and follies had been unveiled. Altogether, I felt it was good to have him there. My perplexities seemed to lighten by his mere presence in the car.
His car made quick work of the few miles to Penzance, and soon we were sweeping along within sight of Mount's Bay. When we reached the hotel on the front he ordered a meal to be served without delay. We dined in a private sitting-room looking out upon St. Michael's Mount and the sea. When we had finished Colwin Grey turned to me.
"Now for your story, Haldham, as you wish to return to the moors by dark."
■ I started at the outset of my adventure, and told him everything from beginning to end—
"Oh, this is most interesting!" he exclaimed. "Now what do you propose to do?"
I told him simply I intended to watch on the moors by Charmingdene in pursuance of my promise, listening for the beat of the drum. He nodded understanding. "And if you hear it—what then?"
I said in that case it was my intention to go in pursuit. He nodded again, but this time with a rather dubious air. Once more there was a period of thoughtful silence before he next spoke.
"What did the beating of the drum sound like to you, when you heard it from, your room at the back of the house two nights ago? I want you to describe it very carefully to me."
"At first it was a faint and distant tap," I said, "just audible in the darkness, and that was all. The tapping seemed to come at intervals then. After a while it grew louder, in a kind of continuous and muffled roll, as though the drum was approaching the house. Then, suddenly, it ceased. There was something indescribably weird and strange about the sound in the dark. It seemed to transport one out of England—into the African jungle, or more mystical East."
He heard me thoughtfully.
"Some Eastern nations—the Arabs, for instance—have strange notions of death which bear an affinity to this fancy of the beating drum," he said. "But the idea of Death stalking the English country at night like a phantom Arab on a spectral camel is altogether too Eastern a conception for a sober and matter-of-fact land like ours. In this overcrowded island, Death is more like a car of Juggernaut, for ever crushing victims beneath its wheels. Death comes for all of us in time, but not with the beating of drums. We must look for a more human explanation of this, Haldham."
"Perhaps I can help a little here," I said. "My late employer, Colonel Gravenall, knows something of the matter, as I believe. We might do worse than seek the solution there."
Colwin Grey glanced at me.
"Why do you suspect him?" he asked.
"Well," I said, after some hesitation, "there seems no other explanation to me. In the first place, the drum-beating happened while he was supposed to be in London, but I doubt if he went there at all. Or he may have returned sooner than supposed, so as to carry out this scheme while the members of his household thought he was still away. Through being lost on the moors I was brought into this strange mystery, and the unfortunate Edward Chesworth's story was told to me. I promised to help him, and keep a watch on the moors. On coming to Charmingdene, Colonel Gravenall must have heard of this, and so he discharged me immediately in order to get me out of the way. Surely that is proof enough, don't you think?"
My companion carefully selected another cigar.
"Proof of what?" he asked.
"Proof that Colonel Gravenall is seeking to destroy his nephew in some mysterious and horrible way," I returned. "I do not know what his object is, but that much seems clear to me. When I first came to Charmingdene he sought to placate me—to throw dust in my eyes—by inviting me to dinner and talking with me confidentially at St. Just. But when he found there was a danger of my discovering too much, he discharged me."
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