He was aghast at the difference wrought in her during the two months since he had seen her last. Her colour was gone, and her face had the greyness of the dead. There were strange lines on her forehead, and her eyes had an unnatural glitter. Her youth had suddenly left her. She looked as if she were struck down by mortal illness.
“What is that matter with you?” he asked.
“Nothing.” She looked about her anxiously. “Oh, why don’t you go? How can you be so cruel?”
“I must do something for you,” he insisted.
She shook her head.
“It’s too late. Nothing can help me now.” She paused; and when she spoke again it was with a voice so ghastly that it might have come from the lips of a corpse. “I’ve found out at last what he’s going to do with me. He wants me for his great experiment, and the time is growing shorter.”
“What do you mean by saying he wants you?”
“He wants—my life.”
Arthur gave a cry of dismay, but she put up her hand.
“It’s no use resisting. It can’t do any good—I think I shall be glad when the moment comes. I shall at least cease to suffer.”
“But you must be mad.”
“I don’t know. I know that he is.”
“But if your life is in danger, come away for God’s sake. After all, you’re free. He can’t stop you.”
“I should have to go back to him, as I did last time,” she answered, shaking her head. “I thought I was free then, but gradually I knew that he was calling me. I tried to resist, but I couldn’t. I simply had to go to him.”
“But it’s awful to think that you are alone with a man who’s practically raving mad.”
“I’m safe for today,” she said quietly. “It can only be done in the very hot weather. If there’s no more this year, I shall live till next summer.”
“Oh, Margaret, for God’s sake don’t talk like that. I love you—I want to have you with me always. Won’t you come away with me and let me take care of you? I promise you that no harm shall come to you.”
“You don’t love me any more; you’re only sorry for me now.”
“It’s not true.”
“Oh yes it is. I saw it when we were in the country. Oh, I don’t blame you. I’m a different woman from the one you loved. I’m not the Margaret you knew.”
“I can never care for anyone but you.”
She put her hand on his arm.
“If you loved me, I implore you to go. You don’t know what you expose me to. And when I’m dead you must marry Susie. She loves you with all her heart, and she deserves your love.”
“Margaret, don’t go. Come with me.”
“And take care. He will never forgive you for what you did. If he can, he will kill you.”
She started violently, as though she heard a sound. Her face was convulsed with sudden fear.
“For God’s sake go, go!”
She turned from him quickly, and, before he could prevent her, had vanished. With heavy heart he plunged again into the bracken.
When Arthur had given his friends some account of this meeting, he stopped and looked at Dr. Porhoët. The doctor went thoughtfully to his bookcase.
“What is it you want me to tell you?” he asked.
“I think the man is mad,” said Arthur. “I found out at what asylum his mother was, and by good luck was able to see the superintendent on my way through London. He told me that he had grave doubts about Haddo’s sanity, but it was impossible at present to take any steps. I came straight here because I wanted your advice. Granting that the man is out of his mind, is it possible that he may be trying some experiment that entails a sacrifice of human life?”
“Nothing is more probable,” said Dr. Porhoët gravely.
Susie shuddered. She remembered the rumour that had reached her ears in Monte Carlo.
“They said there that he was attempting to make living creatures by a magical operation.” She glanced at the doctor, but spoke to Arthur. “Just before you came in, our friend was talking of that book of Paracelsus in which he speaks of feeding the monsters he has made on human blood.”
Arthur gave a horrified cry.
“The most significant thing to my mind is that fact about Margaret which we are certain of,” said Dr. Porhoët. “All works that deal with the Black Arts are unanimous upon the supreme efficacy of the virginal condition.”
“But what is to be done?” asked Arthur is desperation. “We can’t leave her in the hands of a raving madman.” He turned on a sudden deathly white. “For all we know she may be dead now.”
“Have you ever heard of Gilles de Rais?” said Dr. Porhoët, continuing his reflections. “That is the classic instance of human sacrifice. I know the country in which he lived; and the peasants to this day dare not pass at night in the neighbourhood of the ruined castle which was the scene of his horrible crimes.”
“It’s awful to know that this dreadful danger hangs over her, and to be able to do nothing.”
“We can only wait,” said Dr. Porhoët.
“And if we wait too long, we may be faced by a terrible catastrophe.”
“Fortunately we live in a civilized age. Haddo has a great care of his neck. I hope we are frightened unduly.”
It seemed to Susie that the chief thing was to distract Arthur, and she turned over in her mind some means of directing his attention to other matters.
“I was thinking of going down to Chartres for two days with Mrs. Bloomfield,” she said. “Won’t you come with me? It is the most lovely cathedral in the world, and I think you will find it restful to wander about it for a little while. You can do no good, here or in London. Perhaps when you are calm, you will be able to think of something practical.”
Dr. Porhoët saw what her plan was, and joined his entreaties to hers that Arthur should spend a
