The exciting thought of the door softly released and pushed ajar had grown weaker in my mind upon the entrance of Toby. But again my eyes chanced to light upon the portal, and again my blood rushed pell-mell through a throbbing temple. For, unless my senses were false, the door trembled a little, as if uncertain whether to open farther or to shut. The secret watcher’s hand must be upon it still!
In a daze I arose and came out of my retirement in the window-place.
“Crofts,” I said. . . . “Crofts.”
So hushed was my voice that he spun around in his chair with open mouth, and the servants’ chorus gave a slight gasp.
I tried to open a path through my throat for words to issue.
“Crofts . . . there’s something—someone, I mean—watching us.”
“How? What on earth do you mean? What’s the matter with you?”
I extended my arm toward where showed a long narrow slit of blackness between jamb and door-edge.
“There.”
“How do you know?”