Stuart Strauss

“ Though he could not hear, he could sense that now the music was swelling out over the moor. Because of the cotton in his ears, he remained unmoved. The pace of the shadow quickened and he hastened after it.
They were now at the gateway. For some time Jarvais had been noticing the growing number of shadowy forms. The space before the entrance to the dancing-floor was crowded with wriggling, hurrying black shapes. The strangeness of being able to see all this that no other living person, except dumb George, had ever seen, thrilled Jarvais deeply. ”

“ Finally Jarvais felt certain that nothing would occur this night, went to bed, and at once fell asleep.
Dream after dream pursued each other through his brain, each more horrible than the last. Queer bloated things danced with witches, and a monstrous hairy being without eyes performed strange rites. The eery music of the moor echoed in his brain, and in all these dreams the ruins had their grim and terrifying part, silently, broodingly overlooking the obscenity within the circle of crumbling rocks. ”

“ The mere fact of the body’s being there has only deepened the mystery. Gilbert was a famous student of pre-druidistic culture and remains.
To Jarvais came an overwhelming desire to revisit the moor, to see again its sinister ruins and the bodiless shadows. He wished to solve, if possible, the enigma hidden behind those rings of crouching stones. Here was something deadly, something dangerous that had taken human life and would beyond all doubt be unappeased until more had fallen under its malevolent spell. ”

“ Some tourist out to see the moor. But what was a woman doing here alone, at this hour? None the less, here she was, moving slowly across the silvery waste toward the ruins that were so white and still in the glow of the dying moon.
Jarvais rubbed his eyes, shook his head, and looked again. The shadow was still there, but becoming fainter, and more distant. He paused, and suddenly a thought came to him. Shadows were cast by bodies; they were mere reflections of a concrete shape. Perhaps a wind-blown tree had cast it. But the shadow, which seemed a woman, was bodiless. ”

“ No one comes here any more after Mr. Gilbert’s death, sir. It’s the moor. She frightens them. She’s bad—is the moor. No one knows her secrets, and if they do learn—well, they don’t come back, sir.”
Jarvais looked at him for a moment, and then broke the silence that followed the innkeeper’s last remark. “What do you know about those ruins?”
“Well, Mr. Jarvais, not much, sir. But I know this: I wouldn’t go there for a million pounds, I wouldn’t. There’s things there, sir, that a man better not talk about. There’s death there and worse.” ”

“ Downstairs the inn clock struck 2, the fire that had played so merrily upon his hearth was sending out its last dying rays, and the lights flickering over Hie walls made ghostlike figures that danced and rolled like souls in torture. ”

“ How far back beyond the druids and their religion these ruins of another race and age go, we can only estimate. It is, in fact, almost impossible to tell. There is another factor that makes the piles at Humbledon of exceeding interest to students. While it is, as we have stated before, the oldest of the ruins, it is, strangely, the best preserved, and so far as investigation can go, there is no sound reason for this being the case. The carving in most cases is remarkably clear, and the dancing-ring almost in its original state. ”

“ While the dancing-ring is very wonderfully preserved, the moon altar, which is the distinguishing feature of most pre-druidistic piles, is missing. The moon altar in all similar ruins discovered is a huge stone carved in the shape of a new moon. From all evidence we can gather, the victim, or the sacrifice, to term it more fitly, was tied between the horns of these altars, and then sacrificed by the sacred knife that is shown in many carvings. ”

“ There be strange things on the moor, cries and shouts and lights where there ain’t nothin’, nor nobody. I tell you, sir, we stay clear o’ the moor on the moonlight nights, sir, in the summer and late fall. Rest o’ the time nothin’ happens. It’s best not to go out o’ doors on them nights. Them ruins is terrible, they be haunted places and it be wise not to go anywhere close to them, sir. I warned Mr. Gilbert, him that was killed, you know, but he wouldn’t pay no attention to me and they got him.”
“Who are they?” asked Jarvais, sensing that he was getting to the crux of the matter at last. ”