The Green Eyes of Bâst | Page 5

in England, I
found it impossible to recapture that uncanny thrill which had come to
me in the dark hours when out of the shadows under the hedge the great
cat's eyes had looked up at me.
And now, becoming more fully awake, I remembered something else
which hitherto I had not associated with the latter phenomenon. I
remembered that lithe and evasive pursuing shape which I had detected
behind me on the road. Even now, however, it was difficult to associate
one with the other; for whereas the dimly-seen figure had resembled
that of a man (or, more closely, that of a woman) the eyes had looked
out upon me from a point low down near the ground, like those of some
crouching feline.
Coates' footsteps sounded again upon the path and I heard him walking
round the cottage and through the kitchen. Finally he reëntered the
bedroom and stood just within the doorway in that attitude of attention
which was part and parcel of the man. His appearance would doubtless
have violated the proprieties of the Albany, for in my rural retreat he
was called upon to perform other and more important services than
those of a valet. His neatly shaved chin, stolid red countenance and
perfectly brushed hair were unexceptionable of course, but because his
duties would presently take him into the garden he wore, not the
regulation black, but an ancient shooting-jacket, khaki breeches and
brown gaiters, looking every inch of him the old soldier that he was.
"Well, Coates?" said I.
He cleared his throat.
"There are footprints in the radish-beds, sir," he reported.
"Footprints?"
"Yes, sir. Very deep. As though some one had jumped over the hedge
and landed there."
"Jumped over the hedge!" I exclaimed. "That would be a considerable

jump, Coates, from the road."
"It would, sir. Maybe she scrambled up."
"She?"
Coates cleared his throat again.
"There are three sets of prints in all. First a very deep one where the
party had landed, then another broken up like, where she had turned
round, and the third set with the heel-marks very deep where she had
sprung back over the hedge."
_"She?"_ I shouted.
"The prints, sir," resumed Coates, unmoved, "are those of a lady's
high-heeled shoes."
I sat bolt upright in bed, staring at the man and scarcely able to credit
my senses. Words failed me. Whereupon:
"Will you have tea or coffee for breakfast?" inquired Coates.
"Tea or coffee be damned, Coates!" I cried. "I'm going out to look at
those footprints! If you had seen what I saw last night, even your old
mahogany countenance would relax for once, I assure you."
"Indeed, sir," said Coates; "did you see the lady, then?"
"Lady!" I exclaimed, tumbling out of bed. "If the eyes that looked at
me last night belonged to a 'lady' either I am mad or the 'lady' is of
another world."
I pulled on a bath-robe and hurried out into the garden, Coates showing
me the spot where he had found the mysterious foot-prints. A very brief
examination sufficed to convince me that his account had been correct.
Some one wearing high-heeled shoes clearly enough had stood there at
some time whilst the soil was quite wet; and as no track led to or from
the marks, Coates' conclusion that the person who had made them must

have come over the hedge was the only feasible one. I turned to him in
amazement, but recognizing in time the wildly fantastic nature of the
sight which I had seen in the night, I refrained from speaking of the
blazing eyes and made my way to the bathroom wondering if some
chance reflection might not have deceived me and the presence of a
woman's footmarks at the same spot be no more than a singular
coincidence. Even so the mystery of their presence there remained
unexplained.
My thoughts were diverted from a trend of profitless conjecture when
shortly after breakfast time my 'phone bell rang. It was the editor of the
Planet, to whom I had been indebted for a number of special
commissions--including my fascinating quest of the Giant Gnu, which,
generally supposed to be extinct, was reported by certain natives and
others to survive in a remote corner of the Dark Continent.
Readers of the Planet will remember that although I failed to discover
the Gnu I came upon a number of notable things on my journey
through the almost unexplored country about the head-waters of the
Niger.
"A most extraordinary case has cropped up," he said, "quite in your line,
I think, Addison. Evidently a murder, and the circumstances seem to be
most dramatic and unusual. I should be glad if you would take it up."
I inquired without much enthusiasm for details. Criminology was one
of