I thought my sister and her murdered husband dragged me hither, to this very room, and commanded you to slay me. “My dear man,” she exclaimed, “wasn’t that a foregone conclusion?” “You treat the matter lightly,” he continued. One of those hanging moments ensued— hypnotic. Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself. She looked paler than ever; but her countenance, though bewildered, did not exhibit the alarm which might naturally have been anticipated from the strange and perplexing scene presented to her view. Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. She held out both her hands. Sheila pounded the kitchen table, causing the bell jar with the silk flowers to tip over and roll to the floor.
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