I stood looking at the empty bed. The coverings had been thrown back,
and Louise's pink silk dressing-gown was gone from the foot, where it
had lain. The night lamp burned dimly, revealing the emptiness of the
place. I picked it up, but my hand shook so that I put it down again,
and got somehow to the door.
There were voices in the hall and Gertrude came running toward me.
"What is it?" she cried. "What was that sound? Where is Louise?"
"She is not in her room," I said stupidly. "I think--it was she--who
screamed."
Liddy had joined us now, carrying a light. We stood huddled together
at the head of the circular staircase, looking down into its shadows.
There was nothing to be seen, and it was absolutely quiet down there.
Then we heard Halsey running up the main staircase. He came quickly
down the hall to where we were standing.
"There's no one trying to get in. I thought I heard some one shriek.
Who was it?"
Our stricken faces told him the truth.
"Some one screamed down there," I said. "And--and Louise is not in her
room."
With a jerk Halsey took the light from Liddy and ran down the circular
staircase. I followed him, more slowly. My nerves seemed to be in a
state of paralysis: I could scarcely step. At the foot of the stairs
Halsey gave an exclamation and put down the light.
"Aunt Ray," he called sharply.
At the foot of the staircase, huddled in a heap, her head on the lower
stair, was Louise Armstrong. She lay limp and white, her dressing-gown
dragging loose from one sleeve of her night-dress, and the heavy braid
of her dark hair stretching its length a couple of steps above her
head, as if she had slipped down.
She was not dead: Halsey put her down on the floor, and began to rub
her cold hands, while Gertrude and Liddy ran for stimulants. As for me,
I sat there at the foot of that ghostly staircase--sat, because my
knees wouldn't hold me--and wondered where it would all end. Louise
was still unconscious, but she was breathing better, and I suggested
that we get her back to bed before she came to. There was something
grisly and horrible to me, seeing her there in almost the same attitude
and in the same place where we had found her brother's body. And to
add to the similarity, just then the hall clock, far off, struck
faintly three o'clock.
It was four before Louise was able to talk, and the first rays of dawn
were coming through her windows, which faced the east, before she could
tell us coherently what had occurred. I give it as she told it. She
lay propped in bed, and Halsey sat beside her, unrebuffed, and held her
hand while she talked.