What on earth had
I done now! The ring was there, close beside me, where I had put it. Suddenly, as I stared, bewildered, I was aware that there was something
queer about the ring--funny shadowy movements and convolutions. I looked
at them, stupidly. And then, abruptly, I knew that the wind was blowing
up at me from the ring. A queer indistinct smoke became visible to me,
seeming to pour upward through the ring, and mix with the moving shadows. Suddenly, I realized that I was in more than any mortal danger; for the
convoluting shadows about the ring were taking shape, and the death-hand
was forming _within_ the Pentacle. My Goodness! do you realize it! I had
brought the 'gateway' into the pentacles, and the brute was coming
through--pouring into the material world, as gas might pour out from the
mouth of a pipe. "I should think that I knelt for a moment in a sort of stunned fright. Then, with a mad, awkward movement, I snatched at the ring, intending to
hurl it out of the Pentacle. Yet it eluded me, as though some invisible,
living thing jerked it hither and thither. At last, I gripped it; yet,
in the same instant, it was torn from my grasp with incredible and brutal
force. A great, black shadow covered it, and rose into the air, and came
at me. I saw that it was the Hand, vast and nearly perfect in form. I
gave one crazy yell, and jumped over the Pentacle and the ring of burning
candles, and ran despairingly for the door. I fumbled idiotically and
ineffectually with the key, and all the time I stared, with a fear that
was like insanity, toward the Barriers. The hand was plunging toward me;
yet, even as it had been unable to pass into the Pentacle when the ring
was without, so, now that the ring was within, it had no power to pass
out. The monster was chained, as surely as any beast would be, were
chains riveted upon it. "Even then, I got a flash of this knowledge; but I was too utterly shaken
with fright, to reason; and the instant I managed to get the key turned,
I sprang into the passage, and slammed the door with a crash. I locked
it, and got to my room somehow; for I was trembling so that I could
hardly stand, as you can imagine. I locked myself in, and managed to get
the candle lit; then I lay down on my bed, and kept quiet for an hour or
two, and so I got steadied. "I got a little sleep, later; but woke when Peter brought my coffee. When I had drunk it I felt altogether better, and took the old man along
with me whilst I had a look into the Grey Room. I opened the door, and
peeped in. The candles were still burning, wan against the daylight; and
behind them was the pale, glowing star of the Electric Pentacle. And
there, in the middle, was the ring ... the gateway of the monster, lying
demure and ordinary. "Nothing in the room was touched, and I knew that the brute had never
managed to cross the Pentacles. Then I went out, and locked the door. "After a sleep of some hours, I left the house. I returned in the
afternoon in a cab. I had with me an oxy-hydrogen jet, and two
cylinders, containing the gases. I carried the things into the Grey
Room, and there, in the center of the Electric Pentacle, I erected the
little furnace. Five minutes later the Luck Ring, once the 'luck,' but
now the 'bane,' of the Anderson family, was no more than a little solid
splash of hot metal." Carnacki felt in his pocket, and pulled out something wrapped in tissue
paper. He passed it to me. I opened it, and found a small circle of
greyish metal, something like lead, only harder and rather brighter. "Well?" I asked, at length, after examining it and handing it 'round to
the others. "Did that stop the haunting?" Carnacki nodded. "Yes," he said. "I slept three nights in the Grey Room,
before I left. Old Peter nearly fainted when he knew that I meant to; but
by the third night he seemed to realize that the house was just safe and
ordinary. And, you know, I believe, in his heart, he hardly approved." Carnacki stood up and began to shake hands. "Out you go!" he said,
genially. And presently we went, pondering, to our various homes. No. 2--THE HOUSE AMONG THE LAURELS


"This is a curious yarn that I am going to tell you," said Carnacki, as
after a quiet little dinner we made ourselves comfortable in his cozy
dining room. "I have just got back from the West of Ireland," he continued. "Wentworth, a friend of mine, has lately had rather an unexpected legacy,
in the shape of a large estate and manor, about a mile and a half outside
of the village of Korunton. This place is named Gannington Manor, and has
been empty a great number of years; as you will find is almost always the
case with Houses reputed to be haunted, as it is usually termed. "It seems that when Wentworth went over to take possession, he found the
place in very poor repair, and the estate totally uncared for, and, as I
know, looking very desolate and lonesome generally. He went through the
big house by himself, and he admitted to me that it had an uncomfortable
feeling about it; but, of course, that might be nothing more than the
natural dismalness of a big, empty house, which has been long
uninhabited, and through which you are wandering alone. "When he had finished his look 'round, he went down to the village,
meaning to see the one-time Agent of the Estate, and arrange for someone
to go in as caretaker. The Agent, who proved by the way to be a
Scotchman, was very willing to take up the management of the Estate once
more; but he assured Wentworth that they would get no one to go in as
caretaker; and that his--the Agent's--advice was to have the house pulled
down, and a new one built. "This, naturally, astonished my friend, and, as they went down to the
village, he managed to get a sort of explanation from the man. It seems
that there had been always curious stories told about the place, which in
the early days was called Landru Castle, and that within the last seven
years there had been two extraordinary deaths there. In each case they
had been tramps, who were ignorant of the reputation of the house, and
had probably thought the big empty place suitable for a night's free
lodging. There had been absolutely no signs of violence to indicate the
method by which death was caused, and on each occasion the body had been
found in the great entrance hall. "By this time they had reached the inn where Wentworth had put up, and he
told the Agent that he would prove that it was all rubbish about the
haunting, by staying a night or two in the Manor himself. The death of
the tramps was certainly curious; but did not prove that any supernatural
agency had been at work. They were but isolated accidents, spread over a
large number of years by the memory of the villagers, which was natural
enough in a little place like Korunton. Tramps had to die some time, and
in some place, and it proved nothing that two, out of possibly hundreds
who had slept in the empty house, had happened to take the opportunity
to die under shelter.