beating upon our faces, a fit setting for the wild common over
which our road passed and the tragic goal to which it led us.




2. The Tiger of San Pedro



A cold and melancholy walk of a couple of miles brought us to a
high wooden gate, which opened into a gloomy avenue of chestnuts.
The curved and shadowed drive led us to a low, dark house, pitch-
black against a slate-coloured sky. From the front window upon
the left of the door there peeped a glimmer of a feeble light.

"There's a constable in possession," said Baynes. "I'll knock at
the window." He stepped across the grass plot and tapped with
his hand on the pane. Through the fogged glass I dimly saw a man
spring up from a chair beside the fire, and heard a sharp cry
from within the room. An instant later a white-faced, hard-
breathing policeman had opened the door, the candle wavering in
his trembling hand.

"What's the matter, Walters?" asked Baynes sharply.

The man mopped his forehead with his handkerchief and agave a
long sigh of relief.

"I am glad you have come, sir. It has been a long evening, and I