Part 19 (1/2)

He was in my power. I said not a word, but clenched my teeth, and looked into those eyes that even then I feared. I drew back my sword, and then paused a moment; for I had no liking for the work, which was the hangman's job.

”Mercy!” he groaned.

I took in a deep breath, like a man about to dive. I felt that I must brace myself for this red task of common justice. I looked at his body, clothed in tatters, to select a spot most vulnerable where I might plunge my rusted sword.

”Mercy!” he cried again.

I clenched my teeth. I was on the point of speaking, but fortunately did not.

I could hear him breathing heavily.

And thereupon, on a sudden, I was felled by some one who had crept upon me from behind. I was felled like an ox. A single blow upon the back of the head sent me over like a ninepin, and I lay stretched at my full length upon the ground, but half-conscious, with a singing sensation in my head.

Presently I sat up and looked about me. There was Amos, still upon his knees, as green as ever. And immediately above me stood one whom I did well to recognise as Mr. Gilbert Forsyth.

That place was dimly illumined by the white light of the newly-risen moon, turning the leaves upon the trees above us to a glistening silver.

Forsyth was wearing the remnants of a pair of trousers, the legs of which ended in a tattered fringe a little below his knees. He was naked to the waist, around which was a belt, crammed with knives and pistols.

I remembered his curled whiskers and his pomaded moustache on the morning when I had first set eyes upon him, when I lay hidden in the gorse-bush. His fair hair now had grown so long that it reached to his shoulders; and his whiskers had spread into a short, s.h.a.ggy beard, which was divided somewhat in the middle like that of a Frenchman or a Sikh.

I had thought of him always as a very immaculate gentleman; but here was a desperate, piratical blade who, one might easily believe, chewed gla.s.s and compelled his unhappy victims to walk the plank.

He looked at me and folded his arms; and then spoke in a voice quite calm.

”And who the blazes are you?” he asked.

I was wise enough not to answer. Ghosts--so far as I knew--could never speak. And was I not a ghost?

If I had been a fool to go down into the Tomb, I showed at least a little wisdom in now holding my tongue. For this, however, I take no credit. I could not foresee the course that events would take. I had been surprised and mastered, and cursed myself because I had not killed Amos out of hand, when the man was in my power. Disappointed, disgusted with myself, I was stubborn as a mule. They might do what they would, they might torture me, but still I would not speak.

Forsyth repeated his question; and for answer, I rushed again at Amos, and even then would have killed him, had not the other caught me in his arms and held me fast.

The man was stronger than I thought; for, though I kicked and struggled, I could not free myself. Amos, as he watched us, regained a little of his commonsense, and got slowly upon his feet.

”No ghost,” said he. ”No ghost.” And he went on repeating the words as if he were a parrot.

”Ghost!” laughed Forsyth. ”If this is a ghost, he is a warm-blooded one, and as vicious as they make 'em.”

”Then, who is he?” asked Baverstock. ”I swear to you, he came out of the Tomb, as I'm a living man.”

”And he's another,” added Forsyth. ”Who he is, or what business he has in such a place as this, I can no more say than you can. None the less, the circ.u.mstantial evidence is all against mortality. I am reminded, my friend, of the Carthaginian Queen: '_Exoriare aliquis nostris ex ossibus ultor_'--(May some avenger arise from my bones). I call this individual 'Hannibal,' on that account.”

”Who wants your Latin gibberis.h.!.+” cried Amos. ”Look plain facts in the face; call a spade a spade.”

”Also,” said Forsyth, in his usual sing-song voice, ”call a man a man, and not a ghost.”

”If he's alive,” said Amos, coming even nearer, ”then, who is he? I tell you, when I lifted the tombstone, he sprang forth like a Jack-in-a-box, and, had it not been for you, I would never have escaped with life.”

”I have told you already,” said the other, ”I know no more of him than you do.”