his
head as it came in contact with the ice, he seemed to hear the far-off
patter of horses' hoofs. Then something deliciously soft and cool
touched his throat, and opening his eyes, he found his beautiful
companion bending over him and undoing the folds of his woollen
neckerchief with her shapely fingers. For such an experience he would
fall and faint till further orders. He sought her eyes, and all but
fainted again--the expression in them appalled him. They were no longer
those of a woman but a devil, a horrible, sordid devil that hungered not
merely for his soul, but for his flesh and blood. Then, in a second, he
understood it all--she was a were-wolf, one of those ghastly creatures
he had hitherto scoffingly attributed to the idle superstitions of the
peasants. It was she who had mutilated the bodies they had passed on the
road; it was she who had killed and half-eaten their driver; it was
she--but he could think no more, it was all too horrible, and the
revulsion of his feelings towards her clogged his brain. He longed to
grapple with her, strangle her, and he could do nothing. The bare touch
of those fingers--those cool, white, tapering fingers, with their long,
shining filbert nails, all ready and eager to tear and rend his flesh to
pieces--had taken all the life from his limbs, and he could only gaze
feebly at her and damn her from the very bottom of his soul. One by one,
more swiftly now, she unfastened the buttons of his coat and vest and
then, baring her cruel teeth with a soft gurgle of excitement, and a
smack of her red glistening lips, she prepared to eat him. Strangely
enough, he experienced no pain as her nails sank into the flesh of his
throat and chest and clawed it asunder. He was numb, numb with the
numbness produced by hypnotism or paralysis--only some of his faculties
were awake, vividly, startlingly awake. He was abruptly roused from this
state by the dull crack of a rifle, and an agonising, blood-curdling
scream, after which he knew no more till he found himself sitting
upright on the ice, gulping down brandy, his throat a mass of bandages,
and Carl kneeling beside him.

"Where is she?" he asked, and Carl pointed to an object on the ice. It
was the body of a huge white wolf, with half its head blown away.

"An explosive bullet," Carl said grimly. "I thought I would make certain
of the beast, even at the risk of hurting you; and, mein Gott! it was a
near shave! You have lost some of your hair,