“That is right,” she seconded me.
“Then,” said the judge. “You two are cleared, at least.”
He paused, looking from Susan’s questioning face to mine, then went on:
“That rending beast-thing in the Croft got another victim, not more than half an hour ago. O’Bryant was feeling better, ready to get back on duty. His deputy-brother, anxious to get hold of Wills first, for glory or vengeance, ventured into the place, just at dusk. He came out in a little while, torn and bitten almost to pieces, and died as he broke clear of the cedar hedge.”
XI
“To Meet That Monster Face to Face!”
I think that both Susan and I fairly reeled before this news, like actors registering surprise in an old-fashioned melodrama. As for Judge Pursuivant, he turned to the table, cut a generous wedge of the meat pie and set it, all savory and steaming, on a plate for himself. His calm zest for the good food gave us others steadiness again, so that we sat down and even ate a little as he described his day in town.
He had found opportunity to talk to Susan in private, confiding in her about me and finally sending her to me; this, as he said, so that we would convince each other of our respective innocences. It was purely an inspiration, for he had had no idea, of course, that such conviction would turn out so final. Thereafter he made shift to enter the Gird house and talk to Doctor Zoberg.
That worthy he found sitting somewhat limply in the parlor, with John Gird’s coffin in the next room. Zoberg, the judge reported, was mystified about the murder and anxious to bring to justice the townsfolk—there were more than one, it seemed—who had beaten him. Most of all, however, he was concerned about the charges against me.
“His greatest anxiety is to prove you innocent,” Judge Pursuivant informed me. “He intends to bring the best lawyer possible for your defense, is willing even to assist in paying the fee. He also swears that character witnesses can be brought to testify that you are the most peaceable and law-abiding man in the country.”
“That’s mighty decent of him,” I said. “According to your reasoning of this morning, his attitude proves him innocent, too.”
“What reasoning was that?” asked Susan, and I was glad that the judge continued without answering her.
“I was glad that I had sent Miss Susan on. If your car had remained there, Mr. Wills, Doctor Zoberg might have driven off in it to rally your defenses.”
“Not if I know him,” I objected. “The whole business, what of the mystery and occult significances, will hold him right on the spot. He’s relentlessly curious and, despite his temporary collapse, he’s no coward.”
“I agree with that,” chimed in Susan.
As for my pursuers of the previous night, the judge went on, they had been roaming the snow-covered streets in twos and threes, heavily armed for the most part and still determined to punish me for killing their neighbor. The council was too frightened or too perplexed to deal with the situation, and the constable was still in bed, with his brother assuming authority, when Judge Pursuivant made his inquiries. The judge went to see the wounded man, who very pluckily determined to rise and take up his duties again.
“I’ll arrest the man who plugged me,” O’Bryant had promised grimly, “and that kid brother of mine can quit playing policeman.”
The judge applauded these sentiments, and brought him hot food and whisky, which further braced his spirits. In the evening came the invasion by the younger O’Bryant of the Devil’s Croft, and his resultant death at the claws and teeth of what prowled there.
“His throat was so torn open and filled with blood that he could not speak,” the judge concluded, “but he pointed back into the timber, and then tried to trace something in the snow with his finger. It looked like a wolf’s head, with pointed nose and ears. He died before he finished.”
“You saw him come out?” I asked.
“No. I’d gone back to town, but later I saw the body, and the sketch in the snow.”
He finished his dinner and pushed back his chair. “Now,” he said heartily, “it’s up to us.”
“Up to us to do what?” I inquired.
“To meet that monster face to face,” he replied. “There are three of us and, so far as I can ascertain, but one of the enemy.” Both Susan and I started to speak, but he held up his hand, smiling. “I know without being reminded that the odds are still against us, because the one enemy is fierce and blood-drinking, and can change shape and character. Maybe it can project itself to a distance—which makes it all the harder, both for us to face it and for us to get help.”
“I know what you mean by that last,” I nodded gloomily. “If there were ten thousand friendly constables in the neighborhood, instead of a single hostile one, they wouldn’t believe us.”
“Right,” agreed Judge Pursuivant. “We’re like the group of perplexed mortals in Dracula, who had only their own wits and weapons against a monster no more forbidding than ours.”
It is hard to show clearly how his constant offering of parallels and rationalizations comforted us. Only the unknown and unknowable can terrify completely. We three were even cheerful over a bottle of wine that William fetched and poured out in three glasses. Judge Pursuivant gave us a toast—“May wolves go hungry!”—and Susan and I drank it gladly.
“Don’t forget what’s on our side,” said the judge, putting down his glass. “I mean the steadfast and courageous heart, of which I preached to Wills last night, and which we can summon from within us any time and anywhere. The werewolf, dauntlessly faced, loses its dread; and I think we are the ones to face it. Now we’re ready for action.”
I said that I would welcome any kind of action whatsoever, and
