The notes seemed to have receding echoes, giving him the distinct impression that he was listening to the shrill cries of distant birds. It was ominous music and yet he found he was not frightened by it. Instead it brought to him a feeling of excitement, an intoxicating sense of danger, of challenge!

The flute passage began again. He listened to the shrill, piping notes, wondering why they sounded familiar to him. He could not have explained the way he felt except by saying that he seemed to be suspended in some kind of dream.

There had to be a reason for the familiarity of the notes. He sought it desperately, knowing that the explanation would shake the unreal mood that held him. The answer finally came to him.

The bird notes he had heard on his way here! The notes had followed him for a short while. Actually he had never seen the bird, if it had been a bird at all.

The music quickened and Alec’s heart raced with it. Perhaps it was only a coincidence that the haunting notes of the flute were similar to the ones he had heard in the brush; yet the similarity alarmed him. He smelled his own fear.

The music came to an end but it was a full minute before Alec moved. Only when he heard the unmistakable sounds of the captain removing the record from the turntable did he continue down the stairs. When he entered the large living room he had regained control of himself.

The captain, searching Alec’s eyes to learn his reaction to the weird music, shifted his gaze to Alec’s hands. Alec quickly unclenched them. He had no intention of letting the man know what he was thinking. He moved easily across the room to the phonograph and glanced at the record.

“I’ve never heard more ghostly music,” he said.

“Many find it frightening,” the captain answered, his voice oddly deep. He placed the record on a high shelf.

“I’m not surprised,” Alec said quietly.

For the first time, he noticed the twitching of a muscle on the right side of the captain’s cheek. Evidently the man wasn’t as relaxed as he pretended to be. It made it easier for Alec to meet the captain’s eyes.

“Although I helped write the music,” the captain continued, “there are times when it frightens me, too.” He smiled slightly and put a hand on Alec’s arm, leading him across the room to the high-backed chairs beside the fireplace.

“You’re a composer as well?” Alec asked, impressed. Frightening as the music had been, he recognized its high quality.

“Oh, no, Alec,” the captain said. He lit the oil lamp overhead. “It’s the only music I’ve ever written and it happened quite by accident. Well, if not by accident, under rather strange circumstances. Would you like to hear about it?”

Alec sensed the captain’s mood and knew he would go on without any encouragement from him, but he nodded anyway.

Several seconds passed before the captain spoke again. “I have no musical talent, but like most circus performers I have always given intense thought to the music that accompanies my act.” His dark eyes were staring into space. “In many ways the music is as important as the training, for it creates the mood to which performers, as well as the audience, respond.

“Years ago, I had a friend in Paris, a remarkable music teacher, a man of great skill and talent. I told André of my new act and asked him for music that would give my mare the necessary cues for her movements and, at the same time, create an ethereal, ghostlike mood.”

The captain paused, his eyes becoming focused on Alec again. “You see, Alec, she works alone in the ring.”

“Alone?” Alec repeated. “Without your hands and legs to guide her? I wouldn’t think it possible.”

“Her cues are set to music, as I have said,” the captain went on quickly and with pride. “Not easy, of course, but I have accomplished it. She works in a dim spotlight in a darkened arena.