With heart drawn fine, Gerald stepped into the hall, whose floor was of
coloured tiles, went quickly and looked into the large, pleasant room.
In a chair by the fire, the father sat asleep, his head tilted back
against the side of the big oak chimney piece, his ruddy face seen
foreshortened, the nostrils open, the mouth fallen a little. It would
take the merest sound to wake him.
Gerald stood a second suspended. He glanced down the passage behind
him. It was all dark. Again he was suspended. Then he went swiftly
upstairs. His senses were so finely, almost supernaturally keen, that
he seemed to cast his own will over the half-unconscious house.
He came to the first landing. There he stood, scarcely breathing.
Again, corresponding to the door below, there was a door again. That
would be the mother's room. He could hear her moving about in the
candlelight. She would be expecting her husband to come up. He looked
along the dark landing.
Then, silently, on infinitely careful feet, he went along the passage,
feeling the wall with the extreme tips of his fingers. There was a
door. He stood and listened. He could hear two people's breathing. It
was not that. He went stealthily forward. There was another door,
slightly open. The room was in darkness. Empty. Then there was the
bathroom, he could smell the soap and the heat. Then at the end another
bedroom--one soft breathing. This was she.
With an almost occult carefulness he turned the door handle, and opened
the door an inch. It creaked slightly. Then he opened it another
inch--then another. His heart did not beat, he seemed to create a
silence about himself, an obliviousness.
He was in the room. Still the sleeper breathed softly. It was very
dark. He felt his way forward inch by inch, with his feet and hands. He
touched the bed, he could hear the sleeper. He drew nearer, bending
close as if his eyes would disclose whatever there was. And then, very
near to his face, to his fear, he saw the round, dark head of a boy.
He recovered, turned round, saw the door ajar, a faint light revealed.
And he retreated swiftly, drew the door to without fastening it, and
passed rapidly down the passage. At the head of the stairs he
hesitated. There was still time to flee.
But it was unthinkable. He would maintain his will. He turned past the
door of the parental bedroom like a shadow, and was climbing the second
flight of stairs. They creaked under his weight--it was exasperating.
Ah what disaster, if the mother's door opened just beneath him, and she
saw him! It would have to be, if it were so. He held the control still.