She made her way quickly to the nearest large thoroughfare and
took the first passing cab to get home, for she felt that she had not
strength left to walk much more on that day.
She had a moment of weakness and doubt, as she went up her own stairs,
knowing that in half an hour she must sit down to table with Gregorio
and with Veronica. It would be the last time, for Veronica would never
sit down with them again. She had not realized exactly how it was to be.
Henceforth, at that table, two places were to be vacant, of two persons
dead within a fortnight, the one by his own hand, the other by hers; and
from that day, when she and her husband sat there, the shadows of those
two would be between them always.
She paused on the staircase, and steadied herself with her hand against
the wall. She knew that from now until it was done, she should have no
moment in which she could allow herself the pitiful luxury of feeling
weak. And as she stood there, and thought of the strange messages she
had but now received from beyond the grave, she felt the terror of what
the dead man's spirit might say to her when all was done, and Veronica
lay dead in her own room upstairs--in this coming night.
The fear followed her up the steps like a living thing, its hand on her
shoulder, its cold lips close to her ears, breathing fright and
whispering terror. And it went in with her to her own room, and kept
freezing company with her throughout a long half-hour of mental agony.
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