His eyes, rivetted upon where the clump of trees stood out against the
semi-darkness of the approaching dawn, saw of a sudden a light prick out
like a tiny flame, low down upon the very edge of the Fens. One light,
two, three, and then a very host of them flashed out, as though some
unseen hand had torn the heavens down and strewn their jewels broadcast
over the marshes. Instinctively he got to his feet. What on earth--? But
even as his lips formed the unspoken exclamation came yet another light
to join the others dancing and twinkling and flickering out there across
the gloomy marshlands.

What the dickens was it, anyhow? A sort of unearthly fireworks display,
or some new explosive experiment? The dancing flames got into his eyes
like bits of lighted thistledown blown here, there, and everywhere.

Merriton got to his feet and threw open another window bottom with a good
deal of effort, for the sashes were old and stiff. Then, clad only in his
silk pyjamas, and with the cigarette charring itself to a tiny column of
gray ash in one hand, he leaned far out over the sill and watched those
twinkling, dancing, maddening little star-flames, with the eyes of amazed
astonishment.

In a moment sleep had gone from his eyelids and he felt thoroughly awake.
Dashed if he wouldn't throw on a few clothes and investigate. The thing
was so strange, so incredible! He knew, well enough, from Borkins's (the
venerable butler) description earlier in the evening, that that part of
the marshes was uninhabited. Too low for stars the things were, for they
hung on the edges of the marsh grass like tiny lanterns swung there by
fairy hands. In such a house, in such a room, with the shadow of that
old four-poster winding its long fingers over him, Merriton began to