usy in the kitchen, and Sybil betook herself
to the step to wait for her husband. She often sat in the starlight
while he smoked his pipe. She knew that he liked to have her there.
She was drowsy after her long exercise, and must have dozed with her
head against the door-post, when suddenly she became conscious of a
curious sound. It came from the direction of the stable which was on the
other side of the house. But for the absolute stillness of the night she
would not have heard it. She started upright in alarm, and listened
intently.
It came again--a terrible wailing, unlike anything she had ever heard,
ending in a staccato shriek that made her blood run cold.
She sprang up and turned into the house, almost running into Curtis, who
had just appeared in the passage behind her.
"Oh, what is it?" she cried. "What is it? Something terrible is
happening! Did you hear?"
She would have turned into the kitchen, that being the shortest route to
the stable, but he stretched an arm in front of her.
"I shouldn't go if I were you," he said. "You can't do any good."
She stood and stared at him, a ghastly fear clutching her heart.
"What--what do you mean?" she gasped.
"It's only Beelzebub," he said, "getting hammered for his sins."
She gripped her hands tightly over her breast. "You mean that--that my
husband--?"
He nodded. "It won't go on much longer. I should go to bed if I were
you."
He meant it kindly, but the words sounded to her most hideously callous.
She turned from him, sobbing hysterically, and sprang for the open door.
The next moment she was running swiftly round the house to the stable.
Turning the corner, she heard a sound like a pistol-shot. It was
followed instantly by a scream so utterly inhuman that even then she
almost wheeled and fled. But she mastered the impulse. She reached the
stable-door, fumbled at the latch, finally burst inwards as it swung
open.
A lantern hung on a nail immediately within. By its light she discovered
her husband--a gigantic figure--towering over something she could not
see, something that crouched, writhing and moaning, in a corner. He was
armed with a horsewhip, and even as she entered she saw him raise it and
bring it downwards with a horrible precision upon the thing at his feet.
She heard again that awful shriek of anguish, and a sick shudder went
through her. Unconsciously, a cry broke from her own lips, and, as
Mercer's arm went up again, she flung hers
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