"I cannot tell how the truth may be:
I say the tale as 'twas said to me."
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
IDOLS
SEPTIMUS
THE USURPER
THE WHITE DOVE
THE BELOVED VAGABOND
THE DEMAGOGUE AND LADY PHAYRE
THE MORALS OF MARCUS ORDEYNE
AT THE GATE OF SAMARIA
A STUDY IN SHADOWS
SIMON THE JESTER
WHERE LOVE IS
DERELICTS
A CHRISTMAS MYSTERY
THE STORY OF THREE WISE MEN
BY WILLIAM J. LOCKE
ILLUSTRATED BY BLENDON CAMPBELL
1910
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"I heard it. I felt it. It was like the beating of wings." Frontispiece
"I told you the place was uncanny."
Instinctively they all knelt down.
Carried with them an inalienable joy and possession into the great world.
A CHRISTMAS MYSTERY
Three men who had gained great fame and honour throughout the world metunexpectedly in front of the bookstall at Paddington Station. Like mostof the great ones of the earth they were personally acquainted, and theyexchanged surprised greetings.
Sir Angus McCurdie, the eminent physicist, scowled at the two othersbeneath his heavy black eyebrows.
"I'm going to a God-forsaken place in Cornwall called Trehenna," saidhe.
"That's odd; so am I," croaked Professor Biggleswade. He was a little,untidy man with round spectacles, a fringe of greyish beard and a weak,rasping voice, and he knew more of Assyriology than any man, living ordead. A flippant pupil once remarked that the Professor's face wasfurnished with a Babylonic cuneiform in lieu of features.
"People called Deverill, at Foulis Castle?" asked Sir Angus.
"Yes," replied Professor Biggleswade.
"How curious! I am going to the Deverills, too," said the third man.
This man was the Right Honourable Viscount Doyne, the renowned EmpireBuilder and Administrator, around whose solitary and remote life popularimagination had woven many legends. He looked at the world through tiredgrey eyes, and the heavy, drooping, blonde moustache seemed tired, too,and had dragged down the tired face into deep furrows. He was smoking along black cigar.
"I suppose we may as well travel down together," said Sir Angus, notvery cordially.
Lord Doyne said courteously: "I have a reserved carriage. The railwaycompany is always good enough to place one at my disposal. It would giveme great pleasure if you would share it."
The invitation was accepted, and the three men crossed the busy, crowdedplatform to take their seats in the great express train. A porter, ladenwith an incredible load of paraphernalia, trying to make his way throughthe press, happened to jostle Sir Angus McCurdie. He rubbed his shoulderfretfully.
"Why the whole land should be turned into a bear garden on account ofthis exploded superstition of Christmas is one of the anomalies ofmodern civilizat