an evil yellow face looked up at us. The features were contorted with
agony, but the malignant eyes, wherein light was dying, regarded us
with inflexible hatred. The man was pinned beneath the heavy bough;
his back was broken; and as we watched, he expired, frothing slightly
at the mouth, and quitted his tenement of clay, leaving those glassy
eyes set hideously upon us.

"The pagan gods fight upon our side," said Smith strangely. "Elms have
a dangerous habit of shedding boughs in still weather--particularly
after a storm. Pan, god of the woods, with this one has performed
Justice's work of retribution."

"I don't understand. Where was this man--"

"Up the tree, lying along the bough which fell, Petrie! That is why he
left no footmarks. Last night no doubt he made his escape by swinging
from bough to bough, ape fashion, and descending to the ground
somewhere at the other side of the coppice."

He glanced at me.

"You are wondering, perhaps," he suggested, "what caused the mysterious
light? I could have told you this morning, but I fear I was in a bad
temper, Petrie. It's very simple: a length of tape soaked in spirit or
something of the kind, and sheltered from the view of any one watching
from your windows, behind the trunk of the tree; then, the end
ignited, lowered, still behind the tree, to the ground. The operator
swinging it around, the flame ascended, of course. I found the
unburned fragment of the tape last night, a few yards from here."