passing, too glad to reassure myself of
reality.

"I stopped the 'bus, and got out. I perceived
the man look oddly at me as I paid
him. I dare say there was something
unusual in my looks and manner, for I had
never felt so strangely before."

CHAPTER VII. THE JOURNEY: FIRST STAGE.

"WHEN the omnibus drove on, and I was
alone upon the road, I looked carefully
round to ascertain whether the monkey
had followed me. To my indescribable relief
I saw it nowhere. I can't describe easily
what a shock I had received, and my sense
of genuine gratitude on finding myself, as
I supposed, quite rid of it.

"I had got out a little before we reached
this house, two or three hundred steps
away. A brick wall runs along the footpath,
and inside the wall is a hedge of yew
or some dark evergreen of that kind, and
within that again the row of fine trees which
you may have remarked as you came.

"This brick wall is about as high as my
shoulder, and happening to raise my eyes
I saw the monkey, with that stooping gait,
on all fours, walking or creeping, close
beside me on top of the wall. I stopped
looking at it with a feeling of loathing
and horror. As I stopped so did it. It sat
up on the wall with its long hands on its
knees looking at me. There was not light
enough to see it much more than in outline,
nor was it dark enough to bring the peculiar
light of its eyes into strong relief. I still
saw, however, that red foggy light plainly
enough. It did not show its teeth, nor
exhibit any sign of irritation, but seemed
jaded and sulky, and was observing me
steadily.

"I drew back into the middle of the road.
It was an unconscious recoil, and there I
stood, still looking at it. It did not move.

"With an instinctive determination to
try something—anything, I turned about
and walked briskly towards town with a
scaunce look, all the time watching the
movements of the beast. It crept swiftly
along the wall, at exactly my pace.

"Where the wall ends, near the turn
of the road, it came down and with a wiry
spring or two brought itself close to my
feet, and continued to keep up to me, as I
quickened my pace. It was at my left
side, so close to my leg that I felt every
moment as if I should tread upon it.

"The road was quite deserted and silent,
and it was darker every moment. I stopped
dismayed and bewildered, turning as I
did so, the other way—I mean, towards
this house, away from which I had been
walking. When I stood still, the monkey
drew back to a distance of, I suppose,
about five or six yards, and remained
stationary, watching me.

"I had been more agitated than I have
said. I had read, of course, as every one
has, something about 'spectral illusions,'
as you physicians term the phenomena of
such cases. I considered my situation and
looked my misfortune in the face.

"These affections, I had read, are sometimes
transitory and sometimes obstinate.
I had read of cases in which the appearance,
at first harmless, had, step by step,
degenerated into something direful and
insupportable, and ended by wearing its
victim out. Still as I stood there, but for
my bestial companion, quite alone, I tried
to comfort myself by repeating again and
again the assurance, 'the thing is purely
disease, a well-known physical affection, as
distinctly as small-pox or neuralgia.
Doctors are all agreed on that, philosophy
demonstrates it. I must not be a fool. I've been
sitting up too late, and I dare say my
digestion is quite wrong, and with God's
help, I shall be all right, and this is but a
symptom of nervous dyspepsia.' Did I
believe all this? Not one word of it, no
more than any other miserable being ever
did who is once seized and riveted in this
satanic captivity. Against my convictions,
I might say my knowledge, I was
simply bullying myself into a false courage.

"I now walked homeward. I had only
a few hundred yards to go. I had forced
myself into a sort of resignation, but I had
not got over the sickening shock and the
flurry of the first certainty of my misfortune.

"I made up my mind to pass the night
at home. The brute moved close beside
me, and I fancied there was the sort of
anxious drawing toward the house, which
one sees in tired horses or dogs, sometimes
as they come toward home.

"I was afraid to go into town—I was
afraid of any one's seeing and recognising
me. I was conscious of an irrepressible
agitation in my manner. Also, I was
afraid of any violent change in my habits,
such as going to a place of amusement, or
walking from home in order to fatigue
myself. At the hall-door it waited till I
mounted the steps, and when the door was
opened entered with me.

"I drank no tea that night. I got