LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1568, 27 February 1879, Page 3

LITERATURE.

FEUILLETON. AT THE SIGN OF r SE BLACK ADDER. BY W. W. FKNN. ( Concluded .) I felt incapable of protesting moving, or speaking ; I shrank, as it were within myself, as the man, approaching a step or two, said:— ‘ I frighten good many people sometime—lady and genUeman; lady not like, fine gentleman give me rupee to go away. Sometime they not mind, and give me rupee to stay and charm ; make old Troot and little Jabar dance 0, very fine, par; that how poor man live. Igo to racecourse —fine place, racecourse Goodwood, I come from Goodwood now. Think I see you thar, sar, on Lordship Sahib’s drag. Now Igo to Brighton. Brighton race next week. Very fine ; fine lady and gentleman thar! How you feel, sar, now ? No pain now ? I say good night. I salaam, sar; you give nnzznr, sar. or not, as you like ; I go my way. You find Black Rabbit inn, do what I tell you, plenty safe, sar.’ With a shudder, I dropped half-a-crown into his outstretched hand; he made a salaam, and, jabbering a few more words of farewell, strode away rapidly down the road.

I watched his tall swaying figure till a clump of trees hid it from view ; but a long time elapsed before the strains of the retreating accordion died away in the twilight stillness When it had done so, I rose as from a dream, bewildered and feverish ; bnt I pulled myself together, and trudged off in search of the Black Babbit Inn, for the swollen state of my foot warned me that if I delayed much longer I should not be able to walk at all. I had three miles to go, acceding to my mysterious friend, before I could further follow his advice. Yet should I do so ? Would it not be wiser to push on to Arundel, and get the assistance of a doctor, rather than trust to the nostrums of this mountebank, who had somehow, whether I would or not, taken me in hand ? Certainly; but before I had walked three miles I was so done up, that I felt f ust take the first accommodation that offered, an! I joyfully hailed the swinging sign of a roadside inn, as at last it came into view, dim and mysterious against the now fast darkening sky. There was just enough liaffit, however, for me to distinguish as I got up to it, not the device, but the words, ‘ The Black ’ What? That was not * Babbit,’ that next word, no ! and I shuddered, as, getting close beneath it, I spelt out distinctly the word ‘Adder,’ ‘The Black Adder.’ The surprise, distrust, and qualm which the name of the inn gave me were not lessened by my dazed and stunefied feelings, I doubted if I had heard the Hindoo aright ; so much had been said about snakes, I might surely have been mistaken ; any way, it was a queer coincidence, I wondered too at not meeting any people on the road, and at the silence and quiet of the inn itself. Lights were burning here and there, but no voices were to be heard. However, I entered, and confronted an aged crone of unprepossessing appearance. Her head was covered with masses of lony twisted grizzly locks, coiling thickly down over her oars, and resembling nothing so ranch as so many—good God — snakes 1 What possessed me P Why, the h'*ad of this old woman, now that I saw it plainly by the light of the lantern which she held up, the better to examine me, was more libe that of Medusa than anything human I had ever looked upon ; it was devilish, horrible, and might, to finish the simile, ha e turned a man with stronger nerves than mine into stone. Her voice too, as it replied in the affirmative to my inquiry if I could be shown to a bedroom, in nowise reassured me ; it was % veritable raven’* cr ak. Leading the way up a narrow stair, she took me. never heless. ioto a fairly comfortable-look ing room. containing a huge mahogany fourpost heds'ead, covered with much elaborate carving and scroll-work, but without curtains The window was large and wide open letting in, with the faint remnant of twlight, the refreshing odors of a garden. Would I take anything to eat ? * No, I had no appetite I said ; I want' d some hot water for a footbath ; and I went on to tell the old woman that I had been stung by an adder. ‘ Dearie me ! dearie me ! ’ she croaked, 4 that be’es bad;! this be’es a rare house for adders.’ ‘ Yes,’ I said, ‘I should think so, from its name. I was told it was called “ The Black Babbit.” ’ She looked at me inquiringly, and then, after a pause, said, 4 Ah, yes, it used to be; but it’s been altered lately,’ ‘ Well, bring me some hot water,’ I urged, and order me a fly in an hours’a time to go over to Fittleworth Court.’ 4 Ha, ha,’ she laughed, 4 a fly for Fittleworth ! I daresay! There bean’t no flys here at race-time ; they be’es all on the downs.’ * Well, a gig, a cart—anything ; but bring me the hot water at once ’ She gave me a hideous malicious leer, and left the room, taking the lantern with her Wearied and stupefied, I took off my coat, and flung myself on the bed. Well, I suppose I fell asleep—l cannot tell ; I only know that the next thing that I was conscious of was feeling a cold damp touch on my cheek. Turning uneasily I found that there was more light in the room than I remembered before, and that I thought the early dawn was stealing in at the still open window. Vaguely and uncertainly I tried to assure myself if this were so ; and then suddenly, as distinctly as I see the blaok ink flow from my pen upon this white paper while I write, I saw the blaok form of a writhing snake upon the pillow beside me ! It darted beneath the coverlet, and I would have sprung from the be I bnt that my wounded foot seemed fixed. I strangled and tried ti ca l out, bit my tong .es was paralysed I cou’d only glare helplessly at the sp t where I had seen the make disappear, and I thought I tra"ed the undulaions of the reptile beneath the counterpane, moving down towards one of the bedposts. Watching eagerly, my eye readied the carved twisting pattern at the base of the upright, and this too appeared snakelike in form ; and, as I still gazed, I could be sworn it moved—yes, it did ! it was no carved device, but actually another brown writhing serpent ascending the pillar. I looked to the other post, and there again the spiral carving was no carving at all, but a loath-

Some reptile. This had already gone higher | than the o‘her ; and carrying my eye to he tester of the bed, I saw that there also ad the pattern, which I had to be the work of chisel and. lathe, was in reality nothing but a hideous intertwining of the ooils of moving snakes. At the bed-head, on the panel, on the posts, wherever any scroll-work appeared there issued the cr sts and coils of small serpents, the'.r fangs swiftly darting in and oat of their dreadful jaws, as swooping and swaying they moved towards me. . _ My hormr here reached its climax, ana exceeds description. I felt I was going mad ; I made one more desperate effort to rise, and uttering a shriek that rings fa my ears whenever I think of it, I somehow gained my feet, and —found myself standi- g against the bench on the hill by the river ! I was not long in realising what had happened ; in a second I missed watch, chain, scarf, scarf-ring, sleeve-links, studs, and all the contents of my pockets} they were literally tt, rned inside out. The scoundrel had done his work thoroughly—had even robbed me of my shirt-coliar. Of course his antidote had bean a strong opiate, and I had lost consciousness no doubt at the moment when I felt 1 could have gone to sleep. I did sleep—had slept more than an hour, judging by the waning light. Looking round, I saw, about fifty yards off, a farm-boy staring at me wonderiugly. ‘Hallo, you !’ I called. ‘Go and And mo a carriage or cart or something to tal« me to Fittleworth, and I’ll give you a sovereign.’ The boy darted off like a shot, waving his hand, and calling out, * Ar’ll right!' My wits wore keen enough now; the intense pain of the swollen ankle, whilst awakening mei, had, I suppose, clearel them. I could hardly stand, much less walk ; there was nothing for it but to wait till the boy should return. Evidently he meant d ing so; and after about half an hour, which seeme 1 like a week, I was refreshed by the sight of young Hodge driving a ram shackle horse and gig up the hill, and in the course of another hour I was back at Fittleworth Court

Dum r was half over. I pent my excuses to Lady Fittleworth and my host, and when the latter came up to my room later on, and heard what had happened, he was brute enough to do nothing but laugh. ‘Upon my soul,’he said, ‘you’d better have gone to the course. ’ I fully agreed with him ; and when, still later on, I told him the effect the opiate had had upon me, he only laughed more and more. Even though my hurt kept me in bed for a week, his feelings were never touched, and he attempted some absurd joke about ‘ the twinkling of a bedpost,’ I never understood it.