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Page 114
He took a gulp from his glass. Nayland Smith, seated on
the edge of the table, his extinguished pipe in his hand,
was watching him keenly.
"I'll admit I didn't look out at once," Weymouth resumed.
"There was something so uncanny, gentlemen, in that knocking--
knocking--in the dead of the night. I thought"--his voice
shook--"of poor Jack, lying somewhere amongst the slime
of the river--and, oh, my God! it came to me that it was Jack
who was knocking--and I dare not think what he--what it--
would look like!"
He leaned forward, his chin in his hand. For a few moments we
were all silent.
"I know I funked," he continued huskily. "But when the wife came
to the head of the stairs and whispered to me: `There it is again.
What in heaven's name can it be'--I started to unbolt the door.
The knocking had stopped. Everything was very still.
I heard Mary--HIS widow--sobbing, upstairs; that was all.
I opened the door, a little bit at a time."
Pausing again, he cleared his throat, and went on:
"It was a bright night, and there was no one there--not a soul.
But somewhere down the lane, as I looked out into the porch, I heard
most awful groans! They got fainter and fainter. Then--I could
have sworn I heard SOMEONE LAUGHING! My nerves cracked up at that;
and I shut the door again."
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."
CHAPTER XXIX
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.
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