A gust of wind, more forcible than any that had preceded it, slammed the staircase window with a loud bang, shivering its diamond panes: and—more alarming still!—this accident was accompanied by a sound like the fall of some light object.
Beatrice doubted not for a moment that the skull had dropped from the ledge and was now coming down the staircase.
Nor did she err. A second bump told her that the thing had rolled over one stair. A third fall ensued, and then a fourth. These sounds did not follow instantaneously one upon another, but there was between each a distinct pause, suggestive of the idea that the skull was endowed with a volition and a motion of its own: as if, in fact, it were choosing its way, and descending at leisure.
Awaiting the issue Beatrice sat, the very picture of terror, her hands clasped, her dilated eyes riveted on the door of the apartment. It seemed many minutes since the skull had begun its descent, though, perhaps, fifteen seconds had scarcely elapsed. Finally, the lowest stair was reached, and the skull, pitching forward, rolled up to the door of the apartment, as if seeking admittance.
At its dread knock the walls and floor of the room seemed to tremble. The lights in the gasalier went out, leaving the chamber in semi-darkness. The dying embers of the fire, flickering strangely and unsteadily, caused weird shapes to spring up from floor to ceiling.
At the same time a vibratory motion was communicated to Beatrice's person. She found herself oscillating to and fro, unable to check herself. A mysterious power grasped her ankles with unseen fingers and strove to elevate her in air.
Fully believing that her last hour had come Beatrice gave one long pealing cry, in which the terrified yelp of the dog mingled. She was shot violently forward: a noise like the rattle produced by a thousand falling plates rang in her ears, and tumbling headlong to the carpet she lost all consciousness.
* * * * * *
When Beatrice next opened her eyes she found herself lying on the sofa with three persons standing beside her: Godfrey was sprinkling her face and throat with cold water: the housemaid was applying a bottle of strong salts to her nostrils: and Idris was holding a candle, the feeble light of which he strove to steady by shielding it with his hand. The windows and door were wide open, and the cool night air was blowing through the room, laden with a faint odour of escaped gas.