And at the thought of Evie I felt my sluggish blood creep again.
"You live in a practical world—be practical," continued that satanic James Herbert. "Prevention is better than cure. Even could he be punished afterwards, how much better off would she be ... then? What right have you to bring this horror on her? He's selfish, ignorant, cruel—it would be dreadful at the best; but ... oh, think, man! Think of her now ... and to-morrow!"
"You only want her yourself," growled the other.
"You do—but that's not your motive!" cried the first. "You've overlooked all he's done to you—but this isn't to you! Coward—if you allow it! You won't allow it—to kill him would be better than to allow it.... Come; what time is it? She'll be preparing for bed by the time you get there."
I put on my hat and coat again.
The second began with my approach to Woburn Place.
The sitting-room with the pink-shaded lamp lay at the front of the house, but Evie and her aunt slept at the back. The sitting-room was in darkness as I passed. I took a side street, and then a back cartway used by tradesmen. A high wall was in front of me, but by stepping back I could see the hinder part of the row—landing windows, bathroom windows, tiny conservatories, bedrooms—various oblongs at different levels, some blinded, some with lamps, many in darkness. Behind me was a mews, with horses that moved their feet in their litter and dragged at chains from time to time.
The tradesmen's entrances were unnumbered, and I do not know whether I hit on the right house; but that did not matter. I have mentioned my uncommon powers of mental visualisation, and these sufficed me. I fixed my eyes on a window; it might or might not have been Evie's; but to all intents and purposes it was. Somebody was retiring there, and the blind was lowered.
I saw no hand, no shadow on the blind. Only the light went out suddenly, and from the sound the blind made as it went up I judged it to be a spring blind. A piano had begun to play somewhere, but save for that all was silent.