“Will you please turn on the light, Doctor Sherman,” she said.
There was no answer; only a black and breathless silence.
“Please turn on the light, Doctor Sherman,” Katherine repeated. “I cannot, for I do not know where the electric button is.”
Again there was silence. Then Katherine heard something like a gasp. There was a click, and then the room, Doctor Sherman’s study, burst suddenly into light.
Behind the desk, one hand still upon the electric key, stood Doctor Sherman. He was very thin and very white, and was worn, wild-eyed and dishevelled. He was breathing heavily and he stared at Katherine with the defiance of a desperate creature brought at last to bay.
“What do you want?” he demanded huskily.
“A little talk with you,” replied Katherine, trying to speak calmly.
“You must excuse me. With Elsie so sick, I cannot talk.”
She stood very straight before him. Her eyes never left his face.
“We must talk just the same,” she returned. “When did you come home?”