans View XXV. The Man in the Street XXVI. A Fathers No XXVII. The Terror by Night XXVIII. The Strange Story of the Man in the Street XXIX. The House on the Road from the Workhouse XXX. The Singular Behaviour of Mr. Holt XXXI. The Terror by Day Book IV. In Pursuit XXXII. A New Client XXXIII. What Came of Looking Through a Lattice XXXIV. After Twenty Years XXXV. A Bringer of Tidings XXXVI. What the Tidings Were XXXVII. What Was Hidden Under the Floor XXXVIII. The Rest of the Find XXXIX. Miss Louisa Coleman XL. What Miss Coleman Saw Through the Window XLI. The ConstableHis Clueand the Cab XLII. The Quarry Doubles XLIII. The Murder at Mrs. Endersons XLIV. The Man Who Was Murdered XLV. All That Mrs. Enderson Knew XLVI. The Sudden Stopping XLVII. The Contents of the ThirdClass Carriage XLVIII. The Conclusion of the Matter Book I. The House With The Open Window The surprising narration of Robert Holt I. Outside No room!Full up! He banged the door in my face. That was the final blow. To have tramped about all day looking for work; to have begged even for a job which would give me money enough to buy a little food; and to have tramped and to have begged in vainthat was bad. But, sick at heart, depressed in mind and in body, exhausted by hunger and fatigue, to have been compelled to pocket any little pride I might have left, and solicit, as the penniless, homeless tramp which indeed I was, a nights lodging in the casual wardand to solicit it in vain!that was worse. Much worse. About as bad as bad could be. I stared, stupidly, at the door which had just been banged in my face. I could scarcely believe that the thing was possible. I had hardly expected to figure as a tramp; but, supposing it conceivable that I could become a tramp, that I should be refused admission to that abode of all ignominy, the tramps ward, was to have attained a depth of misery of which never even in nightmares I had dreamed. As I stood wondering what I should do, a man slouched towards me out of the shadow of the wall. Wont e let yer in? He says its full. Says its full, does e? Thats the lay at Fulhamthey always says its full. They wants to keep the number down. I looked at the man askance. His head hung forward; his hands were in his trouser pockets; his clothes were rags; his tone was husky. Do you mean that they say its full when it isntthat they wont let me in although theres room? Thats itblokes akiddin yer. But, if theres room, arent they bound to let me in? Course they areand, blimey, if I was you Id make em. Blimey I would! He broke into a volley of execrations. But what am I to do? Why, give em another rouserlet em know as you wont be kidded! I hesitated; then, acting on his suggestion, for the second time I rang the bell. The door was flung wide open, and the grizzled pauper, who had previously responded to my summons, stood in the open doorway. Had he been the Chairman of the Board of Guardians himself he could not have addressed me with greater scorn. What, here again! Whats your little game? Think Ive nothing better to do than to wait upon the likes of you? I want to be admitted. Then you wont be admitted! I want to see someone in authority. Aint yer seein someone in authority? I want to see someone besides youI want to see the master. Then you wont see the master! He moved the door swiftly to; but, prepared for such a manoeuvre, I thrust my foot sufficiently inside to prevent his shutting it. I continued to address him. Are you sure that the ward is full? Full two hours ago! But what am I to do? I dont know what youre to do! Which is the next nearest workhouse? Kensington. Suddenly opening the door, as he answered me, putting out his arm he thrust me backwards. Before I could recover the door was closed. The man in rags had continued a grim spectator of the scene. Now he spoke. Nice bloke, aint he? Hes only one of the paupershas he any right to act as one of the officials? I tell yer some of them paupers is wuss than the orficersa long sight wuss! They thinks they owns the ouses, blimey they do. Oh its a  fine world, this is! He paused. I hesitated. For some time there had been a suspicion of rain in the air. Now it was commencing to fall in a fine but soaking drizzle. It only needed that to fill my cup to overflowing. My companion was regarding me with a sort of sullen curiosity. Aint you got no money? Not a farthing. Done much of this sort of thing? Its the first time Ive been to a casual wardand it doesnt seem as if Im going to get in now. I thought you looked as if you was a bit fresh.What are yer goin to do? How far is it to Kensington? Workus?about three mile;but, if I was you, Id try St. Georges. Wheres that? In the Fulham Road. Kensingtons only a small place, they do you well there, and its always full as soon as the doors opened;youd ave more chawnce at St. Georges. He was silent. I turned his words over in my mind, feeling as little disposed to try the one place as the other. Presently he began again. Ive travelled from Reading this  day, I avetramped every  foot!and all the way as I come along, Ill ave a shakedown at Ammersmith, I saysand now Im as fur off from it as ever! This is a  fine country, this isI wish every  soul in it was swept into the  sea, blimey I do! But I aint goin to go no furtherIll ave a bed in Ammersmith or Ill know the reason why. How are you going to manage ithave you got any money? Got any money?My crikey!I look as though I adI sound as though I ad too! I aint ad no brads, cept now and then a brown, this larst six months. How are you going to get a bed then?  Ow am I going to?why, like this way. He picked up two stones, one in either hand. The one in his left he flung at the glass which was over the door of the casual ward. It crashed through it, and through the lamp beyond. Thats ow Im goin to get a bed. The door was hastily opened. The grizzled pauper reappeared. He shouted, as he peered at us in the darkness, Who done that? I done it, guvnorand, if you like, you can see me do the other. It might do your eyesight good. Before the grizzled pauper could interfere, he had hurled the stone in his right hand through another pane. I felt that it was time for me to go. He was earning a nights rest at a price which, even in my extremity, I was not disposed to pay. When I left two or three other persons had appeared upon the scene, and the man in rags was addressing them with a degree of frankness, which, in that direction, left little to be desired. I slunk away unnoticed. But had not gone far before I had almost decided that I might as well have thrown in my fortune with the bolder wretch, and smashed a window too. Indeed, more than once my feet faltered, as I all but returned to do the feat which I had left undone. A more miserable night for an outofdoor excursion I could hardly have chosen. The rain was like a mist, and was not only drenching me to the skin, but it was rendering it difficult to see more than a little distance in any direction. The neighbourhood was badly lighted. It was one in which I was a stranger. I had come to Hammersmith as a last resource. It had seemed to me that I had tried to find some occupation which would enable me to keep body and soul together in every other part of London, and that now only Hammersmith was left. And, at Hammersmith, even the workhouse would have none of me! Retreating from the inhospitable portal of the casual ward, I had taken the first turning to the leftand, at the moment, had been glad to take it. In the darkness and the rain, the locality which I was entering appeared unfinished. I seemed to be leaving civilisation behind me. The path was unpaved; the road rough and uneven, as if it had never been properly made. Houses were few and far between. Those which I did encounter, seemed, in the imperfect light, amid the general desolation, to be cottages which were crumbling to decay. Exactly where I was I could not tell. I had a faint notion that, if I only kept on long enough, I should strike some part of Walham Green. How long I should have to keep on I could only guess. Not a creature seemed to be about of whom I could make inquiries. It was as if I was in a land of desolation. I suppose it was between eleven oclock and midnight. I had not given up my quest for work till all the shops were closedand in Hammersmith, that night, at any rate, they were not early closers. Then I had lounged about dispiritedly, wondering what was the next thing I could do. It was only because I feared that if I attempted to spend the night in the open air, without food, when the morning came I should be broken up, and fit for nothing, that I sought a nights free board and lodging. It was really hunger which drove me to the workhouse door. That was Wednesday. Since the Sunday night preceding nothing had passed my lips save water from the public fountainswith the exception of a crust of bread which a man had given me whom I had found crouching at the root of a tree in Holland Park. For three days I had been fastingpractically all the time upon my feet. It seemed to me that if I had to go hungry till the morning I should collapsethere would be an end. Yet, in that strange and inhospitable place, where was I to get food at that time of night, and how? I do not know how far I went. Every yard I covered, my feet dragged more. I was dead beat, inside and out. I had neither strength nor courage left. And within there was that frightful craving, which was as though it shrieked aloud. I leant against some palings, dazed and giddy. If only death had come upon me quickly, painlessly, how true a friend I should have thought it! It was the agony of dying inch by inch which was so hard to bear. It was some minutes before I could collect myself sufficiently to withdraw from the support of the railings, and to start afresh. I stumbled blindly over the uneven road. Once, like a drunken man, I lurched forward, and fell upon my knees. Such was my backboneless state that for some seconds I remained where I was, half disposed to let things slide, accept the good the gods had sent me, and make a night of it just there. A long night, I fancy, it would have been, stretching from time unto eternity. Having regained my feet, I had gone perhaps another couple of hundred yards along the roadHeaven knows that it seemed to me just then a couple of miles!when there came over me again that overpowering giddiness which, I take it, was born of my agony of hunger. I staggered, helplessly, against a low wall which, just there, was at the side of the path. Without it I should have fallen in a heap. The attack appeared to last for hours; I suppose it was only seconds; and, when I came to myself, it was as though I had been aroused from a swoon of sleeparoused, to an extremity of pain. I exclaimed aloud, For a loaf of bread what wouldnt I do! I looked about me, in a kind of frenzy. As I did so I for the first time became conscious that behind me was a house. It was not a large one. It was one of those socalled villas which are springing up in multitudes all round London, and which are let at rentals of from twentyfive to forty pounds a year. It was detached. So far as I could see, in the imperfect light, there was not another building within twenty or thirty yards of either side of it. It was in two storeys. There were three windows in the upper storey. Behind each the blinds were closely drawn. The hall door was on my right. It was approached by a little wooden gate. The house itself was so close to the public road that by leaning over the wall I could have touched either of the windows on the lower floor. There were two of them. One of them was a bow window. The bow window was open. The bottom centre sash was raised about six inches. II. Inside I realised, and, so to speak, mentally photographed all the little details of the house in front of which I was standing with what almost amounted to a gleam of preternatural perception. An instant before, the world swam before my eyes. I saw nothing. Now I saw everything, with a clearness which, as it were, was shocking. Above all, I saw the open window. I stared at it, conscious, as I did so, of a curious catching of the breath. It was so near to me; so very near. I had but to stretch out my hand to thrust it through the aperture. Once inside, my hand would at least be dry. How it rained out there! My scanty clothing was soaked; I was wet to the skin! I was shivering. And, each second, it seemed to rain still faster. My teeth were chattering. The damp was liquefying the very marrow in my bones. And, inside that open window, it was, it must be, so warm, so dry! There was not a soul in sight. Not a human being anywhere near. I listened; there was not a sound. I alone was at the mercy of the sodden night. Of all Gods creatures the only one unsheltered from the fountains of Heaven which He had opened. There was not one to see what I might do; not one to care. I need fear no spy. Perhaps the house was empty; nay, probably. It was my plain duty to knock at the door, rouse the inmates, and call attention to their oversightthe open window. The least they could do would be to reward me for my pains. But, suppose the place was empty, what would be the use of knocking? It would be to make a useless clatter. Possibly to disturb the neighbourhood, for nothing. And, even if the people were at home, I might go unrewarded. I had learned, in a hard school, the worlds ingratitude. To have caused the window to be closedthe inviting window, the tempting window, the convenient window!and then to be no better for it after all, but still to be penniless, hopeless, hungry, out in the cold and the rainbetter anything than that. In such a situation, too late, I should say to myself that mine had been the conduct of a fool. And I should say it justly too. To be sure. Leaning over the low wall I found that I could very easily put my hand inside the room. How warm it was in there! I could feel the difference of temperature in my fingertips. Very quietly I stepped right over the wall. There was just room to stand in comfort between the window and the wall. The ground felt to the foot as if it were cemented. Stooping down, I peered through the opening. I could see nothing. It was black as pitch inside. The blind was drawn right up; it seemed incredible that anyone could be at home, and have gone to bed, leaving the blind up, and the window open. I placed my ear to the crevice. How still it was! Beyond doubt, the place was empty. I decided to push the window up another inch or two, so as to enable me to reconnoitre. If anyone caught me in the act, then there would be an opportunity to describe the circumstances, and to explain how I was just on the point of giving the alarm. Only, I must go carefully. In such damp weather it was probable that the sash would creak. Not a bit of it. It moved as readily and as noiselessly as if it had been oiled. This silence of the sash so emboldened me that I raised it more than I intended. In fact, as far as it would go. Not by a sound did it betray me. Bending over the sill I put my head and half my body into the room. But I was no forwarder. I could see nothing. Not a thing. For all I could tell the room might be unfurnished. Indeed, the likelihood of such an explanation began to occur to me. I might have chanced upon an empty house. In the darkness there was nothing to suggest the contrary. What was I to do? Well, if the house was empty, in such a plight as mine I might be said to have a moral, if not a legal, right, to its bare shelter. Who, with a heart in his bosom, would deny it me? Hardly the most punctilious landlord. Raising myself by means of the sill I slipped my legs into the room. The moment I did so I became conscious that, at any rate, the room was not entirely unfurnished. The floor was carpeted. I have had my feet on some good carpets in my time; I know what carpets are; but never did I stand upon a softer one than that. It reminded me, somehow, even then, of the turf in Richmond Parkit caressed my instep, and sprang beneath my tread. To my poor, travelworn feet, it was luxury after the puddly, uneven road. Should I, now I had ascertained that the room was, at least, partially furnished, beat a retreat? Or should I push my researches further? It would have been rapture to have thrown off my clothes, and to have sunk down, on the carpet, then and there, to sleep. ButI was so hungry; so faminegoaded; what would I not have given to have lighted on something good to eat! I moved a step or two forward, gingerly, reaching out with my hands, lest I struck, unawares, against some unseen thing. When I had taken three or four such steps, without encountering an obstacle, or, indeed, anything at all, I began, all at once, to wish I had not seen the house; that I had passed it by; that I had not come through the window; that I were safely out of it again. I became, on a sudden, aware, that something was with me in the room. There was nothing, ostensible, to lead me to such a conviction; it may be that my faculties were unnaturally keen; but, all at once, I knew that there was something there. What was more, I had a horrible persuasion that, though unseeing, I was seen; that my every movement was being watched. What it was that was with me I could not tell; I could not even guess. It was as though something in my mental organisation had been stricken by a sudden paralysis. It may seem childish to use such language; but I was overwrought, played out; physically speaking, at my last counter; and, in an instant, without the slightest warning, I was conscious of a very curious sensation, the like of which I had never felt before, and the like of which I pray that I never may feel againa sensation of panic fear. I remained rooted to the spot on which I stood, not daring to move, fearing to draw my breath. I felt that the presence with me in the room was something strange, something evil. I do not know how long I stood there, spellbound, but certainly for some considerable space of time. By degrees, as nothing moved, nothing was seen, nothing was heard, and nothing happened, I made an effort to better play the man. I knew that, at the moment, I played the cur. And endeavoured to ask myself of what it was I was afraid. I was shivering at my own imaginings. What could be in the room, to have suffered me to open the window and to enter unopposed? Whatever it was, was surely to the full as great a coward as I was, or why permit, unchecked, my burglarious entry. Since I had been allowed to enter, the probability was that I should be at liberty to retreatand I was sensible of a much keener desire to retreat than I had ever had to enter. I had to put the greatest amount of pressure upon myself before I could summon up sufficient courage to enable me to even turn my head upon my shouldersand the moment I did so I turned it back again. What constrained me, to save my soul I could not have saidbut I was constrained. My heart was palpitating in my bosom; I could hear it beat. I was trembling so that I could scarcely stand. I was overwhelmed by a fresh flood of terror. I stared in front of me with eyes in which, had it been light, would have been seen the frenzy of unreasoning fear. My ears were strained so that I listened with an acuteness of tension which was painful. Something moved. Slightly, with so slight a sound, that it would scarcely have been audible to other ears save mine. But I heard. I was looking in the direction from which the movement came, and, as I looked, I saw in front of me two specks of light. They had not been there a moment before, that I would swear. They were there now. They were eyesI told myself they were eyes. I had heard how cats eyes gleam in the dark, though I had never seen them, and I said to myself that these were cats eyes; that the thing in front of me was nothing but a cat. But I knew I lied. I knew that these were eyes, and I knew they were not cats eyes, but what eyes they were I did not knownor dared to think. They movedtowards me. The creature to which the eyes belonged was coming closer. So intense was my desire to fly that I would much rather have died than stood there still; yet I could not control a limb; my limbs were as if they were not mine. The eyes came onnoiselessly. At first they were between two and three feet from the ground; but, on a sudden, there was a squelching sound, as if some yielding body had been squashed upon the floor. The eyes vanishedto reappear, a moment afterwards, at what I judged to be a distance of some six inches from the floor. And they again came on. So it seemed that the creature, whatever it was to which the eyes belonged, was, after all, but small. Why I did not obey the frantic longing which I had to flee from it, I cannot tell; I only know, I could not. I take it that the stress and privations which I had lately undergone, and which I was, even then, still undergoing, had much to do with my conduct at that moment, and with the part I played in all that followed. Ordinarily I believe that I have as high a spirit as the average man, and as solid a resolution; but when one has been dragged through the Valley of Humiliation, and plunged, again and again, into the Waters of Bitterness and Privation, a man can be constrained to a course of action of which, in his happier moments, he would have deemed himself incapable. I know this of my own knowledge. Slowly the eyes came on, with a strange slowness, and as they came they moved from side to side as if their owner walked unevenly. Nothing could have exceeded the horror with which I awaited their approachexcept my incapacity to escape them. Not for an instant did my glance pass from themI could not have shut my eyes for all the gold the world contains!so that as they came closer I had to look right down to what seemed to be almost the level of my feet. And, at last, they reached my feet. They never paused. On a sudden I felt something on my boot, and, with a sense of shrinking, horror, nausea, rendering me momentarily more helpless, I realised that the creature was beginning to ascend my legs, to climb my body. Even then what it was I could not tellit mounted me, apparently, with as much ease as if I had been horizontal instead of perpendicular. It was as though it were some gigantic spidera spider of the nightmares; a monstrous conception of some dreadful vision. It pressed lightly against my clothing with what might, for all the world, have been spiders legs. There was an amazing host of themI felt the pressure of each separate one. They embraced me softly, stickily, as if the creature glued and unglued them, each time it moved. Higher and higher! It had gained my loins. It was moving towards the pit of my stomach. The helplessness with which I suffered its invasion was not the least part of my agonyit was that helplessness which we know in dreadful dreams. I understood, quite well, that if I did but give myself a hearty shake, the creature would fall off; but I had not a muscle at my command. As the creature mounted its eyes began to play the part of two small lamps; they positively emitted rays of light. By their rays I began to perceive faint outlines of its body. It seemed larger than I had supposed. Either the body itself was slightly phosphorescent, or it was of a peculiar yellow hue. It gleamed in the darkness. What it was there was still nothing to positively show, but the impression grew upon me that it was some member of the spider family, some monstrous member, of the like of which I had never heard or read. It was heavy, so heavy indeed, that I wondered how, with so slight a pressure, it managed to retain its holdthat it did so by the aid of some adhesive substance at the end of its legs I was sureI could feel it stick. Its weight increased as it ascendedand it smelt! I had been for some time aware that it emitted an unpleasant, foetid odour; as it neared my face it became so intense as to be unbearable. It was at my chest. I became more and more conscious of an uncomfortable wobbling motion, as if each time it breathed its body heaved. Its forelegs touched the bare skin about the base of my neck; they stuck to itshall I ever forget the feeling? I have it often in my dreams. While it hung on with those in front it seemed to draw its other legs up after it. It crawled up my neck, with hideous slowness, a quarter of an inch at a time, its weight compelling me to brace the muscles of my back. It reached my chin, it touched my lipsand I stood still and bore it all, while it enveloped my face with its huge, slimy, evilsmelling body, and embraced me with its myriad legs. The horror of it made me mad. I shook myself like one stricken by the shaking ague. I shook the creature off. It squashed upon the floor. Shrieking like some lost spirit, turning, I dashed towards the window. As I went, my foot, catching in some obstacle, I fell headlong to the floor. Picking myself up as quickly as I could I resumed my flightrain or no rain, oh to get out of that room! I already had my hand upon the sill, in another instant I should have been over itthen, despite my hunger, my fatigues, let anyone have stopped me if they could!when someone behind me struck a light. III. The Man in the Bed The illumination which instantly followed was unexpected. It startled me, causing a moments check, from which I was just recovering when a voice said, Keep still! There was a quality in the voice which I cannot describe. Not only an accent of command, but a something malicious, a something saturnine. It was a little guttural, though whether it was a man speaking I could not have positively said; but I had no doubt it was a foreigner. It was the most disagreeable voice I had ever heard, and it had on me the most disagreeable effect; for when it said, Keep still! I kept still. It was as though there was nothing else for me to do. Turn round! I turned round, mechanically, like an automaton. Such passivity was worse than undignified, it was galling; I knew that well. I resented it with secret rage. But in that room, in that presence, I was invertebrate. When I turned I found myself confronting someone who was lying in bed. At the head of the bed was a shelf. On the shelf was a small lamp which gave the most brilliant light I had ever seen. It caught me full in the eyes, having on me such a blinding effect that for some seconds I could see nothing. Throughout the whole of that strange interview I cannot affirm that I saw clearly; the dazzling glare caused dancing specks to obscure my vision. Yet, after an interval of time, I did see something; and what I did see I had rather have left unseen. I saw someone in front of me lying in a bed. I could not at once decide if it was a man or a woman. Indeed at first I doubted if it was anything human. But, afterwards, I knew it to be a manfor this reason, if for no other, that it was impossible such a creature could be feminine. The bedclothes were drawn up to his shoulders; only his head was visible. He lay on his left side, his head resting on his left hand; motionless, eyeing me as if he sought to read my inmost soul. And, in very truth, I believe he read it. His age I could not guess; such a look of age I had never imagined. Had he asserted that he had been living through the ages, I should have been forced to admit that, at least, he looked it. And yet I felt that it was quite within the range of possibility that he was no older than myselfthere was a vitality in his eyes which was startling. It might have been that he had been afflicted by some terrible disease, and it was that which had made him so supernaturally ugly. There was not a hair upon his face or head, but, to make up for it, the skin, which was a saffron yellow, was an amazing mass of wrinkles. The cranium, and, indeed, the whole skull, was so small as to be disagreeably suggestive of something animal. The nose, on the other hand, was abnormally large; so extravagant were its dimensions, and so peculiar its shape, it resembled the beak of some bird of prey. A characteristic of the faceand an uncomfortable one!was that, practically, it stopped short at the mouth. The mouth, with its blubber lips, came immediately underneath the nose, and chin, to all intents and purposes, there was none. This deformityfor the absence of chin amounted to thatit was which gave to the face the appearance of something not humanthat, and the eyes. For so marked a feature of the man were his eyes, that, ere long, it seemed to me that he was nothing but eyes. His eyes ran, literally, across the whole of the upper portion of his faceremember, the face was unwontedly small, and the columna of the nose was razoredged. They were long, and they looked out of narrow windows, and they seemed to be lighted by some internal radiance, for they shone out like lamps in a lighthouse tower. Escape them I could not, while, as I endeavoured to meet them, it was as if I shrivelled into nothingness. Never before had I realised what was meant by the power of the eye. They held me enchained, helpless, spellbound. I felt that they could do with me as they would; and they did. Their gaze was unfaltering, having the birdlike trick of never blinking; this man could have glared at me for hours and never moved an eyelid. It was he who broke the silence. I was speechless. Shut the window. I did as he bade me. Pull down the blind. I obeyed. Turn round again. I was still obedient. What is your name? Then I spoketo answer him. There was this odd thing about the words I uttered, that they came from me, not in response to my will power, but in response to his. It was not I who willed that I should speak; it was he. What he willed that I should say, I said. Just that, and nothing more. For the time I was no longer a man; my manhood was merged in his. I was, in the extremest sense, an example of passive obedience. Robert Holt. What are you? A clerk. You look as if you were a clerk. There was a flame of scorn in his voice which scorched me even then. What sort of a clerk are you? I am out of a situation. You look as if you were out of a situation. Again the scorn. Are you the sort of clerk who is always out of a situation? You are a thief. I am not a thief. Do clerks come through the window? I was stillhe putting no constraint on me to speak. Why did you come through the window? Because it was open. So!Do you always come through a window which is open? No. Then why through this? Because I was wetand coldand hungryand tired. The words came from me as if he had dragged them one by onewhich, in fact, he did. Have you no home? No. Money? No. Friends? No. Then what sort of a clerk are you? I did not answer himI did not know what it was he wished me to say. I was the victim of bad luck, nothing elseI swear it. Misfortune had followed hard upon misfortune.


The firm by whom I had been employed for years suspended payment. I obtained a situation with one of their creditors, at a lower salary. They reduced their staff, which entailed my going. After an interval I obtained a temporary engagement; the occasion which required my services passed, and I with it. After another, and a longer interval, I again found temporary employment, the pay for which was but a pittance. When that was over I could find nothing. That was nine months ago, and since then I had not earned a penny. It is so easy to grow shabby, when you are on the everlasting tramp, and are living on your stock of clothes. I had trudged all over London in search of workwork of any kind would have been welcome, so long as it would have enabled me to keep body and soul together. And I had trudged in vain. Now I had been refused admittance as a casualhow easy is the descent! But I did not tell the man lying on the bed all this. He did not wish to hearhad he wished he would have made me tell him. It may be that he read my story, unspoken though it wasit is conceivable. His eyes had powers of penetration which were peculiarly their ownthat I know. Undress! When he spoke again that was what he said, in those guttural tones of his in which there was a reminiscence of some foreign land. I obeyed, letting my sodden, shabby clothes fall anyhow upon the floor. A look came on his face, as I stood naked in front of him, which, if it was meant for a smile, was a satyrs smile, and which filled me with a sensation of shuddering repulsion. What a white skin you havehow white! What would I not give for a skin as white as thatah yes! He paused, devouring me with his glances; then continued. Go to the cupboard; you will find a cloak; put it on. I went to a cupboard which was in a corner of the room, his eyes following me as I moved. It was full of clothinggarments which might have formed the stockintrade of a costumier whose speciality was providing costumes for masquerades. A long dark cloak hung on a peg. My hand moved towards it, apparently of its own volition. I put it on, its ample folds falling to my feet. In the other cupboard you will find meat, and bread, and wine. Eat and drink. On the opposite side of the room, near the head of his bed, there was a second cupboard. In this, upon a shelf, I found what looked like pressed beef, several round cakes of what tasted like rye bread, and some thin, sour wine, in a strawcovered flask. But I was in no mood to criticise; I crammed myself, I believe, like some famished wolf, he watching me, in silence, all the time. When I had done, which was when I had eaten and drunk as much as I could hold, there returned to his face that satyrs grin. I would that I could eat and drink like thatah yes!Put back what is left. I put it backwhich seemed an unnecessary exertion, there was so little to put. Look me in the face. I looked him in the faceand immediately became conscious, as I did so, that something was going from methe capacity, as it were, to be myself. His eyes grew larger and larger, till they seemed to fill all spacetill I became lost in their immensity. He moved his hand, doing something to me, I know not what, as it passed through the aircutting the solid ground from underneath my feet, so that I fell headlong to the ground. Where I fell, there I lay, like a log. And the light went out. IV. A Lonely Vigil I knew that the light went out. For not the least singular, nor, indeed, the least distressing part of my condition was the fact that, to the best of my knowledge and belief, I never once lost consciousness during the long hours which followed. I was aware of the extinction of the lamp, and of the black darkness which ensued. I heard a rustling sound, as if the man in the bed was settling himself between the sheets. Then all was still. And throughout that interminable night I remained, my brain awake, my body dead, waiting, watching, for the day. What had happened to me I could not guess. That I probably wore some of the external evidences of death my instinct told meI knew I did. Paradoxical though it may sound, I felt as a man might feel who had actually diedas, in moments of speculation, in the days gone by, I had imagined it as quite possible that he would feel. It is very far from certain that feeling necessarily expires with what we call life. I continually asked myself if I could be deadthe inquiry pressed itself on me with awful iteration. Does the body die, and the brainthe I, the egostill live on? God only knows. But, then! the agony of the thought. The hours passed. By slow degrees, the silence was eclipsed. Sounds of traffic, of hurrying footstepslife!were ushers of the morn. Outside the window sparrows twittereda cat mewed, a dog barkedthere was the clatter of a milk can. Shafts of light stole past the blind, increasing in intensity. It still rained, now and again it pattered against the pane. The wind must have shifted, because, for the first time, there came, on a sudden, the clang of a distant clock striking the hourseven. Then, with the interval of a lifetime between each chiming, eightnineten. So far, in the room itself there had not been a sound. When the clock had struck ten, as it seemed to me, years ago, there came a rustling noise, from the direction of the bed. Feet stepped upon the floormoving towards where I was lying. It was, of course, now broad day, and I, presently, perceived that a figure, clad in some queer coloured garment, was standing at my side, looking down at me. It stooped, then knelt. My only covering was unceremoniously thrown from off me, so that I lay there in my nakedness. Fingers prodded me then and there, as if I had been some beast ready for the butchers stall. A face looked into mine, and, in front of me, were those dreadful eyes. Then, whether I was dead or living, I said to myself that this could be nothing humannothing fashioned in Gods image could wear such a shape as that. Fingers were pressed into my cheeks, they were thrust into my mouth, they touched my staring eyes, shut my eyelids, then opened them again, andhorror of horrors!the blubber lips were pressed to minethe soul of something evil entered into me in the guise of a kiss. Then this travesty of manhood reascended to his feet, and said, whether speaking to me or to himself I could not tell, Dead!dead!as good as dead!and better! Well have him buried. He moved away from me. I heard a door open and shut, and knew that he was gone. And he continued gone throughout the day. I had no actual knowledge of his issuing out into the street, but he must have done so, because the house appeared deserted. What had become of the dreadful creature of the night before I could not guess. My first fear was that he had left it behind him in the room with meit might be, as a sort of watchdog. But, as the minutes and the hours passed, and there was still no sign or sound of anything living, I concluded that, if the thing was there, it was, possibly, as helpless as myself, and that during its owners absence, at any rate, I had nothing to fear from its too pressing attentions. That, with the exception of myself, the house held nothing human, I had strong presumptive proof more than once in the course of the day. Several times, both in the morning and the afternoon, people without endeavoured to attract the attention of whoever was within. Vehiclesprobably tradesmens cartsdrew up in front, their stopping being followed by more or less assiduous assaults upon the knocker and the bell. But in every case their appeals remained unheeded. Whatever it was they wanted, they had to go unsatisfied away. Lying there, torpid, with nothing to do but listen, I was, possibly, struck by very little, but it did occur to me that one among the callers was more persistent than the rest. The distant clock had just struck noon when I heard the gate open, and someone approached the front door. Since nothing but silence followed, I supposed that the occupant of the place had returned, and had chosen to do so as silently as he had gone. Presently, however, there came from the doorstep a slight but peculiar call, as if a rat was squeaking. It was repeated three times, and then there was the sound of footsteps quietly retreating, and the gate reclosing. Between one and two the caller came again; there was a repetition of the same signalthat it was a signal I did not doubt; followed by the same retreat. About three the mysterious visitant returned. The signal was repeated, and, when there was no response, fingers tapped softly against the panels of the front door. When there was still no answer, footsteps stole softly round the side of the house, and there came the signal from the rearand then, again, tapping of fingers against what was, apparently, the back door. No notice being taken of these various proceedings, the footsteps returned the way they went, and, as before, the gate was closed. Shortly after darkness had fallen this assiduous caller returned, to make a fourth and more resolute attempt to call attention to his presence. From the peculiar character of his manoeuvres it seemed that he suspected that whoever was within had particular reasons for ignoring him without. He went through the familiar pantomime of the three squeaky calls both at the front door and the backfollowed by the tapping of the fingers on the panels. This time, however, he also tried the window panesI could hear, quite distinctly, the clear, yet distinct, noise of what seemed like knuckles rapping against the windows behind. Disappointed there, he renewed his efforts at the front. The curiously quiet footsteps came round the house, to pause before the window of the room in which I layand then something singular occurred. While I waited for the tapping, there came, instead, the sound of someone or something, scrambling on to the windowsillas if some creature, unable to reach the window from the ground, was endeavouring to gain the vantage of the sill. Some ungainly creature, unskilled in surmounting such an obstacle as a perpendicular brick wall. There was the noise of what seemed to be the scratching of claws, as if it experienced considerable difficulty in obtaining a hold on the unyielding surface. What kind of creature it was I could not thinkI was astonished to find that it was a creature at all. I had taken it for granted that the persevering visitor was either a woman or a man. If, however, as now seemed likely, it was some sort of animal, the fact explained the squeaking soundsthough what, except a rat, did squeak like that was more than I could sayand the absence of any knocking or ringing. Whatever it was, it had gained the summit of its desiresthe windowsill. It panted as if its efforts at climbing had made it short of breath. Then began the tapping. In the light of my new discovery, I perceived, clearly enough, that the tapping was hardly that which was likely to be the product of human fingersit was sharp and definite, rather resembling the striking of the point of a nail against the glass. It was not loud, but in timeit continued with much persistencyit became plainly vicious. It was accompanied by what I can only describe as the most extraordinary noises. There were squeaks, growing angrier and shriller as the minutes passed; what seemed like gaspings for breath; and a peculiar buzzing sound like, yet unlike, the purring of a cat. The creatures resentment at its want of success in attracting attention was unmistakable. The tapping became like the clattering of hailstones; it kept up a continuous noise with its cries and pantings; there was the sound as of some large body being rubbed against the glass, as if it were extending itself against the window, and endeavouring, by force of pressure, to gain an entrance through the pane. So violent did its contortions become that I momentarily anticipated the yielding of the glass, and the excited assailant coming crashing through. Considerably to my relief the window proved more impregnable than seemed at one time likely. The stolid resistance proved, in the end, to be too much either for its endurance or its patience. Just as I was looking for some fresh manifestation of fury, it seemed rather to tumble than to spring off the sill; then came, once more, the same sound of quietly retreating footsteps; and what, under the circumstances, seemed odder still, the same closing of the gate. During the two or three hours which immediately ensued nothing happened at all out of the wayand then took place the most surprising incident of all. The clock had struck ten some time before. Since before the striking of the hour nothing and no one had passed along what was evidently the little frequented road in front of that uncanny house. On a sudden two sounds broke the stillness withoutof someone running, and of cries. Judging from his hurrying steps someone seemed to be flying for his lifeto the accompaniment of curious cries. It was only when the runner reached the front of the house that, in the cries, I recognised the squeaks of the persistent caller. I imagined that he had returned, as before, alone, to renew his attacks upon the windowuntil it was made plain, as it quickly was, that, with him, was some sort of a companion. Immediately there arose, from without, the noise of battle. Two creatures, whose cries were, to me, of so unusual a character, that I found it impossible to even guess at their identity, seemed to be waging war to the knife upon the doorstep. After a minute or two of furious contention, victory seemed to rest with one of the combatants, for the other fled, squeaking as with pain. While I listened, with strained attention, for the next episode in this queer drama, expecting that now would come another assault upon the window, to my unbounded surprise I heard a key thrust in the keyhole, the lock turned, and the front door thrown open with a furious bang. It was closed as loudly as it was opened. Then the door of the room in which I was, was dashed open, with the same display of excitement, and of clamour, footsteps came hurrying in, the door was slammed to with a force which shook the house to its foundations, there was a rustling as of bedclothes, the brilliant illumination of the night before, and a voice, which I had only too good reason to remember said, Stand up. I stood up, automatically, at the word of command, facing towards the bed. There, between the sheets, with his head resting on his hand, in the attitude in which I had seen him last, was the being I had made acquaintance with under circumstances which I was never likely to forgetthe same, yet not the same. V. An Instruction to Commit Burglary That the man in the bed was the one whom, to my cost, I had suffered myself to stumble on the night before, there could, of course, not be the faintest doubt. And yet, directly I saw him, I recognised that some astonishing alteration had taken place in his appearance. To begin with, he seemed youngerthe decrepitude of age had given place to something very like the fire of youth. His features had undergone some subtle change. His nose, for instance, was not by any means so grotesque; its beaklike quality was less conspicuous. The most part of his wrinkles had disappeared, as if by magic. And, though his skin was still as yellow as saffron, his contours had roundedhe had even come into possession of a modest allowance of chin. But the most astounding novelty was that about the face there was something which was essentially feminine; so feminine, indeed, that I wondered if I could by any possibility have blundered, and mistaken a woman for a man; some ghoulish example of her sex, who had so yielded to her depraved instincts as to have become nothing but a ghastly reminiscence of womanhood. The effect of the changes which had come about in his appearancefor, after all, I told myself that it was impossible that I could have been such a simpleton as to have been mistaken on such a question as genderwas heightened by the selfevident fact that, very recently, he had been engaged in some pitched battle; some hand to hand, and, probably, discreditable encounter, from which he had borne away uncomfortable proofs of his opponents prowess. His antagonist could hardly have been a chivalrous fighter, for his countenance was marked by a dozen different scratches which seemed to suggest that the weapons used had been someones fingernails. It was, perhaps, because the heat of the battle was still in his veins that he was in such a state of excitement. He seemed to be almost overwhelmed by the strength of his own feelings. His eyes seemed literally to flame with fire. The muscles of his face were working as if they were wholly beyond his own control. When he spoke his accent was markedly foreign; the words rushed from his lips in an inarticulate torrent; he kept repeating the same thing over and over again in a fashion which was not a little suggestive of insanity. So youre not dead!youre not deadyoure alive!youre alive! Wellhow does it feel to be dead? I ask you!Is it not good to be dead? To keep dead is betterit is the best of all! To have made an end of all things, to cease to strive and to cease to weep, to cease to want and to cease to have, to cease to annoy and to cease to long, to no more careno!not for anything, to put from you the curse of lifeforever!is that not the best? Oh yes!I tell you!do I not know? But for you such knowledge is not yet. For you there is the return to life, the coming out of deathyou shall live on!for me!Live on! He made a movement with his hand, and, directly he did so, it happened as on the previous evening, that a metamorphosis took place in the very abysses of my being. I woke from my torpor, as he put it, I came out of death, and was alive again. I was far, yet, from being my own man; I realised that he exercised on me a degree of mesmeric force which I had never dreamed that one creature could exercise on another; but, at least, I was no longer in doubt as to whether I was or was not dead. I knew I was alive. He lay, watching me, as if he was reading the thoughts which occupied my brainand, for all I know, he was. Robert Holt, you are a thief. I am not. My own voice, as I heard it, startled meit was so long since it had sounded in my ears. You are a thief! Only thieves come through windowsdid you not come through the window? I was stillwhat would my contradiction have availed me? But it is well that you came through the windowwell you are a thiefwell for me! for me! It is you that I am wantingat the happy moment you have dropped yourself into my handsin the nick of time. For you are my slaveat my beck and callmy familiar spirit, to do with as I willyou know thiseh? I did know it, and the knowledge of my impotence was terrible. I felt that if I could only get away from him; only release myself from the bonds with which he had bound me about; only remove myself from the horrible glamour of his near neighbourhood; only get one or two square meals and have an opportunity of recovering from the enervating stress of mental and bodily fatigue;I felt that then I might be something like his match, and that, a second time, he would endeavour in vain to bring me within the compass of his magic. But, as it was, I was conscious that I was helpless, and the consciousness was agony. He persisted in reiterating his former falsehood. I say you are a thief!a thief, Robert Holt, a thief! You came through a window for your own pleasure, now you will go through a window for minenot this window, but another. Where the jest lay I did not perceive; but it tickled him, for a grating sound came from his throat which was meant for laughter. This time it is as a thief that you will gooh yes, be sure. He paused, as it seemed, to transfix me with his gaze. His unblinking eyes never for an instant quitted my face. With what a frightful fascination they constrained meand how I loathed them! When he spoke again there was a new intonation in his speechsomething bitter, cruel, unrelenting. Do you know Paul Lessingham? He pronounced the name as if he hated itand yet as if he loved to have it on his tongue. What Paul Lessingham? There is only one Paul Lessingham! The Paul Lessinghamthe great Paul Lessingham! He shrieked, rather than said this, with an outburst of rage so frenzied that I thought, for the moment, that he was going to spring on me and rend me. I shook all over. I do not doubt that, as I replied, my voice was sufficiently tremulous. All the world knows Paul Lessinghamthe politicianthe statesman. As he glared at me his eyes dilated. I still stood in expectation of a physical assault. But, for the present, he contented himself with words. Tonight you are going through his window like a thief! I had no inkling of his meaningand, apparently, judging from his next words, I looked something of the bewilderment I felt. You do not understand?no!it is simple!what could be simpler? I say that tonighttonight!you are going through his window like a thief. You came through my windowwhy not through the window of Paul Lessingham, the politicianthe statesman. He repeated my words as if in mockery. I amI make it my boast!of that great multitude which regards Paul Lessingham as the greatest living force in practical politics; and which looks to him, with confidence, to carry through that great work of constitutional and social reform which he has set himself to do. I daresay that my tone, in speaking of him, savoured of laudationwhich, plainly, the man in the bed resented. What he meant by his wild words about my going through Paul Lessinghams window like a thief, I still had not the faintest notion. They sounded like the ravings of a madman. As I continued silent, and he yet stared, there came into his tone another notea note of tendernessa note of which I had not deemed him capable. He is good to look at, Paul Lessinghamis he not good to look at? I was aware that, physically, Mr. Lessingham was a fine specimen of manhood, but I was not prepared for the assertion of the fact in such a quarternor for the manner in which the temporary master of my fate continued to harp and enlarge upon the theme. He is straightstraight as the mast of a shiphe is tallhis skin is white; he is strongdo I not know that he is stronghow strong!oh yes! Is there a better thing than to be his wife? his wellbeloved? the light of his eyes? Is there for a woman a happier chance? Oh no, not one! His wife!Paul Lessingham! As, with soft cadences, he gave vent to these unlookedfor sentiments, the fashion of his countenance was changed. A look of longing came into his faceof savage, frantic longingwhich, unalluring though it was, for the moment transfigured him. But the mood was transient. To be his wifeoh yes!the wife of his scorn! the despised and rejected! The return to the venom of his former bitterness was rapidI could not but feel that this was the natural man. Though why a creature such as he was should go out of his way to apostrophise, in such a manner, a publicist of Mr. Lessinghams eminence, surpassed my comprehension. Yet he stuck to his subject like a leechas if it had been one in which he had an engrossing personal interest. He is a devilhard as the granite rockcold as the snows of Ararat. In him there is none of lifes warm bloodhe is accursed! He is falseay, false as the fables of those who lie for love of lieshe is all treachery. Her whom he has taken to his bosom he would put away from him as if she had never beenhe would steal from her like a thief in the nighthe would forget she ever was! But the avenger follows after, lurking in the shadows, hiding among the rocks, waiting, watching, till his time shall come. And it shall come!the day of the avenger!ay, the day! Raising himself to a sitting posture, he threw his arms above his head, and shrieked with a demoniac fury. Presently he became a trifle calmer. Reverting to his recumbent position, resting his head upon his hand, he eyed me steadily; then asked me a question which struck me as being, under the circumstances, more than a little singular. You know his housethe house of the great Paul Lessinghamthe politicianthe statesman? I do not. You lie!you do! The words came from him with a sort of snarlas if he would have lashed me across the face with them. I do not. Men in my position are not acquainted with the residences of men in his. I may, at some time, have seen his address in print; but, if so, I have forgotten it. He looked at me intently, for some moments, as if to learn if I spoke the truth; and apparently, at last, was satisfied that I did. You do not know it?Well!I will show it youI will show the house of the great Paul Lessingham. What he meant I did not know; but I was soon to learnan astounding revelation it proved to be. There was about his manner something hardly human; something which, for want of a better phrase, I would call vulpine. In his tone there was a mixture of mockery and bitterness, as if he wished his words to have the effect of corrosive sublimate, and to sear me as he uttered them. Listen with all your ears. Give me your whole attention. Hearken to my bidding, so that you may do as I bid you. Not that I fear your obedienceoh no! He pausedas if to enable me to fully realise the picture of my helplessness conjured up by his jibes. You came through my window, like a thief. You will go through my window, like a fool. You will go to the house of the great Paul Lessingham. You say you do not know it? Well, I will show it you. I will be your guide. Unseen, in the darkness and the night, I will stalk beside you, and will lead you to where I would have you go.You will go just as you are, with bare feet, and head uncovered, and with but a single garment to hide your nakedness. You will be cold, your feet will be cut and bleedingbut what better does a thief deserve? If any see you, at the least they will take you for a madman; there will be trouble. But have no fear; bear a bold heart. None shall see you while I stalk at your side. I will cover you with the cloak of invisibilityso that you may come in safety to the house of the great Paul Lessingham. He paused again. What he said, wild and wanton though it was, was beginning to fill me with a sense of the most extreme discomfort. His sentences, in some strange, indescribable way, seemed, as they came from his lips, to warp my limbs; to enwrap themselves about me; to confine me, tighter and tighter, within, as it were, swaddling clothes; to make me more and more helpless. I was already conscious that whatever mad freak he chose to set me on, I should have no option but to carry it through. When you come to the house, you will stand, and look, and seek for a window convenient for entry. It may be that you will find one open, as you did mine; if not, you will open one. Howthat is your affair, not mine. You will practise the arts of a thief to steal into his house. The monstrosity of his suggestion fought against the spell which he again was casting upon me, and forced me into speechendowed me with the power to show that there still was in me something of a man; though every second the strands of my manhood, as it seemed, were slipping faster through the fingers which were strained to clutch them. I will not. He was silent. He looked at me. The pupils of his eyes dilateduntil they seemed all pupil. You will.Do you hear?I say you will. I am not a thief, I am an honest manwhy should I do this thing? Because I bid you. Have mercy! On whomon you, or on Paul Lessingham?Who, at any time, has shown mercy unto me, that I should show mercy unto any? He stopped, and then again went onreiterating his former incredible suggestion with an emphasis which seemed to eat its way into my brain. You will practise the arts of a thief to steal into his house; and, being in, will listen. If all be still, you will make your way to the room he calls his study. How shall I find it? I know nothing of his house. The question was wrung from me; I felt that the sweat was standing in great drops upon my brow. I will show it you. Shall you go with me? AyI shall go with you. All the time I shall be with you. You will not see me, but I shall be there. Be not afraid. His claim to supernatural powers, for what he said amounted to nothing less, was, on the face of it, preposterous, but, then, I was in no condition to even hint at its absurdity. He continued. When you have gained the study, you will go to a certain drawer, which is in a certain bureau, in a corner of the roomI see it now; when you are there you shall see it tooand you will open it. Should it be locked? You still will open it. But how shall I open it if it is locked? By those arts in which a thief is skilled. I say to you again that that is your affair, not mine. I made no attempt to answer him. Even supposing that he forced me, by the wicked, and unconscionable exercise of what, I presumed, were the hypnotic powers with which nature had to such a dangerous degree endowed him, to carry the adventure to a certain stage, since he could hardly, at an instants notice, endow me with the knack of picking locks, should the drawer he alluded to be lockedwhich might Providence permit!nothing serious might issue from it after all. He read my thoughts. You will open itthough it be doubly and trebly locked, I say that you will open it.In it you will find he hesitated, as if to reflectsome letters; it may be two or threeI know not just how manythey are bound about by a silken ribbon. You will take them out of the drawer, and, having taken them, you will make the best of your way out of the house, and bear them back to me. And should anyone come upon me while engaged in these nefarious proceedingsfor instance, should I encounter Mr. Lessingham himself, what then? Paul Lessingham?You need have no fear if you encounter him. I need have no fear!If he finds me, in his own house, at dead of night, committing burglary! You need have no fear of him. On your account, or on my own?At least he will have me haled to gaol. I say you need have no fear of him. I say what I mean. How, then, shall I escape his righteous vengeance? He is not the man to suffer a midnight robber to escape him scathelessshall I have to kill him? You will not touch him with a fingernor will he touch you. By what spell shall I prevent him? By the spell of two words. What words are they? Should Paul Lessingham chance to come upon you, and find you in his house, a thief, and should seek to stay you from whatever it is you may be at, you will not flinch nor flee from him, but you will stand still, and you will say Something in the crescendo accents of his voice, something weird and ominous, caused my heart to press against my ribs, so that when he stopped, in my eagerness I cried out, What? The beetle! As the words came from him in a kind of screech, the lamp went out, and the place was all in darkness, and I knew, so that the knowledge filled me with a sense of loathing, that with me, in the room, was the evil presence of the night before. Two bright specks gleamed in front of me; something flopped from off the bed on to the ground; the thing was coming towards me across the floor. It came slowly on, and on, and on. I stood still, speechless in the sickness of my horror. Until, on my bare feet, it touched me with slimy feelers, and my terror lest it should creep up my naked body lent me voice, and I fell shrieking like a soul in agony. It may be that my shrieking drove it from me. At least, it went. I knew it went. And all was still. Until, on a sudden, the lamp flamed out again, and there, lying, as before, in bed, glaring at me with his baleful eyes, was the being whom, in my folly, or in my wisdomwhichever it was!I was beginning to credit with the possession of unhallowed, unlawful powers. You will say that to him; those two words; they only; no more.


And you will see what you will see. But Paul Lessingham is a man of resolution. Should he still persist in interference, or seek to hinder you, you will say those two words again. You need do no more. Twice will suffice, I promise you.Now go.Draw up the blind; open the window; climb through it. Hasten to do what I have bidden you. I wait here for your returnand all the way I shall be with you. VI. A Singular Felony I went to the window; I drew up the blind, unlatching the sash, I threw it open; and clad, or, rather, unclad as I was, I clambered through it into the open air. I was not only incapable of resistance, I was incapable of distinctly formulating the desire to offer resistance. Some compelling influence moved me hither and hither, with completest disregard of whether I would or would not. And yet, when I found myself without, I was conscious of a sense of exultation at having escaped from the miasmic atmosphere of that room of unholy memories. And a faint hope began to dawn within my bosom that, as I increased the distance between myself and it, I might shake off something of the nightmare helplessness which numbed and tortured me. I lingered for a moment by the window; then stepped over the short dividing wall into the street; and then again I lingered. My condition was one of dual personalitywhile, physically, I was bound, mentally, to a considerable extent, I was free. But this measure of freedom on my mental side made my plight no better. For, among other things, I realised what a ridiculous figure I must be cutting, barefooted and bareheaded, abroad, at such an hour of the night, in such a boisterous breezefor I quickly discovered that the wind amounted to something like a gale. Apart from all other considerations, the notion of parading the streets in such a condition filled me with profound disgust. And I do believe that if my tyrannical oppressor had only permitted me to attire myself in my own garments, I should have started with a comparatively light heart on the felonious mission on which he apparently was sending me. I believe, too, that the consciousness of the incongruity of my attire increased my sense of helplessness, and that, had I been dressed as Englishmen are wont to be, who take their walks abroad, he would not have found in me, on that occasion, the facile instrument which, in fact, he did. There was a moment, in which the gravelled pathway first made itself known to my naked feet, and the cutting wind to my naked flesh, when I think it possible that, had I gritted my teeth, and strained my every nerve, I might have shaken myself free from the bonds which shackled me, and bade defiance to the ancient sinner who, for all I knew, was peeping at me through the window. But so depressed was I by the knowledge of the ridiculous appearance I presented that, before I could take advantage of it the moment passednot to return again that night. I did catch, as it were, at its fringe, as it was flying past me, making a hurried movement to one sidethe first I had made, of my own initiative, for hours. But it was too late. My tormentoras if, though unseen, he sawtightened his grip, I was whirled round, and sped hastily onwards in a direction in which I certainly had no desire of travelling. All the way I never met a soul. I have since wondered whether in that respect my experience was not a normal one; whether it might not have happened to any. If so, there are streets in London, long lines of streets, which, at a certain period of the night, in a certain sort of weatherprobably the weather had something to do with itare clean deserted; in which there is neither footpassenger nor vehiclenot even a policeman. The greater part of the route along which I was drivenI know no juster wordwas one with which I had some sort of acquaintance. It led, at first, through what, I take it, was some part of Walham Green; then along the Lillie Road, through Brompton, across the Fulham Road, through the network of streets leading to Sloane Street, across Sloane Street into Lowndes Square. Who goes that way goes some distance, and goes through some important thorough fares; yet not a creature did I see, nor, I imagine, was there a creature who saw me. As I crossed Sloane Street, I fancied that I heard the distant rumbling of a vehicle along the Knightsbridge Road, but that was the only sound I heard. It is painful even to recollect the plight in which I was when I was stoppedfor stopped I was, as shortly and as sharply, as the beast of burden, with a bridle in its mouth, whose driver puts a period to his career. I was wetintermittent gusts of rain were borne on the scurrying wind; in spite of the pace at which I had been brought, I was chilled to the bone; andworst of all!my mudstained feet, all cut and bleeding, were so painfulfor, unfortunately, I was still susceptible enough to painthat it was agony to have them come into contact with the cold and the slime of the hard, unyielding pavement. I had been stopped on the opposite side of the squarethat nearest to the hospital; in front of a house which struck me as being somewhat smaller than the rest. It was a house with a portico; about the pillars of this portico was trelliswork, and on the trelliswork was trained some climbing plant. As I stood, shivering, wondering what would happen next, some strange impulse mastered me, and, immediately, to my own unbounded amazement, I found myself scrambling up the trellis towards the verandah above. I am no gymnast, either by nature or by education; I doubt whether, previously, I had ever attempted to climb anything more difficult than a step ladder. The result was, that, though the impulse might be given me, the skill could not, and I had only ascended a yard or so when, losing my footing, I came slithering down upon my back. Bruised and shaken though I was, I was not allowed to inquire into my injuries. In a moment I was on my feet again, and again I was impelled to climbonly, however, again to come to grief. This time the demon, or whatever it was, that had entered into me, seeming to appreciate the impossibility of getting me to the top of that verandah, directed me to try another way. I mounted the steps leading to the front door, got on to the low parapet which was at one side, thence on to the sill of the adjacent windowhad I slipped then I should have fallen a sheer descent of at least twenty feet to the bottom of the deep area down below. But the sill was broad, andif it is proper to use such language in connection with a transaction of the sort in which I was engagedfortune favoured me. I did not fall. In my clenched fist I had a stone. With this I struck the pane of glass, as with a hammer. Through the hole which resulted, I could just insert my hand, and reach the latch within. In another minute the sash was raised, and I was in the houseI had committed burglary. As I look back and reflect upon the audacity of the whole proceeding, even now I tremble. Hapless slave of anothers will although in very truth I was, I cannot repeat too often that I realised to the full just what it was that I was being compelled to doa fact which was very far from rendering my situation less distressful!and every detail of my involuntary actions was projected upon my brain in a series of pictures, whose clearcut outlines, so long as memory endures, will never fade. Certainly no professional burglar, nor, indeed, any creature in his senses, would have ventured to emulate my surprising rashness. The process of smashing the pane of glassit was plate glasswas anything but a noiseless one. There was, first, the blow itself, then the shivering of the glass, then the clattering of fragments into the area beneath. One would have thought that the whole thing would have made din enough to have roused the Seven Sleepers. But, here, again the weather was on my side. About that time the wind was howling wildlyit came shrieking across the square. It is possible that the tumult which it made deadened all other sounds. Anyhow, as I stood within the room which I had violated, listening for signs of someone being on the alert, I could hear nothing. Within the house there seemed to be the silence of the grave. I drew down the window, and made for the door. It proved by no means easy to find. The windows were obscured by heavy curtains, so that the room inside was dark as pitch. It appeared to be unusually full of furniturean appearance due, perhaps, to my being a stranger in the midst of such Cimmerian blackness. I had to feel my way, very gingerly indeed, among the various impedimenta. As it was I seemed to come into contact with most of the obstacles there were to come into contact with, stumbling more than once over footstools, and over what seemed to be dwarf chairs. It was a miracle that my movements still continued to be unheardbut I believe that the explanation was, that the house was well built; that the servants were the only persons in it at the time; that their bedrooms were on the top floor; that they were fast asleep; and that they were little likely to be disturbed by anything that might occur in the room which I had entered. Reaching the door at last, I opened itlistening for any promise of being interruptedandto adapt a hackneyed phrasedirected by the power which shaped my end, I went across the hall and up the stairs. I passed up the first landing, and, on the second, moved to a door upon the right. I turned the handle, it yielded, the door opened, I entered, closing it behind me. I went to the wall just inside the door, found a handle, jerked it, and switched on the electric lightdoing, I make no doubt, all these things, from a spectators point of view, so naturally, that a judge and jury would have been with difficulty persuaded that they were not the product of my own volition. In the brilliant glow of the electric light I took a leisurely survey of the contents of the room. It was, as the man in the bed had said it would be, a studya fine, spacious apartment, evidently intended rather for work than for show. There were three separate writingtables, one very large and two smaller ones, all covered with an orderly array of manuscripts and papers. A typewriter stood at the side of one. On the floor, under and about them, were piles of books, portfolios, and officiallooking documents. Every available foot of wall space on three sides of the room was lined with shelves, full as they could hold with books. On the fourth side, facing the door, was a large lockup oak bookcase, and, in the farther corner, a quaint old bureau. So soon as I saw this bureau I went for it, straight as an arrow from a bowindeed, it would be no abuse of metaphor to say that I was propelled towards it like an arrow from a bow. It had drawers below, glass doors above, and between the drawers and the doors was a flap to let down. It was to this flap my attention was directed. I put out my hand to open it; it was locked at the top. I pulled at it with both hands; it refused to budge. So this was the lock I was, if necessary, to practise the arts of a thief to open. I was no picklock; I had flattered myself that nothing, and no one, could make me such a thing. Yet now that I found myself confronted by that unyielding flap, I found that pressure, irresistible pressure, was being put upon me to gain, by any and every means, access to its interior. I had no option but to yield. I looked about me in search of some convenient tool with which to ply the felons trade. I found it close beside me. Leaning against the wall, within a yard of where I stood, were examples of various kinds of weaponsamong them, spearheads. Taking one of these spearheads, with much difficulty I forced the point between the flap and the bureau. Using the leverage thus obtained, I attempted to prise it open. The flap held fast; the spearhead snapped in two. I tried another, with the same result; a third, to fail again. There were no more. The most convenient thing remaining was a queer, heavyheaded, sharpedged hatchet. This I took, brought the sharp edge down with all my force upon the refractory flap. The hatchet went throughbefore I had done with it, it was open with a vengeance. But I was destined on the occasion of my firstand, I trust, lastexperience of the burglars calling, to carry the part completely through. I had gained access to the flap itself only to find that at the back were several small drawers, on one of which my observation was brought to bear in a fashion which it was quite impossible to disregard. As a matter of course it was locked, and, once more, I had to search for something which would serve as a roughandready substitute for the missing key. There was nothing at all suitable among the weaponsI could hardly for such a purpose use the hatchet; the drawer in question was such a little one that to have done so would have been to shiver it to splinters. On the mantelshelf, in an open leather case, were a pair of revolvers. Statesmen, nowadays, sometimes stand in actual peril of their lives. It is possible that Mr. Lessingham, conscious of continually threatened danger, carried them about with him as a necessary protection. They were serviceable weapons, large, and somewhat weightyof the type with which, I believe, upon occasion the police are armed. Not only were all the barrels loaded, but, in the case itself there was a supply of cartridges more than sufficient to charge them all again. I was handling the weapons, wonderingif, in my condition, the word was applicablewhat use I could make of them to enable me to gain admission to that drawer, when there came, on a sudden, from the street without, the sound of approaching wheels. There was a whirring within my brain, as if someone was endeavouring to explain to me to what service to apply the revolvers, and I, perforce, strained every nerve to grasp the meaning of my invisible mentor. While I did so, the wheels drew rapidly nearer, and, just as I was expecting them to go whirling by, stoppedin front of the house. My heart leapt in my bosom. In a convulsion of frantic terror, again, during the passage of one frenzied moment, I all but burst the bonds that held me, and fled, haphazard, from the imminent peril. But the bonds were stronger than Iit was as if I had been rooted to the ground. A key was inserted in the keyhole of the front door, the lock was turned, the door thrown open, firm footsteps entered the house. If I could I would not have stood upon the order of my going, but gone at once, anywhere, anyhow; but, at that moment, my comings and goings were not matters in which I was consulted. Panic fear raging within, outwardly I was calm as possible, and stood, turning the revolvers over and over, asking myself what it could be that I was intended to do with them. All at once it came to me in an illuminating flashI was to fire at the lock of the drawer, and blow it open. A madder scheme it would have been impossible to hit upon. The servants had slept through a good deal, but they would hardly sleep through the discharge of a revolver in a room below themnot to speak of the person who had just entered the premises, and whose footsteps were already audible as he came up the stairs. I struggled to make a dumb protest against the insensate folly which was hurrying me to infallible destruction, without success. For me there was only obedience. With a revolver in either hand I marched towards the bureau as unconcernedly as if I would not have given my life to have escaped the denouement which I needed but a slight modicum of common sense to be aware was close at hand. I placed the muzzle of one of the revolvers against the keyhole of the drawer to which my unseen guide had previously directed me, and pulled the trigger. The lock was shattered, the contents of the drawer were at my mercy. I snatched up a bundle of letters, about which a pink ribbon was wrapped. Startled by a noise behind me, immediately following the report of the pistol, I glanced over my shoulder. The room door was open, and Mr. Lessingham was standing with the handle in his hand. VII. The Great Paul Lessingham He was in evening dress. He carried a small portfolio in his left hand. If the discovery of my presence startled him, as it could scarcely have failed to do, he allowed no sign of surprise to escape him. Paul Lessinghams impenetrability is proverbial. Whether on platforms addressing excited crowds, or in the midst of heated discussion in the House of Commons, all the world knows that his coolness remains unruffled. It is generally understood that he owes his success in the political arena in no slight measure to the adroitness which is born of his invulnerable presence of mind. He gave me a taste of its quality then. Standing in the attitude which has been familiarised to us by caricaturists, his feet apart, his broad shoulders well set back, his handsome head a little advanced, his keen blue eyes having in them something suggestive of a bird of prey considering just when, where, and how to pounce, he regarded me for some seconds in perfect silencewhether outwardly I flinched I cannot say; inwardly I know I did. When he spoke, it was without moving from where he stood, and in the calm, airy tones in which he might have addressed an acquaintance who had just dropped in. May I ask, sir, to what I am indebted for the pleasure of your company? He paused, as if waiting for my answer. When none came, he put his question in another form. Pray, sir, who are you, and on whose invitation do I find you here? As I still stood speechless, motionless, meeting his glance without a twitching of an eyebrow, nor a tremor of the hand, I imagine that he began to consider me with an even closer intentness than before. And that theto say the least of itpeculiarity of my appearance, caused him to suspect that he was face to face with an adventure of a peculiar kind. Whether he took me for a lunatic I cannot certainly say; but, from his manner, I think it possible he did. He began to move towards me from across the room, addressing me with the utmost suavity and courtesy. Be so good as to give me the revolver, and the papers you are holding in your hand. As he came on, something entered into me, and forced itself from between my lips, so that I said, in a low, hissing voice, which I vow was never mine, The beetle! Whether it was, or was not, owing, in some degree, to a trick of my imagination, I cannot determine, but, as the words were spoken, it seemed to me that the lights went low, so that the place was all in darkness, and I again was filled with the nauseous consciousness of the presence of something evil in the room. But if, in that matter, my abnormally strained imagination played me a trick, there could be no doubt whatever as to the effect which the words had on Mr. Lessingham. When the mist of the blacknessreal or supposititioushad passed from before my eyes, I found that he had retreated to the extremest limits of the room, and was crouching, his back against the bookshelves, clutching at them, in the attitude of a man who has received a staggering blow, from which, as yet, he has had no opportunity of recovering. A most extraordinary change had taken place in the expression of his face; in his countenance amazement, fear, and horror seemed struggling for the mastery. I was filled with a most discomforting qualm, as I gazed at the frightened figure in front of me, and realised that it was that of the great Paul Lessingham, the god of my political idolatry. Who are you?In Gods name, who are you? His very voice seemed changed; his frenzied, choking accents would hardly have been recognised by either friend or foe. Who are you?Do you hear me ask, who are you? In the name of God, I bid you say! As he perceived that I was still, he began to show a species of excitement which it was unpleasant to witness, especially as he continued to crouch against the bookshelf, as if he was afraid to stand up straight. So far from exhibiting the impassivity for which he was renowned, all the muscles in his face and all the limbs in his body seemed to be in motion at once; he was like a man afflicted with the shivering aguehis very fingers were twitching aimlessly, as they were stretched out on either side of him, as if seeking for support from the shelves against which he leaned. Where have you come from? what do you want? who sent you here? what concern have you with me? is it necessary that you should come and play these childish tricks with me? why? why? The questions came from him with astonishing rapidity. When he saw that I continued silent, they came still faster, mingled with what sounded to me like a stream of inchoate abuse. Why do you stand there in that extraordinary garmentits worse than nakedness, yes, worse than nakedness! For that alone I could have you punished, and I will!and try to play the fool? Do you think I am a boy to be bamboozled by every bogey a blunderer may try to conjure up? If so, youre wrong, as whoever sent you might have had sense enough to let you know. If you tell me who you are, and who sent you here, and what it is you want, I will be merciful; if not, the police shall be sent for, and the law shall take its courseto the bitter end!I warn you.Do you hear? You fool! tell me who you are? The last words came from him in what was very like a burst of childish fury. He himself seemed conscious, the moment after, that his passion was sadly lacking in dignity, and to be ashamed of it. He drew himself straight up. With a pockethandkerchief which he took from an inner pocket of his coat, he wiped his lips. Then, clutching it tightly in his hand, he eyed me with a fixedness which, under any other circumstances, I should have found unbearable. Well, sir, is your continued silence part of the business of the role you have set yourself to play? His tone was firmer, and his bearing more in keeping with his character. If it be so, I presume that I, at least have liberty to speak. When I find a gentleman, even one gifted with your eloquence of silence, playing the part of burglar, I think you will grant that a few words on my part cannot justly be considered to be out of place. Again he paused. I could not but feel that he was employing the vehicle of somewhat cumbrous sarcasm to gain time, and to give himself the opportunity of recovering, if the thing was possible, his pristine courage. That, for some cause wholly hidden from me, the mysterious utterance had shaken his nature to its deepest foundations, was made plainer by his endeavour to treat the whole business with a sort of cynical levity. To commence with, may I ask if you have come through London, or through any portion of it, in that costumeor, rather, in that want of costume? It would seem out of place in a Cairene streetwould it not?even in the Rue de Rabagaswas it not the Rue de Rabagas? He asked the question with an emphasis the meaning of which was wholly lost on me. What he referred to either then, or in what immediately followed, I, of course, knew no more than the man in the moonthough I should probably have found great difficulty in convincing him of my ignorance. I take it that you are a reminiscence of the Rue de Rabagasthat, of course;is it not of course? The little house with the bluegrey Venetians, and the piano with the F sharp missing? Is there still the piano? with the tinny trebleindeed, the whole atmosphere, was it not tinny?You agree with me?I have not forgotten. I am not even afraid to rememberyou perceive it? A new idea seemed to strike himborn, perhaps, of my continued silence. You look Englishis it possible that you are not English? What are you thenFrench? We shall see! He addressed me in a tongue which I recognised as French, but with which I was not sufficiently acquainted to understand. Although, I flatter myself thatas the present narrative should showI have not made an illuse of the opportunities which I have had to improve my, originally, modest education, I regret that I have never had so much as a ghost of a chance to acquire an even rudimentary knowledge of any language except my own. Recognising, I suppose, from my looks, that he was addressing me in a tongue to which I was a stranger, after a time he stopped, added something with a smile, and then began to talk to me in a lingo to which, in a manner of speaking, I was even stranger, for this time I had not the faintest notion what it wasit might have been gibberish for all that I could tell. Quickly perceiving that he had succeeded no better than before, he returned to English. You do not know French?nor the patois of the Rue de Rabagas? Very goodthen what is it that you do know? Are you under a vow of silence, or are you dumbexcept upon occasion? Your face is Englishwhat can be seen of it, and I will take it, therefore, that English spoken words convey some meaning to your brain. So listen, sir, to what I have to saydo me the favour to listen carefully. He was becoming more and more his former self. In his clear, modulated tones there was a ring of something like a threata something which went very far beyond his words. You know something of a period which I choose to have forgottenthat is plain; you come from a person who, probably, knows still more. Go back to that person and say that what I have forgotten I have forgotten; nothing will be gained by anyone by an endeavour to induce me to rememberbe very sure upon that point, say that nothing will be gained by anyone. That time was one of mirage, of delusion, of disease. I was in a condition, mentally and bodily, in which pranks could have been played upon me by any trickster. Such pranks were played. I know that now quite well. I do not pretend to be proficient in the modus operandi of the hankeypankey man, but I know that he has a method, all the sameone susceptible, too, of facile explanation. Go back to your friend, and tell him that I am not again likely to be made the butt of his old methodnor of his new one either.You hear me, sir? I remained motionless and silentan attitude which, plainly, he resented. Are you deaf and dumb? You certainly are not dumb, for you spoke to me just now. Be advised by me, and do not compel me to resort to measures which will be the cause to you of serious discomfort.You hear me, sir? Still, from me, not a sign of comprehensionto his increased annoyance. So be it. Keep your own counsel, if you choose. Yours will be the bitterness, not mine. You may play the lunatic, and play it excellently well, but that you do understand what is said to you is clear.Come to business, sir. Give me that revolver, and the packet of letters which you have stolen from my desk. He had been speaking with the air of one who desired to convince himself as much as meand about his last words there was almost a flavour of braggadocio. I remained unheeding. Are you going to do as I require, or are you insane enough to refuse?in which case I shall summon assistance, and there will quickly be an end of it. Pray do not imagine that you can trick me into supposing that you do not grasp the situation. I know better.Once more, are you going to give me that revolver and those letters? Yet no reply. His anger was growing momentarily greaterand his agitation too. On my first introduction to Paul Lessingham I was not destined to discover in him any one of those qualities of which the world held him to be the undisputed possessor. He showed himself to be as unlike the statesman I had conceived, and esteemed, as he easily could have done. Do you think I stand in awe of you?you!of such a thing as you! Do as I tell you, or I myself will make youand, at the same time, teach you a muchneeded lesson. He raised his voice. In his bearing there was a wouldbe defiance. He might not have been aware of it, but the repetitions of the threats were, in themselves, confessions of weakness. He came a step or two forwardthen, stopping short, began to tremble. The perspiration broke out upon his brow; he made spasmodic little dabs at it with his crumpledup handkerchief. His eyes wandered hither and thither, as if searching for something which they feared to see yet were constrained to seek. He began to talk to himself, out loud, in odd disconnected sentencesapparently ignoring me entirely. What was that?It was nothing.It was my imagination.My nerves are out of order.I have been working too hard.I am not well.Whats that? This last inquiry came from him in a halfstifled shriekas the door opened to admit the head and body of an elderly man in a state of considerable undress. He had the tousled appearance of one who had been unexpectedly roused out of slumber, and unwillingly dragged from bed. Mr. Lessingham stared at him as if he had been a ghost, while he stared back at Mr. Lessingham as if he found a difficulty in crediting the evidence of his own eyes. It was he who broke the silencestutteringly. I am sure I beg your pardon, sir, but one of the maids thought that she heard the sound of a shot, and we came down to see if there was anything the matterI had no idea, sir, that you were here. His eyes travelled from Mr. Lessingham towards mesuddenly increasing, when they saw me, to about twice their previous size. God save us!who is that? The mans selfevident cowardice possibly impressed Mr. Lessingham with the conviction that he himself was not cutting the most dignified of figures. At any rate, he made a notable effort to, once more, assume a bearing of greater determination. You are quite right, Matthews, quite right. I am obliged by your watchfulness. At present you may leave the roomI propose to deal with this fellow myselfonly remain with the other men upon the landing, so that, if I call, you may come to my assistance. Matthews did as he was told, he left the roomwith, I fancy, more rapidity than he had entered it. Mr. Lessingham returned to me, his manner distinctly more determined, as if he found his resolution reinforced by the near neighbourhood of his retainers, Now, my man, you see how the case stands, at a word from me you will be overpowered and doomed to undergo a long period of imprisonment. Yet I am still willing to listen to the dictates of mercy. Put down that revolver, give me those lettersyou will not find me disposed to treat you hardly. For all the attention I paid him, I might have been a graven image. He misunderstood, or pretended to misunderstand, the cause of my silence. Come, I see that you suppose my intentions to be harsher than they really aredo not let us have a scandal, and a scenebe sensible!give me those letters! Again he moved in my direction; again, after he had taken a step or two, to stumble and stop, and look about him with frightened eyes; again to begin to mumble to himself aloud. Its a conjurers trick!Of course!Nothing moreWhat else could it be?Im not to be fooled.Im older than I was. Ive been overdoing itthats all. Suddenly he broke into cries. Matthews! Matthews!Help! help! Matthews entered the room, followed by three other men, younger than himself. Evidently all had slipped into the first articles of clothing they could lay their hands upon, and each carried a stick, or some similar rudimentary weapon. Their master spurred them on. Strike the revolver out of his hand, Matthews!knock him down!take the letters from him!dont be afraid!Im not afraid! In proof of it, he rushed at me, as it seemed half blindly. As he did so I was constrained to shout out, in tones which I should not have recognised as mine, The beetle! And that moment the room was all in darkness, and there were screams as of someone in an agony of terror or of pain. I felt that something had come into the room, I knew not whence nor howsomething of horror. And the next action of which I was conscious was, that under cover of the darkness, I was flying from the room, propelled by I knew not what. VIII.