affirmation—a feminine scream, full of terror, abruptly ended.
He threw on his clothes, grasped his revolver, dashed down the stairs, and burst into the living-room. There was no light now beyond the wan glow of the fire, but it was still sufficient to show him Alden, huddled more than ever in the chair, and the terror that had quivered through the cry, persisted now in Alden's face.
His wife, in a dressing gown, knelt at his side, her arm around his knees. At Garth's entrance she sprang erect, facing him.
"It came," she gasped. "Oh, I knew it would. All along I've known."
"Tell me what's happened," Garth commanded.
The woman's voice was scarcely intelligible.
"I let him sleep here. Just now he groaned. I ran in. Somebody—something had attacked him. I ran in. I—I saw it."
"Where?"
She pointed to the rear window.
"I saw it going out there. It was foggy. It went in the fog. I couldn't—"
Garth sprang to the window. It was, in fact, half open. Before he could get through Mrs. Alden had caught his arm.
"Don't follow. It isn't safe out there."
"I want that man," he said.
She leaned weakly against the casement.
"But out there," she whispered, "they are not men."
