open window and peering out across the common. Even as I saw him, a dim silhouette, I could detect that tensity in his attitude which told of high-strung nerves.
I joined him.
“What is it?” I said, curiously.
“I don’t know. Watch that clump of elms.”
His masterful voice had the dry tone in it betokening excitement. I leaned on the ledge beside him and looked out. The blaze of stars almost compensated for the absence of the moon and the night had a quality of stillness that made for awe. This was a tropical summer, and the common, with its dancing lights dotted irregularly about it, had an unfamiliar look to-night. The clump of nine elms showed as a dense and irregular mass, lacking detail.
Such moods as that which now claimed my friend are magnetic. I had no thought of the night’s beauty, for it only served to remind me that somewhere amid London’s millions was lurking an uncanny being, whose life was a mystery, whose very existence was a scientific miracle.
“Where’s your patient?” rapped Smith.
His abrupt query diverted my thoughts into a new channel. No footstep disturbed the silence of the highroad; where was my patient?
I craned from the window. Smith grabbed my arm.
“Don’t lean out,” he said.
I drew back, glancing at him surprisedly.
“For Heaven’s sake, why not?”
“I’ll tell you presently, Petrie. Did you see him?”
“I did, and I can’t make out what he is doing. He seems to have remained standing at the gate for some reason.”
“He has seen it!” snapped Smith. “Watch those elms.”
His hand remained upon my arm, gripping it nervously. Shall I say that I was surprised? I can say it with truth. But I shall add that I was thrilled, eerily; for this subdued
Prev.
Back
Top