She laid an imploring hand on her husband's arm.
"Stay with me!" she begged him faintly.
He did not move or speak.
Curtis stood up.
"Presently, then!" he said, and she heard him move away.
At the door he paused, and she thought he made some rapid sign to Mercer. But the next moment she heard the door close softly, and knew that he had gone.
She lay quite still thereafter, her heart fluttering too much for speech. What would he say to her, she wondered; how would he break his silence? She had no weapon to oppose against his anger. She was as powerless before it as Beelzebub had been.
Suddenly he moved. He turned her head back upon his arm and looked straight down into her eyes. She did not shrink. She would not. But her heart died within her. She felt as if she were gazing into hell, watching a soul in torment.
"Well?" he said at last. "Are you satisfied?"
"Satisfied?" she faltered.