CHAPTER X.
'O BITTERNESS OF THINGS TOO SWEET.' Only for an instant did John Hammond stand motionless after hearing that unearthly shriek.

In the next moment he rushed into the corridor, expecting to hear the sound repeated, to find himself face to face with some midnight robber, whose presence had caused that wild cry of alarm.
But in the corridor all was silent as the grave.

No open door suggested the entrance of an intruder.

The dimly-burning lamps showed only the long empty gallery.

He stood still for a few moments listening for voices, footsteps, the rustle of garments: but there was nothing.
Nothing?
Yes, a groan, a long-drawn moaning sound, as of infinite pain.
This time there was no doubt as to the direction from which the sound came.