in the gardens at night, down by the craggy shore of the
lagoon! Nealman, others of the servants, any one of the guests--Edith
herself--wouldn't circumstance, sooner or later, take them into the
shadow of that curse? Who could tell but that the whole thing might be
reenacted before this dreadful, sweltering night was done!

The occupants of the house wouldn't be able to sleep to-night. Some of
them would go walking in the gardens, rambling further down the
beguiling garden paths that would take them at last to that craggy
margin of the inlet. Some of them might want a cool glimpse of the
lagoon itself. Would we hear that sharp, agonized, fearful scream again
streaming through the windows, gripping the heart and freezing the
blood in the veins? Any hour--any moment--such a thing might occur.

But at that point I managed a barren and mirthless laugh. I was letting
childlike fancies carry me away--and I had simply tried to laugh them to
scorn. Surely I need not yield to such a mood as this, to let the
sweltering heat and the silence change me into a superstitious savage.
The thing to do was to move away from the window and direct my thought
in other channels. Yet I knew, as I argued with myself, that I was
curiously breathless and inwardly shaken. But these were nothing in
comparison with the fact that I was some way _expectant_, too, with a
dreadful expectancy beyond the power of naming.

Then my laugh was cut short. And I don't know what half-strangled
utterance, what gagging expression of horror or regret or fulfilled
dread took its place on my lips as a distinct scream for help, agonized
and fearful, came suddenly, ripped through the darkness from the
direction of the lagoon.

CHAPTER XV

The most outstanding thing about that sound was its amazing loudness. It
was hard to believe that a human voice could develop such penetration
and volume. It had an explosive quality, bursting upon the eardrums with
no warning whatsoever, and the man who had cried out had evidently given
the full power of his lungs. It was probably true that the moist, hot
atmosphere, hanging almost without motion, was a perfect medium for
transmitting sound. Besides, my windows were open, facing the lagoon.

I heard the sound die away. The silence dropped down again to find me
standing wholly motionless before the window, one hand resting on the
sill, seemingly with all power of action gone. It was a shattering blow
to spirit and hope t