I can give them no attention any more. But what do you mean by a change, Mr. Heathcliff? I said, alarmed at his manner though he was neither in danger of losing his senses, nor dying, according to my judgment he was quite strong and healthy; and, as to his reason, from childhood he had a delight in dwelling on dark things, and entertaining odd fancies. He might have had a monomania on the subject of his departed idol; but on every other point his wits were as sound as mine. I shall not know that till it comes, he said; Im only half conscious of it now. You have no feeling of illness, have you? I asked. No, Nelly, I have not, he answered. Then you are not afraid of death? I pursued. Afraid? No! he replied. I have neither a fear, nor a presentiment, nor a hope of death. Why should I? With my hard constitution and temperate mode of living, and unperilous occupations, I ought to, and probably shall, remain above ground till there is scarcely a black hair on my head. And yet I cannot continue in this condition! I have to remind myself to breathealmost to remind my heart to beat! And it is like bending back a stiff spring it is by compulsion that I do the slightest act not prompted by one thought; and by compulsion that I notice anything alive or dead, which is not associated with one universal idea. I have a single wish, and my whole being and faculties are yearning to attain it. They have yearned towards it so long, and so unwaveringly, that Im convinced it will be reachedand soonbecause it has devoured my existence I am swallowed up in the anticipation of its fulfilment. My confessions have not relieved me; but they may account for some otherwise unaccountable phases of humour which I show. O God! It is a long fight; I wish it were over! He began to pace the room, muttering terrible things to himself, till I was inclined to believe, as he said Joseph did, that conscience had turned his heart to an earthly hell. I wondered greatly how it would end. Though he seldom before had revealed this state of mind, even by looks, it was his habitual mood, I had no doubt he asserted it himself; but not a soul, from his general bearing, would have conjectured the fact. You did not when you saw him, Mr. Lockwood and at the period of which I speak, he was just the same as then; only fonder of continued solitude, and perhaps still more laconic in company. XXXIV For some days after that evening Mr. Heathcliff shunned meeting us at meals; yet he would not consent formally to exclude Hareton and Cathy. He had an aversion to yielding so completely to his feelings, choosing rather to absent himself; and eating once in twentyfour hours seemed sufficient sustenance for him. One night, after the family were in bed, I heard him go downstairs, and out at the front door. I did not hear him reenter, and in the morning I found he was still away. We were in April then the weather was sweet and warm, the grass as green as showers and sun could make it, and the two dwarf appletrees near the southern wall in full bloom. After breakfast, Catherine insisted on my bringing a chair and sitting with my work under the firtrees at the end of the house; and she beguiled Hareton, who had perfectly recovered from his accident, to dig and arrange her little garden, which was shifted to that corner by the influence of Josephs complaints. I was comfortably revelling in the spring fragrance around, and the beautiful soft blue overhead, when my young lady, who had run down near the gate to procure some primrose roots for a border, returned only half laden, and informed us that Mr. Heathcliff was coming in. And he spoke to me, she added, with a perplexed countenance. What did he say? asked Hareton. He told me to begone as fast as I could, she answered. But he looked so different from his usual look that I stopped a moment to stare at him. How? he inquired. Why, almost bright and cheerful. No, almost nothingvery much excited, and wild, and glad! she replied. Nightwalking amuses him, then, I remarked, affecting a careless manner in reality as surprised as she was, and anxious to ascertain the truth of her statement; for to see the master looking glad would not be an everyday spectacle. I framed an excuse to go in. Heathcliff stood at the open door; he was pale, and he trembled yet, certainly, he had a strange joyful glitter in his eyes, that altered the aspect of his whole face. Will you have some breakfast? I said. You must be hungry, rambling about all night! I wanted to discover where he had been, but I did not like to ask directly. No, Im not hungry, he answered, averting his head, and speaking rather contemptuously, as if he guessed I was trying to divine the occasion of his good humour. I felt perplexed I didnt know whether it were not a proper opportunity to offer a bit of admonition. I dont think it right to wander out of doors, I observed, instead of being in bed it is not wise, at any rate this moist season. I daresay youll catch a bad cold or a fever you have something the matter with you now! Nothing but what I can bear, he replied; and with the greatest pleasure, provided youll leave me alone get in, and dont annoy me. I obeyed and, in passing, I noticed he breathed as fast as a cat. Yes! I reflected to myself, we shall have a fit of illness. I cannot conceive what he has been doing. That noon he sat down to dinner with us, and received a heapedup plate from my hands, as if he intended to make amends for previous fasting. Ive neither cold nor fever, Nelly, he remarked, in allusion to my mornings speech; and Im ready to do justice to the food you give me. He took his knife and fork, and was going to commence eating, when the inclination appeared to become suddenly extinct. He laid them on the table, looked eagerly towards the window, then rose and went out. We saw him walking to and fro in the garden while we concluded our meal, and Earnshaw said hed go and ask why he would not dine he thought we had grieved him some way. Well, is he coming? cried Catherine, when her cousin returned. Nay, he answered; but hes not angry he seemed rarely pleased indeed; only I made him impatient by speaking to him twice; and then he bid me be off to you he wondered how I could want the company of anybody else. I set his plate to keep warm on the fender; and after an hour or two he reentered, when the room was clear, in no degree calmer the same unnaturalit was unnaturalappearance of joy under his black brows; the same bloodless hue, and his teeth visible, now and then, in a kind of smile; his frame shivering, not as one shivers with chill or weakness, but as a tightstretched cord vibratesa strong thrilling, rather than trembling. I will ask what is the matter, I thought; or who should? And I exclaimedHave you heard any good news, Mr. Heathcliff? You look uncommonly animated. Where should good news come from to me? he said. Im animated with hunger; and, seemingly, I must not eat. Your dinner is here, I returned; why wont you get it? I dont want it now, he muttered, hastily Ill wait till supper. And, Nelly, once for all, let me beg you to warn Hareton and the other away from me. I wish to be troubled by nobody I wish to have this place to myself. Is there some new reason for this banishment? I inquired. Tell me why you are so queer, Mr. Heathcliff? Where were you last night? Im not putting the question through idle curiosity, but You are putting the question through very idle curiosity, he interrupted, with a laugh. Yet Ill answer it. Last night I was on the threshold of hell. Today, I am within sight of my heaven. I have my eyes on it hardly three feet to sever me! And now youd better go! Youll neither see nor hear anything to frighten you, if you refrain from prying. Having swept the hearth and wiped the table, I departed; more perplexed than ever. He did not quit the house again that afternoon, and no one intruded on his solitude; till, at eight oclock, I deemed it proper, though unsummoned, to carry a candle and his supper to him. He was leaning against the ledge of an open lattice, but not looking out his face was turned to the interior gloom. The fire had smouldered to ashes; the room was filled with the damp, mild air of the cloudy evening; and so still, that not only the murmur of the beck down Gimmerton was distinguishable, but its ripples and its gurgling over the pebbles, or through the large stones which it could not cover. I uttered an ejaculation of discontent at seeing the dismal grate, and commenced shutting the casements, one after another, till I came to his. Must I close this? I asked, in order to rouse him; for he would not stir. The light flashed on his features as I spoke. Oh, Mr. Lockwood, I cannot express what a terrible start I got by the momentary view! Those deep black eyes! That smile, and ghastly paleness! It appeared to me, not Mr. Heathcliff, but a goblin; and, in my terror, I let the candle bend towards the wall, and it left me in darkness. Yes, close it, he replied, in his familiar voice. There, that is pure awkwardness! Why did you hold the candle horizontally? Be quick, and bring another. I hurried out in a foolish state of dread, and said to JosephThe master wishes you to take him a light and rekindle the fire. For I dared not go in myself again just then. Joseph rattled some fire into the shovel, and went but he brought it back immediately, with the suppertray in his other hand, explaining that Mr. Heathcliff was going to bed, and he wanted nothing to eat till morning. We heard him mount the stairs directly; he did not proceed to his ordinary chamber, but turned into that with the panelled bed its window, as I mentioned before, is wide enough for anybody to get through; and it struck me that he plotted another midnight excursion, of which he had rather we had no suspicion. Is he a ghoul or a vampire? I mused. I had read of such hideous incarnate demons. And then I set myself to reflect how I had tended him in infancy, and watched him grow to youth, and followed him almost through his whole course; and what absurd nonsense it was to yield to that sense of horror. But where did he come from, the little dark thing, harboured by a good man to his bane? muttered Superstition, as I dozed into unconsciousness. And I began, half dreaming, to weary myself with imagining some fit parentage for him; and, repeating my waking meditations, I tracked his existence over again, with grim variations; at last, picturing his death and funeral of which, all I can remember is, being exceedingly vexed at having the task of dictating an inscription for his monument, and consulting the sexton about it; and, as he had no surname, and we could not tell his age, we were obliged to content ourselves with the single word, Heathcliff. That came true we were. If you enter the kirkyard, youll read, on his headstone, only that, and the date of his death. Dawn restored me to common sense. I rose, and went into the garden, as soon as I could see, to ascertain if there were any footmarks under his window. There were none. He has stayed at home, I thought, and hell be all right today. I prepared breakfast for the household, as was my usual custom, but told Hareton and Catherine to get theirs ere the master came down, for he lay late. They preferred taking it out of doors, under the trees, and I set a little table to accommodate them. On my reentrance, I found Mr. Heathcliff below. He and Joseph were conversing about some farming business; he gave clear, minute directions concerning the matter discussed, but he spoke rapidly, and turned his head continually aside, and had the same excited expression, even more exaggerated. When Joseph quitted the room he took his seat in the place he generally chose, and I put a basin of coffee before him. He drew it nearer, and then rested his arms on the table, and looked at the opposite wall, as I supposed, surveying one particular portion, up and down, with glittering, restless eyes, and with such eager interest that he stopped breathing during half a minute together. Come now, I exclaimed, pushing some bread against his hand, eat and drink that, while it is hot it has been waiting near an hour. He didnt notice me, and yet he smiled. Id rather have seen him gnash his teeth than smile so. Mr. Heathcliff! master! I cried, dont, for Gods sake, stare as if you saw an unearthly vision. Dont, for Gods sake, shout so loud, he replied. Turn round, and tell me, are we by ourselves? Of course, was my answer; of course we are. Still, I involuntarily obeyed him, as if I was not quite sure. With a sweep of his hand he cleared a vacant space in front among the breakfast things, and leant forward to gaze more at his ease. Now, I perceived he was not looking at the wall; for when I regarded him alone, it seemed exactly that he gazed at something within two yards distance. And whatever it was, it communicated, apparently, both pleasure and pain in exquisite extremes at least the anguished, yet raptured, expression of his countenance suggested that idea. The fancied object was not fixed, either his eyes pursued it with unwearied diligence, and, even in speaking to me, were never weaned away. I vainly reminded him of his protracted abstinence from food if he stirred to touch anything in compliance with my entreaties, if he stretched his hand out to get a piece of bread, his fingers clenched before they reached it, and remained on the table, forgetful of their aim. I sat, a model of patience, trying to attract his absorbed attention from its engrossing speculation; till he grew irritable, and got up, asking why I would not allow him to have his own time in taking his meals? and saying that on the next occasion I neednt wait I might set the things down and go. Having uttered these words he left the house, slowly sauntered down the garden path, and disappeared through the gate. The hours crept anxiously by another evening came. I did not retire to rest till late, and when I did, I could not sleep. He returned after midnight, and, instead of going to bed, shut himself into the room beneath. I listened, and tossed about, and, finally, dressed and descended. It was too irksome to lie there, harassing my brain with a hundred idle misgivings. I distinguished Mr. Heathcliffs step, restlessly measuring the floor, and he frequently broke the silence by a deep inspiration, resembling a groan. He muttered detached words also; the only one I could catch was the name of Catherine, coupled with some wild term of endearment or suffering; and spoken as one would speak to a person present; low and earnest, and wrung from the depth of his soul. I had not courage to walk straight into the apartment; but I desired to divert him from his reverie, and therefore fell foul of the kitchen fire, stirred it, and began to scrape the cinders. It drew him forth sooner than I expected. He opened the door immediately, and saidNelly, come hereis it morning? Come in with your light. It is striking four, I answered. You want a candle to take upstairs you might have lit one at this fire. No, I dont wish to go upstairs, he said. Come in, and kindle me a fire, and do anything there is to do about the room. I must blow the coals red first, before I can carry any, I replied, getting a chair and the bellows. He roamed to and fro, meantime, in a state approaching distraction; his heavy sighs succeeding each other so thick as to leave no space for common breathing between. When day breaks Ill send for Green, he said; I wish to make some legal inquiries of him while I can bestow a thought on those matters, and while I can act calmly. I have not written my will yet; and how to leave my property I cannot determine. I wish I could annihilate it from the face of the earth. I would not talk so, Mr. Heathcliff, I interposed. Let your will be a while youll be spared to repent of your many injustices yet! I never expected that your nerves would be disordered they are, at present, marvellously so, however; and almost entirely through your own fault. The way youve passed these three last days might knock up a Titan. Do take some food, and some repose. You need only look at yourself in a glass to see how you require both. Your cheeks are hollow, and your eyes bloodshot, like a person starving with hunger and going blind with loss of sleep. It is not my fault that I cannot eat or rest, he replied. I assure you it is through no settled designs. Ill do both, as soon as I possibly can. But you might as well bid a man struggling in the water rest within arms length of the shore! I must reach it first, and then Ill rest. Well, never mind Mr. Green as to repenting of my injustices, Ive done no injustice, and I repent of nothing. Im too happy; and yet Im not happy enough. My souls bliss kills my body, but does not satisfy itself. Happy, master? I cried. Strange happiness! If you would hear me without being angry, I might offer some advice that would make you happier. What is that? he asked. Give it. You are aware, Mr. Heathcliff, I said, that from the time you were thirteen years old you have lived a selfish, unchristian life; and probably hardly had a Bible in your hands during all that period. You must have forgotten the contents of the book, and you may not have space to search it now. Could it be hurtful to send for someonesome minister of any denomination, it does not matter whichto explain it, and show you how very far you have erred from its precepts; and how unfit you will be for its heaven, unless a change takes place before you die? Im rather obliged than angry, Nelly, he said, for you remind me of the manner in which I desire to be buried. It is to be carried to the churchyard in the evening. You and Hareton may, if you please, accompany me and mind, particularly, to notice that the sexton obeys my directions concerning the two coffins! No minister need come; nor need anything be said over me.I tell you I have nearly attained my heaven; and that of others is altogether unvalued and uncoveted by me. And supposing you persevered in your obstinate fast, and died by that means, and they refused to bury you in the precincts of the kirk? I said, shocked at his godless indifference. How would you like it? They wont do that, he replied if they did, you must have me removed secretly; and if you neglect it you shall prove, practically, that the dead are not annihilated! As soon as he heard the other members of the family stirring he retired to his den, and I breathed freer. But in the afternoon, while Joseph and Hareton were at their work, he came into the kitchen again, and, with a wild look, bid me come and sit in the house he wanted somebody with him. I declined; telling him plainly that his strange talk and manner frightened me, and I had neither the nerve nor the will to be his companion alone. I believe you think me a fiend, he said, with his dismal laugh something too horrible to live under a decent roof. Then turning to Catherine, who was there, and who drew behind me at his approach, he added, half sneeringlyWill you come, chuck? Ill not hurt you. No! to you Ive made myself worse than the devil. Well, there is one who wont shrink from my company! By God! shes relentless. Oh, damn it! Its unutterably too much for flesh and blood to beareven mine. He solicited the society of no one more. At dusk he went into his chamber. Through the whole night, and far into the morning, we heard him groaning and murmuring to himself. Hareton was anxious to enter; but I bid him fetch Mr. Kenneth, and he should go in and see him. When he came, and I requested admittance and tried to open the door, I found it locked; and Heathcliff bid us be damned. He was better, and would be left alone; so the doctor went away. The following evening was very wet indeed, it poured down till daydawn; and, as I took my morning walk round the house, I observed the masters window swinging open, and the rain driving straight in. He cannot be in bed, I thought those showers would drench him through. He must either be up or out. But Ill make no more ado, Ill go boldly and look. Having succeeded in obtaining entrance with another key, I ran to unclose the panels, for the chamber was vacant; quickly pushing them aside, I peeped in. Mr. Heathcliff was therelaid on his back. His eyes met mine so keen and fierce, I started; and then he seemed to smile. I could not think him dead but his face and throat were washed with rain; the bedclothes dripped, and he was perfectly still. The lattice, flapping to and fro, had grazed one hand that rested on the sill; no blood trickled from the broken skin, and when I put my fingers to it, I could doubt no more he was dead and stark! I hasped the window; I combed his black long hair from his forehead; I tried to close his eyes to extinguish, if possible, that frightful, lifelike gaze of exultation before anyone else beheld it. They would not shut they seemed to sneer at my attempts; and his parted lips and sharp white teeth sneered too! Taken with another fit of cowardice, I cried out for Joseph. Joseph shuffled up and made a noise, but resolutely refused to meddle with him. Th divils harried off his soul, he cried, and he may hev his carcass into t bargin, for aught I care! Ech! what a wicked un he looks, girning at death! and the old sinner grinned in mockery. I thought he intended to cut a caper round the bed; but suddenly composing himself, he fell on his knees, and raised his hands, and returned thanks that the lawful master and the ancient stock were restored to their rights. I felt stunned by the awful event; and my memory unavoidably recurred to former times with a sort of oppressive sadness. But poor Hareton, the most wronged, was the only one who really suffered much. He sat by the corpse all night, weeping in bitter earnest. He pressed its hand, and kissed the sarcastic, savage face that everyone else shrank from contemplating; and bemoaned him with that strong grief which springs naturally from a generous heart, though it be tough as tempered steel. Mr. Kenneth was perplexed to pronounce of what disorder the master died. I concealed the fact of his having swallowed nothing for four days, fearing it might lead to trouble, and then, I am persuaded, he did not abstain on purpose it was the consequence of his strange illness, not the cause. We buried him, to the scandal of the whole neighbourhood, as he wished. Earnshaw and I, the sexton, and six men to carry the coffin, comprehended the whole attendance. The six men departed when they had let it down into the grave we stayed to see it covered. Hareton, with a streaming face, dug green sods, and laid them over the brown mould himself at present it is as smooth and verdant as its companion moundsand I hope its tenant sleeps as soundly. But the country folks, if you ask them, would swear on the Bible that he walks there are those who speak to having met him near the church, and on the moor, and even within this house. Idle tales, youll say, and so say I. Yet that old man by the kitchen fire affirms he has seen two on em looking out of his chamber window on every rainy night since his deathand an odd thing happened to me about a month ago. I was going to the Grange one eveninga dark evening, threatening thunderand, just at the turn of the Heights, I encountered a little boy with a sheep and two lambs before him; he was crying terribly; and I supposed the lambs were skittish, and would not be guided. What is the matter, my little man? I asked. Theres Heathcliff and a woman yonder, under t nab, he blubbered, un I darnut pass em. I saw nothing; but neither the sheep nor he would go on so I bid him take the road lower down. He probably raised the phantoms from thinking, as he traversed the moors alone, on the nonsense he had heard his parents and companions repeat. Yet, still, I dont like being out in the dark now; and I dont like being left by myself in this grim house I cannot help it; I shall be glad when they leave it, and shift to the Grange. They are going to the Grange, then? I said. Yes, answered Mrs. Dean, as soon as they are married, and that will be on New Years Day. And who will live here then? Why, Joseph will take care of the house, and, perhaps, a lad to keep him company. They will live in the kitchen, and the rest will be shut up. For the use of such ghosts as choose to inhabit it? I observed. No, Mr. Lockwood, said Nelly, shaking her head. I believe the dead are at peace but it is not right to speak of them with levity. At that moment the garden gate swung to; the ramblers were returning. They are afraid of nothing, I grumbled, watching their approach through the window. Together, they would brave Satan and all his legions. As they stepped on to the doorstones, and halted to take a last look at the moonor, more correctly, at each other by her lightI felt irresistibly impelled to escape them again; and, pressing a remembrance into the hand of Mrs. Dean, and disregarding her expostulations at my rudeness, I vanished through the kitchen as they opened the housedoor; and so should have confirmed Joseph in his opinion of his fellowservants gay indiscretions, had he not fortunately recognised me for a respectable character by the sweet ring of a sovereign at his feet. My walk home was lengthened by a diversion in the direction of the kirk. When beneath its walls, I perceived decay had made progress, even in seven months many a window showed black gaps deprived of glass; and slates jutted off here and there, beyond the right line of the roof, to be gradually worked off in coming autumn storms. I sought, and soon discovered, the three headstones on the slope next the moor the middle one grey, and half buried in the heath; Edgar Lintons only harmonized by the turf and moss creeping up its foot; Heathcliffs still bare. I lingered round them, under that benign sky watched the moths fluttering among the heath and harebells, listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass, and wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth. Colophon Wuthering Heights was published in 1847 by Emily Bront. 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Regardless, the contributors to this ebook release their contributions under the terms in the CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication, thus dedicating to the worldwide public domain all of the work theyve done on this ebook, including but not limited to metadata, the titlepage, imprint, colophon, this Uncopyright, and any changes or enhancements to, or markup on, the original text and artwork. This dedication doesnt change the copyright status of the source text or artwork. We make this dedication in the interest of enriching our global cultural heritage, to promote free and libre culture around the world, and to give back to the unrestricted culture that has given all of us so much. Table of Contents Titlepage Imprint I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI XII XIII XIV XV XVI XVII XVIII XIX XX XXI XXII XXIII XXIV XXV XXVI XXVII XXVIII XXIX XXX XXXI XXXII XXXIII XXXIV Colophon Uncopyright Landmarks Wuthering Heights


I At Whose Hand? A hansom pulled up in front of 799, Park Lane, and a slim figure of a woman, dressed in deep mourning, ran up the broad flight of marble steps leading to the house. Her features were closely concealed by a thick veil, so that the footman who answered the ring could make nothing of the visitor. Her voice was absolutely steady as she asked to see Lord Ravenspur at once. That is impossible, madam, the footman protested; his lordship is not yet down, and besides There is no besides about it, the visitor said, imperiously; it is a matter of life and death. Once more the servant hesitated. There was something about this woman that commanded his respect. The hour was still early for Park Lane, seeing that it was barely nine oclock, and the notable thoroughfare was practically deserted. From the distance came the hoarse cries of a number of newsboys who were racing across the Park. One of them came stumbling down Park Lane, filling the fresh spring atmosphere with his shouts. Evidently something out of the common had happened to bring these birds of ill omen westward at so early an hour. With the curiosity of his class the footman turned to listen. Terrible murder in Fitzjohn Square! Death of Mr. Louis Delahay, the famous artist! Artist found dead in his studio! Full details! The welltrained servant forgot his manners for the moment. Good Lord! he exclaimed, it cant be true. Why, Mr. Delahay was a great friend of my master up to the last day or two I am Mrs. Delahay, the veiled woman said with quiet intentness. Please dont stand staring at me like that, but take me to your master at once. It is imperative that I should see Lord Ravenspur without a moments delay. The footman collected his scattered wits, and stammered out some kind of apology. There were other newsboys racing down the Lane now. It seemed as if London was ringing with the name of Louis Delahay. Then the great double doors of the big house closed sullenly and shut out the horrid sound. At any other time the veiled woman might have been free to admire the luxury and extravagant good taste of her surroundings. There were many people who regarded Lord Ravenspur as the most fortunate and talented man in London. Not only had he been born to the possession of a fine old title, but he had almost unlimited wealth as well. As if this were not sufficient, Nature had endowed him with a handsome presence and an intellect far beyond the common. Apparently there was nothing that Ravenspur could not do. He was a fine sportsman, and a large number of his forty odd years had been spent big game shooting abroad. What time he passed in England was devoted almost exclusively to artistic pursuits. As a portrait painter Ravenspur stood on a level with the great masters of his time. More than one striking example of sculpture had come from his chisel. He had as much honour in the Salons of Vienna and Paris as he had within the walls of Burlington House. In fine, Ravenspur was a great personage, a popular figure in society, and well known everywhere. His lavish hospitality was always in the best of good taste, and the entre to 799, Park Lane was accounted a rare privilege by all his friends. But the woman in black was thinking nothing of this, as she followed the footman along marble corridors to a sunny morningroom at the back of the house. The footman indicated a chair, but the visitor waved him aside with a gesture of impatience. Go and fetch your master at once, she said. For a few moments she paced up and down, weaving her way in and out amongst the rare objects of art like a wild animal that is freshly caged. She threw back her long, black veil presently as if the atmosphere of the place stifled her. Her face might have been that of a marble statue, so intensely white and rigid it was. It was only the rapid dilation of the dark eyes which showed that the stranger had life and feeling at all. She turned abruptly as Lord Ravenspur came into the room. His handsome, smiling face and prematurely irongrey hair afforded a strong contrast to the features of his visitor. He came forward with extended hands. This is an unexpected pleasure, Maria, he said. But what is wrong? Louis is all right, I suppose? Louis is dead! the woman said in the same cold, strained voice. He has been foully murdered. I could not say more if I spoke for an hour. Louis is dead! The speaker repeated the last three words over and over again as if she were trying to realise the dread significance of her own message. Ravenspur stood there with his hand to his head, shocked and grieved almost beyond the power of speech. This is terrible, he murmured at length. My dear Maria, I cannot find words to express my sympathy. Could you tell me how it happened? But perhaps I am asking too much. No, Mrs. Delahay replied, still speaking with the utmost calmness; I am ready to answer any question you like to put to me. I am absolutely dazed and stunned. As yet I can realise nothing. But, perhaps, before the reaction comes I had better tell you everything. To think that I should lose him in this way whilst I am still a bride! But I dare not pity myself as yet, there is far too much stern work to be done. There will be plenty of time later on for the luxury of grief. Wont you sit down? Ravenspur murmured. My dear friend, I couldnt. I must be walking about. I feel as if I could walk about for years. But I will try and tell you how it happened. He came back to London yesterday afternoon, as you know, and put up at the Grand Hotel. You see, I had never been in London before, and so I know nothing at all about it. If we had only gone straight to our own house in Fitzjohn Square this dreadful thingbut why do I think of that? You know the house was not quite ready for us, and that was the reason why we went to the Grand. After visiting a theatre last night Louis announced his intention of going as far as our house. I understood him to say that he required something from his studio. There were no caretakers on the premises, but Louis had a latchkey, so that was all right. I went to bed about twelve oclock, thinking no evil, and not in the least alarmed because Louis had not come back. As you know, he had always been a terribly late man, and I thought perhaps he had met one of his old companions, or perhaps he had turned into the Garrick Club. Still, when I woke up this morning about six, and found that he had not returned, I became genuinely alarmed. I took a cab as far as Fitzjohn Square, and went into the house. One moment, Ravenspur interrupted. I dont quite understand how you managed to get into the premises. That was an easy matter, though the front door was closed. The latchkey was still in the lock. I only had to turn it to obtain admission. I went straight to the studio, and there on the floorbut I really cannot say any more. Strung up as I am I could not describe it to you.  I suppose I cried out, and when I came back to a proper comprehension of things the place was full of police. For the last two hours I have been with them answering all sorts of questions. Then something told me to come to you, and here I am. And whatever you do, please dont leave me alone. I could not bear to be alone. I wish I could tell you how sorry I am, Lord Ravenspur murmured. This is a most extraordinary business altogether. You say that Louis left you not later than twelve oclock to go as far as Fitzjohn Square, and that, when he left the Grand Hotel, he had no other object in his mind. You are quite sure of this? I am absolutely certain, Mrs. Delahay replied. Well, that is a strange thing, Ravenspur went on. It so happens that I had an accident to my own studio a day or two ago, and until yesterday the workmen were in repairing the glass roof. I was engaged upon a small work which I was anxious to finish, and it occurred to me that I might just as well make use of your husbands studio, seeing that he was away from home and did not require it. I obtained a duplicate key from the house agent, and all yesterday I was working on my picture there. In fact it is in Louis studio at the present moment. After some friends who were dining with me last night left, I walked as far as Fitzjohn Square, and till nearly a quarter past one this morning I was at work there. I might have gone on all night, only the electric light failed suddenly, and I was left in darkness. Then I came home and went to bed. And I am prepared to swear that it had turned halfpast one before I left your house, and there was no sign of Louis up to that time. It is inexplicable, the woman said wearily. When I try to think my brain seems to turn to water, and everything goes misty before my eyes. I feel like a woman who has had no sleep for years. I feel as if I must get something to relieve this terrible pressure on my brain. Is there nothing that you can suggest? I think so, Ravenspur said quietly. I am going to take you back to your hotel, and call for a doctor on the way. You cannot go on like this. No human mind could stand it. II No. 1 Fitzjohn Square A few moments later and Ravenspurs brougham was being rapidly driven in the direction of the Grand Hotel. No words were spoken on the journey, but Ravenspur did not fail to notice how his companion shook and quivered as the shouts of the newsboys reached her ears. It seemed as if all London had given itself over to this last sensational tragedy. It was as if thousands of strange rough hands were pressing upon the still bleeding wound. To an intensely sympathetic nature like Ravenspurs, the relief of the destination was great. At his suggestion of food his companion shuddered. The mere idea of it turned her physically sick. Utterly worn out and exhausted she dropped into a chair. There was a light now of something like madness in her eyes. The doctor bustled in presently with something in his hand. Mrs. Delahay drank the medicine in a mechanical way, scarcely knowing what she was doing. Then, gradually, her rigid limbs relaxed, and the staring dark eyes were closed. Shell do now for some time, the doctor whispered. I have telephoned for a nurse who may be here now at any moment. Dont let me detain you. I have got my motor outside, and in any case I must remain till the nurse arrives. That is very good of you, Ravenspur murmured. As far as I am concerned I should like to make some inquiries. I have known Delahay now for the last five years; indeed, it was I who persuaded him to take up his quarters in London. It seems a terrible thing that so promising a career should be cut short like this. That man would have come to the top of his profession, and, so far as I know, he hadnt a single enemy in the world. Perhaps, by this time, the Scotland Yard people may have found a clue. Ravenspur drove straight away to Fitzjohn Square, and made his way through the crowd of morbid folks who had gathered outside. As he expected, he found the house in the hands of the police. Inspector Dallas came forward and greeted him respectfully. This is a terrible affair, my lord, he said. Ghastly, Ravenspur exclaimed. It was a great shock when Mrs. Delahay came round to me this morning. And the strange part of the whole business is that I was in this very house myself, quite alone, till halfpast one. Perhaps I had better explain the circumstances to you, as the knowledge might prove useful.  And now you know all about it. Mind you, I saw nothing; I did not hear a sound. Indeed, I am quite convinced that there was no one on the premises when I left. But you had no means of making sure, the inspector protested. The miscreants might have been here all the time. They might have been hiding in a room upstairs waiting for you to go. They might have attacked me as far as that goes, Ravenspur replied. My word, the mere suggestion of it turns one cold. At any rate, they were not after your lordship, the inspector said, thoughtfully. Of course, I am assuming for the sake of argument that the murderer, or murderers, were actually here when you arrived last night. If so, the whole thing was carefully premeditated. These people had no quarrel with you, and, therefore, they did not molest you. All the same, they wanted to get rid of you, or they would not have cut off the light. But did they cut off the light? Ravenspur asked. That we can prove in a moment. I am going on the theory that these people wanted to get you out of the way, so they shortcircuited the current and left you in darkness. That was a very useful expedient, and had the desired effect. I am very glad you told me this because it may be the means of putting us on the track of important evidence. But let us go down to the basement, and examine the electric meter. Ravenspur followed his companion down the dark steps leading to the basement, and Inspector Dallas struck a light. Then, with a grim smile, he pointed to a cable which led from the meter to the different rooms on the upper floors. The cable had been clean cut with some sharp instrument, a fracture which must have been recently made, for the main wire to the cable gleamed like gold. So far, so good, Dallas said. We have proved by yonder demonstration that these people were here last night whilst you were actually at work in the studio. That puzzles me more than ever, Ravenspur replied. Why did they not get rid of me an hour before, which they could have done equally as well, by the same simple expedient? Simply because they could afford to wait till halfpast one. You may depend upon it that Mr. Delahays movements were absolutely known to them. They were perfectly well aware of the fact that he was not expected here till some time past halfpast one. It is not a nice insinuation to make, but when Mr. Delahay left his hotel at midnight, he had not the slightest intention of coming straight here. Doubtless he had important business which was likely to last him an hour and a half, and for some reason or other he did not want his wife to know what it was. Speaking as one man of the world to another, Mr. Delahays excuse for getting out strikes me as being rather a shallow one. Surely a married man, more or less on his honeymoon, does not want to visit an empty house after midnight. Surely he could have waited till daylight. Then you think he went out to keep an appointment? I feel quite convinced of it, your lordship. And, moreover, the appointment was a secret one of which Mrs. Delahay was to know nothing. I will go still further, and say that Mr. Delahay came here after you had gone this morning to keep an appointment. It is just possible that he might have been in the house during your presence here. It is just possible that he cut the cable himself. Ah, but that wont quite do, Ravenspur protested. When I came out of the house this morning I saw that the front door was carefully fastened, and I am prepared to swear that the latchkey which Mrs. Delahay found this morning was not in the lock then. No, no; I am quite sure that poor Delahay must have come here after I left. I am not prepared to contest your theory that my unfortunate friend came here to keep an appointment. Indeed, the presence of the latchkey in the door proves that he was in a hurry, and perhaps a little upset, or he would not have committed the mistake of leaving the key behind him. But after all, said and done, this is merely conjecture on our part. Have you found anything yourself that is likely to give you a clue? Inspector Dallas hesitated just for a moment. Perhaps I ought not to mention it, he said, but I am sure I can rely upon your lordships discretion. When I was called this morning I found Mr. Delahay lying on the floor of the studio quite dead. So far as we could see there were no marks of violence on the body except a small puncture over the heart, which appears to have been made with some very fine instrument. But, of course, we cant speak definitely on that point till we have had the inquest. As far as we can judge, something like a struggle must have taken place, because the loose carpets on the floor were in great disorder, and one or two articles of furniture had been overturned. You may say that this proves nothing, except that violence was used. But in the hand of the dead man we found something that might be useful to us. Perhaps you would like to see it. Lord Ravenspur intimated that he should. From a pocketbook Dallas produced a photograph, carte de visite size, which had been torn into half a dozen pieces. The photograph was considerably faded, and in the tearing the actual face itself had been ripped out of all recognition. Still, judging from the small fragments, it was possible to make out that the picture had been that of a woman. One scrap of card bore the words and Co., Melbourne. The rest of the lettering had apparently vanished. This must have been taken a long time ago, Ravenspur said. It is so terribly faded. Not necessarily, my lord, Dallas said. We know very little about that photograph as yet except that it was taken in Australia. Of course, it is fair to assume that the picture is an old one judging from the colouring, but your lordship must not forget that foreign photographs are always much fainter than those taken in this country, because the light is so much stronger and more brilliant. At any rate, the fact remains that we found those fragments tightly clenched in Mr. Delahays left hand, all of which points to some intrigue, with a woman at the bottom of it. Of course, I know nothing whatever about Mr. Delahays moral character Then Ill tell you, Ravenspur said sharply. My late friend was the soul of honour. He was a very quick, passionate man, and he inherited his temper from his Italian mother. But the man was incapable of anything mean or dishonourable. He was genuinely in love with his wife, and cared nothing for any other woman. How that photograph came into his possession I dont know. Probably we never shall know. But you can at once dismiss from your mind the suspicion that Delahay was mixed up in that vulgar kind of business. Now, is there anything more you can tell me? Well, no, Dallas said, after a short pause. There is nothing that strikes me, no suggestions that seem to need a doctors opinion. We shall find that the cause of death is the small puncture over the heart that I spoke of. To hazard an opinion, it might be caused by one of those glass stilettosthe Corsican type of weapon where the blade is snapped off in the wound. It leaves the smallest mark, and no blood followsa difficult thing to trace without great care. Of course, the postmortem III The Mark of the Beast A sudden quick cry broke from Ravenspurs lips. He fairly staggered back, his white face was given over to a look of peculiar horror. Then, as he became aware of the curious glances of his companion he made a great effort to regain his selfcontrol. II dont understand, he stammered. A stiletto made of glass! A long, slender blade like an exaggerated needle, I presume. Yet, now I come to think of it, I recollect that, when I was painting a Borgia subject once, my costume dealer spoke of one of those Corsican daggers. I did not take much interest in the conversation at the time. And so you have an idea that this is the way in which my poor friend met his death? Ravenspur was speaking quietly and easily now. He had altogether regained control of himself save for an occasional twitching of his lips. He paced up and down the room thoughtfully for some time, utterly unconscious of Dallas sharp scrutiny. I suppose there is nothing more you have to tell me? he said at length. This is evidently going to be one of those crimes which thrill a whole community for a week, and then are never heard of again. Still, if there is anything I can do for you, pray do not hesitate to ask for my assistance. I suppose we can do no more till after the inquest is over? Without waiting for any reply from his companion Ravenspur quitted the room, and went back to his brougham. He threw himself into a corner, and pulled his hat over his eyes. For a long time he sat there immersed in deep and painful thought, and utterly unconscious of his surroundings. Even when the brougham pulled up in Park Lane he made no attempt to dismount till the footman opened the door and addressed him by name. II beg your pardon, Walters, he said, this terrible business prevents my thinking about anything else. I am going into my own room now, and I am not to be disturbed by anybody. If I am dining out tonight, tell Mr. Ford to write and cancel the engagement. Oh, here is Ford himself. The neat, cleanshaven secretary came forward. Your lordship seems to have forgotten, he said. You are giving a dinner here tonight yourself. You gave orders especially to arrange it, because you were anxious for some of the Royal Academicians to meet the young Polish artist I had clean forgotten it, Ravenspur said, with something like a groan. Entertaining people tonight will be like dancing in fetters. Still, I must make the best of it, for I should not like that talented young foreigner to be disappointed. In the meantime, I am not at home to anybody. With this admonition Ravenspur passed up to his own private rooms, and carefully locked the door behind him. He took a cigar from his case, and lighted it, only to fling it away a moment later in disgust. He stood just for a moment with his hand on a decanter of brandy, and then with a smile for his own weakness poured out a glassful, which he drank without delay. I am a fool and a coward, he muttered. What can there be to be afraid of after all these years? Why do I hesitate in this way when boldness and decision would avert the danger? Ravenspur sat there, looking moodily into space. He heard the house resounding to the sound of the luncheon gong, but he made no movement. The mere suggestion of food was repulsive to him, clean as his habits were and robust as his appetite usually was. The Lane and the Park were gay with traffic now; the roar of locomotion reached the ears of Ravenspur as he sat there. Presently the noise of the newsboys came again, and the name of Delahay seemed to fill the air to the exclusion of everything else. Ravenspur rang his bell, and asked for a paper. The flimsy, illprinted sheet fairly reeked with the latest and most ghastly of London tragedies. Nothing else seemed to matter for the moment. Seven or eight columns were given over to an account of the affair. Before he set himself down to read it steadily through, Ravenspur glanced at the last paragraph, to find that the preliminary inquiry had been adjourned for a week. Most of the florid sensational paragraphs contained nothing new. The only point that interested the reader was the medical evidence. This was compact and to the point. Death had been undoubtedly due to a stab over the heart which had been inflicted by some long, pointed instrument, not much thicker, apparently, than a needle. So far as the police doctor could say, the weapon used had been an Italian stiletto. There was practically no blood. Indeed, the whole thing had been accomplished in a cool and deliberate manner by a man who was not only master of his art, but who must have possessed a considerable knowledge of anatomy. Evidently he had chosen a spot to inflict the wound with careful deliberation, for the deviation of half an inch either way might have produced comparatively harmless results. It was the opinion of the doctor that, had the fatal thrust been made through the bare skin, all traces of it might have been overlooked. It was only the adherence of the dead mans singlet to the tiny puncture that had caused sufficient inflammation to attach suspicion to the point of impact. All this pointed to the fact that the crime had been clearly premeditated and carried out coldly and deliberately. For the moment, however, the great puzzle was to discover how the murderer had been aware that he would be in a position to find his victim at Fitzjohn Square. It was proved conclusively enough that Louis Delahay had come back to England on the spur of the moment, and that equally on the spur of the moment he had made up his mind to visit his house, and, therefore, nobody could possibly have known besides his wife when he had left the Grand Hotel. On this point public curiosity would have to wait, seeing that Mrs. Delahay was in no condition to explain. In fact, she was in the hands of a medical man who had prescribed absolute quiet for the present. Ravenspur tossed the paper impatiently aside, and rang for his tea. The slow day dragged along until it was time for him to dress and prepare for the reception of his guests. He came down presently to the drawingroom, where one or two of the men had already assembled. His old pleasant smile was on his face now. He was once more the polished, courtly man of the world. He steeled himself for what he knew was coming. Practically the whole of his guests were artists of distinction. And the death of Louis Delahay would be the one topic of conversation. The blinds were down now, for the young spring night had drawn in rapidly and it was perfectly dark outside. The clock struck the hour of eight, and the butler glanced in inquiringly. Ravenspur shook his head. Not quite yet, Simmonds, he said; we are waiting for Sir James Seton. As he is usually the soul of punctuality he is not likely to detain us. You can take his place if necessary, one of the guests laughed. When I see Seton and our host together I always feel quite bewildered. Two such public men had no business to be so absurdly alike. There is no real resemblance,  Ravenspur laughed, though people are constantly making absurd mistakes. It is excusable to mistake one for the other in the dark, but not in the daylight. Besides, Seton is a much taller man than I am, and much slimmer. We should hear nothing about this likeness, but for certain gentlemen of the Press who make their living out of little paragraphs. Well, they have got plenty to occupy their attention now, another guest remarked. This business of poor Delahays is likely to give them occupation for some time. Tell us all about it, Ravenspur. I hear that you were down at Fitzjohn Square this morning. Is there anything fresh? Ravenspur groaned in his spirit. All the same, his manner was polished and easy as he turned to the speaker. But before he had time to give any details there was a sound of excited voices in the hall outside, the banging of a door or two, and then a tall, elderly man staggered into the room, and fell into a seat. There was an ugly scar on the side of his face, a few drops of blood stained his immaculate shirtfront. Good Heavens! Ravenspur cried. My dear Seton, what is the matter? Simmonds, bring the brandy here at once. No, no, the newcomer gasped; I shall be all right in a minute or two. A most extraordinary thing happened to me just now. I was coming towards the Lane by the back of Lord Fairhavens house on my way here when a man came out from under the shadow of the trees, and commenced a violent attack upon me. Fortunately, I was able to ward him off with my stick, but not before he had marked me in the way you see. Somebody happened to be coming along, and my assailant vanished. Still, it was a nasty adventure, and all the more extraordinary because the fellow evidently mistook me for our friend Ravenspur. He actually called me by that name. All eyes were turned in the hosts direction, for a strange, choking cry burst from his lips. IV A Womans Face It was such an unusual thing for Lord Ravenspur to show his feelings so plainly. For the most part he passed as one of the most selfcontained men in London. He had always boasted, too, of perfect health. His nerves were in the best condition. And now he had started to his feet, his hand pressed to his heart, his face white, and wet with terror. More than one of the guests came forward, but Ravenspur waved them aside. I am behaving like a child, he said. I suppose the time comes when all of us begin to feel the effect of approaching age. I dont know why Setons misfortunes should have upset me so much. But, perhaps, coming on the horrors of this morning, it has been a little too much for me. It is a most scandalous thing that a gentleman cant go out to dinner without being molested in this fashion. What are the police thinking about? Ravenspur spoke in hot indignation; in fact, he was slightly overdoing it. He fussed about Seton, and insisted that the latter should go up to his room, which suggestion the guest waived aside. He was the far more collected of the two. Oh, nonsense, he said; a canful of hot water will repair all the damage. Dont you worry about me. You go in to dinner, and leave me to young Walter here. A door opened at that moment, and a young man entered, and came eagerly across the room in the direction of the speaker. Walter Lance might have been Lord Ravenspur as he had been twenty years ago. As a matter of fact, they were uncle and nephew, Lance being the son of Ravenspurs favorite sister, who had died some years before. For the rest, he was a barrister eagerly waiting his chance of success, and, in the meantime, occupied himself in the capacity of Ravenspurs private secretary. He seemed to have heard all that had taken place. He was warm in his sympathy as he piloted Sir James Seton to his own room. They were going down again almost before the dinner gong had ceased to sound, and by this time a knot of dinner guests were discussing ordinary topics again. To the casual observer there was no sign of trouble or tragedy here. Everything was perfect in its way. The oval table glittered with silver and old Bohemian glass. The banks of flowers might have been arranged by the master hand of an artist. Ravenspur sat there gaily enough now, his conversation gleaming with wit and humour, the most perfect host in London. There was no sign whatever of his earlier agitation. And yet, strive as he would, from time to time the name of Louis Delahay crept into the conversation. It was in vain that Lord Ravenspur attempted to turn the stream of thought into other channels. He was glad enough at length when the dinner came to an end, and the party of guests broke up into little groups. The host approached Seton presently with a request to know whether he would care to play bridge or not. No bridge, Sir James said emphatically. I am tired of the tyranny of it. I wonder that you should make such a suggestion, Ravenspur, seeing how you detest the commonplace. But, at any rate, I will have another of those excellent cigarettes of yours. It shall be just as you please, my friends, Ravenspur said wearily. Now let us go and have a coffee in the studio. It is much cooler there, and there is more space to breathe. The suggestion was received with general approval, and a move was immediately made in the direction of the studio. The apartment lay at the end of a long corridor, which cut it off from the rest of the house, the studio being in reality a huge garden room, which Ravenspur had built for reasons of privacy. He took a latchkey from his pocket and opened the door. I always keep this place locked, he explained. Some years ago my three Academy pictures were stolen just as they were finished, and since then I have taken no risk. The annoying part of the whole thing was that one of the missing pictures was the best thing I ever did. What became of it is a mystery. I remember the picture perfectly well, one of the guests remarked. It was the study of a woman. Do you recollect my coming in one night and you asked me my opinion of it? I think I can remember it, Ravenspur said. Well, it was a superb piece of work, the first speaker went on; anything more fascinating than the womans face I dont recollect seeing. I dont know who your model was, Ravenspur, but you had a rare find in her. I had no model, Ravenspur explained.


The face was more or less an ideal onecomposite, if you like, but resembling nobody in particular. However, the thing was a great loss to me, and I have never ceased to regret it. That is why I always keep this place locked up; even when the room is cleaned out, I am always present to see that nothing is disturbed. It is a whim of mine. As he spoke Ravenspur switched on the electric lights, until the whole of the beautiful apartment glowed to the illumination of the shaded lamps. The studio itself was circular in shape, and finished in a great dome of stained glass. The floor was littered with rare old Persian carpets, and lounges from all parts of the world were dotted about here and there. Round the walls was an almost unique collection of armour. From the centre of the floor rose a fine acacia tree, the vivid green foliage of which seemed to suffer nothing from being cut off from the outer light and air. Altogether the place was quite unique in its way, and striking evidence of Ravenspurs originality and good taste. On little tables here and there were hundreds of photographs, most of them signed, testifying to the great popularity which Ravenspur enjoyed amongst all classes of society. You will have to leave these to the Nation, a guest laughed. What a cosmopolitan gallery it isa prince on the one side, and a prominent socialist on the other! Yet, after all, photographs are very commonplace things. You might look over a thousand before your fancy is taken by a face like this. As he spoke the guest took up a portrait from one of the tables, and held it out at arms length, so that the light fell upon the features. Unlike the rest, the photograph was not framed, and, judging from the edges, it had had a certain amount of rough usage in its time. As to the picture itself, it presented the features of a young and beautiful girl, with a great cloud of hair hanging over her shoulders. There was something almost tragic in the dark eyes; they seemed to tell a story all their own. A beautiful face, the guest went on. The sort of face that a poet would weave an epic around. I dont want to be impertinent, Ravenspur, but I should like to know who she is. Where did you get that from? Ravenspur asked. His voice sounded hard and cold, so that the man with the photograph in his hand turned in some surprise. Where did you find it? My dear fellow, I took it up off this table, as you might have done. Of course, it is no business of mine, and I am sorry if any careless words I have spoken The apology is mine, Ravenspur put in quickly. I was annoyed, just for the moment, to think that that portrait should have been left about. I could have sworn that I had locked it carefully away in a safe. You are perfectly right, my dear Seymour, there is a tragedy behind that charming face. But you will quite understand that I cannot discuss the matter with anybody. Oh, quite, the offending guest said hastily. Still, it is a most lovely face. Now who does it remind me of? The likeness is plain enough, Seton put in. Why, it is the very image of our hosts young ward, Miss Vera Rayne. Is there any relationship between them, Ravenspur? Why, so it is! Walter Lance cried. Who can she be, uncle? Ravenspur had crossed the studio in the direction of a safe let into the wall. He placed his hand in one of the little pigeon holes there, as if seeking for something. Apparently he was unsuccessful in his search, for he shook his head doubtfully. Not there, Ravenspur said to himself. Most extraordinary lapse of memory on my part. Of course, I must have taken that photograph from the safe when I was looking for something else, and The speaker broke off abruptly. He slammed the door of the safe behind him, and returned to his guests. But the light had gone out of his eyes; he seemed to have suddenly aged. Let us have some coffee, he said. Is it true, Marrion, that there is likely to be a serious split in the cabinet? V Vera Rayne The conversation became more general now, so that it was possible a moment later for Ravenspur to slip out of the studio without his absence being observed. He went swiftly away to the library, where he hastily dashed off a note, which he handed over to a servant to be delivered immediately. He seemed to be somewhat easier in his mind now, for the smile had come back to his lips. The smile became deeper, and a shade more tender, as a young girl came into the room. She had evidently just returned from some social function, for she was in evening dress, with a light silken cloud thrown over her fair hair. Save for the brilliancy of her eyes, and the happy smile upon her lips, she bore a strong resemblance to the mysterious photograph, which had so disturbed Ravenspur a little time before. She crossed the room gaily, and kissed Ravenspur lightly on the cheek. So your friends have all gone? she asked. No; they are still in the studio. But, tell me, have you had a very enjoyable evening? And how is it that you are back so soon? A faint splash of colour crept into the girls cheeks. She seemed to be just a little embarrassed by the apparently simple question. Oh, I dont know, she said. One gets tired of going out every night. And it was rather dull. I daresay all this sounds very ungrateful when you give me everything I could desire. But I am longing to get into the country again. It seems almost a crime for people to shut themselves up in dusty London, when the country is looking at its very best. Do you know, I was far happier when I was down in Hampshire. Well, we cant have everything our own way, Ravenspur smiled. Still, we shall see what will happen later on. And now, I really must go back again to my guests. Vera Rayne threw herself carelessly down into a chair. A little sigh escaped her lips. She ought to have been happy enough. She had all the blessings that good health and great wealth could procure. And yet there were crumpled rose leaves on her couch of down. The thoughtful look on her face deepened. She sat there so deeply immersed in her own reflections, that she was quite oblivious to the fact that she was no longer alone. Walter Lance had come into the room. He addressed the girl twice before he obtained any response. Then she looked up, and a wistful, tender smile lighted up her beautiful face. I was thinking, she said. Do you know, Walter, I have been thinking a good deal lately. I suppose I am naturally more discontented than most girls, but I am getting very tired of this sort of life. Pleasure is so monotonous. Ungrateful, Walter laughed. He came and stood close to the speakers side so that he could see down into the depths of her eyes, which were now turned fully upon his. There are thousands of girls who envy your fortunate lot. I dont know why they should. You see, it is all very well for me to go on like this. It is all very well to be a fascinating mystery. The time has come when I ought to know things. For instance, I should like to know who I really am. What does it matter? Lance asked. What does it matter so long as Iso long as we all care for you. My dear girl, you pain me. And when you speak in that cold, not to say arbitrary way, as ifas ifreally, Vera! It isnt that I want you to be more worldly than you are But then you see, I am not worldly, Walter. And I really should like to know who I am, and where I came from. It is all very well to tell people that I am the daughter of an old friend of Lord Ravenspur, and that he adopted me when my father died. That is sufficient for our friends and acquaintances, and seems to satisfy them, but it does not satisfy me. When I ask Lord Ravenspur about my parents he puts me off with one excuse or another, and if I insist he becomes quite stern and angry. He is so good to me that I dont like to bother him. And yet I cant go on like this. Walter Lance looked somewhat uneasily at the speaker. What do you mean by that? he asked. My dear Walter, I mean exactly what I say, Vera said sadly. I am tired of this constant round of pleasure. Really, it seems to me that the lives of the rich are quite as monotonous as those of the poor. We go our weary round of dinner and dance and reception, varied by an occasional theatre or concert. We see the same faces, and take part in the same vapid conversationOh, Walter, how much nicer it would be to get ones own living! How would you get yours? Lance laughed. Well, at any rate, I could try. And that is what I am going to do, Walter. I have fully made up my mind not to stay here any longer. Dont think that I am ungrateful, or that I do not recognise Lord Ravenspurs great kindness to me. But you see I have no claim upon him, and if anything happened to him tomorrow what would my position be? I know he has a large income from his property, but that will go to his successor some day. Oh, I know you will think that this is very hard and cold of me, but there are reasons, many and urgent reasons, why it is impossible Vera broke off abruptly, and Walter could see that the tears had gathered in her eyes. There was something in those eyes, too, that caused his heart to beat a trifle faster, and brought him still closer to her side. Wont you tell me what it is? he whispered. We have always been such good friends, Vera. Forgive me asking you, but isnt this decision on your part rather a sudden one? Oh, I am quite prepared to admit that, the girl said candidly, and I wish I could explain. But you would not understandwas there ever a man yet who really understood a woman? The thing that you call impulse  I know that Lord Ravenspur had his own ideas as to my future, the same as he has in regard to yours. Oh, indeed, Walter said drily; that is news to me. And in what way is my uncle interested in my welfare? Do you mean to say he hasnt told you? He has mentioned it to me at least a score of times. You are going to marry Lady Clara Vavasour. That much is settled. Really, now, that is very kind of my uncle. But, unfortunately, I have views of my own on the subject. Lady Clara is a very nice girl, and I understand that she is rich, but she does not appeal to me in the least. My dear Vera, surely you are mistaken. Surely my uncle must have guessed, he could not be so blind as not to seeVera, dearest, cannot you understand what I mean? Do you suppose that I could possibly have known you all this time withoutwithoutYou know, I am certain that you know. Oh, no, no, Vera cried; you must not speak like that. I cannot listen to you. I know that Lord Ravenspur has set his heart upon this marriage, and it would be the basest ingratitude on my part if Ibut what am I talking about? The girl broke off in some confusion. The faint pink on her cheeks turned to a deeper crimson. Her eyes were cast down; she did not seem to realise that Walter had her hands in his, that he had drawn her close to his side. I must speak, he said huskily. Even at the risk of your thinking me the most conceited man on earth, I must tell you what is uppermost in my mind now. My dear girl, I have known you ever since you were a little child. From the very first we have been the best of friends. I have watched you change from a girl to a woman. I have watched your mind expanding, and gradually I have come to know that you are the one girl in the world for me. I have not spoken like this before, because there seemed to be no need to do so. Everything was so natural, there did not appear to be any other end to a love like mine. But if I have been wrong, and if you tell me that you care nothing for me I couldnt, Vera whispered. Oh, Walter, if you only knew Then you do care for me, my dearest. Yes, I can see it in your face, there is always the truth in your eyes. And now I can speak more freely. You were going away from here out of loyalty to my uncle, and because you deem it your duty to sacrifice your feelings rather than interfere with his plans. But, my dear girl, dont you see what a needless sacrifice it would be? Dont you see that any such action on your part would be worse than useless? But I will speak to you about this tomorrow. I am quite sure he is not the man to stand between us and our happiness. Would that I had thought of this before. I am sure that it would have saved you many an anxious moment. Vera shook her head sadly. Walters arms were about her now, her head rested on his shoulder. Just for the moment they were absolutely oblivious to the world. They heard nothing of the sound of voices as Lord Ravenspurs guests drifted away; they were unconscious that he was standing in the doorway, now regarding them with stern disapproval. He hesitated just a moment, then he strode into the room. Walter had never seen his face so hard and cold before. I am sorry to intrude, he said, but there is something I have to say to you, Walter. It is getting late now, Vera, and quite time that you were in bed. The girl looked up with something like rebellion in her eyes. I am going into the drawingroom for half an hour, she said. Perhaps Walter will come and say goodnight to me when you have finished your conversation. I think you understand what I mean. And dont be too hard on me. If you only knew how I have tried to do whatwhat The tears rose to Veras eyes, as she turned slowly and sadly away. VI A Voice in the Dark Vera turned away and walked quietly from the room, leaving the two men face to face. Lord Ravenspur was the first to speak. I am sorry for this, he said; more sorry than I can tell you. Strange how one should be so wilfully blind. Strange how frequently even the cleverest man will overlook the inevitable. But I suppose I thought that you two had come to regard one another as brother and sister. Oh, I am not disputing your taste. There is not a more beautiful and fascinating girl in London than Vera. It is only natural that you should fall in love with her. But she knows the views I have for you. She knows to what an extent she is indebted to me. That being so it is her plain duty My dear uncle, Walter broke in eagerly, if there is anybody to blame, it is I. Vera knows her duty plainly enough, and she would have acted upon it but for me. When I came in here tonight I was struck by the unhappiness of her face, and, naturally, I began to ask questions. It seems an egotistical thing to say, but Vera is as deeply attached to me as I am to her, and that was the source of her trouble. She had made up her mind to go away. She had made up her mind to get her own living. And why? Simply because she knew that you had other views for me, and that she stood in the way of your plans. It was only by a mere accident that the whole thing came out. But I have spoken the words now that are beyond recall, even if I wished to recall them, which I do not. There will never be another woman in the world for me. But the thing is impossible, Lord Ravenspur broke out harshly. It is absolutely out of the question. I had other views for you, but I certainly should not have pressed them against your wishes. But all that is as nothing compared to thisthis tragedy. I blame myself bitterly for my want of foresight. My conduct has been almost criminal. But, be that as it may, there must be no engagement between Vera and yourself. Dont press me to tell you why, because my lips are sealed, and I dare not speak. But, as you value your future, I implore you to carry this thing no further. I know this sounds an outrageous request, but I am speaking from the bottom of my heart. It is the fashion of the world to regard me as one of the most fortunate and enviable of men. I tell you, with all the force at my command, that I would cheerfully change places with the humblest labourer on my estate. I have never dropped the mask before, and I probably never shall again. I am only doing it now so that you may be warned in time. Go back to Vera, and tell her what I say. Tell her that there are urgent reasons why a marriage between you is utterly out of the question. And if you will persist in having your own way, then let me ask you one final favour. Let the engagement be kept a secret. And now I have no more to say. Perhaps I have said too much as it is, only if you were aware what the last twentyfour hours has brought forth Ravenspur broke off abruptly as if fearful of saying too much. His whole attitude had changed; his features quivered with an almost uncontrollable emotion. Then he turned on his heel, and strode down the corridor in the direction of the studio. Walter could hear the latch of the door click as it closed behind him.  Ravenspur was alone with his own troubled thoughts. For a long time he paced up and down the room, then he took up the photograph which had excited so much attention amongst his guests earlier in the evening. He laid it down on a little table, and gazed at the face there long and sadly. Amazing! Ravenspur muttered to himself. Absolutely inexplicable! I could have sworn that I had the photograph still under lock and key. When did I take it from the safe, and why? Beyond all question, it was not on the table yesterday. Is this a mere coincidence, or is it a menace and warning of the old trouble which has never ceased to be with me night and day the last twenty years? And how the whole thing works together! First of all, poor Delahay is found murdered in his studio, and now something like the same thing happens to one of my guests who was unquestionably mistaken for me in the darkness. And as if that was not enough, those two young fools must take it into their heads to fancy that they are in love with one another. Heaven only knows how I shall make my way out of this terrible coil, even if I have the good luck to escape the consequences of my folly! The most fortunate man in London! The most popular and most sought for! What a bitter travesty upon the truth it is! If they only knew! If there were only some power to lift the roof off of every house in London, what tragedies would be revealed! And how many friends would be left to me? Time was going on. A dozen clocks in different parts of the house struck twelve. As Ravenspur stood by the table, his moody eyes still bent upon the photographs, there was a sudden click and snap, and the whole place was plunged in darkness. The thing was so quick and unexpected that something like a cry of alarm broke from Ravenspurs lips. It all came to him in a flash that the tragedy of Fitzjohn Square was going to be repeated with himself in the role of the victim. This is just what had happened the previous evening, only there had been nothing to try his nerves then as they were being strained to breaking point now. Shaking and agitated in every limb he made his way across to where the switches were, but there was nothing wrong with them. He could hear no commotion in the house, such as would naturally follow the extinguishing of the light. Indeed, underneath the doorway he could see by the slit of light that the electrics in the corridor were still working. The full horror of it was almost more than he could bear. A wild desire for light and companionship came upon him. His unsteady hand fumbled at the latch, which seemed in some way to have gone wrong, for the door refused to open. Ravenspur was breathing thickly and heavily. But he was sufficiently in possession of his faculties to realise that he was no longer alone in the room. He could distinctly hear someone breathing close to him. Then he caught the sound of a low chuckle. Not so fast, a voice hissed in his ear; I havent come all this way for the benefit of your society to lose you like this. You neednt worry about the door, because you cant escape in that way. In a sudden frenzy of rage and anger and fear, Ravenspur stretched out his arm and encountered that of the mysterious stranger, whose dramatic entrance had so startled him. But, strong man as he was, and in the pink of good condition, Ravenspur could make nothing of his assailant. The man appeared to be not more than half his size, but his arms and body were tough and elastic as the finest whipcord. Gradually Ravenspur was borne backward. He dropped on his knees with a grip about his throat that caused him to gasp for breath, and brought a million stars dancing before his eyes. He wanted help more earnestly than he had ever required it in his life before, but his pride was stubborn still, and he tried to choke down the cry which rose to his lips. He must fight for himself to the end. So that is to be the end of it? Vera asked. It breaks my heart to speak like this, but after what Lord Ravenspur has said, there must be an end to the matter. But, my dearest girl, the thing is absurd, Walter cried. What have we done that we should be treated in this way? Surely our position is clear enough. We are to be parted for the sake of some ridiculous whim which is not even capable of an explanation. I am not going to leave matters here. I decline to obey until I know the reason why. At any rate, nothing can prevent our loving each other. And, as far as I am concerned, I am quite prepared to keep the matter secret between us. But I intend to have the matter out with my uncle before I sleep tonight. I am not a boy to be treated in this sentimental fashion. So long as I know that your feelings remain unchanged What is that? Vera cried. Didnt you hear anythinga kind of horrible muffled scream? There it is again. The sound came again and again, ringing through the silent house, horrible and insistent in its note of tragedy. Vera turned a pale, scared face to her companion. Where is it? she gasped. Where does it come from? The studio, Walter exclaimed. It is my uncles voice. Something terrible has happened to him. Without another word Walter dashed from the room, and flew along the corridor leading to the studio. Just for a moment there was a strained, tense silence; then, as the door of the studio was reached, a strange, muffled scream burst out again. With his hand on the lock Walter shook the door, which refused to give way to him. He called aloud on Ravenspur, but no reply came. He shook the door in a fit of angry exasperation, and once more from inside the room came that queer, choking noise, followed by a low chuckle. It was maddening, exasperating to a degree, to stand so close to the threshold of tragedy and yet to be so far away. There was only one thing for it, and that was to break down the door. Flinging himself full against the woodwork, Walter literally forced his way in. Then he stood just for a moment looking into the gloom and darkness, trying to see where the figure of the unhappy man lay. VII The Yellow Handbill The suggestion of tragedy brooding in the darkness held Lance back just for the moment. He was almost afraid to proceed lest he should find something even worse than he had expected. Then his hand fumbled along the wall with the switches, and the great room burst into a glow of light again. The place was absolutely empty, save for the figure of Lord Ravenspur huddled up upon the Persian rug. He was absolutely still and silent. As far as Lance could see he had ceased to breathe. Naturally enough the young man looked about him for a sign of the miscreant, but the studio contained no trace of his presence. The thing was puzzling to the last degree. There was no exit from the room beyond the door which Walter had broken down, and nobody could possibly have passed him that way. Besides, the switches were just inside the door, and the light had been turned on almost immediately. At any rate, there was nobody there now except the victim of the attack himself, and Walter feared that he was already past any explanation of the strange affair. That would have to keep for the present. Walter bent over and raised Lord Ravenspurs head and shoulders. He was still alive, for his eyes were wide open, though no words came from his lips. At the same time he seemed to be struggling for speech which would not come. Then he raised a shaking arm and contrived to pull Walters head down close to his lips. The words came at length in a faint whisper, a whisper so low, that Walter had the greatest difficulty in following it. Dont let anybody know. It is absolutely necessary that no one should know, Lord Ravenspur faltered. If there is any alarm, I pray you go and allay it at once. Say that I had fallen asleep and was suffering from nightmare. Say I had a horrible dream. Say anything, so long as you respect my secret. Now go. There was nothing to do but to obey this mysterious request. At the end of the corridor Vera was waiting with an anxious face. It was no nice thing to prevaricate, it would have to be done. Walter spoke as lightly as possible. There is no occasion for alarm, he said. Lord Ravenspur says that he fell asleep and had a horrible nightmare. At any rate, he seems to be all right now. You had better go to bed. I am sorry that you should have been so much alarmed. To Walters great relief, Vera asked no further questions. She turned away obediently enough, and he hurried back to the studio. Lord Ravenspur still lay on the Persian rug, but with Walters help he contrived to get into a chair. A little brandy brought some trace of colour to his face. He seemed more like himself again. They heard nothing in the house? he asked anxiously. Only Vera, Walter explained. She was terribly frightened, but she believed what I told her, and she has gone up to her room. And now, perhaps, you will tell me the truth. Do you think I have not already done so? My dear uncle, I am sure of it. I know it is possible for people to make the most hideous noises when they are suffering from nightmare, but this is quite another matter. You called aloud for help. You were in imminent danger of losing your life. Before I broke the door down I distinctly heard somebody give a low chuckle. Of course, you can make light of this in the morning. You can induce people to laugh at your absurd situation, but you cannot deceive me. I know there was someone in the room when I forced the door. Then where is he now, Walter? Lord Ravenspur asked. Ah, that I cannot tell; but he was here right enough. He passed you in the corridor? That he most certainly did not. Nobody came out that way. A faint smile came to Lord Ravenspurs lips. He indicated the room with a wave of his hand. I see exactly what you mean, Walter said. Of course, if you do not feel inclined to tell me the truth I cannot compel you to do so. But I have only to look at you, to see that you have lately been through a desperate struggle with someone who came here to take your life. You are absolutely exhausted with the severity of it. If I had my own way I would put the matter in the hands of the police. No, no, Ravenspur said vehemently. If you have the slightest regard for me you will not venture to say a word to a soul. I want the whole thing to be forgotten. If I remain in my room all tomorrow under the plea of indisposition, I shall be all right the next day. You are to give me your word of honour that you will say nothing of what you have seen tonight. If you wish it so, certainly, Walter said reluctantly. My dear uncle, wont you trust me? I would do anything to help you. And besides, how are you going to guard against this happening again? A bloodthirsty ruffian who can enter a house and vanish in this mysterious fashion, is not likely to be put off, if he knows you are going to take no steps to guard yourself against a further attack. But what has become of him? I havent the slightest idea, Ravenspur said wearily. I was sitting in my chair when the light suddenly went out and I heard the door locked. Then I had to fight for my life, and was nearly done for when I called out for assistance. And you saw nothing of him? Walter asked. Nothing whatever, Ravenspur went on. I could only feel him. And after that I recollect no more till you came. A most extraordinary thing, Walter said, somewhat impatiently. Surely you have some idea as to who the man is. Surely he must be the same man who mistook Sir James Seton for yourself tonight. No reply came from Lord Ravenspur. Evidently he desired to say no more. He seemed anxious to be alone. But Walter, angry and hurt, walked rapidly about the room seeking for a way whereby the late visitor had vanished. But he looked in vain. There was no possible means of exit other than the door, and the fireplace was too narrow to admit of anybody coming or going. As to the roof, it was of heavy stained glass, and as impregnable as the walls themselves. The mystery was maddening. And yet the one man who could have explained it all sat there silent, and moody, and tongue tied. Is there anything more that I can do for you before I go to bed? Walter asked. Are you sure I cant help you? I am afraid not, my boy, Ravenspur said in a dull, mechanical way. I know that you wont chatter about this thing. And, perhaps, a little later on, I shall be able to speak more plainly. I shall be glad if you will help me up the stairs and get me into bed. I have had a great shock tonight. It seemed almost cruel to pursue the subject further, and Walter refrained from questions as he noticed the ghastly whiteness of his uncles face. The latter was disposed of at length, and then Walter came downstairs again. He now had the house practically to himself. All desire for sleep had forsaken him. Besides that, it was no nice thought to reflect on the possibility of that ruffian being still on the premises. Walter had not the slightest doubt in his mind that the man had left the studio in some secret manner, and that he had come there through no ordinary channel. What was to prevent him returning again when the house was asleep and finishing his work? In itself, the fact of Lord Ravenspur possessing a bitter enemy was remarkable. And Lord Ravenspurs obstinate silence was more remarkable still. Walter had given his word to say nothing of these strange events, but that did not bind him from making inquiries on his own account. He returned to the studio once more and made a thoroughly searching examination of the place. Was there some secret door which Lord Ravenspur used, and of which nobody knew anything? It had never occurred to Walter till that moment that his uncle might have turneddown pages in his life, but that conclusion was inevitable now. Still, though Walter spent the best part of an hour in his search, he had nothing to show for his pains. He was about to give up the thing in despair when a piece of yellow paper, lying by the side of the Persian rug where Lord Ravenspur had fallen, attracted his attention. It was a small, shabby sheet of paper, folded in four and printed from wornout type, in fact, just the class of bill which is circulated amongst travelling circuses and shows of that kind. It was the last thing in the world that anyone would have looked for in the studio of so fastidious a man as Lord Ravenspur. Slowly and thoughtfully Walter unfolded and read the handbill. It was an advertisement of the nightly programme of the Imperial Palace Theatre. The name of the place sounded imposing enough, but the locality of Vauxhall Bridge Road somewhat detracted from the importance of it. So far as Walter could judge, the Imperial Palace Theatre was no more than a shady music hall giving two shows a night, and most of the names on the bill were absolutely unknown to fame. The star turn appeared to be one Valdo, who was announced as the flying man who had made such a sensation throughout the leading halls in Europe. I wonder if this is a clue, Walter murmured to himself. At any rate, I should like to see this Valdo. Ill go down to the Imperial Palace tomorrow night and enquire for myself. Walter folded up the shabby bill and placed it in his pocket, after which he went thoughtfully to bed. VIII The Mystery Deepens Nobody in the Park Lane house appeared to have the slightest suspicion that anything had been wrong.