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Page 79
I had so far resolutely endeavoured to keep my mind away from the
idea of surveillance. Now, as I paused to light my pipe--a
never-failing friend in loneliness--I perceived something move in
the shadows of a neighbouring bush.
This object was not unlike a bladder, and the very incongruity of
its appearance served to revive all my apprehensions. Taking up
my grip, as though I had noticed nothing of an alarming nature, I
pursued my way up the slope, leaving a trail of tobacco smoke in my
wake; and having my revolver secreted up my right coat-sleeve.
Successfully resisting a temptation to glance behind, I entered the
cover of the coppice, and, now invisible to any one who might be
dogging me, stood and looked back upon the moon-bright road.
There was no living thing in sight, the road was empty as far as the
eye could see. The coppice now remained to be negotiated, and then,
if the station-master's directions were not at fault, "Uplands"
should be visible beyond. Taking, therefore, what I had designed to
be a final glance back down the hillside, I was preparing to resume
my way when I saw something--something that arrested me.
It was a long way behind--so far that, had the moon been less
bright, I could never have discerned it. What it was I could not
even conjecture; but it had the appearance of a vague gray patch,
moving--not along the road, but through the undergrowth--in my
direction.
For a second my eye rested upon it. Then I saw a second patch--a
third--a fourth!
Six!
There were six gray patches creeping up the slope toward me!
The sight was unnerving. What were these things that approached,
silently, stealthily--like snakes in the grass?
A fear, unlike anything I had known before the quest of the Prophet's
slipper had brought fantastic horror into my life, came upon me.
Revolver in hand I ran--ran for my life toward the gap in the trees
that marked the coppice end. And as I went something hummed through
the darkness beside my headsome projectile, some venomous thing that
missed its mark by a bare inch!
Painfully conversant with the uncanny weapons employed by the
Hashishin, I knew now, beyond any possibility of doubt, that death
was behind me.
A pattering like naked feet sounded on the road, and, without
pausing in my headlong career, I sent a random shot into the
blackness.
The crack of the Smith and Wesson reassured me. I pulled up short,
turned, and looked back toward the trees.
Nothing--no one!
Breathing heavily, I crammed my extinguished briar into my pocket
--re-charged the empty chamber of the revolver--and started to
run again toward a light that showed over the treetops to my left.
That, if the man's directions were right, was "Uplands"--if his
directions were wrong--then . . .
A shrill whistle--minor, eerie, in rising cadence--sounded on the
dead silence with piercing clearness! Six whistles--seemingly
from all around me--replied!
Some object came humming through the air, and I ducked wildly.
On and on I ran--flying from an unknown, but, as a warning instinct
told me, deadly peril--ran as a man runs pursued by devils.
The road bent sharply to the left then forked. Overhanging trees
concealed the house, and the light, though high up under the eaves,
was no longer visible. Trusting to Providence to guide me, I plunged
down the lane that turned to the left, and, almost exhausted, saw the
gates before me--saw the sweep of the drive, and the moonlight,
gleaming on the windows!
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