The Not of an English Opium-Eater | Page 9

main instruments for communicating
between the street and the interior of houses: but in London knockers
prevail. At Marr's there was both a knocker and a bell. Mary rang, and
at the same time very gently knocked. She had no fear of disturbing her
master or mistress; them she made sure of finding still up. Her anxiety
was for the baby, who being disturbed, might again rob her mistress of

a night's rest. And she well knew that, with three people all anxiously
awaiting her return, and by this time, perhaps, seriously uneasy at her
delay, the least audible whisper from herself would in a moment bring
one of them to the door. Yet how is this? To her astonishment, but with
the astonishment came creeping over her an icy horror, no stir nor
murmur was heard ascending from the kitchen. At this moment came
back upon her, with shuddering anguish, the indistinct image of the
stranger in the loose dark coat, whom she had seen stealing along under
the shadowy lamp-light, and too certainly watching her master's
motions: keenly she now reproached herself that, under whatever stress
of hurry, she had not acquainted Mr. Marr with the suspicious
appearances. Poor girl! she did not then know that, if this
communication could have availed to put Marr upon his guard, it had
reached him from another quarter; so that her own omission, which had
in reality arisen under her hurry to execute her master's commission,
could not be charged with any bad consequences. But all such
reflections this way or that were swallowed up at this point in
over-mastering panic. That her double summons could have been
unnoticed--this solitary fact in one moment made a revelation of horror.
One person might have fallen asleep, but two--but three--that was a
mere impossibility. And even supposing all three together with the
baby locked in sleep, still how unaccountable was this utter--utter
silence! Most naturally at this moment something like hysterical horror
overshadowed the poor girl, and now at last she rang the bell with the
violence that belongs to sickening terror. This done, she paused:
self-command enough she still retained, though fast and fast it was
slipping away from her, to bethink herself--that, if any overwhelming
accident had compelled both Marr and his apprentice-boy to leave the
house in order to summon surgical aid from opposite quarters--a thing
barely supposable--still, even in that case Mrs. Marr and her infant
would be left; and some murmuring reply, under any extremity, would
be elicited from the poor mother. To pause, therefore, to impose stern
silence upon herself, so as to leave room for the possible answer to this
final appeal, became a duty of spasmodic effort. Listen, therefore, poor
trembling heart; listen, and for twenty seconds be still as death. Still as
death she was: and during that dreadful stillness, when she hushed her
breath that she might listen, occurred an incident of killing fear, that to

her dying day would never cease to renew its echoes in her ear. She,
Mary, the poor trembling girl, checking and overruling herself by a
final effort, that she might leave full opening for her dear young
mistress's answer to her own last frantic appeal, heard at last and most
distinctly a sound within the house. Yes, now beyond a doubt there is
coming an answer to her summons. What was it? On the stairs, not the
stairs that led downwards to the kitchen, but the stairs that led upwards
to the single story of bed-chambers above, was heard a creaking sound.
Next was heard most distinctly a footfall: one, two, three, four, five
stairs were slowly and distinctly descended. Then the dreadful footsteps
were heard advancing along the little narrow passage to the door. The
steps--oh heavens! whose steps?--have paused at the door. The very
breathing can be heard of that dreadful being, who has silenced all
breathing except his own in the house. There is but a door between him
and Mary. What is he doing on the other side of the door? A cautious
step, a stealthy step it was that came down the stairs, then paced along
the little narrow passage--narrow as a coffin--till at last the step pauses
at the door. How hard the fellow breathes! He, the solitary murderer, is
on one side the door; Mary is on the other side. Now, suppose that he
should suddenly open the door, and that incautiously in the dark Mary
should rush in, and find herself in the arms of the murderer. Thus far
the case is a possible one--that to a certainty, had this little trick been
tried immediately upon Mary's return, it would have succeeded; had the
door been opened suddenly upon her first tingle-tingle, headlong she
would have tumbled in, and perished. But