The red carpet below the little tables was littered with
rose petals, and, in the super-heated atmosphere, other petals kept
falling--softly, with a gentle rustling. Just that sound there was...
and no other. Then:
"Mr. King he wishing to point out to you," said the girl, "that he hold
receipts of you, which bind you to him. So you will be free man, and
have liberty to go out sometimes for your own business. Mr. King he
wishing to hear you say you thinking to agree with the conditions and be
satisfied."
She ceased speaking, but continued to smile; and so complete was the
stillness, that Soames, whose sense of hearing had become nervously
stimulated, heard a solitary rose petal fall upon the corner of the
writing-table.
"I... agree," he whispered huskily; "and... I am... satisfied."
He looked at the carven screen as a lost soul might look at the gate of
Hades; he felt now that if a sound should come from beyond it he would
shriek out, he would stop up his ears; that if the figure of the Unseen
should become visible, he must die at the first glimpse of it.
The little brown girl was repeating the uncanny business of listening
to that voice of silence; and Soames knew that he could not sustain his
part in this eerie comedy for another half-minute without breaking out
into hysterical laughter.
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