Sibella shrugged her shoulders and walked to the window; and Vance again turned his attention to the girl on the bed, continuing his questioning as if nothing had happened.
"There's one more point, Miss Greene." His tone was even gentler than before. "When you groped your way across the room toward the switch, at what point did you come in contact with the unseen person?"
"About half-way to the door—just beyond that centre-table."
"You say a hand touched you. But how did it touch you? Did it shove you, or try to take hold of you?"
She shook her head vaguely.
"Not exactly. I don't know how to explain it, but I seemed to walk into the hand, as though it were outstretched—reaching for me."
"Would you say it was a large hand or a small one? Did you, for instance, get the impression of strength?"
There was another silence. Again the girl's respiration quickened, and she cast a frightened glance at Sibella, who stood staring out into the black, swinging branches of the trees in the side yard.
"I don't know—oh, I don't know!" Her words were like a stifled cry of anguish. "I didn't notice. It was all so sudden—so horrible."
"But try to think," urged Vance's low, insistent voice. "Surely you got some impression. Was it a man's hand, or a woman's?"
Sibella now came swiftly to the bed, her cheeks very pale, her eyes blazing. For a moment she
