To
get it all, he had to move an arm of the body sprawling along the
board. But he did not appear to mind. When every bill was in his
pockets, he reached out his hand for the watch. Then I saw him
smile. He smiled as he shut the case, he smiled as he plunged it
in after the bills. There was gloating in this smile. He seemed to
have got what he wanted more than when he fingered the bills. I
was stiff with horror. I was not conscious of noting these
details, but I saw them every one. Small things make an impression
when the mind is numb under the effect of a great blow.
Next moment I woke to a realisation of myself and all the danger
of my own position. He was scanning very carefully the room about
him. His eyes were travelling slowly--very slowly but certainly,
in my direction. I saw them pause--concentrate their glances and
fix them straight and full upon mine. Not that he saw me. The
crack through which we were peering each in our several ways was
too narrow for that. But the crack itself--that was what he saw
and the promise it gave of some room beyond. I was a creature
frozen. But when he suddenly turned away instead of plunging
towards me with his still smoking pistol, I had the instinct to
make a leap for the window over my head and clutch madly at its
narrow sill in a wild attempt at escape.
But the effort ended precipitately. Terror had got me by the hair,
and terror made me look back. The crack had widened still further,
and what I now saw through it glued me to the wall and held me
there transfixed, with dangling feet and starting eyeballs.
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