He came
in as though he were making an evening call. How tall and straight
his body was, with a devilish elegance of line against the background
of light in the hall. She thought she saw a white flower on his
lapel as his overcoat fell back. The leering footman had opened
the for him.
"Turn on the lights." A voice she knew gave the order, the leering
footman obeyed, touching a spot high on the wall.
She had vaguely and sickeningly felt almost sure that it would
be either Count von Hillern or Lord Coombe--and it was not Count
von Hillern! The cold wicked face--the ironic eyes which made her
creep--the absurd, elderly perfection of dress--even the flawless
flower-made her flash quake with repulsion. If Satan came into
the room, he might look like that and make one's revolting being
quake so.
"I thought--it might be you," the strange girl's voice said to
him aloud.
"Robin," he said.
He was moving towards her and, as she threw out her madly clenched
little hands, he stopped and drew back.
"Why did you think I might come?" he asked.
"Because you are the kind of a man who would do the things only
devils would do. I have hated-hated-hated you since I was a baby.
Come and kill me if you like. Call the footman back to help you,
if yon like. I can't get away. Kill me--kill me--kill me!"
She was lost in her frenzy and looked as if she were mad.
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