xt, and so on.

The passage-way was empty when his murderer's face looked into it. He
stole on, to the door on tiptoe, as if he dreaded to disturb his own
imaginary rest.

He listened. Not a sound. As he turned the key with a trembling hand,
and pushed the door softly open with his knee, a monstrous fear beset
his mind.

What if the murdered man were there before him!

He cast a fearful glance all round. But there was nothing there.

He went in, locked the door, drew the key through and through the dust
and damp in the fire-place to sully it again, and hung it up as of old.
He took off his disguise, tied it up in a bundle ready for carrying away
and sinking in the river before night, and locked it up in a cupboard.
These precautions taken, he undressed and went to bed.

The raging thirst, the fire that burnt within him as he lay beneath the
clothes, the augmented horror of the room when they shut it out from his
view; the agony of listening, in which he paid enforced regard to every
sound, and thought the most unlikely one the prelude to that knocking
which should bring the news; the starts with which he left his couch,
and looking in the glass, imagined that his deed was broadly written
in his face, and lying down and burying himself once more beneath the
blankets, heard his own heart beating Murder, Murder, Murder, in the
bed; what words can paint tremendous truths like these!

The morning advanced. There were footsteps in the house. He heard the
blinds drawn up, and shutters opened; and now and then a stealthy tread
outside his own door. He tried to call out, more than once, but his
mouth was dry as if it had been filled with sand. At last he sat up in
his bed, and cried:

'Who's there?'

It was his wife.

He asked her what it was o'clock? Nine.

'Did--did no one knock at my door yesterday?' he faltered. 'Something
disturbed me; but unless you had knocked the door down, you would have
got no notice from me.'

'No one,' she replied. That was well. He had waited, almost breathless,
for her answer. It was a relief to him, if anything could be.

'Mr Nadgett wanted to see you,' she said, 'but I told him you were
tired, and had requested not to be disturbed. He said it was of little
consequence, and went away. As I was opening my window to let in the
cool air, I saw him passing through the street this morning, very early;
but he hasn't been again.'

Passing through the street that morning? Very early! Jon