His brain revolving the
incidents of the night--it had been a positive panorama of vivid
horrors.
The first gray streak of dawn was splitting the horizon when he gave it
up, clambered out of bed and poured a generous drink from the bottle on
the sideboard.
"God, a man needs something like this to brace him up after such a
night!" he declared.
He took a second drink from the bottle, and a third. In the act of
pouring a fourth he heard a sound at the back door, and with a gulp of
terror he remembered that he had again forgotten to lock it.
Sanderson undoubtedly was returning!
Again Maison's body became clammy with a cold sweat. He stood in the
room near the sideboard, tremblingly listening. For again there was a
step on the stairs.
When he saw the door begin to open his knees knocked together, but
there entered, not the dread apparition he expected, but Alva Dale,
with the limp form of a woman in his arms!
The sudden breaking of the tension, and astonishment over what he saw,
made Maison's voice hoarse.
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