" Mrs. March
ran and opened the window, while her husband carefully examined the stove
at every point, and explored the pipe for the damper in vain. "Can't you
find it?" The night wind came in raw and damp, and threatened to blow
their lamp out, and she was obliged to shut the window.
"Not a sign of it. I will go down and ask the landlord in strict
confidence how they dampen their stoves in Ansbach."
"Well, if you must. It's getting hotter every moment." She followed him
timorously into the corridor, lit by a hanging lamp, turned low for the
night.
He looked at his watch; it was eleven o'clock. "I'm afraid they're all in
bed."
"Yes; you mustn't go! We must try to find out for ourselves. What can
that door be for?"
It was a low iron door, half the height of a man, in the wall near their
room, and it yielded to his pull. "Get a candle," he whispered, and when
she brought it, he stooped to enter the doorway.
"Oh, do you think you'd better?" she hesitated.
"You can come, too, if you're afraid. You've always said you wanted to
die with me."
"Well. But you go first."
He disappeared within, and then came back to the doorway. "Just come in
here, a moment." She found herself in a sort of antechamber, half the
height of her own room, and following his gesture she looked down where
in one corner some crouching monster seemed showing its fiery teeth in a
grin of derision.
Pages:
1376
1377
1378
1379
1380
1381
1382
1383
1384
1385
1386
1387
1388
1389
1390
1391
1392
1393
1394
1395
1396
1397
1398
1399
1400