"Death," he said, "is the opening--and the closing--of a Door."

She leaned eagerly forward. "You think that?"

"Just that," said Nick. He smiled and blew out the match, just in time.

"But--as you perceive--I am afraid of pain--that is, when I think about it."

She scarcely seemed to hear. "And have you ever seen anyone die?"

"Plenty," said Nick.

"Ah, I forgot! You've killed men, haven't you?" There was suppressed excitement in her voice.

Nick threw up his head and smoked towards the oak-beamed roof. "When I had to," he said, with brevity.

"Ah!" The word leaped from her like a cry of triumph. "Did you ever kill anyone with a knife? What did it feel like?"

"I shan't tell you," said Nick rudely. "It isn't good for anyone to know too much."

An abrupt silence followed his refusal. The surging of the sea had risen to a continuous low roar; and from the garden came the sound of trembling leaves. The storm was at hand.

"Do you think I don't know?" said Violet, and laughed.

Quickly Olga rose, as if her nerves were on edge, and went towards the open door. As she did so, a violet glare lit the hall from end to end, quivered, and was gone. She stopped dead, and in the awful silence that succeeded she heard the wild beat of her heart rising, rising, rising, in a tumult of sudden fear.

Violet remained at the table, staring, as one transfixed. She was gazing at the open door. Nick leaned swiftly forward and took her hand. So much Olga saw in the dimness before the thunder with a fierce crash burst forth overhead.

Ere it died away there came a shriek, wild, horrible, unearthly. It pierced Olga through and through, turning her cold from head to foot.

Another shriek followed it, and yet another; and then came a dreadful, sobbing utterance in which words and moans were terribly mingled.

Olga caught at her self-control, as it were, with both hands, and went swiftly back to the table. Violet was on her feet. She had wrenched herself free, and was wildly pointing.

"No! No! No!" she cried. "Take him away!" Mortal terror was in her starting eyes. Suddenly perceiving Olga, she turned and clung to her.

"Allegro! You promised! You promised!"

Then it was that Olga realized that someone had entered during that awful peal of thunder, and was even then advancing quietly down the hall. It needed not a second flickering flash to reveal him. Her heart told her who it was.

With Violet pressed close in her arms, she spoke. "Max, stop!"

She never knew whether it was the note of authority or of desperation in her voice that induced him to comply; but he stopped on the instant a full twenty feet from where they stood.

"What's the matter?" he said.

Brief, matter-of-fact, almost contemptuous, came his query. Yet Olga thrilled at the sound of it, feeling strengthened, rea.s.sured, strangely unembarra.s.sed.

"It's this horrid storm," she said. "Violet's upset. Ah, here is Mrs.

Briggs! Darling, wouldn't you like to go upstairs and lie down again till it's over? Do, dearie! I'll look after Nick and Max."

But Violet's straining arms clung faster. "He'll follow me!" she whispered.

"No, indeed he won't, dear. I won't allow it," said Olga, and she spoke with absolute confidence born of this new, strange feeling of power.

"You needn't be afraid of that," she said, with motherly, shielding arms about her. "Won't you go with Mrs. Briggs? I will come up presently.

Really there's nothing to be afraid of. The storm won't hurt you."

"And you won't let Max come?" Violet was suffering herself to be led towards the further door. She was shivering violently and moved spasmodically, as though the impulse to escape strongly urged her.

"I promise," Olga said.

She pa.s.sed under the archway with her, paused there while another furious burst of thunder rolled above them: then gently surrendered her to Mrs. Briggs, and turned back herself into the hall.

She found Max and Nick standing together in the gloom.

"I came up here on the chance," the former was saying, "and got here just in time. Hullo! Is that a wolf?"

It was Cork, who crouched bristling against the table, with bared fangs, watching him. Olga went to him and took him by the collar.

"He's all right," she said. "I think he doesn't like strangers."

She led him also across the hall, took him to the foot of the stairs, and returned.

She felt Max's eyes upon her as she came up. He seemed to be regarding her in a new light.

"Well?" he said. "Why this hysteria? Is it due to the storm or--some other cause?"

She hesitated, finding it somehow difficult to give an answer to his cool questioning.

"I'll tell him, shall I?" said Nick.

She came and slipped her hand into his. "Yes, Nick."

He squeezed her fingers hard. "Our friend Hunt-Goring has been sticking his oar in," he said. "This--hysteria has been caused by him."

"You mean he has told her the whole story?" said Max.

"Yes," said Olga.

He considered the matter for a few seconds in silence. "And how long has this sort of thing been going on?" he asked then.

Again she hesitated.

He looked at her. "It's no good trying to keep anything from me," he observed. "I've seen it coming for a long while."

"Oh, Max!" she burst forth involuntarily. "Then it really is--"

A vivid flash of lightning and instant crashing thunder drowned her words. Instinctively she drew nearer to Nick. On many a previous occasion they had watched a storm together with delight. But to-day her nerves were all a-quiver, and its violence appalled her.

As the noise died away, Max looked about the shadowy place. "Is there any means of lighting this tomb?" he asked.

Apparently there was not. Olga believed there were some electric switches somewhere but she had forgotten where.