The narration of his weird experience revived something
of the natural fear which it had occasioned.
He raised his glass, with unsteady hand, and drained
it.
Smith struck a match and relighted his pipe.
He began to pace the room again. His eyes were
literally on fire.
“Would it be possible to get Mrs. Weymouth out
of the house before to-night? Remove her to
your place, for instance?” he asked abruptly.
Weymouth looked up in surprise.
“She seems to be in a very low state,”
he replied. He glanced at me. “Perhaps
Dr. Petrie would give us an opinion?”
“I will come and see her,” I said.
“But what is your idea, Smith?”
“I want to hear that knocking!” he rapped.
“But in what I may see fit to do I must not
be handicapped by the presence of a sick woman.”
“Her condition at any rate will admit of our
administering an opiate,” I suggested.
“That would meet the situation?”
“Good!” cried Smith. He was intensely
excited now. “I rely upon you to arrange
something, Petrie. Mr. Weymouth”—
he turned to our visitor—“I shall
be with you this evening not later than twelve o’clock.”
Weymouth appeared to be greatly relieved. I
asked him to wait whilst I prepared a draught for
the patient. When he was gone:
“What do you think this knocking means, Smith?”
I asked.
He tapped out his pipe on the side of the grate and
began with nervous energy to refill it again from
the dilapidated pouch.
“I dare not tell you what I hope, Petrie,”
he replied— “nor what I fear.”
Dusk was falling when we made our way in the direction
of Maple Cottage. Nayland Smith appeared to be
keenly interested in the character of the district.
A high and ancient wall bordered the road along which
we walked for a considerable distance. Later
it gave place to a rickety fence.
My friend peered through a gap in the latter.
“There is quite an extensive estate here,”
he said, “not yet cut up by the builder.
It is well wooded on one side, and there appears
to be a pool lower down.”
The road was a quiet one, and we plainly heard the
tread— quite unmistakable—of
an approaching policeman. Smith continued to
peer through the hole in the fence, until the officer
drew up level with us. Then:
“Does this piece of ground extend down to the
village, constable?” he inquired.
Quite willing for a chat, the man stopped, and stood
with his thumbs thrust in his belt.
“Yes, sir. They tell me three new roads
will be made through it between here and the hill.”
“It must be a happy hunting ground for tramps?”
“I’ve seen some suspicious-looking coves
about at times. But after dusk an army might
be inside there and nobody would ever be the wiser.”
“Burglaries frequent in the houses backing on
to it?”
