The two
men left with marked reluctance. The two girls had but one idea in their
heads--to get away, and get away quickly.
"Do start, please," Lenora begged. "There's just one thing in life I want,
and that is to be in my own room, to feel myself away from his world of
horrible, unnatural mysteries."
"The kid has the right idea," Laura agreed. "I've had enough myself."
They were on the point of starting, the chauffeur with his hand upon the
starting handle, French with the steering wheel of the police car already
in his hand. And then the little party seemed suddenly turned to stone.
For a few breathless seconds not one of them moved. Out into the clammy
night air came the echoes of a hideous, inhuman, blood-curdling scream.
Quest was the first to recover himself. He leaped from his seat and rushed
back across the empty hall into the study, followed a little way behind by
French and the others. An unsuspected panel door which led into the
garden, stood slightly ajar. The Professor, with his hand on the back of a
chair, was staring at the fireplace, shaking as though with some horrible
ague, his face distorted, his body curiously hunched-up. He seemed
suddenly to have dropped his humanity, to have fallen back into the world
of some strange creatures. He heard their footsteps, but he did not turn
his head. His hands were stretched out in front of him as though to keep
away from his sight some hateful object.
"Stop him!" he cried. "Take him away! It's Craig--his spirit! He came to
me in the garage, he followed me through the grounds, he mocked at me when
I hid in the tree.
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