Page:The Whisper on the Stair by Lyon Mearson (1924).djvu/133

 he rose finally, it was as one who has made his decision; one who has planned his course.

“We are both going to Virginia—to-night,” he said softly, walking to her in his soft, catfooted way, lithe as a mountain animal, evil eyed and treacherous.

She shrank back from his advance and would have screamed, but there was something in his greenish tinged eyes that held her, something horrible that clove her tongue to the roof of her mouth. Pale as death and rigid, she watched him come to her.