Violet’s head drooped, but the pale lips managed to falter forth the two words:
“She did.”
“Very well. Then you will believe me and obey me? Quick, Violet—your answer! Say yes, for Leonard Yorke is determined to get into this room, and some one is with him! Upon my word, that some one is Hilda Rutledge! People say that Leonard thinks so much of your cousin Hilda that he really does not know which of you is the dearest. The door of this room is locked; but he will continue to rap at it, and if you do not open it he will summon the household and break it down. Speak, Violet—at once! Do you promise to obey me? Is it yes?”
She can hardly speak, she is so faint and frightened, and the gaze of the basilisk eyes riveted upon her white face seems to eat into her heart.
Tap, tap, at the door again, and once more Leonard’s voice calls in tones of alarm:
“Violet, dear Violet, open the door! What is the matter? Are you ill?”
And then the voice of Hilda Rutledge takes up the refrain:
“Violet, dearest, unlock the door; we are all so frightened about you. Come, dear!”
“Will you obey me?” hisses the serpent at her side. “Is it yes?”
Her eyes, wild with horror, meet his; she sinks into a seat.