A flush of guilt came over me. The reproach of my conscience was keen and painful. I had been about to commit a cowardly, dishonorable deed.
“Thank God, for the accidental intervention of that letter,” I said fervently.
My resolution was firmly made now. I would see the thing through at all costs. The noble love, the generous self-sacrifice of my uncle, should not go unrequited.
I quickly unpacked my bag and walked downstairs. The rest of the day was uneventful, but the night—how I dreaded the coming of the night! As I stood on the porch and watched the last faint glow of sunset slowly fading, I wished that I, like Joshua, might cause the sun and moon to stand still.
Twilight came on all too quickly, accelerated by a bank of heavy clouds which appeared on the western horizon; and darkness succeeded twilight with unwonted rapidity.
I entered the house and trod the hallway leading to the living-room, with much the same feeling, no doubt, that a convict experiences when entering the death cell.
The housekeeper was just placing the lamp, freshly cleaned and filled, in the room. Joe Severs’ younger brother, Sam, had placed logs in the fireplace, with kindling and paper beneath them, ready for lighting. Mrs. Rhodes bade me a kindly “Good-night, sir,” and departed noiselessly.
At last the dreaded moment had arrived. I was alone with the nameless powers of darkness.
I shuddered involuntarily. A damp chill pervaded the air, and I ignited the kindling beneath the logs in the fireplace. Then, drawing the shades to shut out the pitchy blackness of the night, I lighted my pipe and stood in the warm glow.
Under the genial influence of pipe and warmth, my feeling of fear was temporarily dissipated. Taking a book from the library table, I settled down to read. It was called “The Reality of Materialization Phenomena,” and had been written by my uncle. The publishers were Bulwer & Sons, New York and London.