Jimmy Lomax uttered a sharp cry of amazement.
“What!” He turned to Forsdyke. “Chief, that’s strange!”
Forsdyke imposed silence with a gesture.
“Go on, Hetty,” he said, calmly. “What then?”
“Then I woke up. The words were ringing in my ears. They haunted me all the time I was dressing for dinner. I wondered if I ought to tell you. Something was whispering to me that I should. But I was afraid you would laugh at me. But that’s not all. You remember at dinner I dropped a glass.—Poppa!” Her voice suddenly became very earnest. “I saw that man—the man who had grown out of the girl—standing behind you. His eyes were fixed on you as though trying to read into you—so evilly that I went cold all over.”
The Professor gave her a sharp glance.
“No vision of the room in Berlin—or wherever it was?” he queried.
She shook her head.
“No. Just the man. But even that’s not all. Just now—when I was playing and looking across to you—I distinctly saw him again, close behind Poppa! He moved this time—moved with a funny little limp—just like a real man with a bad leg. I jumped up—and—and he was gone!” She looked around apprehensively as though expecting to see him still.