Four automobiles parked outside hinted at a considerable gathering within the snug white walls. Yet there was no sound; no gayety; no mirth; no music, laughter, nor voices.
Barbara sank lower on the seat as her imagination seized upon that silence and gave it awful meaning. What mysterious rites were taking place? What orgies did those white walls hide? Hideous phantoms rushed upon her. She wondered if Bob were in there with Sonia.
Frank had said, “Those who enter are forever damned.” “Forever damned.” No! God wouldn’t let Bob be damned. Bob was hers! She could save him. She must save him!
She bit her lip savagely to stop a little cry which escaped her. If Bob was there she should go in to him. But she wouldn’t believe he was there. She would wait... wait for Sonia.
The door opened just as Barbara was on the point of throwing discretion to the winds and rushing after Frank.
A white-robed figure stood on the threshold. The gown was pure white and hung like a surplice from Sonia’s shoulders. A great crimson cross on the front of the robe was the only note of relieving color. The vertical stripe starting at her waistline ran halfway to her knees, crossed by a horizontal bar at her loins.
Sonia stood momently on the doorstep, seemingly blinded by the afternoon sun, then moved toward Barbara. Her face was white, and the black hair was combed out to frame her chalky features with startling contrast.
She moved slowly, mechanically, almost like an automaton. As she drew nearer Barbara saw that her dark features were hidden beneath a white mask, and her eyes seemed to blaze in vivid contrast to her unnatural pallor.
Barbara shrank back from her as she approached the car. She gripped her hands into fists, and forced the fingernails into her flesh to control the shiver of aversion which passed over hey.
“Frank said you wanted to talk to me about Robert.” Sonia’s voice was flat and unaccented. Her lips and her eyes were the only clew to life beneath the mask.
“I... I... yes.”
“What is he to you?”
“He’s... he’s everything in the world to me,” Barbara cried passionately, overcoming her fear in the necessity for convincing Sonia.
“What are you to him?” Sonia’s voice was measured and expressionless. As though she repeated a lesson by rote.
“I... I’m going to marry him. That is, if you’ll help me. You must help me,” she cried tragically. “You don’t want him and... and I do. And I need him. I love him!”
“Love?”
“Yes, love!” Barbara said desperately. “Something you know nothing about. Something finer and better than anything you know.”
“Love?” She thought a flicker passed over Sonia’s face as she repeated the word. A flicker of pain... or of amusement.
“Is he in there now?” Barbara asked accusingly. She held her breath as she awaited Sonia’s answer. It seemed to her that everything in life depended upon a negative reply. After viewing Sonia she could not doubt the fearsome things which were being done in the cottage.
Spnia hesitated a long time before replying. She seemed to be considering the question. Perhaps she understood the look upon Barbara’s face. Perhaps she glimpsed how much depended upon her answer. Perhaps her scarred and mutilated soul was touched by the distress upon the fresh young face which awaited her answer, yet feared to hear it.
No matter the reason... Sonia lied magnificently.
“No. He is not here.”
“But you’re going to see him to-night,” Barbara persisted. “You’re going to the Brierly Ball with him?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be there, masked,” Barbara said tensely. “He won’t know I’m there. He’s forgotten me since you’ve... since you’ve cast your spell over him. Give me a chance to win him back to-night. Let me try. That’s all I ask. It means so much to me, and to him... so little to you.”
“Perhaps it means more to me than you think.” Sonia’s voice was still expressionless.
“Oh, but it can’t,” Barbara cried wildly. “He means nothing to you. Another toy to break. Another man to add to your collection. It means our life... our happiness... if you knew what love means you’d understand.”
“Perhaps... he can teach me love.” Sonia’s voice was not so toneless. There was a suggestion of gentle musing in her tone.
Barbara started violently.
“Please!” she cried tragically. “You mustn’t do that. You mustn’t do that to him.”
“What... do you propose?”
“I just ask you for a chance. He’s bewitched by you. Lured by your body... by the charm of forbidden things. I... I want the same chance. Send him away from you to-night. I’ll be there... watching. I’ll be a stranger to him. I can give him more than you... so much more. I can win him back to me if you’ll let him go.”
“You think you can give him more... than I?” Sonia’s voice was wearied.
“I know I can. Please, please.”
“Very well.” Sonia turned away abruptly. “To-night... you can match your charms against mine. I will give him to you... to-night.”
Barbara-sank back on the seat and sobbed helplessly. She was exhausted. A terrible reaction set in and she shivered in the grip of fear.
The white-robed figure seemed to flow across the lawn to the front door of the cottage. The door opened silently... and closed silently. Frank did not return. It was as though he had been swallowed up by the inscrutable silence of the house.
Chapter Nineteen
Nothing happened. Barbara waited in the car and the sun sank lower in the west.
Still the oppressive silence hung over the scene like a heavy mantle. The white cottage seemed to shrink furtively in its setting of shrubbery; smug and satisfied, as though turning a disdainful shoulder to the outer world.
Frank did not return and an inexplicable fear gripped Barbara’s soul as she recalled the look on his face as he moved toward that silent front door. Perhaps Frank would not return. Ever. Perhaps something terrible had happened to him. Barbara choked back her sobs and sat up straighter. Her shoulders squared themselves and her face was drawn. She was fascinated by the intolerable hush, more pregnant with mysterious horror than ribald merriment.
The cottage seemed to beckon to her. It was as though unseen fingers reached out to clutch at her heart... drawing her on... a faint, muted cry which struck an answer from some hidden force within her body. She found that she was powerless to resist the call. It was stronger than reason, stronger than all the conscious will she could summon to her aid. Something within her was identified with that beckoning silence. The muscles of her body stiffened, and it seemed that her veins were frozen.
She moved mechanically from the car and stood erect upon the ground. The world did not exist. Her eyes saw only the white door which drew her on.
Then the door burst open. Barbara was halfway up the path.
She paused, and the spell was broken. The door slammed shut violently, and reason reasserted itself as the figure of a girl groped toward her, seemingly dazed and blinded by the light and by release.
It was Ethel. A wraith-like figure, robed as had been Sonia, with the difference that her robe was crimson with a white cross at her loins.
Her eyes were glazed and staring. She would have passed Barbara on the path without seeing her had not Barbara grasped her arm and spoken sharply:
“Ethel! It’s you! Speak to me! What’s happened? What’s the matter?”
“Let me go,” Ethel muttered. “Oh God! let me go!” Her voice rose shrilly as she tore at Barbara’s grasp.
“Stop it,” Barbara said sternly. She was herself again and able to cope with anything. “Look at me,” she exclaimed. “Don’t you recognize me?”