I wanted to see him. I don't love him, but I wanted to be
with him. I don't trust him, but here I am. Now you have it all!
I want to see him!"
Mrs. Strong was looking past her. She stared hard at the window in
the far end of the room, her eyes narrowed, her chin thrust slightly
forward. Then suddenly she clutched the girl's arm, her eyes now
widespread with alarm.
"Look!" she whispered shrilly, pointing.
The flush faded from Alix's face; the reckless, defiant light left
her eyes, and in its place came fear.
II
Plainly outlined in the window was the face of a masked man. A
narrow black mask, through which a pair of eyes gleamed brightly.
The exposed lower portion of the face, save for the heavily bearded
upper lip, was ghastly white. Brief as this glimpse was, they were
able to see that he wore a cap, pulled well down over his forehead.
For a few seconds the two women stood as if petrified, their eyes
wide and staring, their hearts cold, their tongues paralyzed. They
were gazing straight into his shining eyes. Suddenly he turned
his head for a quick, startled glance over his shoulder. The next
instant he was gone, vanishing in the blackness that hung behind
him like the magician's curtain in a theatre. They heard rapid
footsteps on the veranda, the crash of a chair overturned, then
a loud shout, and again the sound of flying footsteps across the
brick-paved terrace.
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