“He came up to the window in the mist, as I had seen him often before; but he was solid then⁠—not a ghost, and his eyes were fierce like a man’s when angry. He was laughing with his red mouth; the sharp white teeth glinted in the moonlight when he turned to look back over the belt of trees, to where the dogs were barking. I wouldn’t ask him to come in at first, though I knew he wanted to⁠—just as he had wanted all along. Then he began promising me things⁠—not in words but by doing them.” He was interrupted by a word from the Professor:⁠—

“How?”

“By making them happen; just as he used to send in the flies when the sun was shining. Great big fat ones with steel and sapphire on their wings; and big moths, in the night, with skull and crossbones on their backs.” Van Helsing nodded to him as he whispered to me unconsciously:⁠—

“The Acherontia Aitetropos of the Sphinges ⁠—what you call the ‘Death’s-head Moth’?” The patient went on without stopping.