V - A RAY OF LIGHT
A sense of expectation, an uneasy feeling of momentous event about to happen, hung over the doomed Ravenspurs. For once, Marion appeared to feel the strain. Her face was pale, and though she strove hard to regain the old gentle gaiety, her eyes were red and swollen with weeping.
All through breakfast she watched Ralph in strange fascination. He seemed to have obtained some kind of hold over her. Yet nothing could be more patient, dull and stolid than the way in which he proceeded with his meal. He appeared to dwell in an unseen world of his own; the stirring events of the previous night had left no impression on him whatever.
For the most part, they were a sad and silent party. The terror that walked by night and day was stealing closer to them; it was coming in a new and still more dreadful form. Accident or the intervention of Providence had averted a dire tragedy. But it would come again.
Ravenspur made light of the matter. He spoke of the danger as something past. Yet it was impossible wholly to conceal the agitation that filled him. He saw Marion’s pale, sympathetic face; he saw the heavy tears in Vera’s eyes, and a dreadful sense of his absolute impotence came upon him.
“Let us forget it,” he said, almost cheerfully. “Let us think no more of the matter. No doubt, science can explain the new mystery.”
“Never,” Ralph said, in a thrilling whisper. “Science is powerless here.”
The speaker’s sightless eyes were turned upwards; he seemed to be thinking aloud rather than addressing the company generally. Marion turned as if something had stung her.
“Uncle Ralph knows something that he conceals from us,” she cried.
Ralph smiled. Yet he had the air of one who is displeased with himself.
“I know many things that are mercifully concealed from pure natures like yours,” he said. “But as to what happened last night, I am as much in the dark as any of you. Ah! if I were not blind!”
A strained silence followed. One by one the company rose until the room was deserted, save for Ralph, Ravenspur and his nephew Geoffrey. The handsome lad’s face was pale, his lips quivered.
“I am dreadfully disappointed, uncle,” he observed.
“Meaning from your tone that you are disappointed with me, Geoff. Why?”
“Because you spoke at first as if you understood things. And then you professed to be as ignorant as the rest of us. Oh, it is awful! I—I would not care so much if I were less fond of Vera than I am. I love her; I love her with my whole heart and soul. If you could only see the beauty of her face you would understand.
“And yet when she kisses me goodnight, I am never sure that it is not for the last time. I feel that I must wake up presently to find that all is an evil dream. And we can do nothing, nothing, nothing but wait
