uch of apprehension
and dismay, that I stared at him blankly. Recovering himself with an
effort, he stammered out:

"It's not--I mean--it's an imaginary portrait."

"Then," I said, amazed in my turn, "you've a jolly sight more
imagination than anyone ever credited you with."

The incident remained in my mind. As a matter of fact, practical
Radcliffe Thorpe, absorbed in questions of strain and ease, his head
full of cylinders and wheels and ratchets and the Lord knows what else,
would have seemed to me the last man on earth to create that haunting,
strange, unearthly face, human in form, but not in expression.

It was about this time that Radcliffe began to give so much attention to
the making of very high flights. His favourite time was in the early
morning, as soon as it was light. Then in the chill dawn he would rise
and soar and wing his flight high and ever higher, up and up, till the
eye could no longer follow his ascent.

I remember he made one of these strange, solitary flights when I was
spending the week-end with him at his cottage near the Attercliffe
Aviation Grounds.

I had come down from town somewhat late the night before, and I remember
that just before we went to bed we went out for a few minutes to enjoy
the beauty of a perfect night. The moon was shining in a clear sky, not
a sound or a breath disturbed the sublime quietude; in the south one
wondrous star gleamed low on the horizon. Neither of us spoke; it was
enough to drink in the beauty of such rare perfection, and I noticed how
Radcliffe kept his eyes fixed upwards on the dark blue vault of space.

"Are you longing to be up there?" I asked him jestingly.

He started and flushed, and he then went very pale, and to my surprise I
saw that he was shivering.

"You are getting cold," I said. "We had better go in."

He nodded without answering, and, as we turned to go in, I heard quite
plainly and distinctly a low, strange laugh, a laugh full of a honeyed
sweetness that yet thrilled me with great fear.

"What's that?" I said, stopping short.

"What?" Radcliffe asked.

"Someone laughed," I said, and I stared all round and then upwards. "I
thought it came from up there," I said in a bewildered way, pointing
upwards.

He gave me an odd look and, without answering, went into the cottage. He
had said nothing of having planned any flight for the next morning; but
in the early morning, the chill and grey dawn, I was roused by the
drumming of hi