“But the keeper had other queer stories as well, and about things that are verifiable.  He declared that no life ever willingly entered the plantation; more, that no life existed in it at all.  No birds nested in the trees, or flew into their shade.  He set countless traps, but never caught so much as a rabbit or a weasel.  Animals avoided it, and more than once he had picked up dead creatures round the edges that bore no obvious signs of how they had met their death.

“Moreover, he told me one extraordinary tale about his retriever chasing some invisible creature across the field one day when he was out with his gun.  The dog suddenly pointed at something in the field at his feet, and then gave chase, yelping like a mad thing.  It followed its imaginary quarry to the borders of the wood, and then went in—­a thing he had never known it to do before.  The moment it crossed the edge—­it is darkish in there even in daylight—­it began fighting in the most frenzied and terrific fashion.  It made him afraid to interfere, he said.  And at last, when the dog came out, hanging its tail down and panting, he found something like white hair stuck to its jaws, and brought it to show me.  I tell you these details because—­”

“They are important, believe me,” the doctor stopped him.  “And you have it still, this hair?” he asked.

“It disappeared in the oddest way,” the Colonel explained.  “It was curious looking stuff, something like asbestos, and I sent it to be analysed by the local chemist.  But either the man got wind of its origin, or else he didn’t like the look of it for some reason, because he returned it to me and said it was neither animal, vegetable, nor mineral, so far as he could make out, and he didn’t wish to have anything to do with it.  I put it away in paper, but a week later, on opening the package—­it was gone!  Oh, the stories are simply endless.  I could tell you hundreds all on the same lines.”

“And personal experiences of your own, Colonel Wragge?” asked John Silence earnestly, his manner showing the greatest possible interest and sympathy.

The soldier gave an almost imperceptible start.  He looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“Nothing, I think,” he said slowly, “nothing—­er—­I should like to rely on.  I mean nothing I have the right to speak of, perhaps—­yet.”

His mouth closed with a snap.  Dr. Silence, after waiting a little to see if he would add to his reply, did not seek to press him on the point.

“Well,” he resumed presently, and as though he would speak contemptuously, yet dared not, “this sort of thing has gone on at intervals ever since.  It spreads like wildfire, of course, mysterious chatter of this kind, and people began trespassing all over the estate, coming to see the wood, and making themselves a general nuisance.  Notices of man-traps and spring-guns only seemed to increase their persistence; and—­think of it,” he snorted, “some local Research Society actually wrote and asked permission for one of their members to spend a night in the wood!  Bolder fools, who didn’t write for leave, came and took away bits of bark from the trees and gave them to clairvoyants, who invented in their turn a further batch of tales.  There was simply no end to it all.”