“No, I didn’t see him; but he tried to get into this room—by that door.” She pointed unsteadily toward the entrance to the hallway through which we had just come.
“You must tell us about it,” said Vance; “or we will be driven to conclude that you manufactured the story.”
“Oh, but I didn’t manufacture it—may God be my witness!” There could be no doubt whatever of the woman’s sincerity. Something had occurred which filled her with mortal fear. “I was lying in bed, awake. The little clock on the mantel had just struck midnight; and I heard a soft rustling sound in the hall outside. I turned my head toward the door—there was a dim night-light burning on the table here . . . and then I saw the door-knob turn slowly—silently—as if some one were trying to get in without waking me——”
“Just a moment, Mrs. Drukker,” interrupted Vance. “Do you always lock your door at night?”
“I’ve never locked it until recently—after Mr. Robin’s death. I’ve somehow felt insecure since then—I can’t explain why. . . .”
“I quite understand.—Please go on with the story. You say you saw the door-knob move. And then?”
“Yes—yes. It moved softly—back and forth. I lay there in bed, frozen with terror. But after a while I managed to call out—I don’t know how loud; but suddenly the door-knob ceased to turn, and I heard footsteps moving rapidly away—down the hall. . . . Then I managed to get up. I went to the door and listened. I was afraid—afraid for Adolph. And I could hear those soft footsteps descending the stairs——”
“Which stairs?”
“At the rear—leading to the kitchen. . . . Then the door of the screen porch shut, and everything was silent again. . . . I knelt with my ear to the key-hole a long time, listening, waiting. But nothing happened, and at last I rose. . . . Something seemed to tell me I must open the door. I was in deadly terror—and yet I knew I had to open the door. . . .” A shudder swept her body. “Softly I turned the key, and took hold of the knob. As I pulled the door slowly inward, a tiny object that had been poised on the outside knob fell to the floor with a clatter. There was a light burning in the hall—I always keep one burning at night,—and I tried not to look down. I tried—I tried . . . but I couldn’t keep my eyes away from the floor. And there at my feet—oh, God in Heaven!—there lay something! . . .”
She was unable to go on. Horror seemed to paralyze her tongue. Vance’s cool, unemotional voice, however, steadied her.