There was a
short struggle with the seared remnant of his better nature, and
then he tried to open the door; but it was locked.
Alice heard the slight noise and breaking off her reading turned
to look. Hamilton made another effort to enter before he
recollected that the wooden key, or notched lever, that controlled
the cumbrous wooden lock, hung on a peg beside the door. He felt
for it along the wall, and soon laid his hand on it. Then again he
peeped through to see Alice, who was now standing upright near the
swivel. She had thrown her hair back from her face and neck; the
lamp's flickering light seemed suddenly to have magnified her
stature and enhanced her beauty. Her book lay on the tumbled wraps
at her feet, and in either hand she grasped a swivel-shot.
Hamilton's combative disposition came to the aid of his baser
passion when he saw once more a defiant flash from his prisoner's
face. It was easy for him to be fascinated by opposition. Helm had
profited by this trait as much as others had suffered by it; but,
in the case of Alice, Hamilton's mingled resentment and admiration
were but a powerful irritant to the coarsest and most dangerous
side of his nature.
After some fumbling and delay he fitted the key with a steady hand
and moved the wooden bolt creaking and jolting from its slot. Then
flinging the clumsy door wide open, he stepped in.
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