appeal for some help. His Friend _must_ come. He was somewhere there in
the house. "Come! Help me!" The candle suddenly flared into a finger of
light that flung the room into vision. Mrs. Carter, startled, raised
herself, and at that same moment Henry gave a cry, a weak little
trembling sound.

She turned and saw the boy; as their eyes met he felt the Terror
rushing upon him. He flung a last desperate appeal for help, staring at
her as though his eyes would never let her go, and she, finding him so
unexpectedly, could only gape. In their silent gaze at one another, in
the glassy stare of Mrs. Carter and the trembling, flickering one of
Henry there was more than any ordinary challenge could have conveyed.
Mrs. Carter must have felt at the first immediate confrontation of the
strange little figure that her feet were on the very edge of some most
desperate precipice. The long room and the passages beyond must have
quivered. At that very first moment, with some stir, some hinted
approach, Henry called, with the desperate summoning of all his ghostly
world, upon his gods. They came....

In her eyes he saw suddenly something else than vague terror. He saw
recognition. He felt himself a rushing, heartening comfort; he knew that
his Friend had somehow come, that he was no longer alone.

But Mrs. Carter's eyes were staring beyond him, over him, into the black
passage. Her eyes seemed to grow as though the terror in them was
pushing them out beyond their lids; her breath, came in sharp, tearing
gasps. The keys with a clang dropped from her hand.

"Oh, God! Oh, God!" she whispered. He did not turn his head to grasp
what it was that she saw in the passage. The terror had been transferred