“No, no!  Wait! wait!” she cried, in a deep whisper, while her face grew-ashen pale.  For some moments they stood with repressed breathing, every instant expecting to hear the loud report of a pistol.  But the deep silence remained unbroken for nearly a minute; then a dull movement of feet was heard in the room, and the opening and shutting of a drawer.

“No, general, you will not do that,” they heard Mrs. Abercrombie say, in a low, steady tone in which fear struggled with tenderness.

“Why will I not do it?” was sternly demanded.

They were standing near the door, so that their voices could be heard distinctly in the next room.

“Because you love me too well,” was the sweet, quiet answer.  The voice of Mrs. Abercrombie did not betray a single tremor.

All was hushed again.  Then came another movement in the room, and the sound of a closing drawer.  Mr. and Mrs. Craig were beginning to breathe more freely, when the noise as of some one springing suddenly upon another was heard, followed by a struggle and a choking cry.  It continued so long that Mr. Craig ran out into the hall and knocked at the door of General Abercrombie’s room.  As he did so the noise of struggling ceased, and all grew still.  The door was not opened to his summons, and after waiting for a little while he went back to his own room.

“This is dreadful,” he said.  “What can it mean?  The general must be insane from drink.  Something will have to be done.  He may be strangling his poor wife at this very moment.  I cannot bear it.  I must break open the door.”

Mr. Craig started toward the hall, but his wife seized hold of him and held him back.

“No, no, no!” she cried, in a low voice.  “Let them alone.  It may be her only chance of safety.  Hark!”

The silence in General Abercrombie’s room was again broken.  A man’s firm tread was on the floor and it could be heard passing clear across the apartment, then returning and then going from side to side.  At length the sound of moving furniture was heard.  It was as if a person were lifting a heavy wardrobe or bureau, and getting it with some difficulty from one part of the room to the other.

“What can he be doing?” questioned Mrs. Craig, with great alarm.

“He is going to barricade the door, most likely,” replied her husband.

“Barricade the door?  What for?  Good heavens, Mr. Craig!  He may have killed his wife.  She may be lying in there dead at this very moment.  Oh, it is fearful!  Can nothing be done?”

“Nothing, that I know of, except to break into the room.”

“Hadn’t you better rouse some of the boarders, or call a waiter and send for the police?”

The voice of Mrs. Abercrombie was heard at this moment.  It was calm and clear.

“Let me help you, general,” she said.

The noise of moving furniture became instantly still.  It seemed as if the madman had turned in surprise from his work and stood confronting his wife, but whether in wrath, or not it was impossible to conjecture.  They might hear her fall to the floor, stricken down by her husband, or cry out in mortal agony at any moment.  The suspense was dreadful.