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the house once more。
Little by little； the steward's horror of the stillness and the
darkness overcame his dread of moving the handkerchief。 He
cautiously drew aside one corner of it； waited； looked； and took
courage at last to draw the whole handkerchief through the wires
of the grating。 After first hiding it in his pocket； he thought
of the consequences if it was found on him； and threw it down in
a corner of the room。 He trembled when he had cast it from him；
as he looked at his watch and placed himself again at the grating
to wait for Miss Gwilt。
It was a quarter to one。 The moon had come round from the side to
the front of the Sanitarium。 From time to time her light gleamed
on the window of the corridor when the gaps in the flying clouds
let it through。 The wind had risen； and sung its mournful song
faintly； as it swept at intervals over the desert ground in front
of the house。
The minute hand of the clock traveled on halfway round the circle
of the dial。 As it touched the quarter…past one； Miss Gwilt
stepped noiselessly into the corridor。 〃Let yourself out；〃 she
whispered through the grating； 〃and follow me。〃 She returned to
the stairs by which she had just descended； pushed the door to
softly after Mr。 Bashwood had followed her and led the way up to
the landing of the second floor。 There she put the question to
him which she had not ventured to put below stairs。
〃Was Mr。 Armadale shown into Number Four？〃 she asked。
He bowed his head without speaking。
〃Answer me in words。 Has Mr。 Armadale left the room since？〃
He answered； 〃No。〃
〃Have you never lost sight of Number Four since I left you？〃
He answered； 〃_Never！_〃
Something strange in his manner； something unfamiliar in his
voice； as he made that last reply； attracted her attention。 She
took her candle from a table near； on which she had left it； and
threw its light on him。 His eyes were staring； his teeth
chattered。 There was everything to betray him to her as a
terrified man； there was nothing to tell her that the terror was
caused by his consciousness of deceiving her； for the first time
in his life； to her face。 If she had threatened him less openly
when she placed him on the watch； if she had spoken less
unreservedly of the interview which was to reward him in the
morning； he might have owned the truth。 As it was； his strongest
fears and his dearest hopes were alike interested in telling her
the fatal lie that he had now toldthe fatal lie which he
reiterated when she put her question for the second time。
She looked at him； deceived by the last man on earth whom she
would have suspected of deceptionthe man w hom she had deceived
herself。
〃You seem to be overexcited；〃 she said quietly。 〃The night has
been too much for you。 Go upstairs； and rest。 You will find the
door of one of the rooms left open。 That is the room you are to
occupy。 Good…night。〃
She put the candle （which she had left burning for him） on the
table； and gave him her hand。 He held her back by it desperately
as she turned to leave him。 His horror of what might happen when
she was left by herself forced the words to his lips which he
would have feared to speak to her at any other time。
〃Don't；〃 he pleaded； in a whisper； 〃oh； don't； don't； don't go
downstairs to…night！〃
She released her hand； and signed to him to take the candle。 〃You
shall see me to…morrow；〃 she said。 〃Not a word more now！〃
Her stronger will conquered him at that last moment； as it had
conquered him throughout。 He took the candle and waited；
following her eagerly with his eyes as she descended the stairs。
The cold of the December night seemed to have found its way to
her through the warmth of the house。 She had put on a long； heavy
black shawl； and had fastened it close over her breast。 The
plaited coronet in which she wore her hair seemed to have weighed
too heavily on her head。 She had untwisted it； and thrown it back
over her shoulders。 The old man looked at her flowing hair； as it
lay red over the black shawlat her supple； long…fingered hand；
as it slid down the banistersat the smooth； seductive grace of
every movement that took her further and further away from him。
〃The night will go quickly；〃 he said to himself； as she passed
from his view； 〃I shall dream of her till the morning comes！〃
She secured the staircase door； after she had passed through
itlistened； and satisfied herself that nothing was
stirringthen went on slowly along the corridor to the window。
Leaning on the window…sill； she looked out at the night。 The
clouds were over the moon at that moment； nothing was to be seen
through the darkness but the scattered gas…lights in the suburb。
Turning from the window； she looked at the clock。 It was twenty
minutes past one。
For the last time； the resolution that had come to her in the
earlier night； with the knowledge that her husband was in the
house； forced itself uppermost in her mind。 For the last time；
the voice within her said； 〃Think if there is no other way！〃
She pondered over it till the minute…hand of the clock pointed to
the half…hour。 〃No！〃 she said； still thinking of her husband。
〃The one chance left is to go through with it to the end。 He will
leave the thing undone which he has come here to do； he will
leave the words unspoken which he has come here to saywhen he
knows that the act may make me a public scandal； and that the
words may send me to the scaffold！〃 Her color rose； and she
smiled with a terrible irony as she looked for the first time at
the door of the Room。 〃I shall be your widow；〃 she said； 〃in half
an hour！〃
She opened the case of the apparatus and took the Purple Flask in
her hand。 After marking the time by a glance at the clock； she
dropped into the glass funnel the first of the six separate
Pourings that were measured for her by the paper slips。
When she had put the Flask back； she listened at the mouth of the
funnel。 Not a sound reached her ear： the deadly process did its
work in the silence of death itself。 When she rose and looked up；
the moon was shining in at the window； and the moaning wind was
quiet。
Oh； the time！ the time！ If it could only have been begun and
ended with the first Pouring！
She went downstairs into the hall； she walked to and fro； and
listened at the open door that led to the kitchen stairs。 She
came up again； she went down again。 The first of the intervals of
five minutes was endless。 The time stood still。 The suspense was
maddening。
The interval passed。 As she took the Flask for the second time；
and dropped in the second Pouring； the clouds floated over the
moon； and the night view through the window slowly darkened。
The restlessness that had driven her up and down the stairs； and
backward and forward in the hall； left her as suddenly as it had
come。 She waited through the second interval； leaning on the
window…sill； and staring； without conscious thought of any kind；
into the black night。 The howling of a belated dog was borne
toward her on the wind； at intervals； from some distant part of
the suburb。 She found herself following the faint sound as it
died away into silence with a dull attention； and listening for
its coming again with an expectation that was duller still。 Her
arms lay like lead on the window…sill； her forehead rested
against the glass without feeling the cold。 It was not till the
moon struggled out again that she was startled into sudden
self…remembrance。 She turned quickly； and looked at the clock；
seven minutes had passed since the second Pouring。
As she snatched up the Flask； and fed the funnel for the third
time； the full consciousness of her position came back to her。
The fever…heat throbbed again in her blood； and flushed fiercely
in her cheeks。 Swift； smooth； and noiseless； she paced from end
to end of the corridor； with her arms folded in her shawl and her
eye moment after moment on the clock。
Three out of the next five minutes passed； and again the suspense
began to madden her。 The space in the corridor grew too confined
for the illimitable restlessness that possessed her limbs。 She
went down into the hall again； and circled round and round it
like a wild creature in a cage。 At the third turn； she felt
something moving softly against her dress。 The house…cat had come
up through the open kitchen doora large； tawny； companionable
cat that purred in high good temper； and followed her for
company。 She took the animal up in her armsit rubbed its sleek
head luxuriously against her chin as she bent her face over it。
〃Armadale hates cats；〃 she whispered in the creature's ear。 〃Come
up and see Armadale killed！〃 The next moment her own frightful
fancy horrified her。 She dropped the cat with a shudder； she
drove it below again with threatening hands。 For a moment after；
she stood still； then in headlong haste suddenly mounted the
stairs。 Her husband had forced his way back again into her
thoughts； her husband threatened her with a danger which had
never entered her mind till now。 What if he were not asleep？ What
if he came out upon her； and found her with the Purple Flask in
her hand？
She stole to the door of Number Three and listened。 The slow；
regular breathing