"You come down-stairs. I've something to say to you."
And, after a time, Herman had followed him down, but he still clung
doggedly to the strap.
Rudolph led the way outside, and here in the darkness he told Anna's
story, twisted and distorted through his own warped mind, but convincing
and partially true. Herman's silence began to alarm him, however, and
when at last he rose and made for the door, Rudolph was before him.
"What are you going to do?"
Herman said nothing, but he raised the strap and held it menacingly.
"Get out of my way."
"Don't be a fool," Rudolph entreated. "You can beat her to death, and
what do you get out of it? She'll run away again if you touch her. Put
that strap down. I'm not afraid of you."
Their voices, raised and angry, penetrated through Anna's haze of fright
and faintness. She sat up in the bed, ready to spring to the window if
she heard steps on the stairs. When none came, but the voices, lowered
now, went on endlessly below, she slipped out of her bed and crept to
the doorway.
Sounds traveled clearly up the narrow enclosed stairway. She stood
there, swaying slightly, until at last her legs would no longer support
her. She crouched on the floor, a hand clutching her throat, lest she
scream. And listened.
She did not sleep at all. The night had been too full of horrors. And
she was too ill to attempt a second flight. Besides, where could she go?
Katie was not there. She could see her empty little room across,
with its cot bed and tawdry dresser. Before, too, she had had Grahams
protection to count on. Now she had nothing.
And the voices went on.
When she went back to bed it was almost dawn. She heard Herman come
up, heard the heavy thump of his shoes on the floor, and the creak
immediately following that showed he had lain down without undressing.
By the absence of his resonant snoring she knew he was not sleeping,
either. She pictured him lying there, his eyes on the door, in almost
unwinking espionage.
At half past six she got up and went down-stairs. Almost immediately she
heard his stockinged feet behind her. She turned and looked up at him.
"What are you going to do?"
"Going to make myself some coffee."
He came down, and sat down in the sitting-room. From where he sat he
could survey the kitchen, and she knew his eyes were on her. His very
quiet terrified her, but although the strap lay on the table he made no
move toward it. She built a fire and put on the kettle, and after a time
she brought him some coffee and some bread. He took it without a word.
Sick as she was, she fell to cleaning up the dirty kitchen. She went
outside for a pail, to find him behind her in the doorway. Then she
knew what he intended to do. He was afraid, for some reason, to beat her
again, but he was going to watch her lest again she make her escape. The
silence, under his heavy gaze, was intolerable.