ust be in a new
quarter since I had not heard the clock before. In so lonely a spot it
was difficult to believe that the bell was that of St. Paul's. Yet such
was the fact.

And hard upon the ringing followed another sound--a sound we all had
expected, had waited for; but at whose coming no one of us, I think,
retained complete mastery of himself.

Breaking up the silence in a manner that set my heart wildly leaping it
came--an imperative knocking on the door!

"My God!" groaned Weymouth--but he did not move from his position at
the window.

"Stand by, Petrie!" said Smith.

He strode to the door--and threw it widely open.

I know I was very pale. I think I cried out as I fell back--retreated
with clenched hands from before THAT which stood on the threshold.

It was a wild, unkempt figure, with straggling beard, hideously staring
eyes. With its hands it clutched at its hair--at its chin; plucked at
its mouth. No moonlight touched the features of this unearthly
visitant, but scanty as was the illumination we could see the gleaming
teeth--and the wildly glaring eyes.

It began to laugh--peal after peal--hideous and shrill.

Nothing so terrifying had ever smote upon my ears. I was palsied by
the horror of the sound.

Then Nayland Smith pressed the button of an electric torch which he
carried. He directed the disk of white light fully upon the face in
the doorway.

"Oh, God!" cried Weymouth. "It's John!"--and again and again: "Oh,
God! Oh, God!"

Perhaps for the first time in my life I really believed (nay, I could
not doubt) that a thing of another world stood before me. I am ashamed
to confess the extent of the horror that came upon me. James Weymouth
raised his hands, as if to thrust away from him that awful thing in the
door. He was babbling--prayers, I think, but wholly incoherent.

"Hold him, Petrie!"

Smith's voice was low. (When we were past thought or intelligent
action, he, dominant and cool, with that forced calm for which, a
crisis over, he always paid so dearly, was thinking of the woman who
slept above.)

He leaped forward; and in the instant that he grappled with the one who
had knocked I knew the visitant for a man of flesh and blood--a man who
shrieked and fought like a savage animal, foamed at the mouth and
gnashed his teeth in horrid frenzy; knew him for a madman--knew him for
the victim of Fu-Manchu--not dead, but living--for Inspector
Weymouth--a maniac!

In a flash I r