ed that the electric lamps had been turned on in the library
beyond.

"Coffee and scientific researches," said Travers, grimly. "All the
luxuries of learning and theoretical research. Well, I must be
going, for I have my work to do as well." And he got up rather
stiffly, saluted his companions, and strode away into the dusk.

"I only hope Boyle is sticking to scientific researches," said Horne
Fisher. "I'm not very comfortable about him myself. But let's talk
about something else."

They talked about something else longer than they probably imagined,
until the tropical night had come and a splendid moon painted the
whole scene with silver; but before it was bright enough to see by
Fisher had already noted that the lights in the library had been
abruptly extinguished. He waited for the two men to come out by the
garden entrance, but nobody came.

"They must have gone for a stroll on the links," he said.

"Very possibly," replied Grayne. "It's going to be a beautiful
night."

A moment or two after he had spoken they heard a voice hailing them
out of the shadow of the clubhouse, and were astonished to perceive
Travers hurrying toward them, calling out as he came:

"I shall want your help, you fellows," he cried. "There's something
pretty bad out on the links."

They found themselves plunging through the club smoking room and the
library beyond, in complete darkness, mental as well as material.
But Horne Fisher, in spite of his affectation of indifference, was a
person of a curious and almost transcendental sensibility to
atmospheres, and he already felt the presence of something more than
an accident. He collided with a piece of furniture in the library,
and almost shuddered with the shock, for the thing moved as he could
never have fancied a piece of furniture moving. It seemed to move
like a living thing, yielding and yet striking back. The next moment
Grayne had turned on the lights, and he saw he had only stumbled
against one of the revolving bookstands that had swung round and
struck him; but his involuntary recoil had revealed to him his own
subconscious sense of something mysterious and monstrous. There were
several of these revolving bookcases standing here and there about
the library; on one of them stood the two cups of coffee, and on
another a large open book. It was Budge's book on Egyptian
hieroglyphics, with colored plates of strange birds and gods, and
even as he rushed past, he was conscious of