It was about the size of a wafer
when she first observed it, but it speedily grew as large as the palm
of her hand, and then she could perceive that it was red. The oblong
white ceiling, with this scarlet blot in the midst, had the
appearance of a gigantic ace of hearts.
Mrs Brooks had strange qualms of misgiving. She got upon the table,
and touched the spot in the ceiling with her fingers. It was damp,
and she fancied that it was a blood stain.
Descending from the table, she left the parlour, and went upstairs,
intending to enter the room overhead, which was the bedchamber at
the back of the drawing-room. But, nerveless woman as she had now
become, she could not bring herself to attempt the handle. She
listened. The dead silence within was broken only by a regular beat.
Drip, drip, drip.
Mrs Brooks hastened downstairs, opened the front door, and ran into
the street. A man she knew, one of the workmen employed at an
adjoining villa, was passing by, and she begged him to come in and go
upstairs with her; she feared something had happened to one of her
lodgers. The workman assented, and followed her to the landing.
She opened the door of the drawing-room, and stood back for him
to pass in, entering herself behind him.
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