"Well, go on, dear—I am quite interested."
"He said, 'Mary, you are going off duty in a few minutes. Go to the upper chamber of 24, Grey Street, Hoxton, and walk straight in. There is one that has need of you.' I was about to expostulate, but he fell back in exhaustion, and I called the house surgeon."
"You surely didn't go?"
"Yes, I went," Mary went on rapidly. "Something made me go. The low door of Number 24 was open. I climbed till I got to the top. There was no light anywhere. It was a miserable foggy evening. I felt for a door and found one at last. It yielded to my hand and I entered an attic which was immediately under the roof.
"Nothing could be seen. I had come unprepared for such darkness. But taking courage I asked aloud if there was any one there.
"There was no answer. Yet I felt—I had a curious certainty—that I was not alone. I waited—and waited. Then I moved slowly about the room. I was afraid to move with any freedom for fear of stumbling over—something or other.
"Suddenly a costermonger's barrow came into the court below. The naphtha lamps lit up the whole place and the room was suddenly illuminated with a flickering red light. I could see quite well now.
"I am accustomed to rather dreadful things, as you know, Marjorie—or at least things which you would think rather dreadful. But I will confess I was frightened out of my life now. I gave a shriek of terror, and then stood trembling, utterly unable to move!"
"What was it?"
"I saw a man hanging by a rope to the rafters. His jaw had fallen down, and his tongue was protruding. I shall never forget how the red light from the court below glistened on his tongue—His eyes were starting out of his head.... It was horrible."