“You slept through it all,” he half whispered.

“Through what?” I asked, suddenly thrilled with the knowledge that something dreadful had happened.

“We didn’t wake you for fear of getting the whole Camp up,” he went on, meaning, by the Camp, I supposed, Sangree.  “It was just before dawn when the screams woke me.”

“The dog again?” I asked, with a curious sinking of the heart.

“Got right into the tent,” he went on, speaking passionately but very low, “and woke my wife by scrambling all over her.  Then she realised that Joan was struggling beside her.  And, by God! the beast had torn her arm; scratched all down the arm she was, and bleeding.”

“Joan injured?” I gasped.

“Merely scratched—­this time,” put in John Silence, speaking for the first time; “suffering more from shock and fright than actual wounds.”

“Isn’t it a mercy the doctor was here?” said Mrs. Maloney, looking as if she would never know calmness again.  “I think we should both have been killed.”

“It has been a most merciful escape,” Maloney said, his pulpit voice struggling with his emotion.  “But, of course, we cannot risk another—­we must strike Camp and get away at once—­”

“Only poor Mr. Sangree must not know what has happened.  He is so attached to Joan and would be so terribly upset,” added the Bo’sun’s Mate distractedly, looking all about in her terror.

“It is perhaps advisable that Mr. Sangree should not know what has occurred,” Dr. Silence said with quiet authority, “but I think, for the safety of all concerned, it will be better not to leave the island just now.”  He spoke with great decision and Maloney looked up and followed his words closely.

“If you will agree to stay here a few days longer, I have no doubt we can put an end to the attentions of your strange visitor, and incidentally have the opportunity of observing a most singular and interesting phenomenon—­”

“What!” gasped Mrs. Maloney, “a phenomenon?—­you mean that you know what it is?”

“I am quite certain I know what it is,” he replied very low, for we heard the footsteps of Sangree approaching, “though I am not so certain yet as to the best means of dealing with it.  But in any case it is not wise to leave precipitately—­”

“Oh, Timothy, does he think it’s a devil—?” cried the Bo’sun’s Mate in a voice that even the Canadian must have heard.

“In my opinion,” continued John Silence, looking across at me and the clergyman, “it is a case of modern lycanthropy with other complications that may—­” He left the sentence unfinished, for Mrs. Maloney got up with a jump and fled to her tent fearful she might hear a worse thing, and at that moment Sangree turned the corner of the stockade and came into view.

“There are footmarks all round the mouth of my tent,” he said with excitement.  “The animal has been here again in the night.  Dr. Silence, you really must come and see them for yourself.  They’re as plain on the moss as tracks in snow.”