The Argosy — page 332: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

In the Mist. 315 ‘“‘ He must not be allowed to do so. Fetch me a lantern and help me on with my overcoat; I shall go after him at once.” Five minutes later I sallied forth into the rain and darkness. The moment I emerged from the house the wind swooped down upon me with a rush that nearly took me off my feet, half blinding me as it drove the sharp sleet into my eyes. I struggled on, how- ever, fighting my way along, with bent head, and at length, out of breath and dripping with rain, I reached the tower. In the days when it was used for contraband purposes, the lower part of the building had been roughly restored; the breaches in the wall stopped up, the windows barred across, and a massive door added, which now hung awry on its rusty hinges. The place had an uncanny sort of reputation in the neighbourhood, and nothing would have induced the superstitious fishermen to enter it after dark. I pushed open the door and looked in, holding the lantern above my head. Its light showed me the figure of Noel Tremaine, stand- ing motionless in the middle of the floor, as if he had stopped short in the act of crossing it. His face was turned towards the door, but he did not appear to see me. He stood in a listening attitude, his lips apart, his eyes fixed and dilated, every line of his face expressing strained and anxious attention. What was it he heard? No sound reached my own ears but the roar of the wind and the murmur of the sea. A vague, half-super- stitious fear crept over me as [ watched him, but I shook it off and entered, closing the door loudly to attract his attention. But though the sound echoed through the place, it did not break the strange spell that held him. It was not until I touched his arm that he seemed conscious of my presence. ‘Then he started violently, and looked at me with a wild, haggard stare, but expressed no surprise at my sudden appearance, and for a moment seemed hardly to recognise me. At length he drew a deep breath, as if waking from a dream, and laid his hand on my wrist. “Do you hear it ?” he asked, in a breathless whisper. ‘‘T hear nothing but the wind and the sea.” ‘““ Not that—the sound is within the tower. Hark!” [ listened intently a moment, then shook my head. - ‘It was the cry of a sea-gull.” , ‘“T tell you it is here, close to us, seeming to come from the ground beneath our feet,” he persisted excitedly. “What is the sound 2” His answer fairly took my breath away. ‘‘Winnie’s voice.” I looked at him compassionately. ‘You are dreaming, Noel! grief and excitement have unnerved you. Come out of this gloomy place ; come home with me, and i He shook his head impatiently. “No, I dare not leave this spot. Something—an attraction I can’t COMIC OOO SS (C©)