"Come up, all of you," he shouted out of the darkness, with the voice of a schoolboy."Come up.You'll be late for dinner."The two great elms stood so close together that there was scarcely a yard anywhere, and in some places not more than a foot, between them.Thus occasional branches and even bosses and boles formed a series of footholds that almost amounted to a rude natural ladder.
They must, I supposed, have been some sport of growth, Siamese twins of vegetation.
Why we did it I cannot think; perhaps, as I have said, the mystery of the waste and dark had brought out and made primary something wholly mystical in Basil's supremacy.But we only felt that there was a giant's staircase going somewhere, perhaps to the stars; and the victorious voice above called to us out of heaven.We hoisted ourselves up after him.
Half-way up some cold tongue of the night air struck and sobered me suddenly.The hypnotism of the madman above fell from me, and I saw the whole map of our silly actions as clearly as if it were printed.I saw three modern men in black coats who had begun with a perfectly sensible suspicion of a doubtful adventurer and who had ended, God knows how, half-way up a naked tree on a naked moorland, far from that adventurer and all his works, that adventurer who was at that moment, in all probability, laughing at us in some dirty Soho restaurant.He had plenty to laugh at us about, and no doubt he was laughing his loudest; but when I thought what his laughter would be if he knew where we were at that moment, I nearly let go of the tree and fell.
"Swinburne," said Rupert suddenly, from above, "what are we doing?
Let's get down again," and by the mere sound of his voice I knew that he too felt the shock of wakening to reality.
"We can't leave poor Basil," I said."Can't you call to him or get hold of him by the leg?""He's too far ahead," answered Rupert; "he's nearly at the top of the beastly thing.Looking for Lieutenant Keith in the rooks'
nests, I suppose."
We were ourselves by this time far on our frantic vertical journey.The mighty trunks were beginning to sway and shake slightly in the wind.Then I looked down and saw something which made me feel that we were far from the world in a sense and to a degree that I cannot easily describe.I saw that the almost straight lines of the tall elm trees diminished a little in perspective as they fell.I was used to seeing parallel lines taper towards the sky.But to see them taper towards the earth made me feel lost in space, like a falling star.
"Can nothing be done to stop Basil?" I called out.
"No," answered my fellow climber."He's too far up.He must get to the top, and when he finds nothing but wind and leaves he may go sane again.Hark at him above there; you can just hear him talking to himself.""Perhaps he's talking to us," I said.
"No," said Rupert, "he'd shout if he was.I've never known him to talk to himself before; I'm afraid he really is bad tonight; it's a known sign of the brain going.""Yes," I said sadly, and listened.Basil's voice certainly was sounding above us, and not by any means in the rich and riotous tones in which he had hailed us before.He was speaking quietly, and laughing every now and then, up there among the leaves and stars.
After a silence mingled with this murmur, Rupert Grant suddenly said, "My God!" with a violent voice.
"What's the matter--are you hurt?" I cried, alarmed.
"No.Listen to Basil," said the other in a very strange voice.
"He's not talking to himself."
"Then he is talking to us," I cried.
"No," said Rupert simply, "he's talking to somebody else."Great branches of the elm loaded with leaves swung about us in a sudden burst of wind, but when it died down I could still hear the conversational voice above.I could hear two voices.
Suddenly from aloft came Basil's boisterous hailing voice as before: "Come up, you fellows.Here's Lieutenant Keith."And a second afterwards came the half-American voice we had heard in our chambers more than once.It called out:
