“There’s something inside over the key-hole,” whispered Britton; “it’s all the better, for it will deaden the sound of unlocking the door.”
With the slightest possible noise consistent with the performance of the operation at all, Britton unlocked Gray’s door. A faint light issued from the room.
Learmont paused a moment, and pressed his hand tightly upon his breast—then placing his finger on his lips, and waving his hand to Britton, he glided into Jacob Gray’s apartment.
The door slowly shut to within an inch or less—all was as still as the grave. The candle shed but a faint light, for Gray had been asleep long enough to allow the snuff to grow gigantic. In a moment Learmont saw Gray sleeping in the uneasy position he had chosen, and he stood with his feelings wrought up to the highest pitch of excitement, gazing upon his victim. Soon a low moan came from Gray, and he muttered the words,—
“Oh, God—oh, God!”—in such awful wailing accents, that even Learmont felt sick at heart to hear them.
“I must awaken him,” he whispered, “I must—not delay.”
Thrice did Learmont try to raise his voice to awaken Jacob Gray, and thrice did his tongue refuse its office, producing but a faint whisper, which failed in its purpose. Then, as if a ton of lead had been appended to each foot, Learmont crept towards the table and stretched out his hand. The long white fingers shook like leaves agitated by the wind—his heart beat with fearful violence—his lips were drawn back with a painful spasm from his teeth—he breathed short and hurriedly; the effort to lay his hand upon the sleeping man was great, and it was more than a minute ere he could do so. Then nearer, nearer, still he crept, and by a desperate effort he touched his shoulder, as in a hollow, spectral voice he said—
“Awake, Jacob Gray.”
One cry escaped Gray’s lips as he lifted his head, and that cry seemed to arouse Learmont from his lethargy, for he seized Gray by the throat and held him as with a face distorted by excitement, he said, “Another cry, and it is your last, Jacob Gray.”
“Learmont,” gasped Gray, and then they glared into each other’s faces like two spirits of evil, conscious of the other’s power, yet prepared for some awful straggle for life or death.