perspire. It was so devilish uncanny! He was a brave enough man in human
matters, but somehow these flames out there in the uninhabited stretch of
the marshes were surely caused by no human agency. Go and investigate he
would, this very minute! He drew in his head and brought the window down
with a bang that went sounding through the gaunt, deserted old house.

Hastily he began to dress, and even as he struggled into a pair of tweed
trousers came the sound of a soft knock upon his door, and he whipped
round as though he had been shot, his nerves all a-jingle from the very
atmosphere of the place.

"And who the devil are you?" he snapped out in an angry voice, all the
more angry since he was conscious of a slight trembling of the knees. The
door swung open a trifle and the pale face of Borkins appeared around it.
His eyes were wide with fright, his mouth hung open.

"Sir Nigel, sir. I 'eard a dreadful noise--like a pistol shot it was,
comin' from this room! Anythink the matter, sir?"

"Nothing, you ass!" broke out Merriton, fretfully, as the butler began
to show other parts of his anatomy round the corner of the door. "Come
in, or go out, which ever you please. But for the Lord's sake, do one
or the other! There's a beastly draught. The noise you heard was that
window which possibly hasn't been opened for a century or two, groaning
in pain at being forced into action again! Can't sleep in this beastly
room--haven't closed my eyes yet--and when I did get out of that
Victorian atrocity over there and take to the sofa by the window,
why, the first thing I saw were those flames flickering out across the
horizon like signal-fires, or _something_! I've been watching them for
the past twenty minutes and they've got on my nerves. I'm goin' out to