After a space Pendleton's attention was rewarded; a faint, far-off
rustling came to him; somehow it gave him the impression of
hesitation, non-assurance, timidity; he was speculating upon the
queerness of this impression when there came a faint, momentary glow
from the hall--mysterious, phosphorescent, unreal; and then it
vanished. Both young men were huddled upon the sofa, which was placed
facing the open door. A huge Spanish screen was drawn before them; but
the black leather was cracked in places; and through these they had a
clear view of the hall.
A moment later the glow appeared once more; but this time it was
brighter.
"Someone is on the stairs," reasoned Pendleton, his hand going to his
revolver. "It looks as though he were lighting matches to show the
way."
Between the sputters of light were spaces of darkness; these were;
filled in by the faint guarded rustling. But as the light upon each
appearance grew brighter, so did the sound become more distinct; and
at length a light resonance, unmistakably a footstep, came from the
hall.
Then steadily, softly the sound came on through the darkness; nearer
and nearer it drew until at length it became unmistakable. _The
rustling was that of a woman's skirts!_ Then, so it seemed, the
darkness of the doorway grew denser; the soft, quick breathing of the
newcomer became audible; her hands were heard moving over the door
frame as she blindly searched for the door.
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