She clung to him desperately, frantically, as the figure stumbled and staggered toward the trees that would presently engulf him. The dreadful Thing ran on, stopping now and again to turn and gibber and mouth at the man and the woman who stood motionless on the edge of the cutting. Waving wild arms, now howling in dreadful glee, now screaming in senseless fear, it vanished in the dark of the wood--an obscene, uncleanly thing, that belonged to bad dreams and the horrid imaginings of madness. Far away in the distance came the howl of him, and then the night swallowed him up. “How dreadful!” And then her knees gave under her and she remembered no more. XIX Leslie opened her eyes and frowned up into the face that was bent over her. She was lying on the verge of the road, for Dick had carried her down into the cutting and a hundred yards toward Willow House. “Oh, how awful!” she shuddered, and closed her eyes. “It was the Black Abbot?” Dick Alford did not reply for a while. His anxiety for the girl was such that all other interests had passed from his mind. “I am all right now,” she said, and, with his assistance, stood shakily on her feet. “I told you I was a fool. This is my crazy day! Dick, what was it?” “He was too far away from me to see,” said Dick; “probably one of our stupid villagers under the influence of drink.” She shook her head. “No, it was not that, Dick! It was----” She shuddered again. “I think I’d better go home.” “I think you’d be wise,” he said gravely. “I wish I hadn’t brought you out now.” She laughed a little shakily and clung to him tighter. “In a way I’m glad you did,” she said, as they walked slowly toward her home. “Dick, I had all sorts of queer dreams: just before I woke up I felt somebody kiss me. It was so convincing that I can still feel the lips on my cheek.” “I kissed you,” he said, without shame. “I thought the shock would bring you to life!” Her laughter was almost hysterical, for Leslie’s nerves were jangled and on edge. “You might at least have denied that,” she said. “Dick, you have no subtlety!” As they walked slowly toward the house, she noticed that he looked back once or twice. “You’re not expecting that--that thing to follow us, are you?” she asked, her teeth chattering. “No, I thought I heard a car” (which was true). “I’ll swear I saw a haze of light over the crest of the road, but I must have been mistaken.” He was not mistaken, and knew it. A car had been following them, had been slowly ascending the hill to the cutting; he had seen the reflected rays from the lamps distinctly, and had heard the soft purr of engines. What was more certain than anything else, the car could not have turned in that narrow road, so that the only explanation was that the unknown driver had switched off his lights and stopped his machine.