And meanwhile Mary was left alone in the ghastly silence of the room,
crouching in the corner like a hunted animal. Her face was ashen, and
her eyes distended; in her quivering hands she clutched the locket.
She was staring at it and staring at it, in terror, powerless to move.
She wished to open it; but ten minutes must have gone before she rose
and groped her way across the room. She found a chisel and knelt down
upon the floor, and worked in frenzied fear to force it. Her hands were
like a drunkard's, and she cut herself again and again; but then
suddenly the cover flew off, and she pounced upon it.
One glance she took; and then it fell to the ground from her helpless
grasp, and she staggered backward, with a shuddering moan, against the
wall. She swayed there an instant, and then like a flash she turned and
fled across the room. She fumbled for an instant in a drawer of the
desk; then a pistol shot rang out, and she sunk down in a quivering heap
upon the floor, her brains spattered out upon the carpet.