The Mystery of a Butcher's Shop Read Online Free PDF Page A

and unnerved her. She was in half a mind to retreat; to leave the pagan temple for a safe and Christian pillow. The factor of the fast-shut gate decided her. To make it an excuse of cowardice was to condemn herself. Retreating a dozen steps, she darted forward, placed one hand upon the topmost rail, and vaulted neatly over it.
    It was eerily dark among the trees. They whispered to Felicity their strange and awesome secrets. They were old. They had some mystery in their keeping, and they leaned towards her with their gloomy branches and brushed her cheek with their summer-heavy leaves, trying to attract and snare her – trying to tell her something which she could never understand. Felicity trembled, and her courage failed her. She remembered that in the centre of this great deciduous wood some bygone owner of the Manor House had planted a circle of pines. Tall, straight, and stark they waited, towering into heaven; and in the centre of their circle stood the Stone of Sacrifice. Felicity had heard queer tales about the Stone. It was a solid block of granite, roughly triangular in shape, and once, so ran the legends, it had been the altar of some prehistoric temple to the sun. Priests of a lost religion had sacrificed upon it to their god the flesh of rams or cattle or the blood of human kind. What dread ecstatic dances, what strange and awful sights, what deeds of violence and cruelty the Stone had witnessed, the girl could only guess. She turned, and began to retrace her steps.
    Suddenly she stumbled upon the narrow pathway which led towards the Manor House, or, conversely, to the road. Irresolute, she halted and glanced round. All the blood in her body came racing to her head. In the near distance, and among the shadowy trees, she saw a steady gleam of light.
    II
    â€˜Aubrey dear,’ said Mrs Bryce Harringay for the fifth time. She had commenced by saying it lovingly. She had continued by saying it coaxingly. Then she had proceeded to put it petulantly, and at length she resorted to command. This also having failed to produce the desired reaction on the part of her son, she had fallen back on a fond and foolish mother’s last hope – entreaty.
    â€˜All right , mater,’ her heir returned, also for the fifth time. He sighed, thrust a picture postcard of Hobbs into a copy of The Hairy Ape , laid Mr O’Neill on top of the piano and followed his mother up the stairs.
    â€˜Good night, Jim, old man,’ he remarked as he passed out of the room. Jim Redsey looked up from his own book and nodded. He looked harassed and ill.
    At the top of the stairs, Mrs Bryce Harringay paused.
    â€˜Good night, Aubrey dear. Now do try to be down in time for breakfast to-morrow morning. Remember – “Punctuality is the politeness of princes.” So charming of them, I always think. So you will make a special effort, won’t you?’
    â€˜Righto. Good night, mater. Sleep well. Oh, do you want, me to come and goggle under the bed for you?’
    â€˜Well –’ said Mrs Bryce Harringay hesitatingly. It was a strong woman’s one weakness, this fear of burglars under the bed.
    â€˜Righto,’ said Aubrey good-naturedly. He preceded her into the room and switched on the electric light, for the wealthy Rupert possessed his own electric plant and paid his own electrician to look after it. Having looked solemnly under his mother’s bed, Aubrey stepped across to the window and, pulling back the edge of the blind which Mrs Bryce Harringay’s maid had already drawn down, he peered out. Although the hour was late, it was not dark outside. He could perceive the outline of the summer-house, and some formless shadows which were the roses and the flowering garden-beds by day. Suddenly a shaft of light shone broadly out on to the gravel path, and, from the library below, a man stepped out and walked towards the stables. Aubrey watched him go, and in a few seconds observed that he returned and