The time slowly dragged on, as if minutes were
spinning out themselves into hours. As the night advanced, he grew
more and more nervous; and he almost started from his couch, when he
heard the mysterious footstep again on the staircase. Up it came, as
before, solemnly and slowly, tramp--tramp--tramp! It approached along
the passage; the door again swung open, as if there had been neither
lock nor impediment, and a strange-looking figure stalked into the
room. It was an elderly man, large and robust, clothed in the old
Flemish fashion. He had on a kind of short cloak, with a garment under
it, belted round the waist; trunk hose, with great bunches or bows at
the knees; and a pair of russet boots, very large at top, and standing
widely from his legs. His hat was broad and slouched, with a feather
trailing over one side. His iron-gray hair hung in thick masses on his
neck; and he had a short grizzled beard. He walked slowly round the
room, as if examining that all was safe; then, hanging his hat on a
peg beside the door, he sat down in the elbow-chair, and, leaning his
elbow on the table, he fixed his eyes on Dolph with an unmoving and
deadening stare.
Dolph was not naturally a coward; but he had been brought up in an
implicit belief in ghosts and goblins.
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