ngs."

"You are affected, then?" asked Doctor Duryea bitterly.

"Affected? Certainly I'm affected, but only as I should be at such an
accusation. Cecilia was mad, I tell you. Those books she showed me years
ago, and those folk-tales of vampires and ghouls--they burned into my
infantile mind like acid. They haunted me day and night in my youth, and
caused me to hate you worse than death itself.

"But in Heaven's name, Father, I've outgrown those things as I have
outgrown my clothes. I'm a man now; do you understand that? A man, with
a man's sense of logic."

"Yes, I understand." Henry Duryea threw his cigar into the fireplace,
and placed a hand on his son's shoulder.

"We shall forget Cecilia," he said. "As I told you in my letter, I have
rented a lodge in Maine where we can go to be alone for the rest of the
summer. We'll get in some fishing and hiking and perhaps some hunting.
But first, Arthur, I must be sure in my own mind that you are sure in
yours. I must be sure you won't bar your door against me at night, and
sleep with a loaded revolver at your elbow. I must be sure that you're
not afraid of going up there alone with me, and dying----"

His voice ended abruptly, as if an age-long dread had taken hold of it.
His son's face was waxen, with sweat standing out like pearls on his
brow. He said nothing, but his eyes were filled with questions which his
lips could not put into words. His own hand touched his father's, and
tightened over it.

Henry Duryea drew his hand away.

"I'm sorry," he said, and his eyes looked straight over Arthur's lowered
head. "This thing must be thrashed out now. I believe you when you say
that you discredit Cecilia's stories, but for a sake greater than sanity
I must tell you the truth behind the legend--and believe me, Arthur;
there is a truth!"

* * * * *

He climbed to his feet and walked to the window which looked out over
the street below. For a moment he gazed into space, silent. Then he
turned and looked down at his son.

"You have heard only your aunt's version of the legend, Arthur.
Doubtless it was warped into a thing far more hideous than it actually
was--if that is possible! Doubtless she spoke to you of the
Inquisitorial stake in Carcassonne where one of my ancestors perished.
Also she may have mentioned that book, _Vampyrs_, which a former Duryea
is supposed to have written. Then certainly she told you about your two
younger brothers