"Yes, sir," was the instant reply; "there's a room on the next floor which was got ready for you."

"Capital," I answered; "we will convey him there at once."

We did so, and after using some restoratives, he came to himself. When he saw me he gazed at me with an expression of horror on his face.

"Am I alive, or is it a dream?" he said.

"You are alive, but you have had a narrow escape of your life," I answered. I then told him how I had found him.

He sat up as I began to speak, and as I continued my narrative his eyes dilated with an expression of terror which I have seldom seen equalled.

"You do not know what I have lived through," he said at last. "I only wonder I retain my reason. Oh, that awful room! no wonder men died and went mad there!"

"Well, speak, Cressley; I am all attention," I said; "you will be the better when you have unburdened yourself."

"I can tell you what happened in a few words," he answered. "You know I mentioned the horrid sort of presentiment I had about coming here at all. That first night I could not make up my mind to sleep in the house, so I went to the little inn at Brent. I received your telegram yesterday, and went to meet you by the last train. When you did not come, I had a tussle with myself; but I could think of no decent excuse for deserting the old place, and so came back. My intention was to sit up the greater part of the night arranging papers in the library. The days are long now, and I thought I might go to bed when morning broke. I was irresistibly sleepy, however, and went up to my room soon after one o'clock. I was determined to think of nothing unpleasant, and got quickly into bed, taking the precaution first to lock the door. I placed the key under my pillow, and, being very tired, soon fell into a heavy sleep. I awoke suddenly, after what seemed but a few minutes, to find the room dark, for the moon must just have set. I was very sleepy, and I wondered vaguely why I had awakened; and then suddenly, without warning, and without cause, a monstrous, unreasonable fear seized me. An indefinable intuition told me that I was not alone--that some horrible presence was near. I do not think the certainty of immediate death could have inspired me with a greater dread than that which suddenly came upon me. I dared not stir hand nor foot. My powers of reason and resistance were paralysed. At last, by an immense effort, I nerved myself to see the worst. Slowly, very slowly, I turned my head and opened my eyes.

Against the tapestry at the further corner of the room, in the dark shadow, stood a figure. It stood out quite boldly, emanating from itself a curious light. I had no time to think of phosphorus. It never occurred to me that any trick was being played upon me. I felt certain that I was looking at my ancestor, Barrington Cressley, who had come back to torture me in order to make me give up possession. The figure was that of a man six feet high, and broad in proportion. The face was bent forward and turned toward me, but in the uncertain light I could neither see the features nor the expression. The figure stood as still as a statue, and was evidently watching me. At the end of a moment, which seemed to me an eternity, it began to move, and, with a slow and silent step, approached me. I lay perfectly still, every muscle braced, and watched the figure between half-closed eyelids. It was now within a foot or two of me, and I could distinctly see the face. What was my horror to observe that it wore the features of my agent Murdock.

"'Murdock!' I cried, the word coming in a strangled sound from my throat. The next instant he had sprung upon me. I heard a noise of something rattling above, and saw a huge shadow descending upon me. I did not know what it was, and I felt certain that I was being murdered.

The next moment all was lost in unconsciousness. Bell, how queer you look! Was it--was it Murdock? But it could not have been; he was very ill in bed at Liverpool. What in the name of goodness was the awful horror through which I had lived?"

"I can a.s.sure you on one point," I answered; "it was no ghost. And as to Murdock, it is more than likely that you did see him."

I then told the poor fellow what I had discovered with regard to the agent, and also my firm conviction that Wickham was at the bottom of it.

Cressley's astonishment was beyond bounds, and I saw at first that he scarcely believed me; but when I said that it was my intention to search the house, he accompanied me.

We both, followed by Mitch.e.l.l, returned to the ill-fated room; but, though we examined the tapestry and panelling, we could not find the secret means by which the villain had obtained access to the chamber.

"The carriage which brought me here is still waiting just outside the lodge gates," I said. "What do you say to leaving this place at once, and returning, at least, as far as Carlton? We might spend the remainder of the night there, and take the very first train to Liverpool."

"Anything to get away," said Cressley. "I do not feel that I can ever come back to Cressley Hall again."

"You feel that now, but by-and-by your sensations will be different," I answered. As I spoke I called Mitch.e.l.l to me. I desired him to go at once to the lodge gates and ask the driver of the wagonette to come down to the Hall.

This was done, and half an hour afterwards Cressley and I were on our way back to Carlton. Early the next morning we went to Liverpool. There we visited the police, and I asked to have a warrant taken out for the apprehension of Murdock.

The superintendent, on hearing my tale, suggested that we should go at once to Murdock's house in Melville Gardens. We did so, but it was empty, Murdock, his wife, and Wickham having thought it best to decamp.

The superintendent insisted, however, on having the house searched, and in a dark closet at the top we came upon a most extraordinary contrivance. This was no less than an exact representation of the agent's head and neck in wax. In it was a wonderfully skilful imitation of a human larynx, which, by a cunning mechanism of clockwork, could be made exactly to simulate the breathing and low moaning of a human being.

This the man had, of course, utilized with the connivance of his wife and Wickham in order to prove an alibi, and the deception was so complete that only my own irresistible curiosity could have enabled me to discover the secret. That night the police were fortunate enough to capture both Murdock and Wickham in a Liverpool slum. Seeing that all was up, the villains made complete confession, and the whole of the black plot was revealed. It appeared that two adventurers, the worst form of scoundrels, knew of Cressley's great discovery in Western Australia, and had made up their minds to forestall him in his claim.

One of these men had come some months ago to England, and while in Liverpool had made the acquaintance of Murdock. The other man, Wickham, accompanied Cressley on the voyage in order to keep him in view, and worm as many secrets as possible from him. When Cressley spoke of his superst.i.tion with regard to the turret room, it immediately occurred to Wickham to utilize the room for his destruction. Murdock proved a ready tool in the hands of the rogues. They offered him an enormous bribe.

And then the three between them evolved the intricate and subtle details of the crime. It was arranged that Murdock was to commit the ghastly deed, and for this purpose he was sent down quietly to Brent disguised as a journeyman the day before Cressley went to the Hall. The men had thought that Cressley would prove an easy prey, but they distrusted me from the first. Their relief was great when they discovered that I could not accompany Cressley to the Hall. And had he spent the first night there, the murder would have been committed; but his nervous terrors inducing him to spend the night at Brent foiled this attempt. Seeing that I was returning to Liverpool, the men now thought that they would use me for their own devices, and made up their minds to decoy me into Murdock's bedroom in order that I might see the wax figure, their object, of course, being that I should be forced to prove an alibi in case Murdock was suspected of the crime. The telegram which reached me at Prince's Hotel on my return from London was sent by one of the ruffians, who was lying in ambush at Brent. When I left Murdock's house, the wife informed Wickham that she thought from my manner I suspected something. He had already taken steps to induce the cab-driver to take me in a wrong direction, in order that I should miss my train, and it was not until he visited the stables outside the Prince's Hotel that he found that I intended to go by road. He then played his last card, when he telegraphed to the inn at Carlton to stop the horses. By Murdock's means Wickham and his confederate had the run of the rooms at the Hall ever since the arrival of Wickham from Australia, and they had rigged up the top of the old bedstead in the way I have described. There was, needless to say, a secret pa.s.sage at the back of the tapestry, which was so cunningly hidden in the panelling as to baffle all ordinary means of discovery.

WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED.

GUY BOOTHBY.

In Strange Company: A Story of Chili and the Southern Seas. By Guy Boothby, Author of "Dr. Nikola." With Six full-page Ill.u.s.trations by Stanley L. Wood. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, bevelled boards, 5s.

"A capital novel of its kind--the sensational-adventurous. It has the quality of life and stir, and will carry the reader with curiosity unabated to the end."--_The World._

"The best of them is 'In Strange Company.' ... The book is a good tale of adventure; it has plenty of astonishing incidents which yet have an air of verisimilitude."--_The Pall Mall Budget._

The Marriage of Esther: A Torres Straits Sketch. By Guy Boothby, Author of "In Strange Company," &c. With Four full-page Ill.u.s.trations by Stanley L. Wood. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 5s.

"A story full of action, life, and dramatic interest.... There is a vigour and power of illusion about it that raises it quite above the level of the ordinary novel of adventure."--_Manchester Guardian._

"Gives a vivid and life-like presentment of its characters.... It is most exciting, Mr. Boothby's vigorous style and happy description giving the book an interest entirely apart from that of the adventurous."--_The Star._

A Bid for Fortune; or, Dr. Nikola's Vendetta. By Guy Boothby, Author of "In Strange Company," "The Marriage of Esther," &c. With about Fifty Ill.u.s.trations by Stanley L. Wood and Others. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 5s.

"He never allows the interest to drop from first page to last....

The plot is highly ingenious, and when once it has fairly thickened, exciting to a degree."--_The Times._

"It is impossible to give any idea of the verve and brightness with which the story is told. Mr. Boothby may be congratulated on having produced about the most original novel of the year."--_Manchester Courier._

The Beautiful White Devil. By Guy Boothby, Author of "Dr. Nikola," &c.

With Six full-page Ill.u.s.trations by Stanley L. Wood. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 5s.

"A more lively, romantic, and amazing bit of fiction than 'The Beautiful White Devil,' it would be hard to indicate.... It is full of surprise and fascination for the fiction-lover, and is worthy of the reputation of the creator of the famous Nikola."

Dr. Nikola. By Guy Boothby. With about Forty Ill.u.s.trations by Stanley L. Wood. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, in striking and original binding, 5s.

"One hair-breadth escape succeeds another with rapidity that scarce leaves the reader breathing s.p.a.ce.... The interest of their experience is sufficient to stay criticism and carry him through a story ingeniously invented and skilfully told."--_Scotsman._

_The Manchester Courier_ says:--"Few authors can depict action as brilliantly and resourcefully as the creator of 'Dr. Nikola.'"

The Fascination of the King. By Guy Boothby. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, special design, bevelled boards, 5s. Ill.u.s.trated by Stanley L. Wood.

"A tale of much power and sustained interest, narrated with dramatic effect."--_The Scotsman._

"The interest is sustained from first to last, and thrilling incidents crop up at almost every page."--_The People._

"Unquestionably the best work we have yet seen from the pen of Mr.

Guy Boothby.... 'The Fascination of the King' is one of the books of the season."--_Bristol Mercury._

"Undoubtedly dramatic.... A wonderfully interesting story."--_Morning Leader._

Bushigrams. By Guy Boothby. Fully Ill.u.s.trated. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 5s.

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ARTHUR MORRISON.

Martin Hewitt, Investigator. By Arthur Morrison, Author of "Tales of Mean Streets," &c. With Fifty Ill.u.s.trations by Sidney Paget. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 5s.