Time and again he had been uneasy, even startled, by his friend's actions, feeling that there was a certain amount of mental aberration. He had felt, too, that it was quite possible that in some sudden paroxysm, when galled by his dictation, Stratton might strike at him, but until now he had never known absolute fear. For, manly and reckless as he was as a rule, he could not conceal from himself that Stratton was, after all, dangerous. That turning out of the light had been intentional; there must have been an object in view, and, in his tremor of nerve, Guest could think of no other aim than that of making a sudden attack upon one who had become irksome to him. They were quite alone in that solitary place. If he called for help, no one would hear, and he might be struck down and killed. Stratton, in his madness, might find some means of hiding his body, and--what then? Edie--poor little Edie, with her bright ways and merry, teasing smiles? He would never see her again; and she, too, poor little one, would be heart-broken, till some luckier fellow came along to make her happy. "No, I'll be hanged if he shall," thought Guest, as a culmination to the rapid rush of thought that flashed through his brain. "Poor old Stratton is really as mad as a hatter; but, even if he has such thoughts, I've as good a chance as he has in the dark, and I'll die hard. Bah! who's going to die? Where's the window, or the door? Here, this is a nice game, Mal," he said aloud, quite firmly. "Where are your matches?" But, as he spoke, he made a couple of rapid steps silently, to his right, with outstretched hands, so as to conceal his position from Stratton in the event of the latter meditating an attack--an event which Guest would not now allow. There was no reply, and Guest stood listening for a few moments before speaking again. "Do you hear?" he said. "You shouldn't have been in such a hurry. Open the door, or I shall be upsetting some of your treasures." Half angry with himself for his cowardice, as he called it, he repeated his monologue and listened; but he could only hear the throbbings of his own heart. "Well, of all the ways of getting rid of an unwelcome guest--no joke meant, old man--this is about the shadiest. Here," he cried, more excitedly now, in spite of his efforts to be calm, "why don't you speak?" He did not step aside now, but stood firm, with his fists clenched, ready to strike out with all his might in case of attack, though even then he was fighting hard to force down the rising dread, and declaring to himself that he was a mere child to be frightened at being in the dark.