This was unexpected. I had little time, then, in which to act. But now her hand had stopped, and I bent over her shoulder to look at the blotter.
She turned her face to me again and said: "Won't you please kiss me, Chet? You've never kissed me! I'm sure you've kissed Joy!"
Then, following my glance, she saw the writing for the first time. "Oh, how funny!" she cried. "I've been writing! I didn't know it. What is it, anyway?" Then she read aloud:
"'Don't hesitate! Cut off my head and my tail! Hurry! White Cat.'
"How absurd!" she commented. "See, it isn't my handwriting at all! It isn't anything like it. But it's like—it's Joy's!" she burst out, and she jumped up, staring at me. "What does it mean?"
I had recognized the handwriting at the same instant, and was as surprised as she.
"It's Joy's!" she repeated, her voice now almost a scream. "Oh, but she is a cat! I believe she's trying to get rid of me. She wants you to kill me! Tell me, Chet, what does it mean?"
I didn't answer, for the shock of this communication bewildered me. It was like the voice of a ghost, urging me. It was Joy, calling up from Edna's subconsciousness. I was sure of it.
"It's Joy!" she cried a third time as she got the meaning, too. "She's trying to call you, through me! She loves you, and you love her. I knew it! You're trying to murder me! But I'll not let her have you! I'll kill you first!"
She stood with her little fists doubled, shaking with fury, her nostrils dilated, her cheeks gone white, her lips apart, showing the little uneven line of clenched teeth. The strap of her gown had fallen partly off, leaving one smooth, creamy shoulder bare, the golden wreath of laurel was tipped sidewise in her hair.