Page:The Black Camel (IA blackcamel0000earl).djvu/34

He lifted his piercing eyes from the crystal. “You're afraid. Something in your past—you fear it will return to haunt you———”

“No, no,” the woman cried.

“Something that happened long ago.”

“No, no—it isn’t true.”

“You can not deceive me. How long ago? I can not quite determine, and it is necessary that I know.”

The trade-wind mumbled at the curtains. Shelah Fane’s eyes wandered helplessly about the darkened room, then came back to Tarneverro’s.

“How long ago?” the man demanded again.

She sighed. “Three years ago last month,” she said in a voice so low he had to strain to hear.

He was silent for a moment, his mind racing like an engine. June—three years ago. He gazed fixedly into the crystal; his lips moved. “Denny Mayo,” he said softly. “Something about Denny Mayo. Ah, yes—I see it now.”

The wind tore the curtains apart, and a wide strip of dazzling light fell across Shelah Fane’s face. Her eyes were staring, frightened.

“I shouldn’t have come,” she moaned.

“What about Denny Mayo?” Tarneverro went on relentlessly. “Shall I tell you—or will you tell me?”

She pointed to the window. “A balcony. There’s a balcony out there.”

As one who humors a child, he rose and looked outside. He came back to the table. “Yes, there’s a balcony—but no one is on it.”

He sat down again, and his bold commanding eyes sought hers. She was trapped, and helpless.

“Now!” said Tarneverro the Great.