he asked, passing his hand across his
brow in utter bewilderment. "That dawg was as right as possible when I
shut up last night, and he couldn't have got out." "No," I answered mechanically, "he couldn't have got out." "Looks like some wild beast had attacked him," muttered the old man, in
awed tones, as he bent over the lifeless body. "D'ye see the teeth
marks, sir? But it's not possible--not possible." "No," I said again, in the same wooden fashion. "It's not possible." "But how're we going to account for it to the General?" he cried
brokenly. "Oh, Mr. Maurice, sir, it's dreadful!" I nodded. "You're right, Giles! Still, it isn't your fault, nor mine. Leave the matter to me. I'll break it to my uncle." It was a most unenviable task, but I did it. Poor Uncle Bob! I shall
never forget his face when he saw the mutilated body of the dog that for
years had been his faithful companion. He almost wept, only rage and
resentment against the murderer were so strong in him that they thrust
grief for the time into the background. The mysterious, incomprehensible
manner of the dog's death only added to his anger, for there was
apparently no one on whom to wreak his vengeance. The news caused general concern throughout the house, and Ethne was
frightfully upset. "Oh, Alister, isn't it awful?" she exclaimed, tears standing in her
pretty blue eyes. "Poor, darling Mike!" "Yes," he answered rather absently. "It's most unfortunate. Valuable
dog, too, wasn't it?" I walked away. The man's calm, handsome face filled me suddenly with
unspeakable revulsion. The atmosphere of the room seemed to become heavy
and noisome. I felt compelled to get out into the open to breathe. I found the General tramping up and down the drive in the rain, his chin
sunk deep into the collar of his overcoat, his hat pulled low down over
his eyes. I joined him without speaking, and in silence we paced side by
side for another quarter of an hour. "Uncle Bob," I said abruptly at last, "take my advice. Have one of the
hounds indoors to-night--Princep, he's a good watch-dog." The General stopped short in his walk and looked at me. "You've something on your mind, boy. What is it?" "This," I answered grimly. "Whoever, or whatever killed Mike was in the
house last night, or got in, after Giles shut up. It may still be there
for all we know. In the dark, dark deeds are done, and--well, I think
it's wise to take precautions." "Good God, Maurice, if there is any creature in hiding, we'll soon have
it out! I'll have the place searched now. But the thing's impossible,
absurd!" I shrugged my shoulders. "Then Mike died a natural death?" "Natural?" he echoed fiercely. "Don't talk rubbish!" "In that case," I said quietly, "you'll agree to let one of the dogs
sleep in." He gave me a long, troubled, searching look, then said gruffly: "Very
well, but don't make any fuss about it. Women are such nervous beings
and we don't want to upset anyone." "You needn't be afraid of that," I replied, "I'll manage it all right." There was no further talk of Mike that day. The visitors, seeing how
distressed the General was, by tacit consent avoided the subject, but
everyone felt the dampening effect. That night, before I retired to my room, I took a lantern, went out to
the kennels and brought in Princep, a pure-bred Irish setter. He was a
dog of exceptional intelligence, and when I spoke to him, explaining the
reason of his presence indoors, he seemed to know instinctively what was
required of him. As I passed the study I noticed a light coming from under the door. Somewhat surprised, I turned the handle and looked in. My uncle was
seated before his desk in the act of loading a revolver. He glanced up
sharply as I entered. "Oh, it's you, is it? Got the dog in?" "Yes," I replied, "I've left him in the library with the door open." He regarded the revolver pensively for a few moments, then laid it down
in front of him. "You've no theory as to this--this business?" I shook my head, I could offer no explanation. Yet all the while there
lurked, deep down in my heart, a hideous suspicion, a suspicion so
monstrous that had I voiced it, I should probably have been considered
mad. And so I held my peace on the subject and merely wished my uncle
good-night. It was about one o'clock when I got into bed, but my brain was far too
agitated for sleep. Something I had heard years ago, some old wives'
tales about a man's life changing every seven years, kept dinning in my
head. I was striving to remember how the story went, when a slight sound
outside caught my ear. In a second I was out of bed and had silently
opened the door. As I did so, someone passed close by me down the
corridor. Cautiously, with beating heart, I crept out and followed. However, I
almost exclaimed aloud in my amazement, for the light from a window fell
full on the figure ahead of me, and I recognised my cousin Ethne. She
was sleep-walking, a habit she had had from her childhood, and which
apparently she had never outgrown. For some minutes I stood there, undecided how to act, while she passed
on down the stairs, out of sight. To wake her I knew would be wrong. I
knew, also, that she had walked thus a score of times without coming to
any harm. There was, therefore, no reason why I should not return to my
room and leave her to her wandering, yet still I remained rooted to the
spot, all my senses strained, alert. And then suddenly I heard Princep
whine. A series of low, stertorous growls followed, growls that made my
blood run cold! With swift, noiseless steps, I stole along to the
minstrel's gallery which overlooked that portion of the hall that
communicated with the library. As I did so, there arose from immediately
below me a succession of sharp snarls, such as a dog gives when he is
in deadly fear or pain. A shaft of moonlight fell across the polished floor, and by its aid I
was just able to distinguish the form of Princep crouched against the
wainscoting. He was breathing heavily, his head turned all the while
towards the opposite side of the room. I looked in the same direction. Out of the darkness gleamed two fiery, golden orbs, two eyes that moved
slowly to and fro, backwards and forwards, as though the Thing were
prowling round and round. Now it seemed to crouch as though ready to
spring, and I could hear the savage growling as of some beast of prey. As I watched, horrified, fascinated, a _portière_ close by was lifted,
and the white-robed figure of Ethne appeared. All heedless of danger she
came on across the hall, and the Thing, with soft, stealthy tread, came
after her. I knew then that there was not an instant to be lost, and
like a flash I darted along the gallery and down the stairs. But ere I
gained the hall a piercing scream rent the air, and I was just in time
to see Ethne borne to the ground by a great, dark form, which had sprung
at her like a tiger. Half frantic, I dashed forward, snatching as I did so a rapier from the
wall, the only weapon handy.