The Editor put his hands to his mouth and sent forth a succession of
long-drawn-out calls, which seemed as though they must surely be heard
for miles around, but in the silence which followed no note of reply
could be heard. In the face of such continued disappointment, Margot
had not the courage to go on making conversation, but relapsed into a
dreary silence, which was broken only by the gentle puff-puff of the
Editor's pipe. In the darkness and silence neither took note of time,
or realised how it sped along. Only by physical sensations could it be
checked, but gradually these became disagreeably pressing.
Margot's feet were like ice, her fingers so cold as to be almost
powerless; but as the minutes passed slowly by the active discomfort was
replaced by a feeling of drowsy indifference. She seemed to have been
sitting for years staring into a blank white wall, and had no longer any
desire to move from her position. It was easier to sit still, and wait
upon Fate.
Beneath the veil of darkness her head drooped forward, and she swayed
gently from side to side. For some time these movements were so slight
as to pass unnoticed by her companion, but as the drowsiness increased
the muscles seemed to lose control, the swayings became momentarily more
pronounced, until she tilted violently over, to recover herself with a
jerk and a groan. Then indeed George Elgood was startled into anxious
attention.
"What is it? What is the matter? Are you in pain?"
The inarticulate murmur which did duty for reply seemed only to whet
anxiety still further.
"Miss Vane, are you ill? For pity's sake tell me what is wrong!"
Another murmur sounded faintly in his ear, followed by an
incoherent--"I'm only--asleep! So--very--tired!"
With a sharp exclamation the Editor leapt upwards, and the drowsy Margot
felt herself suddenly hoisted to her feet by a pair of strong arms. The
arms retained their hold of her even after she was erect, shaking her to
and fro with almost painful energy.
"But you must not sleep! Margot, Margot, awake! I can't let you
sleep. It is the worst thing you could do. Speak to me, Margot. Tell
me you understand. Margot! Darling! Oh, do rouse yourself, and try to
understand!"
Margot never forgot that moment, or the wonder of it. She seemed to
herself to be wandering in a strange country, far, far away from the
solid tangible earth--a land of darkness and dreams, of strange, numbing
unreality. Her eyes were open, yet saw nothing: impalpable chains
fettered her limbs, so that they grew stiff and refused to move; an icy
coldness crept around her heart. Hearing, like the other senses, was
dulled, yet through the throbbing silence a sound had penetrated,
bringing with it a thrill of returning life. Some one had called
"Margot" in a tone she had never heard before. Some one had said,
"Darling!"