ept
his back to the wall--as did, indeed, the others.
Henry led the way with an alert motion like a boy; Rebecca brought up
the rear. She could scarcely walk, her knees trembled so.
"I can't sit in that room again this evening," she whispered to Caroline
after supper.
"Very well; we will sit in the south room," replied Caroline. "I think
we will sit in the south parlor," she said aloud; "it isn't as damp as
the study, and I have a cold."
So they all sat in the south room with their sewing. Henry read the
newspaper, his chair drawn close to the lamp on the table. About nine
o'clock he rose abruptly and crossed the hall to the study. The three
sisters looked at one another. Mrs. Brigham rose, folded her rustling
skirts compactly round her, and began tiptoeing toward the door.
"What are you going to do?" inquired Rebecca agitatedly.
"I am going to see what he is about," replied Mrs. Brigham cautiously.
As she spoke she pointed to the study door across the hall; it was ajar.
Henry had striven to pull it together behind him, but it had somehow
swollen beyond the limit with curious speed. It was still ajar and a
streak of light showed from top to bottom.
Mrs. Brigham folded her skirts so tightly that her bulk with its
swelling curves was revealed in a black silk sheath, and she went with a
slow toddle across the hall to the study door. She stood there, her eye
at the crack.
In the south room Rebecca stopped sewing and sat watching with dilated
eyes. Caroline sewed steadily. What Mrs. Brigham, standing at the crack
in the study door, saw was this:
Henry Glynn, evidently reasoning that the source of the strange shadow
must be between the table on which the lamp stood and the wall, was
making systematic passes and thrusts with an old sword which had
belonged to his father all over and through the intervening space. Not
an inch was left unpierced. He seemed to have divided the space into
mathematical sections. He brandished the sword with a sort of cold fury
and calculation; the blade gave out flashes of light, the shadow
remained unmoved. Mrs. Brigham, watching, felt herself cold with horror.
Finally Henry ceased and stood with the sword in hand and raised as if
to strike, surveying the shadow on the wall threateningly. Mrs. Brigham
toddled back across the hall and shut the south room door behind her
before she related what she had seen.
"He looked like a demon," she said again. "Have you got any of tha
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