'There! The library! The door with the green curtain!' Again that
horrible cry rang out, dying down to a harsh croaking. It ended in a
loud, sharp snick, as when one cracks one's joint, but many times
louder. I knew only too well what that dreadful sound portended.
We rushed together into the room, but the hardened Savary and the
dare-devil hussar both recoiled in horror from the sight which met our
gaze.
My uncle had been seated writing at his desk, with his back to the door,
when his murderer had entered. No doubt it was at the first glance over
his shoulder that he had raised the scream when he saw that terrible
hairy face coming in upon him, while the second cry may have been when
those great hands clutched at his head. He had never risen from his
chair--perhaps he had been too paralysed by fear--and he still sat with
his back to the door. But what struck the colour from our cheeks was
that his head had been turned completely round, so that his horribly
distorted purple face looked squarely at us from between his shoulders.
Often in my dreams that thin face, with the bulging grey eyes, and the
shockingly open mouth, comes to disturb me.
Pages:
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273