And, as his self-control returned to him, he gradually accomplished
this purpose, even though trembling while he did so. Yet the struggle was severe, and in spite of the freezing chill of the
air, the perspiration poured down his face. Then, by slow degrees, the
dark and dreadful countenance faded, the glamour passed from his soul,
the normal proportions returned to walls and ceiling, the forms melted
back into the fog, and the whirl of rushing shadow-cats disappeared
whence they came. And with the return of the consciousness of his own identity John
Silence was restored to the full control of his own will-power. In a
deep, modulated voice he began to utter certain rhythmical sounds that
slowly rolled through the air like a rising sea, filling the room with
powerful vibratory activities that whelmed all irregularities of lesser
vibrations in its own swelling tone. He made certain sigils, gestures
and movements at the same time. For several minutes he continued to
utter these words, until at length the growing volume dominated the
whole room and mastered the manifestation of all that opposed it. For
just as he understood the spiritual alchemy that can transmute evil
forces by raising them into higher channels, so he knew from long study
the occult use of sound, and its direct effect upon the plastic region
wherein the powers of spiritual evil work their fell purposes. Harmony
was restored first of all to his own soul, and thence to the room and
all its occupants. And, after himself, the first to recognise it was the old dog lying
in his corner. Flame began suddenly uttering sounds of pleasure, that
“something” between a growl and a grunt that dogs make upon being
restored to their master’s confidence. Dr. Silence heard the thumping
of the collie’s tail against the ground. And the grunt and the thumping
touched the depth of affection in the man’s heart, and gave him some
inkling of what agonies the dumb creature had suffered. Next, from the shadows by the window, a somewhat shrill purring
announced the restoration of the cat to its normal state. Smoke was
advancing across the carpet. He seemed very pleased with himself, and
smiled with an expression of supreme innocence. He was no shadow-cat,
but real and full of his usual and perfect self-possession. He marched
along, picking his way delicately, but with a stately dignity that
suggested his ancestry with the majesty of Egypt. His eyes no longer
glared; they shone steadily before him; they radiated, not excitement,
but knowledge. Clearly he was anxious to make amends for the mischief
to which he had unwittingly lent himself owing to his subtle and
electric constitution. Still uttering his sharp high purrings he marched up to his master and
rubbed vigorously against his legs. Then he stood on his hind feet and
pawed his knees and stared beseechingly up into his face. He turned his
head towards the corner where the collie still lay, thumping his tail
feebly and pathetically. John Silence understood. He bent down and stroked the creature’s living
fur, noting the line of bright blue sparks that followed the motion of
his hand down its back. And then they advanced together towards the
corner where the dog was. Smoke went first and put his nose gently against his friend’s muzzle,
purring while he rubbed, and uttering little soft sounds of affection
in his throat. The doctor lit the candle and brought it over. He
saw the collie lying on its side against the wall; it was utterly
exhausted, and foam still hung about its jaws. Its tail and eyes
responded to the sound of its name, but it was evidently very weak and
overcome. Smoke continued to rub against its cheek and nose and eyes,
sometimes even standing on its body and kneading into the thick yellow
hair. Flame replied from time to time by little licks of the tongue,
most of them curiously misdirected. But Dr. Silence felt intuitively that something disastrous had
happened, and his heart was wrung. He stroked the dear body, feeling
it over for bruises or broken bones, but finding none. He fed it with
what remained of the sandwiches and milk, but the creature clumsily
upset the saucer and lost the sandwiches between its paws, so that the
doctor had to feed it with his own hand. And all the while Smoke meowed
piteously. Then John Silence began to understand. He went across to the farther
side of the room and called aloud to it. “Flame, old man! come!”

At any other time the dog would have been upon him in an instant,
barking and leaping to the shoulder. And even now he got up, though
heavily and awkwardly, to his feet. He started to run, wagging his
tail more briskly. He collided first with a chair, and then ran
straight into a table. Smoke trotted close at his side, trying his very
best to guide him. But it was useless. Dr. Silence had to lift him up
into his own arms and carry him like a baby. For he was blind. III

It was a week later when John Silence called to see the author in his
new house, and found him well on the way to recovery and already busy
again with his writing. The haunted look had left his eyes, and he
seemed cheerful and confident. “Humour restored?” laughed the doctor, as soon as they were comfortably
settled in the room overlooking the Park. “I’ve had no trouble since I left that dreadful place,” returned Pender
gratefully; “and thanks to you----”

The doctor stopped him with a gesture. “Never mind that,” he said, “we’ll discuss your new plans afterwards,
and my scheme for relieving you of the house and helping you settle
elsewhere. Of course it must be pulled down, for it’s not fit for any
sensitive person to live in, and any other tenant might be afflicted
in the same way you were. Although, personally, I think the evil has
exhausted itself by now.”

He told the astonished author something of his experiences in it with
the animals. “I don’t pretend to understand,” Pender said, when the account was
finished, “but I and my wife are intensely relieved to be free of it
all. Only I must say I should like to know something of the former
history of the house. When we took it six months ago I heard no word
against it.”

Dr. Silence drew a typewritten paper from his pocket. “I can satisfy your curiosity to some extent,” he said, running
his eye over the sheets, and then replacing them in his coat; “for
by my secretary’s investigations I have been able to check certain
information obtained in the hypnotic trance by a ‘sensitive’ who helps
me in such cases. The former occupant who haunted you appears to have
been a woman of singularly atrocious life and character who finally
suffered death by hanging, after a series of crimes that appalled the
whole of England and only came to light by the merest chance. She came
to her end in the year 1798, for it was not this particular house she
lived in, but a much larger one that then stood upon the site it now
occupies, and was then, of course, not in London, but in the country.