pe
her way through blinding darkness, but had taken only a few uncertain
steps when, of a sudden, she stopped short and for a little stood like
a stricken thing, quite motionless save that she quaked to her very
marrow in the grasp of a great and enervating fear.

If she could not have said what precisely it was that she feared, her
fright was no less desperately real. She could see nothing; she had
heard no sound; her hands had touched nothing more startling than
the banister-rail, and yet . . .

It was as if sensitive filaments of perceptions even finer than sight,
touch, and hearing had found and recoiled from something strange and
terrible skulking there, masked by the encompassing murk.

Probably less than twenty seconds elapsed, but it seemed a long minute
before her heart stirred anew, leaping into action with a quickened
beat, and she was able to reassert command of her reason and--
reassured, persuaded her fright lacked any real foundation--move on.

Five paces more brought her to the elbow of the rail; here, in the
very act of turning to follow it down to the basement, she halted
involuntarily, again transfixed with terror.

But this time her alarm had visible excuse; that there was something
wrong in that strange house, so strangely deserted, was evident beyond
dispute.

She stood facing the dining-room door, the door to the library on her
left; if not in any way evident to her senses, she could fix its
position only approximately by an effort of memory. But through the
former opening her vision, ranging at random, instinctively seeking
relief from the oppression of blank darkness, detected a slender beam
of artificial light no thicker than a lead-pencil--a golden blade that
lanced the obscurity, gleaming dull upon a rug, more bright on
naked parquetry, vivid athwart the dust-cloth shrouding the
dining-table.

For a moment or two the girl lingered, unstirring, fascinated by that
slender, swerveless ray; then, slowly, holding her breath, urged
against her will by importunate curiosity, she crossed the threshold
of the dining-room, following the light back to its source--a narrow
crack in the folding doors communicating with the library.

Now Sally remembered clearly that the folding doors had been wide open
at the time of her first tour of investigation; as, indeed, had the
door between the library and hall--now tight shut, else this light
would have been perceptible in the hall as well.

It was un