"I know nothing at all of it," she finally answered.
"Positively nothing?"
"Nothing whatever, save that a sad, sweet face seems sometimes to rise before me, as if seen through a mist. But it never lasts long, for the mists thicken until it has disappeared again."
An evil and exultant smile flitted across the lawyer's face.
"Come," he said, and he and McGinnis ascended to the rooms above, leaving Helen alone in that dark and damp and dank place—left her there alone to encounter a terrible ordeal.
It was a time of neap or spring tide, besides which the wind was in the right direction to make the water rise very high.
Helen slept again. And so heavily that she was not awakened by the water which crept up around her and saturated her clothing, until it reached her lips, and partially strangled her by being drawn in along with a breath.
She started up with a wild shriek.
"Quiet down there!" bellowed the harsh voice of McGinnis, as he raised the trap-door a little. "Quiet, I say, or I'll keep my word and murder you if you make any noise."
And Helen was silent, even though so horrified, and stood there trembling, with lips pallid and heart at almost a standstill, as the cold and treacherous tide mounted higher and higher.