r of the compartment and put her
hand upon the pistol without having his eye upon her. But, as it
seemed to her at the moment, the chance of bringing her purpose to
its intended conclusion was less than it would have been had she been
able to fire at his face. She had let the moment go by,--the first
moment,--when he was close to her, and now there would be half the
room between them. But she was very quick. She seized the pistol,
and, transferring it to her right hand, she rushed after him, and
when the door was already half open she pulled the trigger. In the
agony of that moment she heard no sound, though she saw the flash.
She saw him shrink and pass the door, which he left unclosed, and
then she heard a scuffle in the passage, as though he had fallen
against the wall. She had provided herself especially with a second
barrel,--but that was now absolutely useless to her. There was no
power left to her wherewith to follow him and complete the work which
she had begun. She did not think that she had killed him, though
she was sure that he was struck. She did not believe that she had
accomplished anything of her wishes,--but had she held in her hand a
six-barrelled revolver, as of the present day, she could have done no
more with it. She was overwhelmed with so great a tremor at her own
violence that she was almost incapable of moving. She stood glaring
at the door, listening for what should come, and the moments seemed
to be hours. But she heard no sound whatever. A minute passed away
perhaps, and the man did not move. She looked around as if seeking
some way of escape,--as though, were it possible, she would get to
the street through the window. There was no mode of escape, unless
she would pass out through the door to the man who, as she knew, must
still be there. Then she heard him move. She heard him rise,--from
what posture she knew not, and step towards the stairs. She was still
standing with the pistol in her hand, but was almost unconscious that
she held it. At last her eye glanced upon it, and she was aware that
she was still armed. Should she rush after him, and try what she
could do with that other bullet? The thought crossed her mind, but
she knew that she could do nothing. Had all the Lovels depended upon
it, she could not have drawn that other trigger. She took the pistol,
put it back into its former hiding-place, mechanically locked the
little door, and then seated herself in her chair.

CHAPTER X