Page:Weird Tales Volume 8 Number 3 (1926-09).djvu/122

 clever for me, yet,” she called back, menacingly.

The sound of her feet as they crunched dry branches under them, went across the clearing. Then silence, and a low cry from the night.

“I forgot. The stream,” explained the doctor in a low voice. “I’ll be back, Bessie. I must carry her across the running water.”

the doctor returned, the girl asked curiously, “If she must be carried across the stream, how did she come this evening, from the lodge?”

“Bessie, she called upon certain elemental forces in nature that are bound, under given conditions, to serve her. That much she has gained from her study of Black Art. And these forces drew down from the icy north a bitter, biting, freezing wind. Gretel crossed that stream because the surface was frozen.”

A stirring in Ewan’s room called for their attention.

“Did she get in there?” demanded the doctor briefly.

Bessie shook her head.

“No. But he got up once and began pulling down the rose sprays. He threw the rosary on the floor. And we saw a terrible face”—she shuddered—“peering in at the window.”

“That was her astral projection,” the doctor explained. “I called her back when I got to the lodge.”

He tiptoed to Ewan’s side and looked down upon the young artist, whose breath came slowly and regularly. He was nodding with satisfaction when he went back to the living

“He’ll come along nicely now,” said he with a relieved sigh. “After this night’s escapade Gretel will find herself so closely confined that she will be unable to escape my vigilance again,” grimly. “Now let me see your throat, Bessie. She said she had not had time to injure you, but I can notcannot [sic] take her word when she is fiend-inspired.” He pushed the girl’s chin up and with the electric torch in one hand made a close and careful examination of her neck. It’s all right, dear. She tore the skin a bit with her sharp teeth, but there’s been no blood drawn as yet; the wounds are perfectly dry. We’ll put a bit of iodine on the wound, to avoid ordinary infection.”

“Then I’m not like Ewan?” faltered the girl.

The doctor shook a decisive negative.

“Bessie, I came here, guided by providence, in the very nick of time. A fraction of a second later would have been too late. Good Lord, what a terrible mess it is!” he ended, with a heavy sigh that was almost a groan.

Bessie put her soft little hands to his working face and held his cheeks a moment in that tender, comforting pressure.

The doctor turned his face gently until his lips touched one caressing hand. Then he picked up the flashlight and turned toward the still open door.

“I must get back, brown girl, and have it out with Gretel,” he sighed. “She agreed to some degree of restraint, but she has tasted human blood too often, and now she is harder to control. However, when daylight comes she is usually amenable to reason, and I hope to arrange matters so she can not emerge without my knowledge. Try to sleep, brown girl. Your brother is safe now, and so are you. Unless,” he added darkly, “Gretel carried out her threat.”

“Good night, dear Dale,” said Bessie quietly, as she barred the door behind him.

Sleep she could not. The night’s terrible happenings had been too nerve-disturbing for her to relax sufficiently for sleep. Doze she did, a little; conscious always of her surroundings and quickly responsive to