To involve her still deeper would be heartless. I could not
do it, at least not without full confession.
I rapped at the door twice before there was any movement within. Then
her voice asked who was there, and at my answer she came out fully
dressed, fronting me with questioning eyes.
"The night has rested you," I said smilingly, my heart beating in swift
appreciation of her beauty. "Are you ready for breakfast?"
"For anything to escape the loneliness of that room," she replied
seriously. "If I really look rested, it is not from sleep for I have
passed the night in terror." She held out her hands as though seeking
to assure herself of my real presence. "Tell me what is wrong with
this house? What occurred last night?"
"I am not altogether sure myself," I said, striving to speak quietly,
and holding her hands tight, "But I will tell you all I know, after you
have explained. Were you disturbed?"
"Yes, but I hardly comprehend what was reality, and what dream. I
slept some, I am sure, lying pressed upon the bed. At first I thought
that was impossible, I was so frightened, and I had so much to think
about, but found myself too utterly exhausted to keep awake. Yet my
slumber was fitful, and filled with dreams. But I am sure of some
things--my door was tried twice, and I heard someone prowling about the
hall--"
"That might have been me," I interrupted, "as I was out there during
the night, but I certainly never tried your door.
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