tened
myself up--having crouched back until I felt the wall behind me--and
so grew aware of a door beside the chimney-breast, and that it stood
ajar upon the empty landing. The dead man's heels pointed towards
it, his head towards the window at the foot of the bed.

And still my shaken wits could not clutch at the meaning of what I
saw. I only felt that there was something horrible, menacing,
hideously malignant in the figure at my feet: only craved for
strength of will to dash by it, reach the door and fling myself down
the stairs--anywhere--away from it. Had it stirred, I believe it had
then and there destroyed my reason.

But it did not stir. And all the while I knew that the thing lay
with its breast in a bath of blood; that it had been stabbed in the
back and the blood welling down under the clothes had gathered in a
pool, ready to gush and spread on all sides as soon as the body
should be lifted or its attitude interfered with. I cannot tell how
I found time to reason this out; but I did.

I knew, too, that I could not scream aloud if I tried: but I had no
desire to try. _It_ might wake and lift up its head! I felt
backwards with my hand along the wall, groping unconsciously for
something to aid my spring towards the door; but desisted. For the
moment I could not lift a foot.

With that--either this was all a dream or I heard footsteps on the
flat roof outside; very slow, soft footsteps, too, as of somebody
walking on tiptoe. But if on tiptoe, why was he coming _towards_ me?
Yet so it was; my ear told me distinctly.

As his feet crunched the leads close outside the window I caught a
gleam of scarlet; then the frame grew dark between me and the
daylight, and through the pane a man peered cautiously into the room.

It was Archibald Plinlimmon.

He peered in, turning his face sideways for a better view and shading
it, after a moment, with his hand. So shaded, and with the daylight
behind it, his face after that first instant became an inscrutable
blur.

But while he peered speech broke from me--words and a wild laugh.

"Look at it! Look at it!" I cried, and pointed.

He drew back instantly, and was gone.

"Don't leave me! Mr. Plinlimmon--please don't leave me!" I made a
leap for the window--halted helplessly--and fell back again from the
body. I was alone again. But power to move had come back, and I
must use it while it lasted. If I could gain the stairs now . . .

Stealthily, and more