Prev | Current Page 115 | Next

Blackwood, Algernon, 1869-1951

"The Damned"

My mind was in a
state of obscure perception less than that of normal consciousness.
"Yes, Frances, I believe that what you say is the truth, and that we are
in it with her"--I meant to say I with loud, hostile emphasis, but
instead I whispered it lest she should hear the trembling of my voice--
"and for that reason, my dear sister, we leave tomorrow, you and I--
today, rather, since it is long past midnight--we leave this house of
the damned. We go back to London."
Frances looked up, her face distraught almost beyond recognition. But it
was not my words that caused the tumult in her heart. It was a sound--
the sound she had been listening for--so faint I barely caught it
myself, and had she not pointed I could never have known the direction
whence it came. Small and terrible it rose again in the stillness of the
night, the sound of gnashing teeth. And behind it came another--the
tread of stealthy footsteps. Both were just outside the door.
The room swung round me for a second. My first instinct to prevent my
sister going out--she had dashed past me frantically to the door--gave
place to another when I saw the expression in her eyes. I followed her
lead instead; it was surer than my own.


Pages:
103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127