Moved then by some desperate urgency which had at its heart his sense that to be left alone in the black passage was worse than the actual lighted vision of his Terror, he crept with trembling knees across the passage and through the door.
Inside the room he saw that she had laid the candle upon the piano, and was bending over a drawer, trying again to fit a key.

He stood in the doorway, a tiny figure, very, very cold, all his soul in his silent 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.