ed him; "and as to the evil eye, I have certainly heard of such a
thing, although I must admit, and I am glad to admit, that I have
never met with it."

"I do trust, sir," responded the ancient, "that such a kind-hearted
gent may never meet with it. Ah, I do trust that you never may, which
is to say, so to speak, as I do trust as you'll never meet that black
doctor. If ever a man, had the evil eye, that black doctor's got it,
and old Mother Shale what lives in the cottage on the heath down
against the windmill, she warned me, she did, three days after he come
here. 'Mr. Corder,' she says, 'that black doctor has the evil eye!'
And never was a truer word spoke. He's been the bane and blight of
this 'ere place, he has."

He paused from sheer lack of breath, and having allowed him some
little interval of repose:

"But what has the evil eye to do with the laying of man-traps and the
shooting of visitors who may chance to cross the estate?" I inquired.

"Ah, that's it! But the evil eye, I'm told, goes with the evil heart,
and that man's heart's as black as his face. Blacker," he added, on
second thoughts.

"Yet you have no positive evidence that Dr. Greefe is responsible for
the setting of these man-traps and the attitude of Hawkins?"

"Nobody has," declared my acquaintance earnestly. "If anybody had,
we'd have had the law on him long ago."

"And is Lady Burnham often seen about?" I inquired.

"Never!" was the reply. "She ain't passed the gates of the Park this
twelve months and more."

He looked about him covertly, and:

"It's my belief," he affirmed, lowering his quavering voice almost to
a whisper, "that she'll never pass them gates again alive."

"Oh," said I. "This seems to be a very cheerful neighborhood. Yet in
spite of your wishes on my behalf, I must confess I should like a
glimpse of this black doctor. Does he practice about here?"

"Practice? Is it likely?"

"Then he has private means?"

"His house belongs to the estate," was the reply; "and you can't tell
me he ever pays any rent. As to his means I don't know nothing about
that."

I gathered little more of interest from my acquaintance of "The
Threshers," but indeed I had gathered enough, and as I wended my way
back to the Abbey Inn, I was turning over in my mind the extraordinary
story that he had related to me concerning Dr. Damar Greefe.

Clearly the man lived the life of a pariah and I knew not whether to
pity him or otherwise. In an ignor