bold wave that has broken too
far up the beach and is sweeping back to join the sea.'

"The boy was silent for a moment, then he stretched out his hand for
the cigarettes.

"'You remember nothing else?' I asked him.

"'No,' he said. 'The next thing I remember clearly is deliberately
breaking the nursery window because it was raining and mother would not
let me go out.'"

There was a moment's tension, then the strain of listening passed and
everyone seemed to be speaking at once. The Rector was taking the story
seriously.

"Tell me, Grady," he said. "How long do you suppose elapsed between the
boy's murder and his breaking the nursery window?"

But a young married woman in the first flush of her happiness broke in
between them. She ridiculed the whole idea. Of course the boy was
dreaming. She was drawing the majority to her way of thinking when, from
the corner where the girl sat, a hollow-sounding voice:

"And the boy? Where is he?"

The tone of the girl's voice inspired horror, that fear that does not
know what it is it fears; one could see it on every face; on every face,
that is, but the face of the bald-headed little man; there was no horror
on his face, he was smiling serenely as he looked the girl straight in
the eyes.

"He's a man now," he said.

"Alive?" she cried.

"Why not?" said the little old man, rubbing his hands together.

She tried to rise, but her frock had got caught between the chairs and
pulled her to her seat again. The man next her put out his hand to
steady her, but she dashed it away roughly. She looked round the party
for an instant for all the world like an animal at bay, then she sprang
to her feet and charged blindly. They crowded round her to prevent her
falling; at the touch of their hands she stopped. She was out of breath
as though she had been running.

"All right," she said, pushing their hands from her. "All right. I'll
come quietly. I did it."

They caught her as she fell and laid her on the sofa watching the colour
fade from her face.

The hostess, an old woman with white hair and a kind face, approached
the little old man; for once in her life she was roused to anger.

"I can't think how you could be so stupid," she said. "See what you have
done."

"I did it for a purpose," he said.

"For a purpose?"

"I have always thought that girl was the culprit. I have to thank you
for the opportunity you have given me of making sure."

IV

THE HORLA

GUY D