fs and tiles, and
springing from level to level till they came to the yard.

Then a new sound caught his ear, and he saw that the windows all about
him were being softly opened, and that to each window came a face. A
moment later figures began dropping hurriedly down into the yard. And
these figures, as they lowered themselves down from the windows, were
human, he saw; but once safely in the yard they fell upon all fours and
changed in the swiftest possible second into--cats--huge, silent cats.
They ran in streams to join the main body in the hall beyond.

So, after all, the rooms in the house had not been empty and unoccupied.

Moreover, what he saw no longer filled him with amazement. For he
remembered it all. It was familiar. It had all happened before just so,
hundreds of times, and he himself had taken part in it and known the
wild madness of it all. The outline of the old building changed, the
yard grew larger, and he seemed to be staring down upon it from a much
greater height through smoky vapours. And, as he looked, half
remembering, the old pains of long ago, fierce and sweet, furiously
assailed him, and the blood stirred horribly as he heard the Call of the
Dance again in his heart and tasted the ancient magic of Ilse whirling
by his side.

Suddenly he started back. A great lithe cat had leaped softly up from
the shadows below on to the sill close to his face, and was staring
fixedly at him with the eyes of a human. "Come," it seemed to say, "come
with us to the Dance! Change as of old! Transform yourself swiftly and
come!" Only too well he understood the creature's soundless call.

It was gone again in a flash with scarcely a sound of its padded feet
on the stones, and then others dropped by the score down the side of
the house, past his very eyes, all changing as they fell and darting
away rapidly, softly, towards the gathering point. And again he felt the
dreadful desire to do likewise; to murmur the old incantation, and then
drop upon hands and knees and run swiftly for the great flying leap into
the air. Oh, how the passion of it rose within him like a flood,
twisting his very entrails, sending his heart's desire flaming forth
into the night for the old, old Dance of the Sorcerers at the Witches'
Sabbath! The whirl of the stars was about him; once more he met the
magic of the moon. The power of the wind, rushing from precipice and
forest, leaping from cliff to cliff across the valleys, tore him
away