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rather absurd when I tell my tale。 I sometimes think so myself； and that's
just what I made up my mind to come to you； as I know you're a practical
man。〃
Mr。 Villiers was ignorant of the 〃Memoirs to prove the Existence of
the Devil。〃
〃Well； Villiers； I shall be happy to give you my advice； to the best of
my ability。 What is the nature of the case？〃
〃It's an extraordinary thing altogether。 You know my ways； I always
keep my eyes open in the streets； and in my time I have chanced upon
some queer customers； and queer cases too； but this； I think； beats all。 I
was coming out of a restaurant one nasty winter night about three months
ago； I had had a capital dinner and a good bottle of Chianti； and I stood for
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a moment on the pavement； thinking what a mystery there is about
London streets and the companies that pass along them。 A bottle of red
wine encourages these fancies； Clarke； and I dare say I should have
thought a page of small type； but I was cut short by a beggar who had
come behind me； and was making the usual appeals。 Of course I looked
round； and this beggar turned out to be what was left of an old friend of
mine； a man named Herbert。 I asked him how he had come to such a
wretched pass； and he told me。 We walked up and down one of those
long and dark Soho streets； and there I listened to his story。 He said he
had married a beautiful girl； some years younger than himself； and； as he
put it； she had corrupted him body and soul。 He wouldn't go into details；
he said he dare not； that what he had seen and heard haunted him by night
and day； and when I looked in his face I knew he was speaking the truth。
There was something about the man that made me shiver。 I don't know
why； but it was there。 I gave him a little money and sent him away； and I
assure you that when he was gone I gasped for breath。 His presence
seemed to chill one's blood。〃
〃Isn't this all just a little fanciful； Villiers？ I suppose the poor fellow
had made an imprudent marriage； and； in plain English； gone to the bad。〃
〃Well； listen to this。〃 Villiers told Clarke the story he had heard from
Austin。
〃You see；〃 he concluded； 〃there can be but little doubt that this Mr。
Blank； whoever he was； died of sheer terror； he saw something so awful；
so terrible； that it cut short his life。 And what he saw； he most certainly
saw in that house； which； somehow or other； had got a bad name in the
neighbourhood。 I had the curiosity to go and look at the place for myself。
It's a saddening kind of street； the houses are old enough to be mean and
dreary； but not old enough to be quaint。 As far as I could see most of
them are let in lodgings； furnished and unfurnished； and almost every door
has three bells to it。 Here and there the ground floors have been made
into shops of the commonest kind； it's a dismal street in every way。 I
found Number 20 was to let； and I went to the agent's and got the key。
Of course I should have heard nothing of the Herberts in that quarter； but I
asked the man； fair and square； how long they had left the house and
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whether there had been other tenants in the meanwhile。 He looked at me
queerly for a minute； and told me the Herberts had left immediately after
the unpleasantness； as he called it； and since then the house had been
empty。〃
Mr。 Villiers paused for a moment。
〃I have always been rather fond of going over empty houses； there's a
sort of fascination about the desolate empty rooms； with the nails sticking
in the walls； and the dust thick upon the window…sills。 But I didn't enjoy
going over Number 20； Paul Street。 I had hardly put my foot inside the
passage when I noticed a queer； heavy feeling about the air of the house。
Of course all empty houses are stuffy； and so forth； but this was something
quite different； I can't describe it to you； but it seemed to stop the breath。
I went into the front room and the back room； and the kitchens downstairs；
they were all dirty and dusty enough； as you would expect； but there was
something strange about them all。 I couldn't define it to you； I only know
I felt queer。 It was one of the rooms on the first floor； though； that was
the worst。 It was a largish room； and once on a time the paper must have
been cheerful enough； but when I saw it； paint； paper； and everything were
most doleful。 But the room was full of horror； I felt my teeth grinding as
I put my hand on the door； and when I went in； I thought I should have
fallen fainting to the floor。 However； I pulled myself together； and stood
against the end wall； wondering what on earth there could be about the
room to make my limbs tremble； and my heart beat as if I were at the hour
of death。 In one corner there was a pile of newspapers littered on the
floor； and I began looking at them； they were papers of three or four years
ago； some of them half torn； and some crumpled as if they had been used
for packing。 I turned the whole pile over； and amongst them I found a
curious drawing； I will show it to you presently。 But I couldn't stay in
the room； I felt it was overpowering me。 I was thankful to come out； safe
and sound； into the open air。 People stared at me as I walked along the
street； and one man said I was drunk。 I was staggering about from one
side of the pavement to the other； and it was as much as I could do to take
the key back to the agent and get home。 I was in bed for a week；
suffering from what my doctor called nervous shock and exhaustion。
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One of those days I was reading the evening paper； and happened to notice
a paragraph headed： 'Starved to Death。' It was the usual style of thing； a
model lodging…house in Marlyebone； a door locked for several days； and a
dead man in his chair when they broke in。 'The deceased；'said the
paragraph； 'was known as Charles Herbert； and is believed to have been
once a prosperous country gentleman。 His name was familiar to the
public three years ago in connection with the mysterious death in Paul
Street； Tottenham Court Road； the deceased being the tenant of the house
Number 20； in the area of which a gentleman of good position was found
dead under circumstances not devoid of suspicion。' A tragic ending；
wasn't it？ But after all； if what he told me were true； which I am sure it
was； the man's life was all a tragedy； and a tragedy of a stranger sort than
they put on the boards。〃
〃And that is the story； is it？〃 said Clarke musingly。
〃Yes； that is the story。〃
〃Well； really； Villiers； I scarcely know what to say about it。 There are；
no doubt； circumstances in the case which seem peculiar； the finding of
the dead man in the area of Herbert's house； for instance； and the
extraordinary opinion of the physician as to the cause of death； but； after
all； it is conceivable that the facts may be explained in a straightforward
manner。 As to your own sensations； when you went to see the house； I
would suggest that they were due to a vivid imagination； you must have
been brooding； in a semi…conscious way； over what you had heard。 I
don't exactly see what more can be said or done in the matter； you
evidently think there is a mystery of some kind； but Herbert is dead； where
then do you propose to look？〃
〃I propose to look for the woman； the woman whom he married。 She
is the mystery。〃
The two men sat silent by the fireside； Clarke secretly congratulating
himself on having successfully kept up the character of advocate of the
commonplac