even their respiration with the extreme of slyness. The idea went

to his vitals with a shock, and he faced about suddenly as if to

defend his life. Then, for the first time, he became aware of a

light about the level of his eyes and at some distance in the

interior of the house - a vertical thread of light, widening

towards the bottom, such as might escape between two wings of arras

over a doorway. To see anything was a relief to Denis; it was like

a piece of solid ground to a man labouring in a morass; his mind

seized upon it with avidity; and he stood staring at it and trying

to piece together some logical conception of his surroundings.

Plainly there was a flight of steps ascending from his own level to

that of this illuminated doorway; and indeed he thought he could

make out another thread of light, as fine as a needle and as faint

as phosphorescence, which might very well be reflected along the

polished wood of a handrail. Since he had begun to suspect that he

was not alone, his heart had continued to beat with smothering

violence, and an intolerable desire for action of any sort had

possessed itself of his spirit. He was in deadly peril, he

believed. What could be more natural than to mount the staircase,

lift the curtain, and confront his difficulty at once? At least he

would be dealing with something tangible; at least he would be no

longer in the dark. He stepped slowly forward with outstretched

hands, until his foot struck the bottom step; then he rapidly

scaled the stairs, stood for a moment to compose his expression,

lifted the arras and went in.

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