persuasive, eloquent, frequently superior to others in physical appearance and mental endowments. They were counterfeits of the good, and that man was wise indeed who could tell the difference. But the Church knew! She talked of those who were possessed of demons.
She heard the faintest sound behind her, but she was too late. Even in the very motion of turning her head, she felt the violent push against her shoulders. It seemed to happen slowly, as if in a dream. She was tilting dreamily forward; she was looking straight down on the toothed rocks and the murderous brush far below; she was sailing slightly in the air. Then her instinct of survival rushed to her aid. Somehow, as she dropped, she caught a strong stake which supported part of the fence, and she was hanging over the gulf by her right arm, her hand clutched about the stake. Her whole body shuddered abruptly, stopped in the instant of falling; the bones screamed in their sockets; her shoulder exploded into fire; her legs and torso dangled in space, and she was looking at the brown and crumbling race of the bluff, and its dust was in her nostrils.
CHAPTER SEVEN
A wind rushed up from the bottom of the bluff, and Alice’s body swung idly. It had happened an instant ago; it had happened hours ago. Only the agony in her arm was real. The muscles slipped; ligaments ripped; her wrist was strained unbearably. She felt her hair fluttering about her face. Then terror took her and shook her as with giant teeth. Only the frail bones and flesh of her right arm held her from death.
Then she screamed. She looked up, her eyes starting. Angelo was leaning on the fence and smiling down at her. Only his head was visible, his beautiful, wicked head.
“Why don’t you let go, Aunt Alicia?” he asked softly. “You can’t hang there very long, can you? They won’t be home for nearly an hour yet. Can you stand it?”
Alice screamed again, and her voice was carried away in echoes, and the sun struck the top of her head and her body swayed and she coughed, as she inhaled dust. She had no thought except to live. She did not even feel horror, for she had accepted it.
“Poor Aunt Alicia,” said Angelo, sighing. “She was sitting on the fence, and then she lost her balance and she fell, and I came running and screaming, and there wasn’t anyone to help, and I’m too young and little to help her. And there is Aunt Alicia at the bottom, all torn up by the rocks and the brush, as dead as Petti.”
Alice made no sound. She looked up into that angelic face with its gleaming smile. Then the smile was gone. A vicious darkness clouded the hazel eyes.
“Why did you have to find him?” he whispered. “Why did you go poking around? Did you know I’d killed him because he was stupid, and he bit me? He bit me on the arm. You knew I’d killed him, didn’t you? Well, you’re not going to tell anyone; you’re not even going to know it yourself pretty soon.”
Alice coughed again. Her arm was becoming numb, but the pain was vivid beyond endurance in her shoulder, in her straining back muscles, in her neck. She was sheeted in flame. Then she said, almost as quietly as Angelo had spoken:
“Yes, I knew all the time you’d killed that little dog. I knew it, somehow, even before I found him. I know all about you—Angelo.”
He nodded. “And I know that, too. And that’s why you’re going to drop down there soon. And you won’t be around to tell anyone.”
I can’t die! thought Alice wildly. Somehow, somebody might suspect; Mark might suspect! The police might start to think. They have ways of finding out things. For Mark’s sake, I mustn’t die, please God, I mustn’t die! If I do, then he’ll know!
“You thought you’d take Daddy away from Mum, didn’t you?” asked Angelo. “You thought you’d put Mum and me out of the house, and live there, our nice house I like so much, and all the nice things in it. You thought you’d get Daddy’s money. And Mum and I would live
She heard the faintest sound behind her, but she was too late. Even in the very motion of turning her head, she felt the violent push against her shoulders. It seemed to happen slowly, as if in a dream. She was tilting dreamily forward; she was looking straight down on the toothed rocks and the murderous brush far below; she was sailing slightly in the air. Then her instinct of survival rushed to her aid. Somehow, as she dropped, she caught a strong stake which supported part of the fence, and she was hanging over the gulf by her right arm, her hand clutched about the stake. Her whole body shuddered abruptly, stopped in the instant of falling; the bones screamed in their sockets; her shoulder exploded into fire; her legs and torso dangled in space, and she was looking at the brown and crumbling race of the bluff, and its dust was in her nostrils.
CHAPTER SEVEN
A wind rushed up from the bottom of the bluff, and Alice’s body swung idly. It had happened an instant ago; it had happened hours ago. Only the agony in her arm was real. The muscles slipped; ligaments ripped; her wrist was strained unbearably. She felt her hair fluttering about her face. Then terror took her and shook her as with giant teeth. Only the frail bones and flesh of her right arm held her from death.
Then she screamed. She looked up, her eyes starting. Angelo was leaning on the fence and smiling down at her. Only his head was visible, his beautiful, wicked head.
“Why don’t you let go, Aunt Alicia?” he asked softly. “You can’t hang there very long, can you? They won’t be home for nearly an hour yet. Can you stand it?”
Alice screamed again, and her voice was carried away in echoes, and the sun struck the top of her head and her body swayed and she coughed, as she inhaled dust. She had no thought except to live. She did not even feel horror, for she had accepted it.
“Poor Aunt Alicia,” said Angelo, sighing. “She was sitting on the fence, and then she lost her balance and she fell, and I came running and screaming, and there wasn’t anyone to help, and I’m too young and little to help her. And there is Aunt Alicia at the bottom, all torn up by the rocks and the brush, as dead as Petti.”
Alice made no sound. She looked up into that angelic face with its gleaming smile. Then the smile was gone. A vicious darkness clouded the hazel eyes.
“Why did you have to find him?” he whispered. “Why did you go poking around? Did you know I’d killed him because he was stupid, and he bit me? He bit me on the arm. You knew I’d killed him, didn’t you? Well, you’re not going to tell anyone; you’re not even going to know it yourself pretty soon.”
Alice coughed again. Her arm was becoming numb, but the pain was vivid beyond endurance in her shoulder, in her straining back muscles, in her neck. She was sheeted in flame. Then she said, almost as quietly as Angelo had spoken:
“Yes, I knew all the time you’d killed that little dog. I knew it, somehow, even before I found him. I know all about you—Angelo.”
He nodded. “And I know that, too. And that’s why you’re going to drop down there soon. And you won’t be around to tell anyone.”
I can’t die! thought Alice wildly. Somehow, somebody might suspect; Mark might suspect! The police might start to think. They have ways of finding out things. For Mark’s sake, I mustn’t die, please God, I mustn’t die! If I do, then he’ll know!
“You thought you’d take Daddy away from Mum, didn’t you?” asked Angelo. “You thought you’d put Mum and me out of the house, and live there, our nice house I like so much, and all the nice things in it. You thought you’d get Daddy’s money. And Mum and I would live
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