'Hollo!' cried Lake. He was standing with his back to the window, and sprang forward, as pale as she, and grasped her, with a white leer that she never forgot, over his shoulder, and the Venice glass was shivered on the ground.
'Who's there?' he whispered.
And Rachel, in a whisper, ejaculated the awful name that must not be taken in vain.
She sat down. She was looking at him with a wild, stern stare, straight in the face, and he still holding her arm, and close to her.
'I see it all now,' she whispered.
'Who—what—what is it?' said he.
'I could not have fancied that,' she whispered with a gasp.
Stanley looked round him with pale and sharpened features.
'What the devil is it! If that scoundrel had come to kill us you could not cry out louder,' he whispered, with an oath. 'Do you want to wake your people up?'
'Oh! Stanley,' she repeated, in a changed and horror-stricken way. 'What a fool I've been. I see it at last; I see it all now,' and she waved her white hands together very slowly towards him, as mesmerisers move theirs.