As I sat there, silent and watchful, the thought came to me—­Why was all this?  What were these Things?  What did it mean?  Then my thoughts flew back to that vision (though, even now, I doubt whether it was a vision) of the Plain of Silence.  What did that mean?  I wondered—­And that Thing in the arena?  Ugh!  Lastly, I thought of the house I had seen in that far-away place.  That house, so like this in every detail of external structure, that it might have been modeled from it; or this from that.  I had never thought of that—­

At this moment, there came another long squeal, from the Pit, followed, a second later, by a couple of shorter ones.  At once, the garden was filled with answering cries.  I stood up, quickly, and looked over the parapet.  In the moonlight, it seemed as though the shrubberies were alive.  They tossed hither and thither, as though shaken by a strong, irregular wind; while a continuous rustling, and a noise of scampering feet, rose up to me.  Several times, I saw the moonlight gleam on running, white figures among the bushes, and, twice, I fired.  The second time, my shot was answered by a short squeal of pain.

A minute later, the gardens lay silent.  From the Pit, came a deep, hoarse Babel of swine-talk.  At times, angry cries smote the air, and they would be answered by multitudinous gruntings.  It occurred to me, that they were holding some kind of a council, perhaps to discuss the problem of entering the house.  Also, I thought that they seemed much enraged, probably by my successful shots.

It occurred to me, that now would be a good time to make a final survey of our defenses.  This, I proceeded to do at once; visiting the whole of the basement again, and examining each of the doors.  Luckily, they are all, like the back one, built of solid, iron-studded oak.  Then, I went upstairs to the study.  I was more anxious about this door.  It is, palpably, of a more modern make than the others, and, though a stout piece of work, it has little of their ponderous strength.

I must explain here, that there is a small, raised lawn on this side of the house, upon which this door opens—­the windows of the study being barred on this account.  All the other entrances—­excepting the great gateway which is never opened—­are in the lower storey.

VII

THE ATTACK

I spent some time, puzzling how to strengthen the study door.  Finally, I went down to the kitchen, and with some trouble, brought up several heavy pieces of timber.  These, I wedged up, slantwise, against it, from the floor, nailing them top and bottom.  For half-an-hour, I worked hard, and, at last, got it shored to my mind.

Then, feeling easier, I resumed my coat, which I had laid aside, and proceeded to attend to one or two matters before returning to the tower.  It was whilst thus employed, that I heard a fumbling at the door, and the latch was tried.  Keeping silence, I waited.  Soon, I heard several of the creatures outside.  They were grunting to one another, softly.  Then, for a minute, there was quietness.  Suddenly, there sounded a quick, low grunt, and the door creaked under a tremendous pressure.  It would have burst inward; but for the supports I had placed.  The strain ceased, as quickly as it had begun, and there was more talk.