“On the stairs. Then on the landing outside the drawing-room door, sir,” he said. “She stood there as if she didn’t know whether to go in or not.”
“One—one of the servants,” I said. But again I felt that It was coming through.
“No, sir. It was none of the servants,” he said.
“Who was it then?”
“Couldn’t see distinctly sir, it was dim-like. But I thought it was Mrs Lorimer.”
“Oh, go and get me some hot water,” I said.
But he lingered; he was quite clearly frightened.
At this moment the front-door bell rang. It was just seven, and already Philip had come with brutal punctuality while I was not yet half-dressed.
“That’s Dr Enderly,” I said. “Perhaps if he is on the stairs you may be able to pass the place where you saw the lady.”
Then quite suddenly there rang through the house a scream, so terrible, so appalling in its agony and supreme terror, that I simply stood still and shuddered, unable to move. Then by an effort so violent that I felt as if something must break, I recalled the power of motion, and ran downstairs, my man at my heels, to meet Philip who was running up from the ground floor. He had heard it too.