“The master made an effort for a time; it was a very brave effort, sir, but after a time his eyes went to the corner by the door, and suddenly he gave a sharp movement and then his eyes flitted about as if he was following something. Twice he half rose from his chair as if something was getting at him. Of course, the guests noticed it and, although they made a pretence of talking, I could see them watching the master. The hired men lost their heads and were dropping plates and waiting shockingly. The Noise got so bad that everything was quivering and shaking, and I could see the guests were beginning to get horrified and very uneasy. I felt something was going to happen. Suddenly the master jumped to his feet and began flinging all his glasses and anything he could pick up from the table into the dark corner, shouting, ‘Go! go! go! Drive it out, I tell you! Drive it out!’ and then he fell in a heap on the floor. Some of the gentlemen helped me to carry him up to his room, and then they left, and glad to go they were. One of them, Sir Marcus O’Reilly, took me aside, and asked if this sort of thing had been going on long. I said for just three weeks. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘it’s delirium tremens, and a bad case. I’ll do something about it in the morning. He can’t go on like this.’ “Would you believe it, sir, the master pulled round about midnight and spent the rest of the night out in the Park!” “Did _you_ ever see anything unnatural, except those shadows, I mean?” asked Mr. Ponders. Mr. Millin paused. “There was just something I did see--marks very like those made by the muddy paws of some animals outside the master’s bedroom door several times, and one time, when Sir Roger woke me up and told me the dog was on his bed, there were some marks on the blanket. “There was one funny little thing. The master was fond of cats, and kept six of them. Well, as soon as the Sound began, they all disappeared and were never seen again, and the keeper told me his dog wouldn’t go near the hall after dusk. But I don’t _think_ I ever saw anything, though the master made it all seem so real that it was enough to make anyone see things. “Well, sir, the next night it happened--I had managed to get to sleep about two o’clock--the master was out as usual. Suddenly I was awakened by hearing him rushing down the passage. I heard his door slam and then he began shouting, ‘Get down! Down, you brute! Down! Down! Down!’ and then I heard everything in the room begin crashing about. Just as I reached my door there was a terrible screaming and choking kind of cry--the most awful sound I ever heard, sir. “I rushed to his room and turned on the light. He was lying across the bed, his throat torn open and the blood pouring out. He was dead already. As I lifted him and tried to staunch the blood I noticed something about his eyes. There was something sort of photographed in them.” “What?” asked Mr. Ponders sharply.