Page:The Strand Magazine (Volume 4).djvu/514

 formation was shocking to me—it was enough that I had seen in the plate glass the more ghastly side of the picture, and her assumption of absolute indifference impressed me terribly.

For several moments we faced each other in silence, then my companion stepped deliberately forward, and laid an icy cold hand on mine, which was grasping a chair back. Its touch broke the spell, and brought me to a complete mastery over myself. I realized to the full that on my promptness and decision depended, it might be, the life of this helpless being, pity for whose unhappy face stirred my soul.

I took in mine the cold hand she had extended, and, while gently chafing it, considered my best plan of action.

I must, of course, try to convey her whence she came, and that without frightening her or raising an alarm; any undue excitement should be guarded against at any cost. The next instant I had to deplore my want of foresight. She must have been watching her opportunity, for, abruptly drawing her hand from mine, she darted behind me, and, before I had guessed her purpose, had possessed herself of the huge carving-knife, which I had a moment before placed on the table.

I felt she had scored one in the encounter, and, cursing my short-sightedness, I vowed that no other false move of mine should give her the advantage. I, too, would be on the alert, but I knew I must proceed with caution.

I closed the door and placed my back against it, while she employed herself in hugging the huge knife to her bosom, her large, penetrating grey eyes never once leaving my face.

I returned her gaze as calmly and composedly as I knew how, and assuming the quietest and most everyday tone at my command, I pointed to her bare feet and said, severely, "How very silly to wander about the house barefooted on such a night! You will most certainly take cold."

Beyond a slight start at the sound of my voice, she took no notice of my remark, so I tried again, and ventured gently to suggest she should return to her room.

This time she murmured a few words which I did not catch, then, after a pause, she spoke out clearly and distinctly:—

"Thank you; but I am not at all cold, and do not intend returning to bed yet. I mean to stay here for a short time."

"In that case," I rejoined politely, "let me offer you a chair, or, better still, this sofa. I, too, strangely enough, am feeling restless, and disinclined for sleep. If you will allow me, I will keep you company."

She made no objection, and after some slight hesitation placed herself upon the couch I indicated. As I covered up her feet with a woollen antimacassar, which I took from a neighbouring chair back, I heard a weird, terrible little laugh, which made me shudder from head to foot.

I dragged forward an easy chair, and took my place opposite her. She was trembling violently, whether from the effects of the cold or suppressed excitement could not determine; but she still clasped the knife with a feverish energy, and I, while turning over in my mind the best way to get hold of it without irritating her, continued to talk as indifferently as I could, although I had the conversation entirely to myself. Yet I could feel she was listening to me and following my words, while never for one instant relaxing her fixed gaze on my features.

As the moments sped on without fresh outbreak on her part, I leaned back in my chair, and tried to persuade myself that her expression was growing calmer and more tranquil. I glanced across the room at the candle: it was perceptibly smaller, and I shuddered at the thought that darkness might fall upon us with that ghastly weapon still between us. She was holding it in one hand now, and the gleaming blade was partly hidden by the laces of her dress, so I determined, if possible, to possess myself of her other hand. To my surprise, after some faint resistance, she relinquished it to me quietly enough, and it lay passively in mine, its soft quiver thrilling me from head to foot. Then I leaned forward again, remarking in a casual way that she must be tired of holding that heavy knife; if she would allow me, I would replace it on the table for her.

It was a false move. I saw in an instant that I had lost ground again; the old excitement was returning with renewed force, and she started back, clutching the weapon more eagerly than before.

"No, no!" she panted, wildly, "you shall not have it, I tell you; I want it myself."

"Nonsense," I said, lightly; "why not let me put it down for you?"

She clenched her hands and made a movement forward, and I nerved myself for the struggle. None came, however, to my intense relief, and, shrugging my shoulders, I sub-