e considerable distance inland till they arrived
at a house on the outskirts of a small town.

Here Bonivon's conductor halted, and, opening the door, signed to the
captain to enter. All within was dark and silent, and the air was
tainted with a sickly, pungent odour that filled Bonivon with the
gravest apprehensions. Dragging him along, Bonivon's guide took him into
a room, and leaving him there for some seconds, reappeared carrying a
lantern. Bonivon now saw for the first time the face of his
conductor--it was that of a werwolf. With a shriek of terror Bonivon
turned to run, but, catching his foot on a mat, fell sprawling on the
floor.

Here he remained sobbing and shaking with fear till he was once more
taken by the werwolf and set gently on his feet.

To Bonivon's surprise a tray full of eatables was standing on the table,
and the werwolf, motioning to him to sit down, signed to him to eat.

Being ravenously hungry, Bonivon "fell to," and, despite his fears--for
being by nature alive to, and, by reason of his calling, forced to guard
against the treachery of his fellow creatures, he more than half
suspected some subtle design underlying this act of kindness--demolished
every particle of food. The meal thus concluded, Bonivon's benefactor
retired, locking the door after him.

No sooner had the sound of his steps in the stone hall ceased than
Bonivon ran to the window, hoping thereby to make his escape. But the
iron bars were too firmly fixed--no matter how hard he pulled, tugged
and wrenched, they remained as immovable as ever. Then his heart began
to palpitate, his hair to bristle up, and his knees to totter; his
thoughts were full of speculations as to how he would be killed and what
it would feel like to be eaten alive. His conscience, too, rising up in
judgment against him, added its own paroxysms of dismay, paroxysms which
were still further augmented by the finding of the dead body of a woman,
nude and horribly mutilated, lying doubled up and partly concealed by a
curtain. Such a discovery could not fail to fill his heart with
unspeakable horror; for he concluded that he himself, unless saved by a
miracle--a favour he could hardly hope for, considering his past
conduct--would undergo the same fate before morning. At a loss to know
what else to do, he sat upon the corner of the table, resting his chin
on the palms of his hands, and engaged in anticipations of the most
frightful nature.

Shortly after dawn