“‘I ain’t comin’, sir,’ said the policeman, very white in the face.

“With a sudden blaze of passion, the inspector took the man by the scruff and hove him bodily down into the darkness, and he went downward, screaming.  The inspector followed him instantly, with his lantern and the gun; and I after the inspector, with the bayonet ready.  Behind me, I heard the landlord.

“At the bottom of the stairs, the inspector was helping the policeman to his feet, where he stood swaying a moment, in a bewildered fashion; then the inspector went into the front cellar, and his man followed him in stupid fashion; but evidently no longer with any thought of running away from the horror.

“We all crowded into the front cellar, flashing our lights to and fro.  Inspector Johnstone was examining the floor, and I saw that the footmarks went all ’round the cellar, into all the corners, and across the floor.  I thought suddenly of the Child that was running away from Something.  Do you see the thing that I was seeing vaguely?

“We went out of the cellar in a body, for there was nothing to be found.  In the next cellar, the footprints went everywhere in that queer erratic fashion, as of someone searching for something, or following some blind scent.

“In the third cellar the prints ended at the shallow well that had been the old water supply of the house.  The well was full to the brim, and the water so clear that the pebbly bottom was plainly to be seen, as we shone the lights into the water.  The search came to an abrupt end, and we stood about the well, looking at one another, in an absolute, horrible silence.

“Johnstone made another examination of the footprints; then he shone his light again into the clear shallow water, searching each inch of the plainly seen bottom; but there was nothing there.  The cellar was full of the dreadful smell; and everyone stood silent, except for the constant turning of the lamps to and fro around the cellar.

“The inspector looked up from his search of the well, and nodded quietly across at me, with his sudden acknowledgment that our belief was now his belief, the smell in the cellar seemed to grow more dreadful, and to be, as it were, a menace—­the material expression that some monstrous thing was there with us, invisible.

“‘I think—­’ began the inspector, and shone his light toward the stairway; and at this the constable’s restraint went utterly, and he ran for the stairs, making a queer sound in his throat.

“The landlord followed, at a quick walk, and then the inspector and I. He waited a single instant for me, and we went up together, treading on the same steps, and with our lights held backward.  At the top, I slammed and locked the stair door, and wiped my forehead, and my hands were shaking.

“The inspector asked me to give his man a glass of whisky, and then he sent him on his beat.  He stayed a short while with the landlord and me, and it was arranged that he would join us again the following night and watch the Well with us from midnight until daylight.  Then he left us, just as the dawn was coming in.  The landlord and I locked up the house, and went over to his place for a sleep.