The
fleeting glimpse he had of me drew from him a sound between a roar and a
snarl, and with quickened feet he came slip-slopping down the passage.
I had meant, I think, to play the fox: to seat myself at the table, a book
before me, and feigning slumber, present the appearance of one who had been
overcome by weariness at his labours. But now all thought of that was at
an end. I had been seen, and that I fled was all too apparent. So that in
every way I was betrayed.
The thing I did, I did upon instinct rather than reason; and this again was
not well done. I slammed the door, and turned the key, placing at least
that poor barrier between myself and the man I had so deeply wronged, the
man whom I had given the right to slay me. A second later the door shook
as if a hurricane had smitten it. He had seized the handle, and he was
pulling at it frenziedly with a maniacal strength.
"Open!" he thundered, and fell to snarling and whimpering horribly.
"Open!"
Then, quite abruptly he became oddly calm. It was as if his rage grew
coldly purposeful; and the next words he uttered acted upon me as a dagger-
prod, and reawakened my mind from its momentary stupefaction.
"Do you think these poor laths can save you from my vengeance, my Lord
Gambara?" quoth he, with a chuckle horrible to hear.
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