“I’ll go alone,” he whispered hoarsely, and went up the stairs slowly. Every movement required an effort.
On the landing above a dim night light burnt. It was a broad landing, carpetted with a square blue carpet and there were two easy chairs and a small table-nest. Ursula had told him she sometimes read there, for there was a skylight overhead which could be opened on hot days. Here, again, the carpet was in disorder and on the blue settee—
He bit his lip to stop the cry that came.
Blood! A great patch near one end. He touched it frightfully, and looked at the tips of his fingers. Blood!
His knees gave way under him, and he sat down for a second, then with a tremendous effort, rose again and went to the door of Ursula’s room and turned the knob.
Shading the candle with his hands, he walked into the room. A figure was lying on the bed: the brown hair lay fan-like across the pillow, the face was turned away from him, and then—His heart stood still.
“Who is that?” said a sleepy voice.
Ursula turned on her elbow, shading her eyes from the light of the candle.
“Ursula!” he breathed.
“Why—it is Tab!”