Her thoughts become ghastly. The inky sea of
darkness that hemmed her in on every side suggested every sort of
ghoulish possibility, and with each pulsation of her overstrained
heart her flesh crawled. Another sound--this time not a crash, nothing
half so loud or definite--drew her eyes in the direction of the steps.
An object was now standing at the top of them, and something lurid,
like the faint, phosphorescent glow of decay, emanated from all over
it; but _what_ it was, she could not for the life of her tell. It
might have been the figure of a man, or a woman, or a beast, or of
anything that was inexpressibly antagonistic and nasty. She would have
given her soul to have looked elsewhere, but her eyes were fixed--she
could neither turn nor shut them. For some seconds the shape remained
motionless, and then with a sly, subtle motion it lowered its head,
and came stealing stealthily down the stairs towards her. She followed
its approach like one in a hideous dream--her heart ready to burst,
her brain on the verge of madness. Another step, another, yet
another; till there were only three left between her and it; and she
was at length enabled to form some idea of what the thing was like.
It was short and squat, and appeared to be partly clad in a loose,
flowing garment, that was not long enough to conceal the glistening
extremities of its limbs. From its general contour and the tangled
mass of hair that fell about its neck and shoulders, Lady Adela
concluded it was the phantasm of a woman.
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