With
never a backward glance (so that neither Gatton nor I had even a
momentary glimpse of her face) the black-robed woman sprang to the
window, opened it in a moment, and to my dismay and astonishment
sprang out into the darkness!
My first thought was for Isobel--but Gatton leaped across the room and
craned out, peering on to the path below. Indeed, even as I dropped on
my knees beside the swooning girl, I found myself listening for the
thud of the falling body upon the gravel path. But no sound reached
me. That uncanny creature must have alighted truly in the manner of a
cat. Through the stillness of the house rang the flat note of a
police-whistle. From some distant spot I heard a faint reply.
* * * * *
For long I failed to persuade myself that Isobel had not sustained
some ghastly injury from the attack of the cat-woman. Memories uprose
starkly before me of that _hlangkuna_ and the other dreadful
death-instruments of the mad Eurasian doctor. Not even the assurances
of the local medical man who had been summoned in haste could convince
me. For I recognized how petty was his knowledge in comparison with
that of Dr. Damar Greefe. But although I trembled to think what her
fate might have been if we had arrived a few minutes later, the fact
remained (and I returned thanks to Heaven) that she had escaped
serious physical injury at the hands of her assailant.
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