A quick, odd sound coming from the interior of the house decided me. I sprung up the steps and softly entered the hall. The door leading to the doctor’s private room, where the murderous busts grinned down, stood open; and from here issued the noise, that was like the bestial sputtering growl of some tigerish thing mouthing and mangling its prey.
I stepped hastily over the threshold and stopped with a jerk of terror.
Something was there, in the dully lighted room—down on the rug before the fire. Something had rolled and raved and tore at the material beneath it—an animal’s skin, judged by the whisps of ragged hair that stuck in the creature’s claws and between his teeth that had rent them out—something—Duke, who foamed and raged as he lay sprawled on his hands and knees and snarled like a wild beast in his frenzy of insanity.
“He’s mad—mad!” I whispered to myself in an awful voice; and yet he heard me and paused in the height of his fury, and looked round and up at me standing white-lipped by the door.
Then suddenly, while I was striving, amid the wild heat of my brain, to identify some hooded memory that raised its head in darkness, the maniac sprung to his feet, gripped me by the wrist and pointed down at the huddled heap beneath him.
“Look!” he shrieked, the firelight dancing in his glittering eyes. “Look! we’ve met at last! The dog that scared and tortured the wretched sick boy—the dog, the devil! Into the fire with him to blaze and writhe and scream as a devil should!”
He plunged again, snarling; and, before I could gather sense to stop him, had seized and flung the whole mass upon the burning coals. Flames shot out and around, and the room in a moment was sick with the stench of flaring pelt. I rushed to tear the heap away; but he met and struggled with me like a fiend inspired, and helpless I saw the flames lick higher.
Straining against me, he laughed and yelled: “He wants water! He shrieks to Abraham—but not a drop—not one! Look at his red tongue, shooting out in agony! They fall before me—at last, at last! My time has come!”
His voice rose to a scream—there was a responsive shout from the door. I slewed my head round and saw the white face of the servant girl peering through the opening behind the figure of Dr. Crackenthorpe standing there in black, blank amazement.
“Help!” I cried; “he’s mad!”