Page:The Whisper on the Stair by Lyon Mearson (1924).djvu/233

 There was always Jessica for Val to think about, in these moments. He wondered where she was, and whether she was in the power of Teck. He gave himself little concern about that—as to whether she was in his power—because he did not believe for an instant that Teck would willingly cause any harm to come to her. But he was aware, by now, that this sinister fellow had an uncanny influence over the girl; that he could cause her to do things against all her nature and judgment; he was afraid that, sometime, Teck would actually induce her to marry him. That, he felt certain, was what the argument had been about this night, when they had so stubbornly faced each other in the cottage.

He paused for a moment in his meditations and glanced around hastily. The room was as black as ever, and he could make out nothing, but it seemed to him, for an instant, that he had heard a movement in the room; not a solid, concrete movement, something of the flesh, of humankind—this was a different kind of movement, like the sobbing of the wind through a midnight forest, or the intangible, nebulous movement light as the moonlight; of a graveyard Thing crossing a tombstone.

He could see nothing, but he could feel a Presence in the room; behind him, on the sides, shrinking in the lee of the lowering walls, moving, peering at him from all sides. He gave an involuntary shudder, and tried to laugh it off, but it would not down. Something was in the room with him. Outside the rain fell suddenly, in solid sheets, beating on the dull earth regularly, dripping off the eaves, pounding on the reverberant roof. Val shifted uneasily in his seat, and tried to pierce the darkness.