Dr. Graves was the first to reach the door, where he paused. I attempted to force my way past him, but he stayed me with his arm. “Get back, woman!” he shouted to someone within. “Get back and close the door. The creature is mad.” At the far end of the hall, I saw the stout wife of the house man apparently rooted to the floor by horror. Just in front of her, the Airedale, growling and snarling savagely, was rapidly demolishing the upholstering of a beautiful antique settee. The hairy jaws of the creature were flecked with white foam, and the eyes were bloodshot and unnaturally luminescent from extreme dilation of the pupils. Seeing the peril in which the poor woman was placed, I caught up one of the porch chairs and rushed past the doctor. The dog took no notice of me until I swung at it with the chair. Then it dodged with surprising dexterity and leaped for my throat, just as two of the chair legs were shattered against the floor. I managed to elude it by quickly crouching behind the chair back, so that it passed clear over my head. It was up again in an instant, however, and I had all I could do to protect myself from its leaps by fencing with the remains of the chair. Almost before I was aware of it, the beast had backed me into the living room. Then, to my horror, the door closed, and the lights winked out. I shall never forget the battle I fought in that dark room. That which had been a shaggy creature of flesh and bone in the light, had become a pair of burning orbs, set in a shadowy form, that leaped, snapped, and snarled in a manner which was twice as terrifying as its former attacks had been when each move was completely visible. Now I was guided only by the movements of the luminous eyes, whereas I had previously been able to forecast each hostile move or leap by the crouch or muscular tension which preceded it. Using the chair as a shield, I eventually managed to circle back to the door. With one hand I attempted to turn the knob, while I manipulated the chair with the other. The door was locked. I immediately felt below for the key, recalling that it had been there earlier in the evening. It was gone! My canine adversary made a determined leap that forced me to one side. Then some one pounded on the door, and I heard the voice of Dr. Graves. “Unlock the door, Mr. Evans. I have a gun and electric torch.” “There is no key on this side,” I replied. Then I caught a glimpse of a light flashing through the keyhole and wondered what had become of the key. “It must have fallen to the floor on that side,” said the young doctor. “I cannot find it in the hall.” I again succeeded in maneuvering to a position in front of the door. Then I tramped about in front of it until my shoe struck a hard object. Stooping, I picked it up, and rejoiced to find that the doctor had been right. Again using one hand to manipulate the chair, I inserted the key in the lock and managed to turn it, though with considerable difficulty.