She stood without a cry, without a movement, while her heart leaped and fluttered within her bosom.

She knew in that moment the extremity of mortal fear.
A loud scratch sounded sharply in the room.

A match spurted into flame, and above the match there sprang into view, framed in the blackness of the room, a wild and menacing dark face.

The eyes glittered at her, and suddenly a hand was raised as if to strike.

And at the gesture Violet Oliver found her voice.
She screamed, a loud shrill scream of terror, and even as she screamed, in the very midst of her terror, she saw that the hand was lowered, and that the threatening face smiled.