"The children? Oh, yes--no!" The horror of the situation fell about me
like an avalanche that had hung suspended for a moment and then crashed
smotheringly over me. "No," I whispered huskily, "I can't--not now--not
now!" A kind of chill darkness numbed my senses.
Like a pistol shot I suddenly heard the harsh voice of Griselda in the
doorway.
"The cab is at the door, Mr. Randolph. Don't forget your rubbers."
And like an automaton galvanized into life I found myself whirling to
the house of death.
*CHAPTER IV*
For a week the children have been with me and nothing has yet been done
about them. Another week, I think, will drive me mad with indecision.
I seem unable to emerge from the shadow of mystery and terror into which
my serene world has been so suddenly plunged. The book-lined study is
my solitary refuge; and like a schoolgirl I can do no more than unpack
my heart with words.