in a perfectly natural way.  Further, the nights upon which sheep disappeared were invariably very dark, cloudy nights with no moon.  This I met with the obvious retort that those were the nights which a commonplace sheep-stealer would naturally choose for his work.  On one occasion a gap had been made in a wall, and some of the stones scattered for a considerable distance.  Human agency again, in my opinion.  Finally, Armitage clinched all his arguments by telling me that he had actually heard the Creature—­indeed, that anyone could hear it who remained long enough at the Gap.  It was a distant roaring of an immense volume.  I could not but smile at this, knowing, as I do, the strange reverberations which come out of an underground water system running amid the chasms of a limestone formation.  My incredulity annoyed Armitage so that he turned and left me with some abruptness.

And now comes the queer point about the whole business.  I was still standing near the mouth of the cave turning over in my mind the various statements of Armitage, and reflecting how readily they could be explained away, when suddenly, from the depth of the tunnel beside me, there issued a most extraordinary sound.  How shall I describe it?  First of all, it seemed to be a great distance away, far down in the bowels of the earth.  Secondly, in spite of this suggestion of distance, it was very loud.  Lastly, it was not a boom, nor a crash, such as one would associate with falling water or tumbling rock, but it was a high whine, tremulous and vibrating, almost like the whinnying of a horse.  It was certainly a most remarkable experience, and one which for a moment, I must admit, gave a new significance to Armitage’s words.  I waited by the Blue John Gap for half an hour or more, but there was no return of the sound, so at last I wandered back to the farmhouse, rather mystified by what had occurred.  Decidedly I shall explore that cavern when my strength is restored.  Of course, Armitage’s explanation is too absurd for discussion, and yet that sound was certainly very strange.  It still rings in my ears as I write.

April 20.—­In the last three days I have made several expeditions to the Blue John Gap, and have even penetrated some short distance, but my bicycle lantern is so small and weak that I dare not trust myself very far.  I shall do the thing more systematically.  I have heard no sound at all, and could almost believe that I had been the victim of some hallucination suggested, perhaps, by Armitage’s conversation.  Of course, the whole idea is absurd, and yet I must confess that those bushes at the entrance of the cave do present an appearance as if some heavy creature had forced its way through them.  I begin to be keenly interested.  I have said nothing to the Miss Allertons, for they are quite superstitious enough already, but I have bought some candles, and mean to investigate for myself.