it was either on the fourth or the fifth day after i had taken possession of my cottage that i was astonished to hear footsteps upon the grass outside, quickly followed by a crack, as from a stick upon the door. the explosion of an infernal machine would hardly have surprised or discomfited me more. i had hoped to have shaken off all intrusion for ever, yet here was somebody beating at my door with as little ceremony as if it had been a village ale-house. hot with anger, i flung down my book and withdrew the bolt just as my visitor had raised his stick to renew his rough application for admittance. he was a tall, powerful man, tawny-bearded and deep-chested, clad in a loose-fitting suit of tweed, cut for comfort rather than elegance. as he stood in the shimmering sunlight, i took in every feature of his face. the large, fleshy nose; the steady blue eyes, with their thick thatch of overhanging brows; the broad forehead, all knitted and lined with furrows, which were strangely at variance with his youthful bearing. in spite of his weather-stained felt hat, and the coloured handkerchief slung round his muscular brown neck, i could see at a glance he was a man of breeding and education. i had been prepared for some wandering shepherd or uncouth tramp, but this apparition fairly disconcerted me.
“you look astonished,” said he, with a smile. “did you think, then, that you were the only man in the world with a taste for solitude? you see that there are other hermits in the wilderness besides yourself.”
“do you mean to say that you live here?” i asked in no conciliatory voice.
“up yonder,” he answered, tossing his head backward. “i thought as we were neighbours, mr. upperton, that i could not do less than look in and see if i could assist you in any way.”
“thank you,” i said coldly, standing with my hand upon the latch of the door. “i am a man of simple tastes, and you can do nothing for me. you have the advantage of me in knowing my name.”
he appeared to be chilled by my ungracious manner.
“i learned it from the masons who were at work here,” he said. “as for me, i am a surgeon, the surgeon of gaster fell. that is the name p. 163i have gone by in these parts, and it serves as well as another.”
“not much room for practice here?” i observed.
“not a soul except yourself for miles on either side.”
“you appear to have had need of some assistance yourself,” i remarked, glancing at a broad white splash, as from the recent action of some powerful acid, upon his sunburnt cheek.
“that is nothing,” he answered, curtly, turning his face half round to hide the mark. “i must get back, for i have a companion who is waiting for me. if i can ever do anything for you, pray let me know. you have only to follow the beck upward for a mile or so to find my place. have you a bolt on the inside of your door?”
“yes,” i answered, rather startled at this question.
“keep it bolted, then,” he said. “the fell is a strange place. you never know who may be about. it is as well to be on the safe side. goodbye.” he raised his hat, turned on his heel and lounged away along the bank of the little stream.
i was still standing with my hand upon the latch, gazing after my unexpected visitor, when i became aware of yet another dweller in the wilderness. some distance along the path which the stranger was taking there lay a great grey boulder, and leaning against this was a small, p. 164wizened man, who stood erect as the other approached, and advanced to meet him. the two talked for a minute or more, the taller man nodding his head frequently in my direction, as though describing what had passed between us. then they walked on together, and disappeared in a dip of the fell. presently i saw them ascending once more some rising ground farther on. my acquaintance had thrown his arm round his elderly friend, either from affection or from a desire to aid him up the steep incline. the square burly figure and its shrivelled, meagre companion stood out against the sky-line, and turning their faces, they looked back at me. at the sight, i slammed the door, lest they should be encouraged to return. but when i peeped from the window some minutes afterward, i perceived that they were gone.
all day i bent over the egyptian papyrus upon which i was engaged; but neither the subtle reasonings of the ancient philosopher of memphis, nor the mystic meaning which lay in his pages, could raise my mind from the things of earth. evening was drawing in before i threw my work aside in despair. my heart was bitter against this man for his intrusion. standing by the beck which purled past the door of my cabin, i cooled my heated brow, and thought the matter over. clearly it was the small mystery hanging over these neighbours of mine which had p. 165caused my mind to run so persistently on them. that cleared up, they would no longer cause an obstacle to my studies. what was to hinder me, then, from walking in the direction of their dwelling, and observing for myself, without permitting them to suspect my presence, what manner of men they might be? doubtless, their mode of life would be found to admit of some simple and prosaic explanation. in any case, the evening was fine, and a walk would be bracing for mind and body. lighting my pipe, i set off over the moors in the direction which they had taken.
about half-way down a wild glen there stood a small clump of gnarled and stunted oak trees. from behind these, a thin dark column of smoke rose into the still evening air. clearly this marked the position of my neighbour’s house. trending away to the left, i was able to gain the shelter of a line of rocks, and so reach a spot from which i could command a view of the building without exposing myself to any risk of being observed. it was a small, slate-covered cottage, hardly larger than the boulders among which it lay. like my own cabin, it showed signs of having been constructed for the use of some shepherd; but, unlike mine, no pains had been taken by the tenants to improve and enlarge it. two little peeping windows, a cracked and weather-beaten door, and a discoloured barrel for catching the rain water, were the only external p. 166objects from which i might draw deductions as to the dwellers within. yet even in these there was food for thought, for as i drew nearer, still concealing myself behind the ridge, i saw that thick bars of iron covered the windows, while the old door was slashed and plated with the same metal. these strange precautions, together with the wild surroundings and unbroken solitude, gave an indescribably ill omen and fearsome character to the solitary building. thrusting my pipe into my pocket, i crawled upon my hands and knees through the gorse and ferns until i was within a hundred yards of my neighbour’s door. there, finding that i could not approach nearer without fear of detection, i crouched down, and set myself to watch.
i had hardly settled into my hiding place, when the door of the cottage swung open, and the man who had introduced himself to me as the surgeon of gaster fell came out, bareheaded, with a spade in his hands. in front of the door there was a small cultivated patch containing potatoes, peas and other forms of green stuff, and here he proceeded to busy himself, trimming, weeding and arranging, singing the while in a powerful though not very musical voice. he was all engrossed in his work, with his back to the cottage, when there emerged from the half-open door the same attenuated creature whom i had seen in the morning. i could perceive now that he was a man of sixty, wrinkled, bent, and feeble, with sparse, grizzled hair, and long, colourless face. with a cringing, sidelong gait, he shuffled toward his companion, who was unconscious of his approach until he was close upon him. his light footfall or his breathing may have finally given notice of his proximity, for the worker sprang round and faced him. each made a quick step toward the other, as though in greeting, and then—even now i feel the horror of the instant—the tall man rushed upon and knocked his companion to the earth, then whipping up his body, ran with great speed over the intervening ground and disappeared with his burden into the house.
case hardened as i was by my varied life, the suddenness and violence of the thing made me shudder. the man’s age, his feeble frame, his humble and deprecating manner, all cried shame against the deed. so hot was my anger, that i was on the point of striding up to the cabin, unarmed as i was, when the sound of voices from within showed me that the victim had recovered. the sun had sunk beneath the horizon, and all was grey, save a red feather in the cap of pennigent. secure in the failing light, i approached near and strained my ears to catch what was passing. i could hear the high, querulous voice of the elder man and the deep, rough monotone of his assailant, mixed with a strange metallic p. 168jangling and clanking. presently the surgeon came out, locked the door behind him and stamped up and down in the twilight, pulling at his hair and brandishing his arms, like a man demented. then he set off, walking rapidly up the valley, and i soon lost sight of him among the rocks.
when his footsteps had died away in the distance, i drew nearer to the cottage. the prisoner within was still pouring forth a stream of words, and moaning from time to time like a man in pain. these words resolved themselves, as i approached, into prayers—shrill, voluble prayers, pattered forth with the intense earnestness of one who sees impending an imminent danger. there was to me something inexpressibly awesome in this gush of solemn entreaty from the lonely sufferer, meant for no human ear, and jarring upon the silence of the night. i was still pondering whether i should mix myself in the affair or not, when i heard in the distance the sound of the surgeon’s returning footfall. at that i drew myself up quickly by the iron bars and glanced in through the diamond-paned window. the interior of the cottage was lighted up by a lurid glow, coming from what i afterward discovered to be a chemical furnace. by its rich light i could distinguish a great litter of retorts, test tubes and condensers, which sparkled over the table, and threw strange, grotesque shadows on the wall. on the further side of the p. 169room was a wooden framework resembling a hencoop, and in this, still absorbed in prayer, knelt the man whose voice i heard. the red glow beating upon his upturned face made it stand out from the shadow like a painting from rembrandt, showing up every wrinkle upon the parchment-like skin. i had but time for a fleeting glance; then, dropping from the window, i made off through the rocks and the heather, nor slackened my pace until i found myself back in my cabin once more. there i threw myself upon my couch, more disturbed and shaken than i had ever thought to feel again.
such doubts as i might have had as to whether i had indeed seen my former fellow-lodger upon the night of the thunderstorm were resolved the next morning. strolling along down the path which led to the fell, i saw in one spot where the ground was soft the impressions of a foot—the small, dainty foot of a well-booted woman. that tiny heel and high instep could have belonged to none other than my companion of kirkby-malhouse. i followed her trail for some distance, till it still pointed, as far as i could discern it, to the lonely and ill-omened cottage. what power could there be to draw this tender girl, through wind and rain and darkness, across the fearsome moors to that strange rendezvous?
i have said that a little beck flowed down the valley and past my very door. a week or so after the doings which i have described, i was seated by my window when i perceived something white drifting slowly down the stream. my first thought was that it was a drowning sheep; but picking up my stick, i strolled to the bank and hooked it ashore. on examination it proved to be a large sheet, torn and tattered, with the initials j. c. in the corner. what gave it its sinister significance, however, was that from hem to hem it was all dabbled and discoloured.
shutting the door of my cabin, i set off up the glen in the direction of the surgeon’s cabin. i had not gone far before i perceived the very man himself. he was walking rapidly along the hillside, beating the furze bushes with a cudgel and bellowing like a madman. indeed, at the sight of him, the doubts as to his sanity which had arisen in my mind were strengthened and confirmed.
as he approached i noticed that his left arm was suspended in a sling. on perceiving me he stood irresolute, as though uncertain whether to come over to me or not. i had no desire for an interview with him, however, so i hurried past him, on which he continued on his way, still shouting and striking about with his club. when he had disappeared over the fells, i made my way down to his cottage, determined to find some clue to what had occurred. i was surprised, on reaching it, to find the iron-plated door flung wide open. the ground immediately outside p. 171it was marked with the signs of a struggle. the chemical apparatus within and the furniture were all dashed about and shattered. most suggestive of all, the sinister wooden cage was stained with blood-marks, and its unfortunate occupant had disappeared. my heart was heavy for the little man, for i was assured i should never see him in this world more.
there was nothing in the cabin to throw any light upon the identity of my neighbours. the room was stuffed with chemical instruments. in one corner a small bookcase contained a choice selection of works of science. in another was a pile of geological specimens collected from the limestone.
i caught no glimpse of the surgeon upon my homeward journey; but when i reached my cottage i was astonished and indignant to find that somebody had entered it in my absence. boxes had been pulled out from under the bed, the curtains disarranged, the chairs drawn out from the wall. even my study had not been safe from this rough intruder, for the prints of a heavy boot were plainly visible on the ebony-black carpet.
