CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Survival
A
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he leveled his torch, the Professor’s hand shook violently.
The dog, after its first frenzied attack, crouched cowering by the tree trunk, while Mr Campion bent over the struggling mass in the heavy net.
The almost blinding beam of light after the intense darkness seemed paradoxically to add to the confusion. The creature, whatever it was, had ceased to struggle and lay motionless in the net, shapeless and hairy under the tangle of ropes.
The fact that the “ghost” actually lay captured at their feet brought home to both men how slender their hopes of success had been the previous evening. Yet there it lay, still incomprehensible, a grotesque and reeking mass.
Peck dropped to the ground from his branch, and they caught a glimpse of his face, pale, and
