What could I do? What ought I to do? I
knew nothing of the house, or where to find the woman; I was not even
sure of her presence. Indeed, the very memory of her snaky eyes gave
me new horror. And Coombs! Suspecting him, as I did, it would be the
height of folly to seek him out yonder in the dark. There was nothing
left but to await daylight; to remain on watch, endeavoring alone to
formulate some plan of future action.
Accustomed as I was to danger, the situation set my pulses
throbbing--the intense blackness, the silence, the memory of that dead
face, utterly unnerving me. I imagined things--a presence in that
deserted hall through which I groped. Some unknown horror close at
hand, even a spectral passing down the stairs. I listened, clinging to
the banister-rail, feeling again helplessly for matches. Perhaps the
faint scuffling was some scurrying rat, or some puff of wind in a
chimney hole, but God only knows how glad I was to discover the open
door to my own room again. There were matches there on the table, but
my hand trembled so I struck three before the wick of the lamp caught
fire. When I ventured to look out again, holding the light so as to
see, the hall was desolate. I tiptoed across, and listened at her
door; there was no sound within.
Pages:
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109