He turned on his heels, following the horrible trail of sound in the darkness.

He wanted to shout 'This way, Anne! I am here!' but he couldn't.

At the horror of this chase, more ghastly in his imagination than if he could have seen it, the perspiration broke out on his forehead, while his throat was as dry as tinder.

A last supreme scream was cut short suddenly.
"The silence which ensued was even more dreadful.

Davidson felt sick.
He tore his feet from the spot and walked straight before him, gripping the revolver and peering into the obscurity fearfully.