He gradually fell
asleep bolt upright in his chair, with the empty glass standing before
him; and the candle seemed to fall asleep too, for the wick grew long,
and black, and cabbaged at the end, and dimmed the little light that
remained in the chamber. The gloom that now prevailed was contagious.
Around hung the shapeless, and almost spectral, box-coats of departed
travellers, long since buried in deep sleep. I only heard the ticking
of the clock, with the deep-drawn breathings of the sleeping topers,
and the drippings of the rain, drop--drop--drop, from the eaves of the
house. The church-bells chimed midnight. All at once the stout
gentleman began to walk overhead, pacing slowly backwards and
forwards. There was something extremely awful in all this, especially
to one in my state of nerves. These ghastly greatcoats, these guttural
breathings, and the creaking footsteps of this mysterious being. His
steps grew fainter and fainter, and at length died away. I could bear
it no longer. I was wound up to the desperation of a hero of romance.
"Be he who or what he may," said I to myself, "I'll have a sight of
him!" I seized a chamber candle, and hurried up to number 13. The door
stood ajar. I hesitated--I entered: the room was deserted.
Pages:
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105