"Come out!" she cried, and then quickly, "no, don't come out! Stay where you are! Who are you?"
The curtain moved very slightly, and Iris rose, and stood, holding the back of her chair. Her heart was beating wildly, for though possessed of average courage, to be alone at midnight in a room of sinister memories, and see the folds of a curtain sway ever so little is, to say the least, disturbing.
"Who are you, I say!" she repeated angrily, but there was no response, and the curtain hung still.
A terror passed through her, and left her shivering, with an icy grip at her heart. Though not at all inclined toward a belief in the supernatural, there was an uncanny feeling in the atmosphere and Iris trembled with a strange, weird feeling, as of impending disaster. She edged a step backward, but as she did so the curtain was flung aside, and a man stood disclosed—a tall figure, with strong, muscular frame, and arms extended in a threatening gesture.
"Not a word!" he whispered, "not a sound!" and the glint of a small revolver flashed toward her. But she was too petrified with fear to speak, for the man was masked, and the effect of the blackavised apparition took her breath away. Only for a moment, however, and then a wave of relief surged over her. For, alarming as a human intruder may be, he is less frightful than a supernatural visitant.
The color came back to her white cheeks, and she said scornfully, "I am not afraid of you——"
"You'd better be, then," and the man moved nearer to her. "I've no wish to harm you, but if you raise an alarm, I shall consider my own safety first!"
"Coward!"
"Nonsense! I don't mean before yours, you've nothing to fear. But if you're inclined to call help, I'll have to make it impossible for you to do so."
The voice was that of an educated man, but entirely unfamiliar to Iris. Her terror left her, as she realized that at least she hadn't to deal with a low-class, uncouth ruffian.