Creatures of the Night (Boxed Set Edition). Редьярд Джозеф Киплинг

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      "And we, too, George," exclaimed Henry; "we will follow Mr. Marchdale. This dreadful affair concerns us more nearly than it does him."

      The lady who was the mother of these young men, and of the beautiful girl who had been so awfully visited, screamed aloud, and implored of them to stay. But the voice of Mr. Marchdale was heard exclaiming aloud—

      "I see it—I see it; it makes for the wall."

      They hesitated no longer, but at once rushed into the balcony, and from thence dropped into the garden.

      The mother approached the bed-side of the insensible, perhaps the murdered girl; she saw her, to all appearance, weltering in blood, and, overcome by her emotions, she fainted on the floor of the room.

      When the two young men reached the garden, they found it much lighter than might have been fairly expected; for not only was the morning rapidly approaching, but the mill was still burning, and those mingled lights made almost every object plainly visible, except when deep shadows were thrown from some gigantic trees that had stood for centuries in that sweetly wooded spot. They heard the voice of Mr. Marchdale, as he cried—

      "There—there—towards the wall. There—there—God! how it bounds along."

      The young men hastily dashed through a thicket in the direction from whence his voice sounded, and then they found him looking wild and terrified, and with something in his hand which looked like a portion of clothing.

      "Which way, which way?" they both cried in a breath.

      He leant heavily on the arm of George, as he pointed along a vista of trees, and said in a low voice—

      "God help us all. It is not human. Look there—look there—do you not see it?"

      They looked in the direction he indicated. At the end of this vista was the wall of the garden. At that point it was full twelve feet in height, and as they looked, they saw the hideous, monstrous form they had traced from the chamber of their sister, making frantic efforts to clear the obstacle.

      Then they saw it bound from the ground to the top of the wall, which it very nearly reached, and then each time it fell back again into the garden with such a dull, heavy sound, that the earth seemed to shake again with the concussion. They trembled—well indeed they might, and for some minutes they watched the figure making its fruitless efforts to leave the place.

      "What—what is it?" whispered Henry, in hoarse accents. "God, what can it possibly be?"

      "I know not," replied Mr. Marchdale. "I did seize it. It was cold and clammy like a corpse. It cannot be human."

      "Not human?"

      "Look at it now. It will surely escape now."

      "No, no—we will not be terrified thus—there is Heaven above us. Come on, and, for dear Flora's sake, let us make an effort yet to seize this bold intruder."

      "Take this pistol," said Marchdale. "It is the fellow of the one I fired. Try its efficacy."

      "He will be gone," exclaimed Henry, as at this moment, after many repeated attempts and fearful falls, the figure reached the top of the wall, and then hung by its long arms a moment or two, previous to dragging itself completely up.

      The idea of the appearance, be it what it might, entirely escaping, seemed to nerve again Mr. Marchdale, and he, as well as the two young men, ran forward towards the wall. They got so close to the figure before it sprang down on the outer side of the wall, that to miss killing it with the bullet from the pistol was a matter of utter impossibility, unless wilfully.

      Henry had the weapon, and he pointed it full at the tall form with a steady aim. He pulled the trigger—the explosion followed, and that the bullet did its office there could be no manner of doubt, for the figure gave a howling shriek, and fell headlong from the wall on the outside.

      "I have shot him," cried Henry, "I have shot him."

      CHAPTER III.

       Table of Contents

      THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE BODY.—FLORA'S RECOVERY AND MADNESS.—THE OFFER OF ASSISTANCE FROM SIR FRANCIS VARNEY.

      "He is human!" cried Henry; "I have surely killed him."

      "It would seem so," said Mr. Marchdale. "Let us now hurry round to the outside of the wall, and see where he lies."

      This was at once agreed to, and the whole three of them made what expedition they could towards a gate which led into a paddock, across which they hurried, and soon found themselves clear of the garden wall, so that they could make way towards where they fully expected to find the body of him who had worn so unearthly an aspect, but who it would be an excessive relief to find was human.

      So hurried was the progress they made, that it was scarcely possible to exchange many words as they went; a kind of breathless anxiety was upon them, and in the speed they disregarded every obstacle, which would, at any other time, have probably prevented them from taking the direct road they sought.

      It was difficult on the outside of the wall to say exactly which was the precise spot which it might be supposed the body had fallen on; but, by following the wall in its entire length, surely they would come upon it.

      They did so; but, to their surprise, they got from its commencement to its further extremity without finding any dead body, or even any symptoms of one having lain there.

      At some parts close to the wall there grew a kind of heath, and, consequently, the traces of blood would be lost among it, if it so happened that at the precise spot at which the strange being had seemed to topple over, such vegetation had existed. This was to be ascertained; but now, after traversing the whole length of the wall twice, they came to a halt, and looked wonderingly in each other's faces.

      "There is nothing here," said Harry.

      "Nothing," added his brother.

      "It could not have been a delusion," at length said Mr. Marchdale, with a shudder.

      "A delusion?" exclaimed the brother! "That is not possible; we all saw it."

      "Then what terrible explanation can we give?"

      "By heavens! I know not," exclaimed Henry. "This adventure surpasses all belief, and but for the great interest we have in it, I should regard it with a world of curiosity."

      "It is too dreadful," said George; "for God's sake, Henry, let us return to ascertain if poor Flora is killed."

      "My senses," said Henry, "were all so much absorbed in gazing at that horrible form, that I never once looked towards her further than to see that she was, to appearance, dead. God help her! poor—poor, beautiful Flora. This is, indeed, a sad, sad fate for you to come to. Flora—Flora—"

      "Do СКАЧАТЬ