Still I did not move. I had formed a sort of plan in those deadly two minutes, which seemed like two hours, when the light was coming nearer and nearer to my face. The hand crept softly up, and slipped under the bed-clothes close to my chin, till it touched my fingers clutching the little leathern case. It tried to disengage them; but my clasp of my treasure was like grim death. Then the hand was softly withdrawn. I heard the drawing of a cork, I smelt the faint smell more strongly, and a handkerchief wet with some sickening, suffocating stuff was thrown lightly over my face. Then I started up with a shriek as loud and piercing as my lungs could give, tore the handkerchief from my face, and confronted Sarah, who drew back, her dark face livid with anger, but without uttering a sound. In her hand she held a little bottle. I tried with a spring to dash it from her grasp; but she was too quick for me, and, with a step back against the screen, she held it out of my reach. Then the screen fell down with a loud crash. My attention was distracted from the woman to it for one moment, and in that moment she made another spring at my neck. But then there was a sound outside which had as many terrors for her as her own hard voice had for me. It was Mr. Rayner, calling sharply and sternly-- “Sarah, come out here!” She started; then her face grew sullen and defiant, and she stood like a rock before me. Again Mr. Rayner called. “Sarah, do you hear me? Come here!” And, as if a spell had been cast upon her which it was vain for her to fight against, she went slowly out of the room, and I was left alone. I sprang from the bed, locked the door, and fell down against it in the dark and cold in a passion of hysterical sobs that I could not restrain. Then they died away, and I felt my limbs grow numb and stiff; but I had not power to move, and I thought I must be dying. Then I heard a fall at the bottom of the stairs and a woman’s cry, and immediately after a voice outside roused me. CHAPTER XIII. “Miss Christie!” It was Mr. Rayner calling softly through the door. I did not answer or move. “Miss Christie, my dear child, are you there? Are you conscious? Are you ill?” And I heard the handle of the door turn; but it was locked. I raised my head from the ground, and said, in a weak quavering voice-- “I am not ill, thank you, and I am quite conscious.” “But your voice is weak. Are you hurt? Did that woman hurt you?” he asked anxiously. “No, no; I am only frightened; I am not hurt. I will tell you all about it to-morrow, Mr. Rayner. I can’t talk now.” “But I cannot go away and sleep, my child, till I am quite satisfied that you are all right. Put on your dressing gown, and come out and let me see you and be sure.” But I felt that I could not leave my room again that night. “I am really quite well, only I cannot come out to-night, Mr. Rayner. I am too much shaken with the fright; I am indeed.”