Part 20

And he went straight to the table above which hung the picture of the man at the brick-kiln, and looked at it. Then there was silence; and eventually I spoke, for I wanted to know one thing.

“Seen anybody?” I asked.

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“Because I have also; the man in that picture.”

Jack came and sat down near me.

“It’s a ghost, you know,” he said. “He came down to the river about dusk and stood near me for an hour. At first I thought he was--was real, and I warned him that he had better stand further off if he didn’t want to be hooked. And then it struck me he wasn’t real, and I cast, well, right through him, and about seven he walked up towards the house.”

“Were you frightened?”

“No. It was so tremendously interesting. So you saw him here too. Whereabouts?”

“Just outside. I think he is in the house now.”

Jack looked round.

“Did you see him come in?” he asked.

“No, but I felt him. There’s another queer thing too; the chimney of the brick-kiln is smoking.”

Jack looked out of the window. It was nearly dark but the wreathing smoke could just be seen.

“So it is,” he said, “fat, greasy smoke. I think I’ll go up and see what’s on. Come too?”

“I think not,” I said.

“Are you frightened? It isn’t worth while. Besides, it is so tremendously interesting.”

Jack came back from his little expedition still interested. He had found nothing stirring at the kiln, but though it was then nearly dark the interior was faintly luminous, and against the black of the sky he could see a wisp of thick white smoke floating northwards. But for the rest of the evening we neither heard nor saw anything of abnormal import, and the next day ran a course of undisturbed hours. Then suddenly a hellish activity was manifested.

That night, while I was undressing for bed, I heard a bell ring furiously, and I thought I heard a shout also. I guessed where the ring came from, since Franklyn and his wife had long ago gone to bed, and went straight to Jack’s room. But as I tapped at the door I heard his voice from inside calling loud to me. “Take care,” it said, “he’s close to the door.”

A sudden qualm of blank fear took hold of me, but mastering it as best I could, I opened the door to enter, and once again something pushed softly by me, though I saw nothing.

Jack was standing by his bed, half-undressed. I saw him wipe his forehead with the back of his hand.

“He’s been here again,” he said. “I was standing just here, a minute ago, when I found him close by me. He came out of the inner room, I think. Did you see what he had in his hand?”

“I saw nothing.”

“It was a knife; a great long carving knife. Do you mind my sleeping on the sofa in your room to-night? I got an awful turn then. There was another thing too. All round the edge of his clothes, at his collar and at his wrists, there were little flames playing, little white licking flames.”

* * * * *

But next day, again, we neither heard nor saw anything, nor that night did the sense of that dreadful presence in the house come to us. And then came the last day. We had been out till it was dark, and as I said, had a wonderful day among the fish. On reaching home we sat together in the sitting-room, when suddenly from overhead came a tread of feet, a violent pealing of the bell, and the moment after yell after yell as of someone in mortal agony. The thought occurred to both of us that this might be Mrs Franklyn in terror of some fearful sight, and together we rushed up and sprang into Jack’s bedroom.

The doorway into the room beyond was open, and just inside it we saw the man bending over some dark huddled object. Though the room was dark we could see him perfectly, for a light stale and impure seemed to come from him. He had again a long knife in his hand, and as we entered he was wiping it on the mass that lay at his feet. Then he took it up, and we saw what it was, a woman with head nearly severed. But it was not Mrs Franklyn.

And then the whole thing vanished, and we were standing looking into a dark and empty room. We went downstairs without a word, and it was not till we were both in the sitting-room below that Jack spoke.

“And he takes her to the brick-kiln,” he said rather unsteadily. “I say, have you had enough of this house? I have. There is hell in it.”

* * * * *

About a week later Jack put into my hand a guidebook to Sussex open at the description of Trevor Major, and I read:

“Just outside the village stands the picturesque manor house, once the home of the artist and notorious murderer, Francis Adam. It was here he killed his wife, in a fit, it is believed, of groundless jealousy, cutting her throat and disposing of her remains by burning them in a brick-kiln. Certain charred fragments found six months afterwards led to his arrest and execution.”

* * * * *

So I prefer to leave the house with the brick-kiln and the pictures signed F. A. to others.

TURNBULL AND SPEARS, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH

OBSERVER.--“_Miss Stevens has really leaped to the front rank among writers of fiction._”

THE LURE

BY

E. S. STEVENS

Author of “The Veil” and “The Mountain of God,” etc.

_Crown 8vo_, =6s.=

The lure of adventure, the lure of a strong and unscrupulous personality, and the lure of the Dark Continent, play their parts in this story. Anne, the woman of the book, comes under the influence of all three, to learn at the last that they have only enchained her imagination and not her heart. A great part of this notable novel takes place in the less known parts of the Soudan, where the main actors in the drama meet and work out their destinies. The background is that vast land of the elephant, the crocodile, and the hippopotamus, where solitary Englishmen are loyally serving their country and civilisation, without vainglory or hope of reward. THE LURE will be one of the most remarkable novels of 1912.

_Novels by E. S. Stevens_

THE VEIL. 6_s._ (Cloth.) Do. 1_s._ (Paper.)

THE MOUNTAIN OF GOD. 6_s._ (Cloth.) Do. 1_s._ (Paper.)

THE EARTHEN DRUM. 6_s._ (Eastern Stories.)

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MILLS & BOON, LTD., 49 RUPERT ST., LONDON, W.

_A Remarkable Indian Romance_

THE DAUGHTER OF BRAHMA

By I. A. R. WYLIE

Author of “The Rajah’s People” and “Dividing Waters”

_Crown 8vo_, =6s.=

In THE DAUGHTER OF BRAHMA we are transported back to the mysterious atmosphere and brilliant Oriental colourings which marked the author’s first novel, “The Rajah’s People.” But here the complications of race and religion in India are faced from another standpoint--that of the woman. With profound sympathy we follow the wonderful moral and spiritual growth of the daughter of Brahma, whose fate becomes so strangely linked with that of the hero. With an equal interest, moreover, the reader is led step by step through an absorbing plot, in which all the hidden religious and political life of India is revealed in striking colours, until the final crisis is reached. The crisis, indeed, is an intensely dramatic and tragic one; but it satisfies not only by its truth, but by the promise of future happiness which it brings with it. The story draws into it many minor characters, who, like the two chief figures, win both interest and sympathy by their originality and life-like portraiture.

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MILLS & BOON, LTD., 49 RUPERT ST., LONDON, W.

_A Notable Novel_

Some years ago there appeared a very notable novel which Mills & Boon believe has got lost sight of in the rush of Fiction so energetically published by almost every firm. It was entitled--

AN ENGLISHMAN

By MARY PENDERED

How many readers of to-day remember it? Mills & Boon will shortly issue a new and revised edition at =6s.=, and they hope the public will not miss this chance of reading one of the finest novels of the last fifteen years. Some reviews are here given which appeared when the book was originally published.

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* * * * *

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* * * * *

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(W. L. Courtney in his summary of the best book of the year 1899.)

MILLS & BOON, Ltd., 49 Rupert Street, London, W.

MILLS & BOON

have just published two of the brightest novels issued recently. All fiction readers should get =MAUDE ANNESLEY’S=

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There is always a New MILLS & BOON NOVEL--Here is a NOVEL MILLS & BOON IDEA

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MY GERMAN YEAR

By I. A. R. WYLIE

AUTHOR OF “IN DIFFERENT KEYS,” “DIVIDING WATERS,” “THE RAJAH’S PEOPLE,” ETC.

With 2 Illustrations in colour, and 18 from Photographs Second Edition. Demy 8vo. =10s. 6d.= net

The _Westminster Gazette_ has reviewed “My German Year” as “a vivid, attractive, and really informing volume,” and also as “wise, well-informed, and very readable, with some delightful fresh information and shrewd criticisms.” Also saying: “We close ‘My German Year’ with a feeling of gratitude for very good entertainment all through, and with a sense that though on a good many minor points the writer is led by her enthusiasm to see matters in a far too roseate light, she has used her brain and her eyes to good purpose during her ‘German Year,’ and has written a book which suffers in no way by the fact that the last few years have seen the publication in this country of several volumes on the same subject.”

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AUTHOR OF “CASTING OF NETS,” “A ROMAN MYSTERY,” “DONNA DIANA” “THE LAKES OF NORTHERN ITALY,” “THE HOUSE OF SERRAVALLE,” ETC.

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MILLS & BOON, Ltd., 49 Rupert Street, London, W.

MILLS & BOON’S

SHILLING NOVELS

=THE MOUNTAIN OF GOD.= By E. S. STEVENS. =THE VEIL.= By E. S. STEVENS. =THE RAJAH’S PEOPLE.= By I. A. R. WYLIE. =DOWN OUR STREET.= By J. E. BUCKROSE. =THE PEER’S PROGRESS.= By J. STORER CLOUSTON. =THE PRODIGAL FATHER.= By J. STORER CLOUSTON. =TALES OF KING FIDO.= By J. STORER CLOUSTON. =THE LOVE STORY OF A MORMON.= By WINIFRED GRAHAM. =THE ENEMY OF WOMAN.= By WINIFRED GRAHAM. =MARY.= By WINIFRED GRAHAM. =THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN.= By HORACE W. C. NEWTE. =CALICO JACK=: A Story of the Music Halls. By HORACE W. C. NEWTE. =THE LONELY LOVERS.= By HORACE W. C. NEWTE. =SPARROWS.= The Story of an Unprotected Girl. By HORACE W. C. NEWTE. =CARDILLAC.= By ROBERT BARR. =813= (A new Arsène Lupin Adventure). By MAURICE LEBLANC. =MARY UP AT GAFFRIES.= By S. C. NETHERSOLE. =THE WOMAN WHO FORGOT.= By LADY TROUBRIDGE. =CUMNER’S SON.= By GILBERT PARKER. *=THE BILL-TOPPERS.= By ANDRÉ CASTAIGNE. *=THE QUAKER GIRL.= By HAROLD SIMPSON. *=THE COUNT OF LUXEMBOURG.= By HAROLD SIMPSON. *=THE DOLLAR PRINCESS.= By HAROLD SIMPSON. *=ARSÈNE LUPIN.= By EDGAR JEPSON and MAURICE LEBLANC. *=D’ARCY OF THE GUARDS.= By L. E. SHIPMAN. =PETER PAN= (The Fairy Story of the Play). By G. D. DRENNAN. =BEWARE OF THE DOG.= By Mrs BAILLIE REYNOLDS. =FOR CHURCH AND CHIEFTAIN.= By MAY WYNNE. =THE ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN JACK.= By MAX PEMBERTON. =THE END AND THE BEGINNING.= By COSMO HAMILTON. =WEE MACGREEGOR.= By J. J. B. =PROOFS BEFORE PULPING.= By BARRY PAIN. =THOMAS HENRY.= By W. PETT RIDGE.

* Novels of the Plays.

MILLS & BOON, Ltd., 49 Rupert Street, London, W.

Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:

greath depth=> great depth {pg 54}

never pentrate=> never penetrate {pg 184}

clear chalk-streami=> clear chalk-streams {pg 331}

minature-like elaboration=> miniature-like elaboration {pg 326}