“And then—?”
“And then I did as you told me. I went to her door often enough and listened. You told me not to call to her unless there wasn’t any sound. But there was a sound—a dreadful sound after a body had listened to it a bit.”
“A sound?”
“Yes, a scratching sound. Sometimes it would stop and then it would go on again. And all the time it seemed to me more than ever that she wasn’t alone in that room.”
“Wasn’t alone! What made you think so?” I exclaimed.
“I couldn’t just say,” answered Margaret. “I’ve never been able to say. It’s just a feeling—a strange and terrible feeling, sir, that somebody else is there. But the scratching sound I heard with my two ears. And you never heard so worrying a sound before!”
“It has stopped?” I said.
“Yes, it has stopped. It stopped just before I telephoned. I thought I heard something touch the door and I went up and listened. I couldn’t hear anything. I knocked. I got no answer. I remembered your orders. I wasn’t sure whether I could hear breathing or not inside, but I didn’t dare to wait. I called your office, sir. And I thank God you’re here!”
“And you didn’t break open the door? You didn’t even try the knob?”
She looked at me dumbly. Her mouth twitched with her terror.