“I regretted extremely that I had introduced the topic and cast about in my mind for another, but could not find one.  I then expressed regret that I had revived her worries, but received in reply a smile in which there was no life:  the very colour had died out from her cheeks.  And she sat during the rest of the meal without speaking a word.

“Afterwards I went in with her to see Mr. Cumberland.  His condition was not materially changed.  The marvel of it grows upon me more and more.  It is a freak which defies medical science.  There lies a man at the point of dissolution.  His body has died of old age, and yet the life principle remains.  He does not eat—­at least, the nourishment he takes is wholely negligible.  But he still has energy.  To be sure, he rarely moves about and his body remains practically inert.  But we must never forget that the mind is a muscle and calls for continual rebuilding.  And the mind of Mr. Cumberland is never inactive.  It works ceaselessly.  It will not permit him to sleep.  For three days, now, as far as I can tell, he has not closed his eyes.  It might be assumed that he is in a state of trance, but by a series of careful experiments, I have ascertained that he is constantly thinking in the most vigourous fashion.

“What does it mean?  There is in the man a flame-like quality; something is burning in him every instant.  But on what does the flame feed?  I know that material cannot be created and that energy means dissolution of matter:  but why does not the life of Joseph Cumberland dissolve?

“The subject possesses me.  I dare not ponder it too steadily or my brain begins to whirl.  I make no progress towards any reasonable solution.  I only feel that I am living in the presence of an astounding mystery.

“Strange thoughts possess me.  What is the fire that burns but does not consume Joe Cumberland?  What is the thing in the wandering Dan Barry which Kate Cumberland fears and yet waits for?  Why was it that Daniels trembled with dread when he started out to find a man who, by his own profession, he holds to be his best friend?

“You see how the mystery assumes shape?  It is before me.  It is in my hand.  And yet I cannot grasp its elements.

“The story of a man, a horse, and a dog.  What is the story?

“To-day I wandered about the great corrals and came to one which was bounded by a fence of extraordinary height.  It was a small corral, but all the posts were of great size, and the rails were as large as ordinary posts.  I inquired what strange beasts could be kept in such a pen, and the man-of-all-work of whom I asked replied:  ’That’s Satan’s corral.’

“I guessed at some odd story.  ‘The devil?’ I cried, ’Do they fence the devil in a corral?’

“‘Oh, ay,’ said the fellow, ’he’s a devil, right enough.  If we’d let him run with the other hosses he’d have cut ’em to ribbons.  That’s what kind of a devil he is!’