We had sat for something over an hour in this way, and Maloney and I
were finding it increasingly hard to keep awake, when suddenly Dr. Silence rose to his feet and peered out. The next minute he was gone. Relieved of the dominating presence, the clergyman thrust his face
close into mine. “I don’t much care for this waiting game,” he
whispered, “but Silence wouldn’t hear of my sitting up with the others;
he said it would prevent anything happening if I did.”

“He knows,” I answered shortly. “No doubt in the world about that,” he whispered back; “it’s this
‘Double’ business, as he calls it, or else it’s obsession as the Bible
describes it. But it’s bad, whichever it is, and I’ve got my Winchester
outside ready cocked, and I brought this too.” He shoved a pocket Bible
under my nose. At one time in his life it had been his inseparable
companion. “One’s useless and the other’s dangerous,” I replied under my breath,
conscious of a keen desire to laugh, and leaving him to choose. “Safety
lies in following our leader----”

“I’m not thinking of myself,” he interrupted sharply; “only, if
anything happens to Joan to-night I’m going to shoot first--and pray
afterwards!”

Maloney put the book back into his hip-pocket, and peered out of the
doorway. “What is he up to now, in the devil’s name, I wonder!” he
added; “going round Sangree’s tent and making gestures. How weird he
looks disappearing in and out of the fog.”

“Just trust him and wait,” I said quickly, for the doctor was already
on his way back. “Remember, he has the knowledge, and knows what he’s
about. I’ve been with him through worse cases than this.”

Maloney moved back as Dr. Silence darkened the doorway and stooped to
enter. “His sleep is very deep,” he whispered, seating himself by the door
again. “He’s in a cataleptic condition, and the Double may be released
any minute now. But I’ve taken steps to imprison it in the tent, and it
can’t get out till I permit it. Be on the watch for signs of movement.”
Then he looked hard at Maloney. “But no violence, or shooting,
remember, Mr. Maloney, unless you want a murder on your hands. Anything
done to the Double acts by repercussion upon the physical body. You had
better take out the cartridges at once.”

His voice was stern. The clergyman went out, and I heard him emptying
the magazine of his rifle. When he returned he sat nearer the door than
before, and from that moment until we left the tent he never once took
his eyes from the figure of Dr. Silence, silhouetted there against sky
and canvas. And, meanwhile, the wind came steadily over the sea and opened the mist
into lanes and clearings, driving it about like a living thing. It must have been well after midnight when a low booming sound drew my
attention; but at first the sense of hearing was so strained that it
was impossible exactly to locate it, and I imagined it was the thunder
of big guns far out at sea carried to us by the rising wind. Then
Maloney, catching hold of my arm and leaning forward, somehow brought
the true relation, and I realised the next second that it was only a
few feet away. “Sangree’s tent,” he exclaimed in a loud and startled whisper. I craned my head round the corner, but at first the effect of the
fog was so confusing that every patch of white driving about before
the wind looked like a moving tent and it was some seconds before I
discovered the one patch that held steady. Then I saw that it was
shaking all over, and the sides, flapping as much as the tightness of
the ropes allowed, were the cause of the booming sound we had heard. Something alive was tearing frantically about inside, banging against
the stretched canvas in a way that made me think of a great moth
dashing against the walls and ceiling of a room. The tent bulged and
rocked. “It’s trying to get out, by Jupiter!” muttered the clergyman, rising to
his feet and turning to the side where the unloaded rifle lay. I sprang
up too, hardly knowing what purpose was in my mind, but anxious to be
prepared for anything. John Silence, however, was before us both, and
his figure slipped past and blocked the doorway of the tent. And there
was some quality in his voice next minute when he began to speak that
brought our minds instantly to a state of calm obedience. “First--the women’s tent,” he said low, looking sharply at Maloney,
“and if I need your help, I’ll call.”

The clergyman needed no second bidding. He dived past me and was out
in a moment. He was labouring evidently under intense excitement. I
watched him picking his way silently over the slippery ground, giving
the moving tent a wide berth, and presently disappearing among the
floating shapes of fog. Dr. Silence turned to me. “You heard those footsteps about half an hour
ago?” he asked significantly. “I heard nothing.”

“They were extraordinarily soft--almost the soundless tread of a wild
creature. But now, follow me closely,” he added, “for we must waste
no time if I am to save this poor man from his affliction and lead
his werewolf Double to its rest. And, unless I am much mistaken”--he
peered at me through the darkness, whispering with the utmost
distinctness--“Joan and Sangree are absolutely made for one another. And I think she knows it too--just as well as he does.”

My head swam a little as I listened, but at the same time something
cleared in my brain and I saw that he was right. Yet it was all so
weird and incredible, so remote from the commonplace facts of life
as commonplace people know them; and more than once it flashed upon
me that the whole scene--people, words, tents, and all the rest of
it--were delusions created by the intense excitement of my own mind
somehow, and that suddenly the sea-fog would clear off and the world
become normal again. The cold air from the sea stung our cheeks sharply as we left the close
atmosphere of the little crowded tent. The sighing of the trees, the
waves breaking below on the rocks, and the lines and patches of mist
driving about us seemed to create the momentary illusion that the whole
island had broken loose and was floating out to sea like a mighty raft. The doctor moved just ahead of me, quickly and silently; he was making
straight for the Canadian’s tent where the sides still boomed and shook
as the creature of sinister life raced and tore about impatiently
within. A little distance from the door he paused and held up a hand to
stop me. We were, perhaps, a dozen feet away. “Before I release it, you shall see for yourself,” he said, “that the
reality of the werewolf is beyond all question. The matter of which
it is composed is, of course, exceedingly attenuated, but you are
partially clairvoyant--and even if it is not dense enough for normal
sight you will see something.”

He added a little more I could not catch. The fact was that the
curiously strong vibrating atmosphere surrounding his person somewhat
confused my senses.