He was lying, bruised and shaken, among the heaped-up débris
of a ruined building. He stood up and stared about him. There, in the shadowy distance, lay
the surrounding forest, and here, close at hand, stood the outline of
the village buildings. But, underfoot, beyond question, lay nothing but
the broken heaps of stones that betokened a building long since crumbled
to dust. Then he saw that the stones were blackened, and that great
wooden beams, half burnt, half rotten, made lines through the general
débris. He stood, then, among the ruins of a burnt and shattered
building, the weeds and nettles proving conclusively that it had lain
thus for many years. The moon had already set behind the encircling forest, but the stars
that spangled the heavens threw enough light to enable him to make quite
sure of what he saw. Harris, the silk merchant, stood among these broken
and burnt stones and shivered. Then he suddenly became aware that out of the gloom a figure had risen
and stood beside him. Peering at him, he thought he recognised the face
of the stranger at the railway inn. "Are _you_ real?" he asked in a voice he hardly recognised as his own. "More than real--I'm friendly," replied the stranger; "I followed you up
here from the inn." Harris stood and stared for several minutes without adding anything. His
teeth chattered. The least sound made him start; but the simple words in
his own language, and the tone in which they were uttered, comforted him
inconceivably. "You're English too, thank God," he said inconsequently. "These German
devils--" He broke off and put a hand to his eyes. "But what's become
of them all--and the room--and--and--" The hand travelled down to his
throat and moved nervously round his neck. He drew a long, long breath
of relief. "Did I dream everything--everything?" he said distractedly. He stared wildly about him, and the stranger moved forward and took his
arm. "Come," he said soothingly, yet with a trace of command in the
voice, "we will move away from here. The high-road, or even the woods
will be more to your taste, for we are standing now on one of the most
haunted--and most terribly haunted--spots of the whole world." He guided his companion's stumbling footsteps over the broken masonry
until they reached the path, the nettles stinging their hands, and
Harris feeling his way like a man in a dream. Passing through the
twisted iron railing they reached the path, and thence made their way to
the road, shining white in the night. Once safely out of the ruins,
Harris collected himself and turned to look back. "But, how is it possible?" he exclaimed, his voice still shaking. "How
can it be possible? When I came in here I saw the building in the
moonlight. They opened the door. I saw the figures and heard the voices
and touched, yes touched their very hands, and saw their damned black
faces, saw them far more plainly than I see you now." He was deeply
bewildered. The glamour was still upon his eyes with a degree of reality
stronger than the reality even of normal life. "Was I so utterly
deluded?" Then suddenly the words of the stranger, which he had only half heard or
understood, returned to him. "Haunted?" he asked, looking hard at him; "haunted, did you say?" He
paused in the roadway and stared into the darkness where the building of
the old school had first appeared to him. But the stranger hurried him
forward. "We shall talk more safely farther on," he said. "I followed you from
the inn the moment I realised where you had gone. When I found you it
was eleven o'clock--"

"Eleven o'clock," said Harris, remembering with a shudder.

" --I saw you drop. I watched over you till you recovered consciousness
of your own accord, and now--now I am here to guide you safely back to
the inn. I have broken the spell--the glamour--"

"I owe you a great deal, sir," interrupted Harris again, beginning to
understand something of the stranger's kindness, "but I don't understand
it all. I feel dazed and shaken." His teeth still chattered, and spells
of violent shivering passed over him from head to foot. He found that he
was clinging to the other's arm. In this way they passed beyond the
deserted and crumbling village and gained the high-road that led
homewards through the forest. "That school building has long been in ruins," said the man at his side
presently; "it was burnt down by order of the Elders of the community at
least ten years ago. The village has been uninhabited ever since. But
the simulacra of certain ghastly events that took place under that roof
in past days still continue. And the 'shells' of the chief participants
still enact there the dreadful deeds that led to its final destruction,
and to the desertion of the whole settlement. They were
devil-worshippers!" Harris listened with beads of perspiration on his forehead that did not
come alone from their leisurely pace through the cool night. Although he
had seen this man but once before in his life, and had never before
exchanged so much as a word with him, he felt a degree of confidence and
a subtle sense of safety and well-being in his presence that were the
most healing influences he could possibly have wished after the
experience he had been through. For all that, he still felt as if he
were walking in a dream, and though he heard every word that fell from
his companion's lips, it was only the next day that the full import of
all he said became fully clear to him. The presence of this quiet
stranger, the man with the wonderful eyes which he felt now, rather than
saw, applied a soothing anodyne to his shattered spirit that healed him
through and through. And this healing influence, distilled from the dark
figure at his side, satisfied his first imperative need, so that he
almost forgot to realise how strange and opportune it was that the man
should be there at all. It somehow never occurred to him to ask his name, or to feel any undue
wonder that one passing tourist should take so much trouble on behalf of
another. He just walked by his side, listening to his quiet words, and
allowing himself to enjoy the very wonderful experience after his recent
ordeal, of being helped, strengthened, blessed. Only once, remembering
vaguely something of his reading of years ago, he turned to the man
beside him, after some more than usually remarkable words, and heard
himself, almost involuntarily it seemed, putting the question: "Then are
you a Rosicrucian, sir, perhaps?" But the stranger had ignored the
words, or possibly not heard them, for he continued with his talk as
though unconscious of any interruption, and Harris became aware that
another somewhat unusual picture had taken possession of his mind, as
they walked there side by side through the cool reaches of the forest,
and that he had found his imagination suddenly charged with the
childhood memory of Jacob wrestling with an angel,--wrestling all night
with a being of superior quality whose strength eventually became his
own.