Page:Arthur Stringer - Twin Tales.djvu/292

282 as he ran to the broken veranda steps, a thin tumult of voices crept down to him. He heard the repeated high-pitched call of "Unclean! Unclean!" and a voice which reminded him of the frenzied prayer of camp-meeting supplicants cry out, "And forgive, God, these abominations which have been thrust before thee!"

He did not stop to hear more. He went up the steps two at a time, tried the door, and found it locked. Then without hesitation he ran to one of the French windows, found it fastened and broke away its flimsy catch with one taurine thrust of his shoulder.

He called out as he crossed the shadowy room, knocking over a horsehair chair as he went. But his call remained unanswered. He circled about to the door that opened into the hallway, ran through it and started up the half-lighted stairs with the walnut banister. He was startled by the bright eyes of a cat staring down at him through the gloom. They seemed burning with hate, those luminous and barricading eyes. They even prompted