Agar Halfi the mystic

There are villages like flowers in the combes of Somerset, There life moves in ordered measure like an old-world minuet, Life replete with scented blossoms, honest work and well...

It was evident, from the slightly contracted brows, that he was deeply considering some question of grave importance—at least to him—and as he walked with head bent, a first imp...

The morning following the Rev. Philip Alletson’s extraordinary experience found him rather pale, and in a decidedly nervous state of mind. The shock to his system had been sever...

As the last chime died away in the distance, Hugo Alexis Brentwood, the Master of Storton Manor, became suddenly and acutely aware that he was fully awake, staring blankly into...

Agar Halfi, the Hindoo, sat on the floor of the living-room of his lodge, with legs crossed in true Eastern fashion. The table on which he usually had his meals had been pushed...

On Thursday morning, at the appointed hour, the Rev. Philip Alletson made his way to the Manor. The maid who answered the door admitted him immediately, and conducted him up to...

Arthur Shepperton held the position of managing clerk to the firm of solicitors Dalby & Co., Westsea. He was fully qualified in his profession, Mr. Dalby having some six years b...

Constance Alletson looked steadily out of her bedroom window at the viola border of her own flower patch, while she slowly buttoned on her gloves. She was going to the Manor wit...

That evening Constance was alone, Philip having gone to visit a parishioner who was sick. It was chilly, and she drew her chair close to the fire. A book lay on her knee, but sh...

Meanwhile the Master of Storton, after the departure of his visitors in the afternoon, went up into his study, and stood with his hands in his coat pockets, looking out of the w...

In the morning Arthur Shepperton called for the Vicar and his sister, and they went together to the priory. Brentwood had not arrived when they got there, so they sat down to wa...

From the medical evidence it transpired that death was caused by heart failure, due to shock, though it was stated that the wound in the throat would have been sufficient to kil...

“The worst of it is, I have lost it outside somewhere. I had it in the pocket of my shooting jacket on the morning I first went to the priory, and it is not there now. I know fo...

Arthur Shepperton looked keenly at the pale, sharp face of the boy who addressed him, and then stared abstractedly at the card he held in his fingers, while he muttered to himse...

When Mr. Canning awoke from his siesta it was nearly four o’clock, but he did not rise immediately. After getting his eyes accustomed to the light, he drew from one of his many...

With rapid strides, Agar Halfi made his way to the Manor. As he walked, he thought long and seriously; forgotten for the time was his queer meeting in the priory with the strang...

When Canning arrived at Myrtle Cottage after his visit to the priory ruins, he opened the gate as though to pass in; then suddenly shut it again, and retracing his steps down th...

Mr. Brentwood sat staring indifferently at a lengthy letter that lay on his study table. It was from a well-known F.R.S., with whom he had some little time ago witnessed one or...

Constance woke with a start. For a time she lay in a slight perspiration, with that uncomfortable feeling of fear one has when waking suddenly out of a distasteful dream.

When she agreed to look after Elsie Hobson, Constance had taken upon herself a severe task. She found that the poor girl was practically helpless, and it had only been by painst...

It was just past two o’clock the next afternoon, when Constance—who was busy writing notices for a Church Workers’ Committee—heard a motor stop outside the gate. Shortly afterwa...

Herbert Canning had arranged to be at the Vicarage at 6.30 +p.m.+ on Friday, the day the attempt was to be made to restore Miss Hobson’s memory. The matter was of personal inter...

It need hardly be said that the joy of Mrs. and Mr. Hobson, at having their daughter restored to them, was unbounded. At one time they had never expected to see her again, and t...

Agar Halfi stood with grave eyes, watching the motionless form of the Master of Storton. The fever caused by the wound in his shoulder had abated, but the condition of the patie...

Opening his eyes, he gazed round, and received a slight shock of surprise. The electric light was on, and seated by a bright fire, was a nurse reading. He looked at her wonderin...

They buried the body of Agar Halfi quietly and without ceremony in the village churchyard, and when the Rev. Philip Alletson read the burial service it was a characteristic grou...

One evening about a fortnight later, when that moon whose birth signalised the death of Agar Halfi was on the wane, in the early twilight hour, the last rays of the setting sun...