out of the room and up the stairs—strangely agile for so old a man—and we could hear him knocking on the door. Audrey Pinson let go of my arm, and bent forward, her hands clasped round her knees. There was fear in her eyes, and I think the sudden silence must have come as a shock to her.
"Brike has worn himself out," I said. "We must see that this kind of thing does not happen again—I must speak to the police. This is your house now."
There was the ring of a bell in some distant passage, and a loud knocking on the hall door. I opened it and saw Saltby in a thick overcoat. The rain was running in little streams from his hat.
"Am I in time?" he said.
"No; you are too late," I replied, and then I closed the door behind him, and took him to the far side of the hall, intending to tell him just what had happened.
But Audrey Pinson came out of the drawing-room.
"Oh, Dr. Saltby," she exclaimed, "it may not be too late! Please go upstairs."
I glanced up at the landing, but could see nothing. In the excitement of Saltby's arrival I had forgotten that Turton was up there knocking at the bedroom door. The knocking had ceased; I could not see Turton; and I concluded that he had been admitted to the room.
Saltby flung off his wet coat.
"I came across your car," he said, "just by the lodge gates. That saved a few minutes. I'll go and have a look at the poor old chap. But I don't suppose it's any use. Turton isn't a fool."
He picked up his little bag and began to mount the stairs. I moved as if to follow him, but Audrey Pinson caught hold of my arm.
"Please don't leave me!" she cried.
And Saltby, pausing and looking back at us, said: "You'd better both stay down here. We can't have a crowd in that room."
We returned to the drawing-room. The girl looked worn out, and I suggested that I should fetch her a glass of port or some brandy. She shook her head.
"Don't leave me," she whispered; "please don't leave me."
There was the closing of a door on the landing, and light, quick footsteps coming down the stairs. Then Turton appeared in the doorway. His face was working convulsively, and for a few moments he could not speak.
"The devil's work," he stammered at last. "Something in it, perhaps—I don't know anyway, Arum is alive—"
CHAPTER SIX
SCARCELY half a minute had passed before Saltby entered the room. His face was flushed, and there was an angry light in his eyes.
"The man's alive," he said. "And he was well enough to order me out of the room, I could see he'd been near to death, but he aired his religious views, told me not to interfere with the will of Heaven—all that sort of stuff. Upon my word—"
He paused, remembering that Audrey was present.
"You'd better get to bed, my dear young lady," he said, after a few minutes of silence. "You need not worry about your uncle. I've left medicine and instructions with Brike, if there is another attack. But no need to worry, just go to bed and rest. I'll look around here in the morning."
Audrey was unwilling to take his advice, but we were all against her. At last she smiled and shook hands with us and left the room.
"Now we can talk," said Saltby. "Isn't there a fire in the wretched house? We must stay here a bit."
"I don't want a fire," said Turton, walking up and down the room. "Saltby, he was dead! Do you think I don't know a dead man when I see one? The heart had ceased to beat, I tell you; there was no breath on a mirror I held to his lips. I had no stethoscope, of course; but I'd swear the man was dead."
Saltby smiled incredulously.
"And what brought him to life?" he queried.
We told Saltby what we had heard, but he jeered at us.
"Some savage rites, eh?" he said curtly. "Do you believe in 'em, Turton?"
Turton admitted that he had always believed them to be frauds practised on simple savages.
"But, mind you," he added, "I wouldn't go so far as to say that there isn't a possibility of something real, some power given to certain—"
"Oh, rats!" Saltby interrupted.
"Well, then, what about prayer?" I queried. "An honest religious belief that prayer, under certain circumstances, will work a miracle?"
Saltby merely shrugged his shoulders.
"The facts are these," he said. "Brike and Miss Pinson could easily be deceived. Only Turton's evidence is worth anything, and he made a mistake. His mind has been kept off practical matters for years. Tell me just what you did see, Turton. I apologize for the way I spoke to you just now."
The Professor smiled.
"I knocked half-a-dozen times at the door," he said, "and could not hear a sound on the other side of it. Then I turned the handle gently and found that the door was unlocked. Arum was lying on the sofa in exactly the same position as when I had last seen him. We had bound up his jaw with a clean white handkerchief, and there he lay, with a white face and closed eyes, looking as dead as any dead man I have ever seen.
"And a few feet away from him Brike was kneeling on the floor. The nigger was quite motionless except for his lips, and they moved without any sound coming from them. His hands were clasped across his chest, his eyes were closed, and the sweat was simply pouring off his gray forehead. I tell you, chaps, that I was really sorry for the man.
"And then I saw Arum's eyes open. Well, I am not easily frightened by man or animal, but that did give me a start. However, I kept quite still, and Brike went on praying, and the eyes closed, and then opened again. And then the right hand moved very slowly from under the rug—I call it a hand, but it was really only an iron hook. And then the hook went slowly up to the handherchief and dropped back. I can tell you it was a horrible sight; and to see Brike still praying, and unconscious of it all, was, I think, even more horrible.
"And then, just as I was going to rush forward, Arum groaned, and Brike heard him, and sprang up from the floor as though he had been shot. And then you never saw such a scene, Brike crying and laughing and kissing his master's left hand, and my efforts to pour out some brandy, and the way we rubbed his limbs to restore the circulation. I was so excited I caught my sleeve on Arum's iron hook. And Arum, if you please, looking at us all the time as though he did not know what had happened, and then Saltby walked into the room."
"Yes," said Saltby, "and I merely said that I was the doctor and that I was glad to see that Arum was so much better. I thought it just as well not to make a fuss. But it was Arum who made the fuss. He cried out when I tried to put my fingers on his pulse. Then he told me to get out of the room. He looked very strange, and a sudden flush had come into his cheeks. Well, I've told you what he said to me, and I thought it best to go. I didn't want to excite him, you see. He might have had an-
