The pistol in my pocket swung
uselessly against my thigh. I was flustered beyond belief and ashamed
that I was so.
"Keep close to me, Frances," I said huskily, as the door swung wide and
a shaft of light fell upon a figure moving rapidly. Mabel was going down
the corridor. Beyond her, in the shadows on the staircase, a second
figure stood beckoning, scarcely visible.
"Before they get her! Quick!" was screamed into my ears, and our arms
were about her in the same moment. It was a horrible scene. Not that
Mabel struggled in the least, but that she collapsed as we caught her
and fell with her dead weight, as of a corpse, limp, against us. And her
teeth began again. They continued, even beneath the hand that Frances
clapped upon her lips....
We carried her back into her own bedroom, where she lay down peacefully
enough. It was so soon over.... The rapidity of the whole thing robbed
it of reality almost. It had the swiftness of something remembered
rather than of something witnessed. She slept again so quickly that it
was almost as if we had caught her sleepwalking. I cannot say. I asked
no questions at the time; I have asked none since; and my help was
needed as little as the protection of my pistol.
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