An awful desire to laugh seized Kerns; he struggled against it; hysteria lay that way; and he covered his face with both hands and pinched himself.
She probably mistook the action for the emotion of shame and despair born of bitter grief; perhaps of terror of the law. It frightened her a little, but pity dominated. She could scarcely endure to do what she must do.
"This is dreadful, dreadful!" she faltered. "If you only would give me back my jewels—"
Sounds, hastily smothered, escaped him. She believed them to be groans, and it made her slightly faint.
"I—I've simply got to telephone for the police," she said pityingly. "I must ask you to sit down there and wait—there is a chair. Sit there—and please don't move, for I—this has unnerved me—I am not accustomed to doing cruel things; and if you should move too quickly or attempt to run away I feel certain that this pistol would explode."
"Are you going to telephone?" he asked.
"Yes, I am."
She backed away, cautiously, pistol menacing him, reached for the receiver, and waited for Central. She waited a long time before she realized that the telephone as well as the electric light was out of commission.
"Did you cut all these wires?" she demanded angrily.
"I? What wires?"