He stopped suddenly. With a sharp cry of agony, he stretched his hands out into the empty space, where an instant before, she had knelt—for, in one flashing moment, she had disappeared from before his eyes.
“Madge! Madge, dear love, dear love, dear wife!” he cried.
The sound of his own voice struck chilly upon his soul. Deep, deep down in his heart he knew what had happened—only he would not own it to himself.
He flashed a swift glance at the window and door. Both were fast shut.
“This is what Doig preached! What Madge believed would come to pass!” he cried, hoarsely.
There was a strange look of terror in his eyes.
“Julie will have gone, too, if it is the—the—.”
He did not finish his muttered thought. Like a man walking in his sleep, he moved to the door, opened it, and called, loudly:—“Julie!”
There came no reply. An eerie stillness was in the house.
He moved on into the kitchen, the room was empty. A saucepan of milk was boiling over on the hot-plate of the grate!