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Page 45
"There _is_ something dreadful! I feel it, though I see nothing.
I feel it, nearer and nearer in the empty air, darker and darker
in the sunny light. I don't know what it is. Take me away! No.
Not out on the beach. I can't pass the door. Somewhere else!
somewhere else!"
Mrs. Crayford looked round her, and noticed a second door at the
inner end of the boat-house. She spoke to her husband.
"See where that door leads to, William."
Crayford opened the door. It led into a desolate inclosure, half
garden, half yard. Some nets stretched on poles were hanging up
to dry. No other objects were visible--not a living creature
appeared in the place. "It doesn't look very inviting, my dear,"
said Mrs. Crayford. "I am at your service, however. What do you
say?"
She offered her arm to Clara as she spoke. Clara refused it. She
took Crayford's arm, and clung to him.
"I'm frightened, dreadfully frightened!" she said to him,
faintly. "You keep with me--a woman is no protection; I want to
be with you." She looked round again at the boat-house doorway.
"Oh!" she whispered, "I'm cold all over--I'm frozen with fear of
this place. Come into the yard! Come into the yard!"
"Leave her to me," said Crayford to his wife. "I will call you,
if she doesn't get better in the open air."
He took her out at once, and closed the yard door behind them.
"Mr. Steventon, do you understand this?" asked Mrs. Crayford.
"What can she possibly be frightened of?"
She put the question, still looking mechanically at the door by
which her husband and Clara had gone out. Receiving no reply, she
glanced round at Steventon. He was standing on the opposite side
of the luncheon-table, with his eyes fixed attentively on the
view from the main doorway of the boat-house. Mrs. Crayford
looked where Steventon was looking. This time there was something
visible. She saw the shadow of a human figure projected on the
stretch of smooth yellow sand in front of the boat-house.
In a moment more the figure appeared. A man came slowly into
view, and stopped on the threshold of the door.
Chapter 18.
The man was a sinister and terrible object to look at. His eyes
glared like the eyes of a wild animal; his head was bare; his
long gray hair was torn and tangled; his miserable garments hung
about him in rags. He stood in the doorway, a speechless figure
of misery and want, staring at the well-spread table like a
hungry dog.
Steventon spoke to him.
"Who are you?"
He answered, in a hoarse, hollow voice,
"A starving man."
He advanced a few steps, slowly and painfully, as if he were
sinking under fatigue.
"Throw me some bones from the table," he said. "Give me my share
along with the dogs."
There was madness as well as hunger in his eyes while he spoke
those words. Steventon placed Mrs. Crayford behind him, so that
he might be easily able to protect her in case of need, and
beckoned to two sailors who were passing the door of the
boat-house at the time.
"Give the man some bread and meat," he said, "and wait near him."
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