'Don't ask me. It's death!' Her eyes were fixed as if in horror.
'It is,' said Nella, and the sound of her voice seemed to her to issue
from the lips of some third person.
'It's death,' repeated Miss Spencer, and gradually her head and
shoulders sank back, and hung loosely over the chair. Nella was
conscious of a sudden revulsion. The woman had surely fainted.
Dropping the revolver she ran round the table. She was herself
again - feminine, sympathetic, the old Nella. She felt immensely
relieved that this had happened. But at the same instant Miss
Spencer sprang up from the chair like a cat, seized the revolver,
and with a wild movement of the arm flung it against the window.
It crashed through the glass, exploding as it went, and there was a
tense silence.
'I told you that you were a fool,' remarked Miss Spencer slowly,
'coming here like a sort of female Jack Sheppard, and trying to get
the best of me.
We are on equal terms now. You frightened me, but I knew I was a
cleverer woman than you, and that in the end, if I kept on long
enough, I should win.
Now it will be my turn.'
Dumbfounded, and overcome with a miserable sense of the truth
of Miss Spencer's words, Nella stood still. The idea of her colossal
foolishness swept through her like a flood. She felt almost
ashamed. But even at this juncture she had no fear. She faced the
woman bravely, her mind leaping about in search of some plan.
Pages:
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101