he
impenetrable wall she should be nearing now if she had followed her
instructions aright, freed her instantly from her fancies; and opening
her eyes once more, she cast a look ahead, and to her delight, saw but a
few steps away, the thin streak of bright light which marked the end of
her journey.

It took her but a moment after that to find the missing page, and
picking it up in haste from the dusty floor, she turned herself quickly
about and joyfully began to retrace her steps. Why, then, was it that in
the course of a few minutes more her voice suddenly broke into a wild,
unearthly shriek, which ringing with terror burst the bounds of that
dungeon-like room, and sank, a barbed shaft, into the breasts of those
awaiting the result of her doubtful adventure, at either end of this
dread no-thoroughfare.

What had happened?

If they had thought to look out, they would have seen that the
moon--held in check by a bank of cloud occupying half the heavens--had
suddenly burst its bounds and was sending long bars of revealing light
into every uncurtained window.

VI

Florence Digby, in her short and sheltered life, had possibly never
known any very great or deep emotion. But she touched the bottom of
extreme terror at that moment, as with her ears still thrilling with
Violet's piercing cry, she turned to look at Mr. Van Broecklyn, and
beheld the instantaneous wreck it had made of this seemingly strong
man. Not till he came to lie in his coffin would he show a more ghastly
countenance; and trembling herself almost to the point of falling, she
caught him by the arm and sought to read in his face what had happened.
Something disastrous she was sure; something which he had feared and was
partially prepared for, yet which in happening had crushed him. Was it a
pitfall into which the poor little lady had fallen? If so--But he is
speaking--mumbling low words to himself. Some of them she can hear. He
is reproaching himself--repeating over and over that he should never
have taken such a chance; that he should have remembered her youth--the
weakness of a young girl's nerve. He had been mad, and now--and now--

With the repetition of this word his murmuring ceased. All his energies
were now absorbed in listening at the low door separating him from what
he was agonizing to know--a door impossible to enter, impossible to
enlarge--a barrier to all help--an opening whereby sound might pass but
nothing else save her own small body,