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perverse desire took possession of him to do the very thing which
he had resolved not to do； up to this time … to look at the dead
man。
He stretched out his hand towards the curtains； but checked himself
in the very act of undrawing them； turned his back sharply on the
bed； and walked towards the chimney…piece； to see what things were
placed on it； and to try if he could keep the dead man out of his
mind in that way。
There was a pewter inkstand on the chimney…piece； with some
mildewed remains of ink in the bottle。 There were two coarse china
ornaments of the commonest kind； and there was a square of embossed
card； dirty and fly…blown； with a collection of wretched riddles
printed on it； in all sorts of zig…zag directions； and in variously
coloured inks。 He took the card； and went away； to read it； to the
table on which the candle was placed； sitting down； with his back
resolutely turned to the curtained bed。
He read the first riddle； the second； the third； all in one corner
of the card … then turned it round impatiently to look at another。
Before he could begin reading the riddles printed here； the sound
of the church…clock stopped him。 Eleven。 He had got through an
hour of the time； in the room with the dead man。
Once more he looked at the card。 It was not easy to make out the
letters printed on it； in consequence of the dimness of the light
which the landlord had left him … a common tallow candle； furnished
with a pair of heavy old…fashioned steel snuffers。 Up to this
time； his mind had been too much occupied to think of the light。
He had left the wick of the candle unsnuffed； till it had risen
higher than the flame； and had burnt into an odd pent…house shape
at the top； from which morsels of the charred cotton fell off； from
time to time； in little flakes。 He took up the snuffers now； and
trimmed the wick。 The light brightened directly； and the room
became less dismal。
Again he turned to the riddles； reading them doggedly and
resolutely； now in one corner of the card； now in another。 All his
efforts； however； could not fix his attention on them。 He pursued
his occupation mechanically； deriving no sort of impression from
what he was reading。 It was as if a shadow from the curtained bed
had got between his mind and the gaily printed letters … a shadow
that nothing could dispel。 At last； he gave up the struggle； and
threw the card from him impatiently； and took to walking softly up
and down the room again。
The dead man； the dead man； the HIDDEN dead man on the bed！ There
was the one persistent idea still haunting him。 Hidden？ Was it
only the body being there； or was it the body being there；
concealed； that was preying on his mind？ He stopped at the window；
with that doubt in him； once more listening to the pattering rain；
once more looking out into the black darkness。
Still the dead man！ The darkness forced his mind back upon itself；
and set his memory at work； reviving； with a painfully…vivid
distinctness the momentary impression it had received from the
first sight of the corpse。 Before long the face seemed to be
hovering out in the middle of the darkness； confronting him through
the window； with the paleness whiter； with the dreadful dull line
of light between the imperfectly…closed eyelids broader than he had
seen it … with the parted lips slowly dropping farther and farther
away from each other … with the features growing larger and moving
closer； till they seemed to fill the window and to silence the
rain； and to shut out the night。
The sound of a voice； shouting below…stairs； woke him suddenly from
the dream of his own distempered fancy。 He recognised it as the
voice of the landlord。 'Shut up at twelve； Ben；' he heard it say。
'I'm off to bed。'
He wiped away the damp that had gathered on his forehead； reasoned
with himself for a little while； and resolved to shake his mind
free of the ghastly counterfeit which still clung to it； by forcing
himself to confront； if it was only for a moment； the solemn
reality。 Without allowing himself an instant to hesitate； he
parted the curtains at the foot of the bed； and looked through。
There was a sad； peaceful； white face； with the awful mystery of
stillness on it； laid back upon the pillow。 No stir； no change
there！ He only looked at it for a moment before he closed the
curtains again … but that moment steadied him； calmed him； restored
him … mind and body … to himself。
He returned to his old occupation of walking up and down the room；
persevering in it； this time； till the clock struck again。 Twelve。
As the sound of the clock…bell died away； it was succeeded by the
confused noise； down…stairs； of the drinkers in the tap…room
leaving the house。 The next sound； after an interval of silence；
was caused by the barring of the door； and the closing of the
shutters； at the back of the Inn。 Then the silence followed again；
and was disturbed no more。
He was alone now … absolutely； utterly； alone with the dead man；
till the next morning。
The wick of the candle wanted trimming again。 He took up the
snuffers … but paused suddenly on the very point of using them； and
looked attentively at the candle … then back； over his shoulder； at
the curtained bed … then again at the candle。 It had been lighted；
for the first time； to show him the way up…stairs； and three parts
of it； at least； were already consumed。 In another hour it would
be burnt out。 In another hour … unless he called at once to the
man who had shut up the Inn； for a fresh candle … he would be left
in the dark。
Strongly as his mind had been affected since he had entered his
room； his unreasonable dread of encountering ridicule； and of
exposing his courage to suspicion； had not altogether lost its
influence over him； even yet。 He lingered irresolutely by the
table； waiting till he could prevail on himself to open the door；
and call； from the landing； to the man who had shut up the Inn。 In
his present hesitating frame of mind； it was a kind of relief to
gain a few moments only by engaging in the trifling occupation of
snuffing the candle。 His hand trembled a little； and the snuffers
were heavy and awkward to use。 When he closed them on the wick； he
closed them a hair's breadth too low。 In an instant the candle was
out； and the room was plunged in pitch darkness。
The one impression which the absence of light immediately produced
on his mind； was distrust of the curtained bed … distrust which
shaped itself into no distinct idea； but which was powerful enough
in its very vagueness； to bind him down to his chair； to make his
heart beat fast； and to set him listening intently。 No sound
stirred in the room but the familiar sound of the rain against the
window； louder and sharper now than he had heard it yet。
Still the vague distrust； the inexpressible dread possessed him；
and kept him to his chair。 He had put his