The Hand in the Dark

by Arthur J. Rees

"I stayed there hidden for some time, too frightened to move, and expecting every moment to be discovered. I could hear them moving about searching, and I thought that somebody would draw aside the curtains and see me hiding underneath. But nobody came near me. I heard them go into Mrs. Heredith's room, and Mr. Musard started talking. The corridor was silent, and it seemed to me that I had a chance of escaping downstairs if the staircase was clear. I crept across to the balusters, still keeping under the cover of the curtains, and looked over. I could see nobody in the hall downstairs. I slipped the revolver into my dress and ran downstairs as quickly as I could. I got to the hall without meeting anyone, and then I knew that I was safe. But just as I turned into the passage leading to my mother's rooms I heard the dining-room door open. I looked back and saw Tufnell come out and go upstairs, but he did not see me. Then I reached my mother's rooms."

She was silent so long that Merrington thought she had finished her story. "And what about your brooch—the brooch which you dropped in the room. When did you get that again?"

"I did not miss it until some time after I had returned downstairs. I wondered at first where I had dropped it. I then remembered the hand on my throat, which must have unloosened the brooch and caused it to fall. I knew it was necessary for me to recover it so it would not be known that I had been in the room. The house was very quiet then, and the hall was empty, though I could hear the murmur of voices in the library, so I walked along the hall and ran upstairs. The door of the bedroom was partly open, and by the light within I could see that the room was empty—except for her. I went into the room. The first thing I saw was my little brooch shining on the carpet, close by the bedside, near where I had been standing when the hand clutched at my throat. I picked it up and ran downstairs."

"Is that the whole of your story?"

She considered for a moment. "Yes, I think that I have told you everything."

"What took you to Mrs. Heredith's room in the first place?"

"I—I wanted to see her."

"For what purpose? If you want me to help you, you had better be frank."

"I wished to see the girl whom Mr. Phil had married." She brought out the answer hesitatingly, but the colour which flooded her thin white cheeks showed that she was aware of the implication of the admission.

But Merrington was impervious to the finer feelings of the heart. He disbelieved her story from beginning to end, and was of the opinion that she was trying to hoax him with a concoction as crude as the vain imaginings of melodrama or the cinema. It was more with the intention of trapping her into a contradiction than of eliciting anything of importance that he continued his questions.