“Do you propose to sleep in your boots then?”
“If I am to sleep at all, and I am more than half disposed to hope that sleep may not visit my eyelids till I am out of this dreadful place, I propose to do so in what I stand up in. Pollie, have you ever heard of people’s hair turning white in the course of a single night? I shouldn’t be at all surprised if mine did. It feels as if it were changing colour now.”
She stared as if she could not make me out. I wondered if she was noting the transformation which was taking place in my hair; if it had already become so obvious. Then she broke into peal after peal of laughter. The tears started to my eyes. Just as I was about to really cry there came a crash which shook the house.
It sounded as if someone had opened a door in the passage and shut it with a bang.
CHAPTER XIII.
A VISION OF THE NIGHT.
In a second Pollie was across the room, through the door, and on the landing. Before I could stop her she was tearing down the stairs, crying,
“Now we’ll see who that is?”
I was in a dreadful position, not wanting to descend and be murdered as a result of seeing “who that is,” nor daring to remain behind alone. I did not even venture to call out and try to stay her, not knowing who might hear my voice below. She had gone off with our only piece of candle and left me in the dark. All I could do was to steal after her as quickly as possible, keeping as close to her as I was able. Pollie was at the bottom almost before I started; she had gone down with a hop, skip, and a jump; I had to struggle with the darkness and the rats. Leaning over what was left of the banisters I could see the gleam of her candle in the passage. I expected to hear her shriek, and sounds of a struggle. The candle flickered, as if she were moving here and there in an endeavour to discover the cause of the commotion. Presently her voice came up to me.
“Emily!”
“Yes?”