A Christmas Mystery: The Story of Three Wise Men | Page 5

McCurdie as they trudged through the
snow, "and I dismiss the supernatural as contrary to reason; but I have
Highland blood in my veins that plays me exasperating tricks. My
reason tells me that this place is only a commonplace moor, yet it
seems like a Valley of Bones haunted by malignant spirits who have
lured us here to our destruction. There's something guiding us now. It's
just uncanny."

"Why on earth did we ever come?" croaked Biggleswade.
Lord Doyne answered: "The Koran says, 'Nothing can befall us but
what God hath destined for us.' So why worry?"
"Because I'm not a Mohammedan," retorted Biggleswade.
"You might be worse," said Doyne.
Presently the dim outline of the little house grew perceptible. A faint
light shone from the window. It stood unfenced by any kind of hedge or
railing a few feet away from the road in a little hollow beneath some
rising ground. As far as they could discern in the darkness when they
drew near, the house was a mean, dilapidated hovel. A guttering candle
stood on the inner sill of the small window and afforded a vague view
into a mean interior. Doyne held up the lamp so that its rays fell full on
the door. As he did so, an exclamation broke from his lips and he
hurried forward, followed by the others. A man's body lay huddled
together on the snow by the threshold. He was dressed like a peasant, in
old corduroy trousers and rough coat, and a handkerchief was knotted
round his neck. In his hand he grasped the neck of a broken bottle.
Doyne set the lamp on the ground and the three bent down together
over the man. Close by the neck lay the rest of the broken bottle, whose
contents had evidently run out into the snow.
"Drunk?" asked Biggleswade.
Doyne felt the man and laid his hand on his heart.
"No," said he, "dead."
McCurdie leaped to his full height. "I told you the place was uncanny!"
he cried. "It's fey." Then he hammered wildly at the door.
There was no response. He hammered again till it rattled. This time a
faint prolonged sound like the wailing of a strange sea-creature was
heard from within the house. McCurdie turned round, his teeth
chattering.

"Did ye hear that, Doyne?"
[Illustration: I TOLD YOU THE PLACE WAS UNCANNY.]
"Perhaps it's a dog," said the Professor.
Lord Doyne, the man of action, pushed them aside and tried the
door-handle. It yielded, the door stood open, and the gust of cold wind
entering the house extinguished the candle within. They entered and
found themselves in a miserable stone-paved kitchen, furnished with
poverty-stricken meagreness--a wooden chair or two, a dirty table,
some broken crockery, old cooking utensils, a fly-blown missionary
society almanac, and a fireless grate. Doyne set the lamp on the table.
"We must bring him in," said he.
They returned to the threshold, and as they were bending over to grip
the dead man the same sound filled the air, but this time louder, more
intense, a cry of great agony. The sweat dripped from McCurdie's
forehead. They lifted the dead man and brought him into the room, and
after laying him on a dirty strip of carpet they did their best to
straighten the stiff limbs. Biggleswade put on the table a bundle which
he had picked up outside. It contained some poor provisions--a loaf, a
piece of fat bacon, and a paper of tea. As far as they could guess (and
as they learned later they guessed rightly) the man was the master of
the house, who, coming home blind drunk from some distant inn, had
fallen at his own threshold and got frozen to death. As they could not
unclasp his fingers from the broken bottleneck they had to let him
clutch it as a dead warrior clutches the hilt of his broken sword.
Then suddenly the whole place was rent with another and yet another
long, soul-piercing moan of anguish.
"There's a second room," said Doyne, pointing to a door. "The sound
comes from there." He opened the door, peeped in, and then, returning
for the lamp, disappeared, leaving McCurdie and Biggleswade in the
pitch darkness, with the dead man on the floor.

"For heaven's sake, give me a drop of whiskey," said the Professor, "or
I shall faint."
Presently the door opened and Lord Doyne appeared in the shaft of
light. He beckoned to his companions.
"It is a woman in childbirth," he said in his even, tired voice. "We must
aid her. She appears unconscious. Does either of you know anything
about such things?"
They shook their heads, and the three looked at each other in dismay.
Masters of knowledge that had won them world-wide fame and honour,
they stood