"Yes," said the chief listener sympathetically.

"My brother's face, they said, looked as though it had been scorched. It
had been swept, as it were, by something that burned--blasted. It was, I
am told, quite dreadful. The bodies were found lying side by side, faces
downwards, both pointing away from the wood, as though they had been in
the act of running, and not more than a dozen yards from its edge."

Dr. Silence made no comment. He appeared to be studying the map
attentively.

"I did not see the face myself," repeated the other, his manner somehow
expressing the sense of awe he contrived to keep out of his voice, "but
my sister unfortunately did, and her present state I believe to be
entirely due to the shock it gave to her nerves. She never can be
brought to refer to it, naturally, and I am even inclined to think that
the memory has mercifully been permitted to vanish from her mind. But
she spoke of it at the time as a face swept by flame--blasted."

John Silence looked up from his contemplation of the map, but with the
air of one who wished to listen, not to speak, and presently Colonel
Wragge went on with his account. He stood on the mat, his broad
shoulders hiding most of the mantelpiece.

"They all centred about this particular plantation, these stories. That
was to be expected, for the people here are as superstitious as Irish
peasantry, and though I made one or two examples among them to stop the
foolish talk, it had no effect, and new versions came to my ears every
week. You may imagine how little good dismissals did, when I tell you