emove the fetters from the creature's body, and a modeler was busily
engaged in covering the invisible form with the moist clay. In five
minutes more we had a mold, and before evening a rough facsimile of the
Mystery. It was shaped like a man--distorted, uncouth, and horrible, but
still a man. It was small, not over four feet and some inches in height,
and its limbs revealed a muscular development that was unparalleled. Its
face surpassed in hideousness anything I had ever seen. Gustav Dore, or
Callot, or Tony Johannot, never conceived anything so horrible. There
is a face in one of the latter's illustrations to _Un Voyage ou il vous
plaira_, which somewhat approaches the countenance of this creature, but
does not equal it. It was the physiognomy of what I should fancy a ghoul
might be. It looked as if it was capable of feeding on human flesh.

Having satisfied our curiosity, and bound every one in the house to
secrecy, it became a question what was to be done with our Enigma? It
was impossible that we should keep such a horror in our house; it was
equally impossible that such an awful being should be let loose upon the
world. I confess that I would have gladly voted for the creature's
destruction. But who would shoulder the responsibility? Who would
undertake the execution of this horrible semblance of a human being? Day
after day this question was deliberated gravely. The boarders all left
the house. Mrs. Moffat was in despair, and threatened Hammond and myself
with all sorts of legal penalties if we did not remove the Horror. Our
answer was, "We will go if you like, but we decline taking this creature
with us. Remove it yourself if you please. It appeared in your house. On
you the responsibility rests." To this there was, of course, no answer.
Mrs. Moffat could not obtain for love or money a person who would even
approach the Mystery.

The most singular part of the affair was that we were entirely ignorant
of what the creature habitually fed on. Everything in the way of
nutriment that we could think of was placed before it, but was never
touched. It was awful to stand by, day after day, and see the clothes
toss, and hear the hard breathing, and know that it was starving.

Ten, twelve days, a fortnight passed, and it still lived. The pulsations
of the heart, however, were daily growing fainter, and had now nearly
ceased. It was evident that the creature was dying for want of
sustenance. While this terrible life-strug