Then leaping up and
flinging my door wide, I stumbled through the uncertain light of the
passage into the front hall.
There was a fan-shaped light over the door, and the place was very
still and gray. A quick thought, or rather a sudden prophetic guess at
the truth, made me turn to the figure of the mastiff curled under the
hall table.
I laid my hand on the scruff of his neck. He was quite limp, and my
fingers sank into the flesh on either side of the vertebrae. Digging
them deeper, I dragged him out into the middle of the hall, and pulled
the front door open to see the better.
His throat was gashed from ear to ear.
How many seconds passed after I dropped the senseless lump on the
floor, and before I made another movement, it would puzzle me to say.
Twice I stirred a foot as if to run out at the door. Then, changing my
mind, I stepped over the mastiff, and ran up the staircase. The light
no longer shone out into the left-hand passage; but groping down it,
I found the study door open, as before, and passed in. A sick light
stole through the blinds--enough for me to distinguish the glasses
and decanters on the table, and find my way to the curtain that hung
before the room where the light had first attracted me.
I pushed the curtain aside, paused for a moment, and listened to the
violent beat of my heart; then felt for the door handle and turned it.
Pages:
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72