a fancy bred of that
ill-omened talk of yours?"

"I can't tell you anything of the sort," answered Aylward in a hollow
voice, "for I saw something also."

"What?" asked his partner.

"Death that wasn't sudden, and other things."

Again the silence fell till it was broken by Aylward.

"Come," he said, "we have been over-working--too much strain, and now
the reaction. Keep this rubbish to yourself, or they will lock you up in
an asylum."

"Certainly, Aylward, certainly. But can't you get rid of that beastly
image?"

"Not on any account, Haswell, even if it haunts us all day. Here it
shall stop until the Saharas are floated on Monday, if I have to lock it
in the strongroom and throw the keys into the Thames. Afterwards Vernon
can take it, as he has a right to do, and I am sure that with it will go
our luck."

"Then the sooner our luck goes, the better," replied Haswell, with
a mere ghost of his former whistle. "Life is better than luck,
and--Aylward, that Yellow God you are so fond of means to murder us. We
are being fatted for the sacrifice, that is all. I remember now, that
was one of the things I saw written in its eyes!"

CHAPTER III

JEEKIE TELLS A TALE

The Court, Mr. Champers-Haswell's place, was a very fine house indeed,
of a sort. That is, it contained twenty-nine bedrooms, each of them with
a bathroom attached, a large number of sitting-rooms, ample garages,
stables, and offices, the whole surrounded by several acres of
newly-planted gardens. Incidentally it may be mentioned that it was
built in the most atrocious taste and looked like a suburban villa seen
through a magnifying glass.

It was in this matter of taste that it differed from Sir Robert
Aylward's home, Old Hall, a few miles away. Not that this was old
either, for the original house had fallen down or been burnt a hundred
years before. But Sir Robert, being gifted with artistic perception, had
reared up in place of it a smaller but really beautiful dwelling of soft
grey stone, long and low, and built in the Tudor style with many gables.

This house, charming as it was, could not of course compare with
Yarleys, the ancient seat of the Vernons in the same neighbourhood.
Yarleys was pure Elizabethan, although it contained an oak-roofed hall
which was said to date back to the time of King John, a remnant of a
former house. There was no electric light or other modern convenience
at Yarleys, yet it was a place that everyone went to see