Tony Walker

"'Nothing, Miss Pendleham,' gulped Amelia.

"'I'll go and get the tea.'

Miss Pendleham glanced after her bowed back.

For a moment the mask was raised, and she smiled.

But the smile merely contorted the lower part of her face.

Her yellow eyes took no share in it.

There came again that remote, agonizing wail.

The half-smile vanished.

The yellow eyes flickered.

The mask came down again.

After tea she played patience, and Amelia was left to her own devices till it was time to cook the supper.

Anyone watching Miss Pendleham playing patience, which is a stark test of virtue, would have decided that if he ever did business with her he'd have kept a sharp lawyer at his elbow, for she always cheated when necessary, but never more than necessary.

Anyone who had watched Amelia presently preparing the supper by the light of two candles would have gleaned some understanding of the phrase mental torture.

Those candles threw strange shadows on the bare walls and arched roof.

That observer might have caught himself imitating Amelia, glancing up fearfully and furtively at those crowding, multi-formed shades, and learned her trick of flinching when she did so.

Was that a small body, lying prone, and a tall figure with its hands to the small one's throat?

And did that figure move?

Just a flicker of a candle, of course.

And yet, that observer might well have wished himself away, but would he have had the heart to leave Amelia down there alone?

Supper was again a quiet silent meal.