What do you mean?”

“I mean this; that possibly—nay, more probably—we shall hear the great
alarm bell from the Judge’s House tonight,” and the Doctor made about
as effective an exit as could be thought of. When Malcolmson arrived home he found that it was a little after his
usual time, and Mrs. Dempster had gone away—the rules of Greenhow’s
Charity were not to be neglected. He was glad to see that the place was
bright and tidy with a cheerful fire and a well-trimmed lamp. The
evening was colder than might have been expected in April, and a heavy
wind was blowing with such rapidly-increasing strength that there was
every promise of a storm during the night. For a few minutes after his
entrance the noise of the rats ceased; but so soon as they became
accustomed to his presence they began again. He was glad to hear them,
for he felt once more the feeling of companionship in their noise, and
his mind ran back to the strange fact that they only ceased to manifest
themselves when that other—the great rat with the baleful eyes—came
upon the scene. The reading-lamp only was lit and its green shade kept
the ceiling and the upper part of the room in darkness, so that the
cheerful light from the hearth spreading over the floor and shining on
the white cloth laid over the end of the table was warm and cheery. Malcolmson sat down to his dinner with a good appetite and a buoyant
spirit. After his dinner and a cigarette he sat steadily down to work,
determined not to let anything disturb him, for he remembered his
promise to the doctor, and made up his mind to make the best of the
time at his disposal. For an hour or so he worked all right, and then his thoughts began to
wander from his books. The actual circumstances around him, the calls
on his physical attention, and his nervous susceptibility were not to
be denied. By this time the wind had become a gale, and the gale a
storm. The old house, solid though it was, seemed to shake to its
foundations, and the storm roared and raged through its many chimneys
and its queer old gables, producing strange, unearthly sounds in the
empty rooms and corridors. Even the great alarm bell on the roof must
have felt the force of the wind, for the rope rose and fell slightly,
as though the bell were moved a little from time to time and the limber
rope fell on the oak floor with a hard and hollow sound. As Malcolmson listened to it he bethought himself of the doctor’s
words, “It is the rope which the hangman used for the victims of the
Judge’s judicial rancour,” and he went over to the corner of the
fireplace and took it in his hand to look at it. There seemed a sort of
deadly interest in it, and as he stood there he lost himself for a
moment in speculation as to who these victims were, and the grim wish
of the Judge to have such a ghastly relic ever under his eyes. As he
stood there the swaying of the bell on the roof still lifted the rope
now and again; but presently there came a new sensation—a sort of
tremor in the rope, as though something was moving along it. Looking up instinctively Malcolmson saw the great rat coming slowly
down towards him, glaring at him steadily. He dropped the rope and
started back with a muttered curse, and the rat turning ran up the rope
again and disappeared, and at the same instant Malcolmson became
conscious that the noise of the rats, which had ceased for a while,
began again. All this set him thinking, and it occurred to him that he had not
investigated the lair of the rat or looked at the pictures, as he had
intended. He lit the other lamp without the shade, and, holding it up
went and stood opposite the third picture from the fireplace on the
right-hand side where he had seen the rat disappear on the previous
night. At the first glance he started back so suddenly that he almost dropped
the lamp, and a deadly pallor overspread his face. His knees shook, and
heavy drops of sweat came on his forehead, and he trembled like an
aspen. But he was young and plucky, and pulled himself together, and
after the pause of a few seconds stepped forward again, raised the
lamp, and examined the picture which had been dusted and washed, and
now stood out clearly. It was of a judge dressed in his robes of scarlet and ermine. His face
was strong and merciless, evil, crafty, and vindictive, with a sensual
mouth, hooked nose of ruddy colour, and shaped like the beak of a bird
of prey. The rest of the face was of a cadaverous colour. The eyes were
of peculiar brilliance and with a terribly malignant expression. As he
looked at them, Malcolmson grew cold, for he saw there the very
counterpart of the eyes of the great rat. The lamp almost fell from his
hand, he saw the rat with its baleful eyes peering out through the hole
in the corner of the picture, and noted the sudden cessation of the
noise of the other rats. However, he pulled himself together, and went
on with his examination of the picture. The Judge was seated in a great high-backed carved oak chair, on the
right-hand side of a great stone fireplace where, in the corner, a rope
hung down from the ceiling, its end lying coiled on the floor. With a
feeling of something like horror, Malcolmson recognised the scene of
the room as it stood, and gazed around him in an awestruck manner as
though he expected to find some strange presence behind him. Then he
looked over to the corner of the fireplace—and with a loud cry he let
the lamp fall from his hand. There, in the Judge’s arm-chair, with the rope hanging behind, sat the
rat with the Judge’s baleful eyes, now intensified and with a fiendish
leer. Save for the howling of the storm without there was silence. The fallen lamp recalled Malcolmson to himself. Fortunately it was of
metal, and so the oil was not spilt. However, the practical need of
attending to it settled at once his nervous apprehensions. When he had
turned it out, he wiped his brow and thought for a moment. “This will not do,” he said to himself. “If I go on like this I shall
become a crazy fool. This must stop! I promised the doctor I would not
take tea. Faith, he was pretty right! My nerves must have been getting
into a queer state. Funny I did not notice it. I never felt better in
my life. However, it is all right now, and I shall not be such a fool
again.”

Then he mixed himself a good stiff glass of brandy and water and
resolutely sat down to his work. It was nearly an hour when he looked up from his book, disturbed by the
sudden stillness. Without, the wind howled and roared louder than ever,
and the rain drove in sheets against the windows, beating like hail on
the glass; but within there was no sound whatever save the echo of the
wind as it roared in the great chimney, and now and then a hiss as a
few raindrops found their way down the chimney in a lull of the storm. The fire had fallen low and had ceased to flame, though it threw out a
red glow. Malcolmson listened attentively, and presently heard a thin,
squeaking noise, very faint.