te the fair innocents who slumbered within and the sturdy rogues
who slept without, the loneliness of the place took hold upon me, and
made me uneasy and anxious. Once I thought I heard returning footsteps
without, and rushed to the gate. But it was only a creaking of the
trees. Another time I seemed to hear a calling from within, and sprang
wildly to the door. But it was only a hoot-owl. And when the leaves
tapped on the window above, I looked up expecting a face to appear
there. And when a horse in the stable whinnied, I imagined it the
mocking laughter of a troop of traitors left behind to rob me of my
trust.

At length I grew so restless and weary of waiting, that I determined to
delay no longer, but enter the house.

As I stood a moment at the door, hesitating, the wind suddenly dropped,
and there fell a silence on the place which made me shudder, and tempted
me after all to await the dawn. But, with a mighty effort, I gathered
up my courage, and, laughing at my qualms, pushed the door.

It was not even shut to, so that, giving way unexpectedly under my hand,
I stumbled heavily into the hall. As I did so, I struck my face against
something icy cold.

In the darkness I could see nothing; but I felt the thing swing away
from my touch; and before I could step back, or put out my hand, it
returned and struck me once more, harder than before. I clutched at it
wildly; then, with a gasp of horror, flung it from me, and rushed,
shouting to my men, into the open air.

For what had touched my face was the hand of a dead man!

It seemed an age before, amongst us all, we could strike light enough to
kindle a torch. Then, shuddering in every limb, I returned to the
house.

There, just within the open door, from a beam in the hall roof, hung a
corpse, still swinging slowly to and fro. And when I held up the torch
to look at his face, there leered down upon me the eyes of my old fellow
'prentice Peter Stoupe! At the sight the torch fell from my hands, and
I reeled back into my comrade's arms, stark and cold, well-nigh as the
corpse itself. Then there came upon me, with a rush, an inkling of what
all this meant. I seized the light again, and dashed past the hall and
up the staircase. Every room was still and empty as death. We searched
every nook and corner, and called aloud, till the place rang with our
shouts. The only occupant of Turlogh Luinech O'Neill's house was that
lonely corpse swinging in the hal