... Towards me the multitudes now surged.
It was a sound and a movement that brought me back into myself. The
great dock at the farther end of the room just then struck the hour of
three. That was the sound. And the movement--? I was aware that a figure
was passing across the distant center of the floor. Instantly I dropped
back into the arena of my little human terror. My hand again clutched
stupidly at the pistol butt. I drew back into the folds of the heavy
curtain. And the figure advanced.
I remember every detail. At first it seemed to me enormous--this
advancing shadow--far beyond human scale; but as it came nearer, I
measured it, though not consciously, by the organ pipes that gleamed in
faint colors, just above its gradual soft approach. It passed them,
already halfway across the great room. I saw then that its stature was
that of ordinary men. The prolonged booming of the clock died away. I
heard the footfall, shuffling upon the polished boards. I heard another
sound--a voice, low and monotonous, droning as in prayer. The figure was
speaking. It was a woman. And she carried in both hands before her a
small object that faintly shimmered--a glass of water. And then I
recognized her.
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