Lair of the White Worm

Mr. Salton had an appointment for six o'clock at Liverpool.  When he had
driven off, Sir Nathaniel took Adam by the arm.

"May I come with you for a while to your study?  I want to speak to you
privately without your uncle knowing about it, or even what the subject
is.  You don't mind, do you?  It is not idle curiosity.  No, no.  It is
on the subject to which we are all committed."

"Is it necessary to keep my uncle in the dark about it?  He might be
offended."

"It is not necessary; but it is advisable.  It is for his sake that I
asked.  My friend is an old man, and it might concern him unduly--even
alarm him.  I promise you there shall be nothing that could cause him
anxiety in our silence, or at which he could take umbrage."

"Go on, sir!" said Adam simply.

"You see, your uncle is now an old man.  I know it, for we were boys
together.  He has led an uneventful and somewhat self-contained life, so
that any such condition of things as has now arisen is apt to perplex him
from its very strangeness.  In fact, any new matter is trying to old
people.  It has its own disturbances and its own anxieties, and neither
of these things are good for lives that should be restful.  Your uncle is
a strong man, with a very happy and placid nature.  Given health and
ordinary conditions of life, there is no reason why he should not live to
be a hundred.  You and I, therefore, who both love him, though in
different ways, should make it our business to protect him from all
disturbing influences.  I am sure you will agree with me that any labour
to this end would be well spent.  All right, my boy!  I see your answer
in your eyes; so we need say no more of that.  And now," here his voice
changed, "tell me all that took place at that interview.  There are
strange things in front of us--how strange we cannot at present even
guess.  Doubtless some of the difficult things to understand which lie
behind the veil will in time be shown to us to see and to understand.  In
the meantime, all we can do is to work patiently, fearlessly, and
unselfishly, to an end that we think is right.  You had got so far as
where Lilla opened the door to Mr. Caswall and the negro.  You also
observed that Mimi was disturbed in her mind at the way Mr. Caswall
looked at her cousin."

"Certainly--though 'disturbed' is a poor way of expressing her
objection."

"Can you remember well enough to describe Caswall's eyes, and how Lilla
looked, and what Mimi said and did?  Also Oolanga, Caswall's West African
servant."

"I'll do what I can, sir.  All the time Mr. Caswall was staring, he kept
his eyes fixed and motionless--but not as if he was in a trance.  His
forehead was wrinkled up, as it is when one is trying to see through or
into something.  At the best of times his face has not a gentle
expression; but when it was screwed up like that it was almost
diabolical.  It frightened poor Lilla so that she trembled, and after a
bit got so pale that I thought she had fainted.  However, she held up and
tried to stare back, but in a feeble kind of way.  Then Mimi came close
and held her hand.  That braced her up, and--still, never ceasing her
return stare--she got colour again and seemed more like herself."

"Did he stare too?"

"More than ever.  The weaker Lilla seemed, the stronger he became, just
as if he were feeding on her strength.  All at once she turned round,
threw up her hands, and fell down in a faint.  I could not see what else
happened just then, for Mimi had thrown herself on her knees beside her
and hid her from me.  Then there was something like a black shadow
between us, and there was the nigger, looking more like a malignant devil
than ever.  I am not usually a patient man, and the sight of that ugly
devil is enough to make one's blood boil.  When he saw my face, he seemed
to realise danger--immediate danger--and slunk out of the room as
noiselessly as if he had been blown out.  I learned one thing, however--he
is an enemy, if ever a man had one."

"That still leaves us three to two!" put in Sir Nathaniel.

"Then Caswall slunk out, much as the nigger had done.  When he had gone,
Lilla recovered at once."

"Now," said Sir Nathaniel, anxious to restore peace, "have you found out
anything yet regarding the negro?  I am anxious to be posted regarding
him.  I fear there will be, or may be, grave trouble with him."

"Yes, sir, I've heard a good deal about him--of course it is not
official; but hearsay must guide us at first.  You know my man
Davenport--private secretary, confidential man of business, and general
factotum.  He is devoted to me, and has my full confidence.  I asked him
to stay on board the _West African_ and have a good look round, and find
out what he could about Mr. Caswall.  Naturally, he was struck with the
aboriginal savage.  He found one of the ship's stewards, who had been on
the regular voyages to South Africa.  He knew Oolanga and had made a
study of him.  He is a man who gets on well with niggers, and they open
their hearts to him.  It seems that this Oolanga is quite a great person
in the nigger world of the African West Coast.  He has the two things
which men of his own colour respect: he can make them afraid, and he is
lavish with money.  I don't know whose money--but that does not matter.
They are always ready to trumpet his greatness.  Evil greatness it is--but
neither does that matter.  Briefly, this is his history.  He was
originally a witch-finder--about as low an occupation as exists amongst
aboriginal savages.  Then he got up in the world and became an Obi-man,
which gives an opportunity to wealth _via_ blackmail.  Finally, he