That stifling room where roses shed their petals, had been opened
to-night; a chill touched the very center of his being and told him so.
The occupant of that room--the Minotaur of this hideous labyrinth--was
at large to-night, was roaming the passages about him, was perhaps
outside his very door....
Dull moaning sounds reached him through the trap. He realized that if he
had the courage to cross the room, stand upon a chair and place his ear
to the wall, he might be able to detect more of what was passing in the
next apartment. But craven fear held him in its grip, and in vain he
strove to shake it off. Trembling wildly, he stood with his back to the
door, whilst muttered words, and moans, ever growing fainter, reached
him from beyond. A voice, a harsh, guttural voice--surely not that of
Ho-Pin--was audible, above the moaning.
For two minutes--three minutes--four minutes--he stood there, tottering
on the brink of insensibility, then... a faint sound--a new sound,--drew
his gaze across the room, and up to the corner where the trap was
situated.
A very dim light was dawning there; he could just detect the outline of
an opening--a half-light breaking the otherwise impenetrable darkness.
He felt that his capacity for fear was strained to its utmost; that he
could support nothing more, yet a new horror was in store for him; for,
as he watched that gray patch, in it, as in a frame, a black silhouette
appeared--the silhouette of a human head.
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