The room began to swim round me, so that at one instant the two figures seemed to merge into one, and then divided and became two, four, ten, twenty, long, grey forms, still and silent. Faster and faster they whirled; and then came darkness, and when I opened my eyes I was lying on the big couch, with Mrs. McNab rubbing my hands. Beyond her, the other grey figure sat in her office-chair, smoking: all the time watching me with steady eyes.
“You poor child!” Mrs. McNab said gently.
That was almost too much for me, and I sobbed suddenly. The form in the chair became alert.
“Make her understand she must be quiet, Marie.”
“She will be quiet,” Mrs. McNab said, with a touch of impatience. “Don’t be afraid, my dear Miss Earle: you have nothing to fear. You have only managed to blunder upon a secret, that is all. I know you will give me your word to keep it to yourself.”
“Of course I will,” I managed to stammer. “I am very sorry.”
“So am I—for my stupidity in leaving the door open. I had run down to the bathroom for some hot water, and I forgot the door until I was on my way back. Then it was too late. I would not have had it happen for the world.”
I struggled to a sitting position and faced them. There had been excuse for my collapse, for surely never were man and woman so amazingly alike! Save for the hands, and now, I could see, the feet, no eye could detect any outward difference. The man in the chair gave a short laugh, and rose.
“Well, I’ll leave you, Marie,” he said, in the low, deep voice that was the echo of her own. “You must get through a certain amount of explanation, I suppose—but don’t let your tongue run away with you. This young lady has too recently graduated from the schoolroom to be oppressed with our affairs.” He bent a keen, cold gaze on me. “I trust you are old enough to be able to hold your tongue.”
“I have no wish to do anything else,” I said, mustering what spirit I could; and, somehow, from that moment there was never the slightest confusion in my mind between Mrs. McNab and her duplicate. Like they might be in every feature; but in him there was a cold wickedness akin to that of a snake. I hated him then and afterwards, and he knew it.