Somerset maughan

part of a splendid house. He walked along the wooden palisade that 
surrounded the park. Suddenly he came to a spot where a board 
had been broken down. He looked up and down the road. No one 
was in sight. He climbed up the low, steep bank, wrenched down a 
piece more of the fence, and slipped in. 
He found himself in a dense wood. There was no sign of a path, and 
he advanced cautiously. The bracken was so thick and high that it 
easily concealed him. Dead owners had plainly spent much care 
upon the place, for here alone in the neighbourhood were trees in 
abundance; but of late it had been utterly neglected. It had run so 
wild that there were no traces now of its early formal arrangement; 
and it was so hard to make one's way, the vegetation was so thick, 
that it might almost have been some remnant of primeval forest. But 
at last he came to a grassy path and walked along it slowly. He 
stopped on a sudden, for he heard a sound. But it was only a 
pheasant that flew heavily through the low trees. He wondered 
what he should do if he came face to face with Oliver. The innkeeper 
had assured him that the squire seldom came out, but spent his days 

---

locked in the great attics at the top of the house. Smoke came from 
the chimneys of them, even in the hottest days of summer, and 
weird tales were told of the devilries there committed. 
Arthur went on, hoping in the end to catch sight of Margaret, but he 
saw no one. In that grey, chilly day the woods, notwithstanding 
their greenery, were desolate and sad. A sombre mystery seemed to 
hang over them. At last he came to a stone bench at a cross-way 
among the trees, and, since it was the only resting-place he had 
seen, it struck him that Margaret might come there to sit down. He 
hid himself in the bracken. He had forgotten his watch and did not 
know how the time passed; he seemed to be there for hours. 
But at length his heart gave a great beat against his ribs, for all at 
once, so silently that he had not heard her approach, Margaret came 
into view. She sat on the stone bench. For a moment he dared not 
move in case the sound frightened her. He could not tell how to 
make his presence known. But it was necessary to do something to 
attract her attention, and he could only hope that she would not cry 
out. 
'Margaret,' he called softly. 
She did not move, and he repeated her name more loudly. But still 
she made no sign that she had heard. He came forward and stood in 
front of her. 
'Margaret.' 
She looked at him quietly. He might have been someone she had 
never set eyes on, and yet from her composure she might have 
expected him to be standing there. 
'Margaret, don't you know me?' 
'What do you want?' she answered placidly. 
He was so taken aback that he did not know what to say. She kept 
gazing at him steadfastly. On a sudden her calmness vanished, and 
she sprang to her feet. 

---

'Is it you really?' she cried, terribly agitated. 'I thought it was only a 
shape that mimicked you.' 
'Margaret, what do you mean? What has come over you?' 
She stretched out her hand and touched him. 
'I'm flesh and blood all right,' he said, trying to smile. 
She shut her eyes for a moment, as though in an effort to collect 
herself. 
'I've had hallucinations lately,' she muttered. 'I thought it was some 
trick played upon me.' 
Suddenly she shook herself. 
'But what are you doing here? You must go. How did you come? 
Oh, why won't you leave me alone?' 
'I've been haunted by a feeling that something horrible was going to 
happen to you. I was obliged to come.' 
'For God's sake, go. You can do me no good. If he finds out you've 
been here—' 
She stopped, and her eyes were dilated with terror. Arthur seized 
her hands. 
'Margaret, I can't go—I can't leave you like this. For Heaven's sake, 
tell me what is the matter. I'm so dreadfully frightened.' 
He was aghast at the difference wrought in her during the two 
months since he had seen her last. Her colour was gone, and her 
face had the greyness of the dead. There were strange lines on her 
forehead, and her eyes had an unnatural glitter. Her youth had 
suddenly left her. She looked as if she were struck down by mortal 
illness. 
'What is that matter with you?' he asked. 

---

'Nothing.' She looked about her anxiously. 'Oh, why don't you go? 
How can you be so cruel?' 
'I must do something for you,' he insisted. 
She shook her head. 
'It's too late. Nothing can help me now.' She paused; and when she 
spoke again it was with a voice so ghastly that it might have come 
from the lips of a corpse. 'I've found out at last what he's going to do 
with me He wants me for his great experiment, and the time is 
growing shorter.' 
'What do you mean by saying he wants you?' 
'He wants—my life.' 
Arthur gave a cry of dismay, but she put up her hand. 
'It's no use resisting. It can't do any good—I think I shall be glad 
when the moment comes. I shall at least cease to suffer.' 
'But you must be mad.' 
'I don't know. I know that he is.' 
'But if your life is in danger, come away for God's sake. After all, 
you're free. He can't stop you.' 
'I should have to go back to him, as I did last time,' she answered, 
shaking her head. 'I thought I was free then, but gradually I knew 
that he was calling me. I tried to resist, but I couldn't. I simply had 
to go to him.' 
'But it's awful to think that you are alone with a man who's 
practically raving mad.' 
'I'm safe for today,' she said quietly. 'It can only be done in the very 
hot weather. If there's no more this year, I shall live till next 
summer.' 

---

'Oh, Margaret, for God's sake don't talk like that. I love you—I want 
to have you with me always. Won't you come away with me and let 
me take care of you? I promise you that no harm shall come to you.' 
'You don't love me any more; you're only sorry for me now.' 
'It's not true.' 
'Oh yes it is. I saw it when we were in the country. Oh, I don't blame 
you. I'm a different woman from the one you loved. I'm not the 
Margaret you knew.' 
'I can never care for anyone but you.' 
She put her hand on his arm. 
'If you loved me, I implore you to go. You don't know what you 
expose me to. And when I'm dead you must marry Susie. She loves 
you with all her heart, and she deserves your love.' 
'Margaret, don't go. Come with me.' 
'And take care. He will never forgive you for what you did. If he 
can, he will kill you.' 
She started violently, as though she heard a sound. Her face was 
convulsed with sudden fear. 
'For God's sake go, go!' 
She turned from him quickly, and, before he could prevent her, had 
vanished. With heavy heart he plunged again into the bracken. 
When Arthur had given his friends some account of this meeting, he 
stopped and looked at Dr Porhoët. The doctor went thoughtfully to 
his bookcase. 
'What is it you want me to tell you?' he asked. 
'I think the man is mad,' said Arthur. 'I found out at what asylum 
his mother was, and by good luck was able to see the 
superintendent on my way through London. He told me that he had 

---

grave doubts about Haddo's sanity, but it was impossible at present 
to take any steps. I came straight here because I wanted your advice. 
Granting that the man is out of his mind, is it possible that he may 
be trying some experiment that entails a sacrifice of human life?' 
'Nothing is more probable,' said Dr Porhoët gravely. 
Susie shuddered. She remembered the rumour that had reached her 
ears 
in 
Monte Carlo. 
'They said there that he was attempting to make living creatures by 
a magical operation.' She glanced at the doctor, but spoke to Arthur. 
'Just before you came in, our friend was talking of that book of 
Paracelsus in which he speaks of feeding the monsters he has made 
on human blood.' 
Arthur gave a horrified cry. 
'The most significant thing to my mind is that fact about Margaret 
which we are certain of,' said Dr Porhoët. 'All works that deal with 
the Black Arts are unanimous upon the supreme efficacy of the 
virginal condition.' 
'But what is to be done?' asked Arthur is desperation. 'We can't 
leave her in the hands of a raving madman.' He turned on a sudden 
deathly white. 'For all we know she may be dead now.' 
'Have you ever heard of Gilles de Rais?' said Dr Porhoët, continuing 
his reflections. 'That is the classic instance of human sacrifice. I 
know the country in which he lived; and the peasants to this day 
dare not pass at night in the neighbourhood of the ruined castle 
which was the scene of his horrible crimes.' 
'It's awful to know that this dreadful danger hangs over her, and to 
be able to do nothing.' 
'We can only wait,' said Dr Porhoët. 
'And if we wait too long, we may be faced by a terrible catastrophe.' 

---

'Fortunately we live in a civilized age. Haddo has a great care of his 
neck. I hope we are frightened unduly.' 
It seemed to Susie that the chief thing was to distract Arthur, and 
she turned over in her mind some means of directing his attention to 
other matters. 
'I was thinking of going down to Chartres for two days with Mrs 
Bloomfield,' she said. 'Won't you come with me? It is the most lovely 
cathedral in the world, and I think you will find it restful to wander 
about it for a little while. You can do no good, here or in London. 
Perhaps when you are calm, you will be able to think of something 
practical.' 
Dr Porhoët saw what her plan was, and joined his entreaties to hers 
that Arthur should spend a day or two in a place that had no 
associations for him. Arthur was too exhausted to argue, and from 
sheer weariness consented. Next day Susie took him to Chartres. 
Mrs Bloomfield was no trouble to them, and Susie induced him to 
linger for a week in that pleasant, quiet town. They passed many 
hours in the stately cathedral, and they wandered about the 
surrounding country. Arthur was obliged to confess that the change 
had done him good, and a certain apathy succeeded the agitation 
from which he had suffered so long. Finally Susie persuaded him to 
spend three or four weeks in Brittany with Dr Porhoët, who was 
proposing to revisit the scenes of his childhood. They returned to 
Paris. When Arthur left her at the station, promising to meet her 
again in an hour at the restaurant where they were going to dine 
with Dr Porhoët, he thanked her for all she had done. 
'I was in an absurdly hysterical condition,' he said, holding her 
hand. 'You've been quite angelic. I knew that nothing could be done, 
and yet I was tormented with the desire to do something. Now I've 
got myself in hand once more. I think my common sense was 
deserting me, and I was on the point of believing in the farrago of 
nonsense which they call magic. After all, it's absurd to think that 
Haddo is going to do any harm to Margaret. As soon at I get back to 
London, I'll see my lawyers, and I daresay something can be done. If 
he's really mad, we'll have to put him under restraint, and Margaret 
will be free. I shall never forget your kindness.' 

---

Susie smiled and shrugged her shoulders. 
She was convinced that he would forget everything if Margaret 
came back to him. But she chid herself for the bitterness of the 
thought. She loved him, and she was glad to be able to do anything 
for him. 
She returned to the hotel, changed her frock, and walked slowly to 
the Chien Noir. It always exhilarated her to come back to Paris; and 
she looked with happy, affectionate eyes at the plane trees, the 
yellow trams that rumbled along incessantly, and the lounging 
people. When she arrived, Dr Porhoët was waiting, and his delight 
at seeing her again was flattering and pleasant. They talked of 
Arthur. They wondered why he was late. 
In a moment he came in. They saw at once that something quite 
extraordinary had taken place. 
'Thank God, I've found you at last!' he cried. 
His face was moving strangely. They had never seen him so 
discomposed. 
'I've been round to your hotel, but I just missed you. Oh, why did 
you insist on my going away?' 
'What on earth's the matter?' cried Susie. 
'Something awful has happened to Margaret.' 
Susie started to her feet with a sudden cry of dismay. 
'How do you know?' she asked quickly. 
He looked at them for a moment and flushed. He kept his eyes upon 
them, as though actually to force his listeners into believing what he 
was about to say. 
'I feel it,' he answered hoarsely. 
'What do you mean?' 

---

'It came upon me quite suddenly, I can't explain why or how. I only 
know that something has happened.' 
He began again to walk up and down, prey to an agitation that was 
frightful to behold. Susie and Dr Porhoët stared at him helplessly. 
They tried to think of something to say that would calm him. 
'Surely if anything had occurred, we should have been informed.' 
He turned to Susie angrily. 
'How do you suppose we could know anything? She was quite 
helpless. She was imprisoned like a rat in a trap.' 
'But, my dear friend, you mustn't give way in this fashion,' said the 
doctor. 'What would you say of a patient who came to you with 
such a story?' 
Arthur answered the question with a shrug of the shoulders. 
'I should say he was absurdly hysterical.' 
'Well?' 
'I can't help it, the feeling's there. If you try all night you'll never be 
able to argue me out of it. I feel it in every bone of my body. I 
couldn't be more certain if I saw Margaret lying dead in front of me.' 
Susie saw that it was indeed useless to reason with him. The only 
course was to accept his conviction and make the best of it. 
'What do you want us to do?' she asked. 
'I want you both to come to England with me at once. If we start 
now we can catch the evening train.' 
Susie did not answer, but she got up. She touched the doctor on the 
arm. 
'Please come,' she whispered. 
He nodded and untucked the napkin he had already arranged over 
his waistcoat. 

---

'I've got a cab at the door,' said Arthur. 
'And what about clothes for Miss Susie?' said the doctor. 
'Oh, we can't wait for that,' cried Arthur. 'For God's sake, come 
quickly.' 
Susie knew that there was plenty of time to fetch a few necessary 
things before the train started, but Arthur's impatience was too great 
to be withstood. 
'It doesn't matter,' she said. 'I can get all I want in England.' 
He hurried them to the door and told the cabman to drive to the 
station as quickly as ever he could. 
'For Heaven's sake, calm down a little,' said Susie. 'You'll be no good 
to anyone in that state.' 
'I feel certain we're too late.' 
'Nonsense! I'm convinced that you'll find Margaret safe and sound.' 
He did not answer. He gave a sigh of relief as they drove into the 
courtyard of the station. 

---

14 
Susie never forgot the horror of that journey to England. They 
arrived in London early in the morning and, without stopping, 
drove to Euston. For three or four days there had been unusual heat, 
and even at that hour the streets were sultry and airless. The train 
north was crowded, and it seemed impossible to get a breath of air. 
Her head ached, but she was obliged to keep a cheerful demeanour 
in the effort to allay Arthur's increasing anxiety. Dr Porhoët sat in 
front of her. After the sleepless night his eyes were heavy and his 
face deeply lined. He was exhausted. At length, after much tiresome 
changing, they reached Venning. She had expected a greater 
coolness in that northern country; but there was a hot blight over the 
place, and, as they walked to the inn from the little station, they 
could hardly drag their limbs along. 
Arthur had telegraphed from London that they must have rooms 
ready, and the landlady expected them. She recognized Arthur. He 
passionately desired to ask her whether anything had happened 
since he went away, but forced himself to be silent for a while. He 
greeted her with cheerfulness. 
'Well, Mrs Smithers, what has been going on since I left you?' he 
cried. 
'Of course you wouldn't have heard, sir,' she answered gravely. 
He began to tremble, but with an almost superhuman effort 
controlled his voice. 
'Has the squire hanged himself?' he asked lightly. 
'No sir—but the poor lady's dead.' 
He did not answer. He seemed turned to stone. He stared with 
ghastly eyes. 
'Poor thing!' said Susie, forcing herself to speak. 'Was it—very 
sudden?' 

---

The woman turned to Susie, glad to have someone with whom to 
discuss the event. She took no notice of Arthur's agony. 
'Yes, mum; no one expected it. She died quite sudden like. She was 
only buried this morning.' 
'What did she die of?' asked Susie, her eyes on Arthur. 
She feared that he would faint. She wanted enormously to get him 
away, but did not know how to manage it. 
'They say it was heart disease,' answered the landlady. 'Poor thing! 
It's a happy release for her.' 
'Won't you get us some tea, Mrs Smithers? We're very tired, and we 
should like something immediately.' 
'Yes, miss. I'll get it at once.' 
The good woman bustled away. Susie quickly locked the door. She 
seized 
Arthur's arm. 
'Arthur, Arthur.' 
She expected him to break down. She looked with agony at Dr 
Porhoët, who stood helplessly by. 
'You couldn't have done anything if you'd been here. You heard 
what the woman said. If Margaret died of heart disease, your 
suspicions were quite without ground.' 
He shook her away, almost violently. 
'For God's sake, speak to us,' cried Susie. 
His silence terrified her more than would have done any outburst of 
grief. Dr Porhoët went up to him gently. 
'Don't try to be brave, my friend. You will not suffer as much if you 
allow yourself a little weakness.' 
'For Heaven's sake leave me alone!' said Arthur, hoarsely. 

---

They drew back and watched him silently. Susie heard their hostess 
come along to the sitting-room with tea, and she unlocked the door. 
The landlady brought in the things. She was on the point of leaving 
them when Arthur stopped her. 
'How do you know that Mrs Haddo died of heart disease?' he asked 
suddenly. 
His voice was hard and stern. He spoke with a peculiar abruptness 
that made the poor woman look at him in amazement. 
'Dr Richardson told me so.' 
'Had he been attending her?' 
'Yes, sir. Mr Haddo had called him in several times to see his lady.' 
'Where does Dr Richardson live?' 
'Why, sir, he lives at the white house near the station.' 
She could not make out why Arthur asked these questions. 
'Did Mr Haddo go to the funeral?' 
'Oh yes, sir. I've never seen anyone so upset.' 
'That'll do. You can go.' 
Susie poured out the tea and handed a cup to Arthur. To her 
surprise, he drank the tea and ate some bread and butter. She could 
not understand him. The expression of strain, and the restlessness 
which had been so painful, were both gone from his face, and it was 
set now to a look of grim determination. At last he spoke to them. 
'I'm going to see this doctor. Margaret's heart was as sound as mine.' 
'What are you going to do?' 
'Do?' 
He turned on her with a peculiar fierceness. 

---

'I'm going to put a rope round that man's neck, and if the law won't 
help me, by God, I'll kill him myself.' 
'