A lantern hung on a nail immediately within.  By its light she discovered her husband—­a gigantic figure—­towering over something she could not see, something that crouched, writhing and moaning, in a corner.  He was armed with a horsewhip, and even as she entered she saw him raise it and bring it downwards with a horrible precision upon the thing at his feet.  She heard again that awful shriek of anguish, and a sick shudder went through her.  Unconsciously, a cry broke from her own lips, and, as Mercer’s arm went up again, she flung herself forward and tried to catch it.

In her agitation she failed.  The heavy end of the whip fell upon her outstretched arm, numbing; it to the shoulder.  She heard Mercer utter a frightful oath, and with a gasp she fell.

VIII

When she came to herself she was lying on her bed.  Someone—­Curtis—­was bathing her arm in warm water.  He did not speak to her or raise his:  eyes from his occupation.  She thought he looked very grim.

“Where is—­Brett?” she whispered.

Curtis did not answer her, but a moment later she looked beyond him and saw Mercer leaning upon the bed-rail.  His eyes were fixed upon her and held her own.  She sought to avoid them, but could not.  And suddenly she knew that he was angry with her, not merely displeased, but furiously angry.

She made an effort to rise, but at that Curtis laid a restraining hand upon her, and spoke.

“Go away, Mercer!” he said.  “Haven’t you done harm enough for one night?”

The words amazed her.  She had never thought that he would dare to use such a tone to her husband.  She trembled for the result, for Mercer’s face just then was terrible, but Curtis did not so much as glance in his direction.

Mercer’s eyes remained mercilessly fixed upon her.

“Do you wish me to go?” he said.

“No,” she murmured faintly.

Her arm was beginning to hurt her horribly, and she shuddered uncontrollably once or twice.  But that unvarying scrutiny was harder to bear, and at last, in desperation, she made a quivering appeal.

“Come and help me!” she begged.  “Come and lift me up!”

For an instant he did not stir, and she even thought he would refuse.  Then, stiffly, he straightened himself and moved round to her side.

Stooping, he raised and supported her.  But his expression did not alter; the murderous glare was still in his eyes.  She turned her face into his breast and lay still.

After what seemed a very long interval Curtis spoke.

“That’s all I can do for the present.  I will dress it again in the morning, and it had better be in a sling.  Mercer, I should like a word with you outside.”

Sybil stirred sharply at the brief demand.  Her nerves were on edge, and a quaking doubt shot through her as to what Mercer might do if Curtis presumed too far.