With his hand still holding her arm he drew her to a sofa, and side by side they sat down. I noticed that all the time he was watching her covertly out of the corner of his eye, while she stared straight in front of her as if she was waiting for something to happen.... And at that moment a door banged, upstairs. "What’s that?" The girl half rose, but the man pulled her back. "The wind, my dear," he chuckled. "What else could it be? The house is empty save for us." "Hadn’t I better go up and see that all the windows are shut?" she said, nervously. "This storm makes me feel frightened." "That’s why I hurried back to you, my love. I couldn’t bear to think of you spending to-night alone." Again he chuckled horribly, and peered at the girl beside him. "I said to myself, ’She doesn’t expect me back till to-morrow morning. I will surprise my darling wife, and go back home to-night.’ Wasn’t it kind of me, Mary?" "Of course it was, Rupert," she stammered. "Very kind of you. I think I’ll just go up and put on a jersey. I’m feeling a little cold." She tried to rise, but her husband still held her; and then suddenly there came on her face such a look of pitiable terror that involuntarily I took a step forward. She was staring at the door, and her lips were parted as if to cry out, when the man covered her mouth with his free hand and dragged her brutally to her feet. "Alone, my wife—all alone," he snarled. "My dutiful, loving wife all alone. What a good thing I returned to keep her company!" For a moment or two she struggled feebly; then he half carried, half forced her close by me to a position behind the open door. I could have touched them as they passed; but I seemed powerless to move. Instinctively I knew what was going to happen; but I could do nothing save stand and stare at the door, while the girl, half fainting, crouched against the wall, and her husband stood over her motionless and terrible. And thus we waited, while the candles guttered in their sockets, listening to the footsteps which were coming down the stairs.... Twice I strove to call out; twice the sound died away in my throat. I felt as one does in some awful nightmare, when a man cries aloud no sound comes, or runs his fastest and yet does not move. In it, I was yet not of it; it was as if I was the spectator of some inexorable tragedy with no power to intervene. The steps came nearer. They were crossing the hall now—the cobwebby hall—and the next moment I saw a young man standing in the open door. "Mary, where are you, my darling?" He came into the room and glanced around. And, as he stood there, one hand in his pocket, smiling cheerily, the man behind the door put out his arm and gripped him by the shoulder. In an instant the smile vanished, and the youngster spun round, his face set and hard. "Here is your darling, John Trelawnay," said the husband quietly. "What do you want with her?"