"Take care, Linda!"
There was so sharp a note of warning in his voice that Linda sprang to her feet, with her hand pressed upon her heart. Glynn was startled too, and because he was startled he turned angrily to Thresk.
"Of what should Mrs. Thresk take care?"
Thresk took his eyes for a moment, and only for a moment, from the empty chair.
"Do you see nothing?" he asked, in a whisper, and his glance went back again. "Not a shadow which leans across the table there towards Linda, darkening the candle-light?"
"No; for there's nothing to cast a shadow."
"Is there not?" said Thresk, with a queer smile. "That's where you make your mistake. Aren't you conscious of something very strange, very insidious, close by us in this room?"
"I am aware that you are frightening Mrs. Thresk," said Glynn roughly; and, indeed, standing by the table, with her white face and her bosom heaving under her hand, she looked the very embodiment of terror. Thresk turned at once to her. A look of solicitude made his gross face quite tender. He took her by the arm, and in a chiding, affectionate tone he said very gently:
"You are not frightened, Linda, are you? Interested--yes, just as I am. But not frightened. There's nothing to be frightened at. We are not children."
"Oh, Jim," she said, and she leaned upon his arm. He led her across to the sofa, and sat down beside her.