But this voice was a woman's. At the sound of it, the heart in the man's great chest beat, in a sledge-hammer fashion, against his ribs. His hand trembled as he turned the handle, and when he had opened the door, and stood within the room, his heart, which had been beating so tumultuously a moment before, stood still.
The room, which was nothing but a bare attic with raftered ceiling, was imperfectly lighted by a small skylight--a skylight which seemed as though it had not been cleaned for ages, so obscured was the glass by the accumulations of the years. By the light of this skylight Mr. Gibbs could see that a woman was standing in the centre of the room.
"Nelly!" he cried.
The woman shrank back with, as it were, a gesture of repulsion. Mr. Gibbs moved forward. "Nelly! Don't you know me? I am Tom."
"Tom?"
The woman's voice was but an echo.
"Tom! Yes, my own, own darling, I am Tom."
Mr. Gibbs advanced. He held out his arms. He was just in time to catch the woman, or she would have fallen to the floor.
CHAPTER II
"Nelly, don't you know me?" The woman was coming to.