I was glad enough, however, on
reaching the stairs, to find them newly built, and the carpet thick. Up
I went, with a glance at every step for the table which now hid the
brute's form from me, and never a creak did I wake out of that staircase
till I was almost at the first landing, when my toe caught a loose
stair-rod, and rattled it in a way that stopped my heart for a moment,
and then set it going in double-quick time.
I stood still with a hand on the rail. My eyes were now on a level with
the floor of the landing, out of which branched two passages--one
turning sharply to my right, the other straight in front, so that I was
gazing down the length of it. Almost at the end, a parallelogram of
light fell across it from an open door.
A man who has once felt it knows there is only one kind of silence that
can fitly be called "dead." This is only to be found in a great house
at midnight. I declare that for a few seconds after I rattled the
stair-rod you might have cut the silence with a knife. If the house
held a clock, it ticked inaudibly.
Upon this silence, at the end of a minute, broke a light sound--the
_tink-tink_ of a decanter on the rim of a wine-glass. It came from the
room where the light was.
Pages:
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187