I strove to
stop it, for the first opening showed a dim light within. But the panel
gave no hold for my fingers, and my efforts to close the door only
swung it open the faster. I drew back a little into the shadow, for I
hesitated to dash past the sight of any who might occupy the room.
"Come in!" called a harsh voice.
I hesitated. Behind, the road led to the eating-room with its known
dangers. A dash along the hall for the front door meant the raising of
an alarm, and probably a bullet as a discourager of burglary. Should I
escape this, I could be certain of a warm reception from the enemies on
watch outside. Prudence lay in facing the one rather than risking the
many. I accepted the invitation and walked into the room.
"I was expecting you," said the harsh voice composedly. "Good evening."
"Good evening," I returned gravely, swallowing my amazement as best I
could.
By the table before me sat Mother Borton, contemplating me as calmly as
though this meeting were the most commonplace thing in the world. A
candle furnished a dim, flickering light that gave to her hard wicked
countenance a diabolic leer that struck a chill to my blood.
"Excuse me," I said, "I have lost my way, I fear."
"Not at all," said Mother Borton. "You are in the right place."
"I was afraid I had intruded," I said apologetically.
"I expected you," she repeated. "Shut the door."
I glanced about the room. There was no sign of another person to be
seen, and no other door.
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