“What is it, indeed! Why the dog never barks like that unless there is a spirit about. Do you remember those knocks on the door the night Uncle Mike died, and how the dog howled then? There’s something of the same sort about to-night. Listen!”
The steps very were near now. I listened intently. The runner, I thought, must be wearing very extraordinary boots, for every step, so it seemed to me, was accompanied by a peculiar and almost metallic click.
“John,” Mrs. Mullins suddenly resumed, “do you hear those steps? What are they? It’s the first time in my life I’ve heard anyone running along the high road like that at this time of night. Hark! They’ve got to the turning—they’re in the lane—they’re coming here! Get up at once; go and bolt the front door. The thing’s evil—evil, I’m sure, and it’s someone of us here it’s after.”
The steps grew rapidly nearer, and Mullins, stumbling hastily down the stairs, bolted both the doors and swung to the little wooden shutters. A moment later, and I heard the steps come right up to the door. There was a momentary pause, then a series of terrific knocks.
“Cross yourself, John; for God’s sake cross yourself!” Mrs. Mullins cried. “And may the Holy Virgin protect us.” She then started praying loudly and vehemently, and, whether it was the effect of her prayers or not, the knocking gradually diminished in violence, and then ceased altogether.
“Come on up, John,” Mrs. Mullins called out; “the thing, whatever it is, has ceased troubling us, and we may go to sleep in peace.”
Mullins, needing no second bidding, joined his wife, and once again the whole place was wrapped in silence.
I must confess that, whilst the knocking continued, I had no desire whatever to look out of the window, but the moment it was over I got up and peered out. I could see right down the lane and for some distance along the high road.
There was no sign of anyone or anything that could in any way account for the disturbance—the landscape was brilliantly illuminated with moonlight, every stick and stone being plainly visible, and all nature seemed to be sleeping undisturbedly, as if no interruption in its ordinary routine had occurred. I got back into bed, and, falling into a gentle doze, slept soundly till the morning. After breakfast, Mrs. Mullins said, “You’re not thinking of spending another night here, sir, are you?”
“Why, no,” I replied. “I must be back in Dublin at my work by this afternoon.”