I pulled the trigger.
In the momentary flash that followed I caught a glimpse of the face of the intruder. It was that of a woman!
She was young and beautiful. Her parted lips revealed an even row of tightly-clenched teeth, her dark eyes had a look of unutterable horror in them, and her cheeks were deathly pale.
It was the most lovely face I had ever gazed upon.
Its beauty was perfect, yet there was something about the forehead that struck me as peculiar.
The thick dark hair was brushed back severely, and high up, almost in the centre of the white brow, was a curious mark, which, in the rapid flash of light, appeared to be a small but perfectly-defined bluish-grey ring!
As I fired, the arm of the mysterious visitor was raised as if to ward off a blow, and in the hand I saw the gleam of steel.
The slender fingers were grasping a murderous weapon—a long, keen surgeon’s knife, the blade of which was besmeared with blood.
Was I dreaming? I again asked myself. No, it was not a visionary illusion, for I saw it plainly with my eyes wide-open.
So great a fascination did this strange visitant possess over me, that I had been suddenly overcome by a terrible dread that had deprived me of the power of speech. My tongue clave to the roof of my mouth.