The hours passed.  By slow degrees, the silence was eclipsed.  Sounds of traffic, of hurrying footsteps,—­life!—­were ushers of the morn.  Outside the window sparrows twittered,—­a cat mewed, a dog barked—­there was the clatter of a milk can.  Shafts of light stole past the blind, increasing in intensity.  It still rained, now and again it pattered against the pane.  The wind must have shifted, because, for the first time, there came, on a sudden, the clang of a distant clock striking the hour,—­seven.  Then, with the interval of a lifetime between each chiming, eight,—­nine,—­ten.

So far, in the room itself there had not been a sound.  When the clock had struck ten, as it seemed to me, years ago, there came a rustling noise, from the direction of the bed.  Feet stepped upon the floor,—­moving towards where I was lying.  It was, of course, now broad day, and I, presently, perceived that a figure, clad in some queer coloured garment, was standing at my side, looking down at me.  It stooped, then knelt.  My only covering was unceremoniously thrown from off me, so that I lay there in my nakedness.  Fingers prodded me then and there, as if I had been some beast ready for the butcher’s stall.  A face looked into mine, and, in front of me, were those dreadful eyes.  Then, whether I was dead or living, I said to myself that this could be nothing human,—­nothing fashioned in God’s image could wear such a shape as that.  Fingers were pressed into my cheeks, they were thrust into my mouth, they touched my staring eyes, shut my eyelids, then opened them again, and—­horror of horrors!—­the blubber lips were pressed to mine—­the soul of something evil entered into me in the guise of a kiss.

Then this travesty of manhood reascended to his feet, and said, whether speaking to me or to himself I could not tell,

’Dead!—­dead!—­as good as dead!—­and better!  We’ll have him buried.’

He moved away from me.  I heard a door open and shut, and knew that he was gone.

And he continued gone throughout the day.  I had no actual knowledge of his issuing out into the street, but he must have done so, because the house appeared deserted.  What had become of the dreadful creature of the night before I could not guess.  My first fear was that he had left it behind him in the room with me,—­it might be, as a sort of watchdog.  But, as the minutes and the hours passed, and there was still no sign or sound of anything living, I concluded that, if the thing was there, it was, possibly, as helpless as myself, and that during its owner’s absence, at any rate, I had nothing to fear from its too pressing attentions.

That, with the exception of myself, the house held nothing human, I had strong presumptive proof more than once in the course of the day.  Several times, both in the morning and the afternoon, people without endeavoured to attract the attention of whoever was within.  Vehicles—­probably tradesmen’s carts—­drew up in front, their stopping being followed by more or less assiduous assaults upon the knocker and the bell.  But in every case their appeals remained unheeded.  Whatever it was they wanted, they had to go unsatisfied away.  Lying there, torpid, with nothing to do but listen, I was, possibly, struck by very little, but it did occur to me that one among the callers was more persistent than the rest.