Below, where the tunnel ran down
into darkness, a voice hailed--
"'Metta! Is that 'Metta?"
It was the voice of Dr. Beauregard. The poor creature gazed at me
helplessly and ran for the stairway. But her feet sank in the loose
heap of jewels; she stumbled; and, as she picked herself up, I saw
that she was too late; for already a light shone up from the tunnel
below, and before she could gain the exit the Doctor stood there,
lifting a torch, in the light of which I saw Mr. Rogers close behind
his shoulder.
"'Metta!"
I do not think he would have hurt her. But as the torch flared in
her face and lit up the shining heap of jewels, she threw up both
hands and doubled back screaming. I believed that she called to me
to hide. I put out a hand to catch her by the skirt, seeing that she
ran madly; but the thin muslin tore in my clutch.
"'Metta!"
On the ledge, against the sky, the voice seemed to overtake and
steady her for a second; but too late. With a choking cry, she put
out both hands against the void, and toppled forward; and in the
entrance was nothing but the blue, empty sky.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
DOCTOR BEAUREGARD.
"Glass? My dear madam, pardon my remissness; he is dead.
Rosa brought me the news before we sat down to table.
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