investigate."

Borkins gave a little exclamation of alarm and put one trembling hand
over his face. Merriton suddenly registered the fact as being a symptom
of the state of nerves which Merriton Towers was likely to reduce one.
Then Borkins shambled across the room and laid a timid hand upon
Merriton's arm.

"For Gawd's sake sir--_don't_!" he murmured in a shaken voice. "Those
lights, sir--if you knew the story! If you values your life at any price
at all don't go out, sir, and investigate them. _Don't!_ You're a dead
man in the morning if you do."

"What's that?" Merriton swung round and looked into the weak, rather
watery, blue eyes of his butler. "What the devil do you mean, Borkins,
talkin' a lot of rot? What _are_ those flames, anyway? And why in
heaven's name shouldn't I go out and investigate 'em if I want to? Who's
to stop me?"

"I, your lordship--if I ever 'as any influence with 'uman nature!"
returned Borkins, vehemently. "The story's common knowledge, Sir Nigel,
sir. Them there flames is supernatural. Frozen flames the villagers
calls 'em, because they don't seem to give out no 'eat. That part of the
Fens in unin'abited and there isn't a soul in the whole village as would
venture anywhere near it after dark."

"Why?"

"Because they never comes back, that's why, sir!" said Borkins. "'Tisn't
any old wives' tale neither. There's been cases by the score. Only a