But would she make it? Her heart was in her throat. A quarter of the way up she was obliged to pause. She was suffocating with fear.
“I must be calm,” she whispered. “I must! I must!” Of a sudden life seemed a thing of solemn beauty. Somehow she must escape that she might live on and on.
Once again she was creeping upward. Did a hand touch her foot? Was someone preparing to seize her? With an effort, she looked down. No one was following. Every eye was glued upon the magic curtain. The curtain was closed. The white-robed figure had vanished. What had happened? Had he passed through? Had the curtain consumed him? She shuddered. Then, summoning all her courage, she leaped up the stairs, glided silently across the room above, and passed swiftly on until she gained the open air.
Then how she sped away! Never had she raced so swiftly and silently as now.
It was some time before she realized how futile was her flight. No one pursued her.
In time she was able to still her wildly beating heart. Then she turned toward home.
Once she stopped dead in her tracks to exclaim: “The magic curtain! Oh! Why did I run away?”
Then, as another mood seized her, she redoubled her pace. Florence, she hoped, awaited her with a roaring fire, a cup of hot chocolate and a good scolding.
CHAPTER VI
THE WOMAN IN BLACK
By the time she reached the doorway that led to her humble abode, Petite Jeanne was in high spirits. The brisk walk had stirred her blood. Her recent adventure had quickened her imagination. She was prepared for anything.