He knew no sound he made could be heard in a past century; but whatever he himself now did, he instinctively felt the 'cellist in the mirror would also do.
With a desperate effort he stopped the movement of the bow.
He had just time to see the 'cellist in the mirror also pause.
Then Ronnie dropped his bow, gripped the 'cello with both hands, and, as the swift blow fell, drew the body of the 'cello up over his breast.
Then the back of his chair seemed to give way; his feet left the floor, and he fell over backwards--down--down--down--into a never ending abyss of throbbing, palpitating, rolling blackness.
Part IV.