I can neither explain nor justify the storm of
irrational emotion that swept me as I stood in that moment, staring down
the length of the silent corridor towards the music-room at the far end,
I can only repeat that no personal bravery sent me down it, but that the
negative emotion of fear was swamped in this vast sea of pity and
commiseration for others that surged upon me.
My senses, at least, were no whit confused; if anything, my brain
registered impressions with keener accuracy than usual. I noticed, for
instance, that the two swinging doors of baize that cut the corridor
into definite lengths, making little rooms of the spaces between them,
were both wide-open--in the dim light no mean achievement. Also that the
fronds of a palm plant, some ten feet in front of me, still stirred
gently from the air of someone who had recently gone past them. The long
green leaves waved to and fro like hands. Then I went stealthily forward
down the narrow space, proud even that I had this command of myself, and
so carefully that my feet made no sound upon the Japanese matting on the
floor.
It was a journey that seemed timeless. I have no idea how fast or slow I
went, but I remember that I deliberately examined articles on each side
of me, peering with particular closeness into the recesses of wall and
window.
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