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Willett
had
visited
the
spot
before
through
sheer
curiosity
,
though
of
course
never
entering
the
house
or
proclaiming
his
presence
;
hence
knew
exactly
the
route
to
take
.
Driving
out
Broad
Street
one
early
afternoon
toward
the
end
of
February
in
his
small
motor
,
he
thought
oddly
of
the
grim
party
which
had
taken
that
selfsame
road
a
hundred
and
fifty-seven
years
before
on
a
terrible
errand
which
none
might
ever
comprehend
.
The
ride
through
the
city
's
decaying
fringe
was
short
,
and
trim
Edgewood
and
sleepy
Pawtuxet
presently
spread
out
ahead
.
Willett
turned
to
the
right
down
Lockwood
Street
and
drove
his
car
as
far
along
that
rural
road
as
he
could
,
then
alighted
and
walked
north
to
where
the
bluff
towered
above
the
lovely
bends
of
the
river
and
the
sweep
of
misty
downlands
beyond
.
Houses
were
still
few
here
,
and
there
was
no
mistaking
the
isolated
bungalow
with
its
concrete
garage
on
a
high
point
of
land
at
his
left
.
Stepping
briskly
up
the
neglected
gravel
walk
he
rapped
at
the
door
with
a
firm
hand
,
and
spoke
without
a
tremor
to
the
evil
Portuguese
mulatto
who
opened
it
to
the
width
of
a
crack
.
He
must
,
he
said
,
see
Charles
Ward
at
once
on
vitally
important
business
.
No
excuse
would
be
accepted
,
and
a
repulse
would
mean
only
a
full
report
of
the
matter
to
the
elder
Ward
.
The
mulatto
still
hesitated
,
and
pushed
against
the
door
when
Willett
attempted
to
open
it
;
but
the
doctor
merely
raised
his
voice
and
renewed
his
demands
.
Then
there
came
from
the
dark
interior
a
husky
whisper
which
somehow
chilled
the
hearer
through
and
through
though
he
did
not
know
why
he
feared
it
.
'
Let
him
in
,
Tony
,
'
it
said
,
'
we
may
as
well
talk
now
as
ever
.
'
But
disturbing
as
was
the
whisper
,
the
greater
fear
was
that
which
immediately
followed
.
The
floor
creaked
and
the
speaker
hove
in
sight
--
and
the
owner
of
those
strange
and
resonant
tones
was
seen
to
be
no
other
than
Charles
Dexter
Ward
.
The
minuteness
with
which
Dr.
Willett
recalled
and
recorded
his
conversation
of
that
afternoon
is
due
to
the
importance
he
assigns
to
this
particular
period
.
For
at
last
he
concedes
a
vital
change
in
Charles
Dexter
Ward
's
mentality
,
and
believes
that
the
youth
now
spoke
from
a
brain
hopelessly
alien
to
the
brain
whose
growth
he
had
watched
for
six
and
twenty
years
.
Controversy
with
Dr.
Lyman
has
compelled
him
to
be
very
specific
,
and
he
definitely
dates
the
madness
of
Charles
Ward
from
the
time
the
typewritten
notes
began
to
reach
his
parents
.
Those
notes
are
not
in
Ward
's
normal
style
;
not
even
in
the
style
of
that
last
frantic
letter
to
Willett
.
Instead
,
they
are
strange
and
archaic
,
as
if
the
snapping
of
the
writer
's
mind
had
released
a
flood
of
tendencies
and
impressions
picked
up
unconsciously
through
boyhood
antiquarianism
.
There
is
an
obvious
effort
to
be
modern
,
but
the
spirit
and
occasionally
the
language
are
those
of
the
past
.
The
past
,
too
,
was
evident
in
Ward
's
every
tone
and
gesture
as
he
received
the
doctor
in
that
shadowy
bungalow
.
He
bowed
,
motioned
Willett
to
a
seat
,
and
began
to
speak
abruptly
in
that
strange
whisper
which
he
sought
to
explain
at
the
very
outset
.
'
I
am
grown
phthisical
,
'
he
began
,
'
from
this
cursed
river
air
.
You
must
excuse
my
speech
.
I
suppose
you
are
come
from
my
father
to
see
what
ails
me
,
and
I
hope
you
will
say
nothing
to
alarm
him
.
'
Willett
was
studying
these
scraping
tones
with
extreme
care
,
but
studying
even
more
closely
the
face
of
the
speaker
.
Something
,
he
felt
,
was
wrong
;
and
he
thought
of
what
the
family
had
told
him
about
the
fright
of
that
Yorkshire
butler
one
night
.
He
wished
it
were
not
so
dark
,
but
did
not
request
that
the
blind
be
opened
.
Instead
,
he
merely
asked
Ward
why
he
had
so
belied
the
frantic
note
of
little
more
than
a
week
before
.
