Lair of the White Worm

"And now, sir, may I turn for a few minutes to purely practical things,
or rather to matters of historical fact?"

Sir Nathaniel bowed acquiescence.

"We have already spoken of the history, so far as it is known, of some of
the places round us--'Castra Regis,' 'Diana's Grove,' and 'The Lair of
the White Worm.'  I would like to ask if there is anything not
necessarily of evil import about any of the places?"

"Which?" asked Sir Nathaniel shrewdly.

"Well, for instance, this house and Mercy Farm?"

"Here we turn," said Sir Nathaniel, "to the other side, the light side of
things.  Let us take Mercy Farm first.  When Augustine was sent by Pope
Gregory to Christianise England, in the time of the Romans, he was
received and protected by Ethelbert, King of Kent, whose wife, daughter
of Charibert, King of Paris, was a Christian, and did much for Augustine.
She founded a nunnery in memory of Columba, which was named _Sedes
misericordioe_, the House of Mercy, and, as the region was Mercian, the
two names became involved.  As Columba is the Latin for dove, the dove
became a sort of signification of the nunnery.  She seized on the idea
and made the newly-founded nunnery a house of doves.  Someone sent her a
freshly-discovered dove, a sort of carrier, but which had in the white
feathers of its head and neck the form of a religious cowl.  The nunnery
flourished for more than a century, when, in the time of Penda, who was
the reactionary of heathendom, it fell into decay.  In the meantime the
doves, protected by religious feeling, had increased mightily, and were
known in all Catholic communities.  When King Offa ruled in Mercia, about
a hundred and fifty years later, he restored Christianity, and under its
protection the nunnery of St. Columba was restored and its doves
flourished again.  In process of time this religious house again fell
into desuetude; but before it disappeared it had achieved a great name
for good works, and in especial for the piety of its members.  If deeds
and prayers and hopes and earnest thinking leave anywhere any moral
effect, Mercy Farm and all around it have almost the right to be
considered holy ground."

"Thank you, sir," said Adam earnestly, and was silent.  Sir Nathaniel
understood.

After lunch that day, Adam casually asked Sir Nathaniel to come for a
walk with him.  The keen-witted old diplomatist guessed that there must
be some motive behind the suggestion, and he at once agreed.

As soon as they were free from observation, Adam began.

"I am afraid, sir, that there is more going on in this neighbourhood than
most people imagine.  I was out this morning, and on the edge of the
small wood, I came upon the body of a child by the roadside.  At first, I
thought she was dead, and while examining her, I noticed on her neck some
marks that looked like those of teeth."

"Some wild dog, perhaps?" put in Sir Nathaniel.

"Possibly, sir, though I think not--but listen to the rest of my news.  I
glanced around, and to my surprise, I noticed something white moving
among the trees.  I placed the child down carefully, and followed, but I
could not find any further traces.  So I returned to the child and
resumed my examination, and, to my delight, I discovered that she was
still alive.  I chafed her hands and gradually she revived, but to my
disappointment she remembered nothing--except that something had crept up
quietly from behind, and had gripped her round the throat.  Then,
apparently, she fainted."

"Gripped her round the throat!  Then it cannot have been a dog."

"No, sir, that is my difficulty, and explains why I brought you out here,
where we cannot possibly be overheard.  You have noticed, of course, the
peculiar sinuous way in which Lady Arabella moves--well, I feel certain
that the white thing that I saw in the wood was the mistress of Diana's
Grove!"

"Good God, boy, be careful what you say."

"Yes, sir, I fully realise the gravity of my accusation, but I feel
convinced that the marks on the child's throat were human--and made by a
woman."

Adam's companion remained silent for some time, deep in thought.

"Adam, my boy," he said at last, "this matter appears to me to be far
more serious even than you think.  It forces me to break confidence with
my old friend, your uncle--but, in order to spare him, I must do so.  For
some time now, things have been happening in this district that have been
worrying him dreadfully--several people have disappeared, without leaving
the slightest trace; a dead child was found by the roadside, with no
visible or ascertainable cause of death--sheep and other animals have
been found in the fields, bleeding from open wounds.  There have been
other matters--many of them apparently trivial in themselves.  Some
sinister influence has been at work, and I admit that I have suspected
Lady Arabella--that is why I questioned you so closely about the mongoose
and its strange attack upon Lady Arabella.  You will think it strange
that I should suspect the mistress of Diana's Grove, a beautiful woman of
aristocratic birth.  Let me explain--the family seat is near my own
place, Doom Tower, and at one time I knew the family well.  When still a
young girl, Lady Arabella wandered into a small wood near her home, and
did not return.  She was found unconscious and in a high fever--the
doctor said that she had received a poisonous bite, and the girl being at