The Gloved Hand | Page 5

which seem reasonable enough
when put dimly to oneself, become absurd sometimes when definitely
clothed with words.

"There are just two possibilities," Godfrey went on. "Either it's
hocus-pocus, or it isn't. If it is, it is done for some purpose. Two men
don't go out on a roof every night at midnight and fire off a Roman
candle and wave their arms around, just for the fun of the thing."
"It wasn't a Roman candle," I pointed out. "A Roman candle is visible
when it's going up, and bursts and vanishes at the top of its flight. That
light didn't behave that way at all. It formed high in the air, remained
there stationary for a moment, gradually grew brighter, and then started
to descend. It didn't fall, it came down slowly, and at an even rate of
speed. And it didn't drift away before the breeze, as it would have done
if it had been merely floating in the air. It descended in a straight line.
It gave me the impression of moving as though a will actuated it--as
though it had a distinct purpose. There was something uncanny about
it!"
Godfrey nodded thoughtful agreement.
"I have felt that," he said, "and I admit that the behaviour of the light is
extraordinary. But that doesn't prove it supernatural. I don't believe in
the supernatural. Especially I don't believe that any two mortals could
arrange with the heavenly powers to make a demonstration like that
every night at midnight for their benefit. That's too absurd!"
"It is absurd," I assented, "and yet it isn't much more absurd than to
suppose that two men would go out on the roof every night to watch a
Roman candle, as you call it, come down. Unless, of course, they're
lunatics."
"No," said Godfrey, "I don't believe they're lunatics--at least, not both
of them. I have a sort of theory about it; but it's a pretty thin one, and I
want you to do a little investigating on your own account before I tell
you what it is. It's time we went to bed. Don't get up in the morning till
you're ready to. Probably I'll not see you till night; I have some work to
do that will take me off early. But Mrs. Hargis will make you
comfortable, and I'll be back in time to join you in another look at the
Roman candle!"

He uttered the last words jestingly, but I could see that the jest was a
surface one, and that, at heart, he was deeply serious. Evidently, the
strange star had impressed him even more than it had me--though
perhaps in a different manner.
I found that it had impressed me deeply enough, for I dreamed about it
that night--dreamed, and woke, only to fall asleep and dream and wake
again. I do not remember that I saw any more in the dream than I had
seen with my waking eyes, but each time I awoke trembling with
apprehension and bathed in perspiration. As I lay there the second time,
staring up into the darkness and telling myself I was a fool, there came
a sudden rush of wind among the trees outside; then a vivid flash of
lightning and an instant rending crash of thunder, and then a steady
downpour of rain. I could guess how the gasping city welcomed it, and
I lay for a long time listening to it, as it dripped from the leaves and
beat against the house. A delightful coolness filled the room, an odour
fresh and clean; and when, at last, with nerves quieted, I fell asleep
again, it was not to awaken until the sun was bright against my
curtains.


CHAPTER III
THE DRAMA IN THE GARDEN
I glanced at my watch, as soon as I was out of bed, and saw that it was
after ten o'clock. All the sleep I had lost during the hot nights of the
previous week had been crowded into the last nine hours; I felt like a
new man, and when, half an hour later, I ran downstairs, it was with
such an appetite for breakfast as I had not known for a long time.
There was no one in the hall, and I stepped out through the open door
to the porch beyond, and stood looking about me. The house was built
in the midst of a grove of beautiful old trees, some distance back from
the road, of which I could catch only a glimpse. It was a small house, a

story and a half in height, evidently designed only as a summer
residence.
"Good morning, sir," said a voice behind me, and I turned to find a
pleasant-faced, grey-haired woman standing in the doorway.
"Good morning," I responded. "I suppose you are