Forgetting everything but his hate for the man before him, Franz put out his hand to take Geoff by the throat. It was then the cane descended, striking him across the temples. Instantly foot and hand alike were stayed. He reeled as though he would fall,—putting up both hands to his eyes.
Geoff saw the door of his sister's room swing open, and turning with an oath from Franz, who stood swaying unsteadily, he ran down the stairs.
In the hall Franz lurched from side to side, his hands to his face. “Franz,” Margaret called, “Franz, dear! what did he do?”
With staggering uncertain steps he started toward her.
“Franz!” she called. “Dear Franz! what is it?”
He gave no answer. He only groped his way nearer, and she saw the cruel red welts just above his eyes. He had come almost to her, when he sank to his knees at her feet.
“Franz, dear!” she cried, “what is it? Are you hurt, my love? Are you hurt?”
She put her cool palm against his forehead, and kneeling beside him slipped an arm around his neck. She felt him tremble as though every nerve and muscle in his body were wrenched and torn.
As she clung to him a chill stole into her own heart. She, too, could only crouch and cower and shudder.
Finally he spoke in strange hushed accents. “Margaret, I can't see! It is all black—black as night in front of me!”
She pressed close in his arms, and with her little hand she chafed his brow where the red line burned and stung.
He stood erect once more and slowly turned about as if in quest of something.
“Margaret, how does the light come? Is it there?” He faced the wall—the window at his back.
She had moved with him, her glance fastened upon his eyes.
“Where is the window?” he asked appealingly.
“Margaret, I can't see—I am blind—blind!”
He felt her fall lax in his embrace. The sobs ceased abruptly.
She weakened visibly with the moments that had the single mission—to kill.
He knew but too well what passed before him in his darkened world. He knew that since his blindness, she had sunk through stupor to stupor, each to drag her farther and farther from him.
There were intervals—seconds that might have been ages, when she would sit erect and call his name, but there were no conscious periods.
She was sinking by slow degrees, and the blind man held a dark vigil.