"Bobby! You're there—" It was Katherine. Her tone made the night as frightening as the blackness of the pit.
"What's the matter?"
"You're there. I didn't know. Get up. Hartley's putting some clothes on.
Hurry! The house is so dark—so strange."
"Tell me what's happened."
She didn't answer at first. He struck a match, lighted his candle, threw on a dressing gown, and stepped to the door. Katherine shrank against the wall, hiding her eyes from the light of his candle. He thought it odd she should wear the dress in which she had appeared at dinner. But it seemed indifferently fastened, and her hair was in disorder. Graham stepped from his room.
"What is it?" Bobby demanded.
"You wouldn't wake up, Bobby. You were so hard to wake." The idea seemed to fill her mind. She repeated it several times.
"It's nothing," Graham said. "Go back to your room, Katherine. She's fanciful—"
She lowered her hands. Her eyes were full of terror. "No. We have to go to that room as I went last night, as we went to-day."
Graham tried to quiet her. "We'll go to satisfy you."