I heard a horrible tremor quivering through the joints and curtains
of the bedstead--the convulsions of the murdered woman. It was a dreadful
sound, like the shaking of a tree and rustling of leaves. Then once more
he steps to the side of the bed, and I heard another of those horrid
blows--and silence--and another--and more silence--and the diabolical
surgery was ended. For a few seconds, I think, I was on the point of
fainting; but a gentle stir outside the door, close to my ear, startled me,
and proved that there had been a watcher posted outside. There was a little
tapping at the door.
'Who's that?' whispered Dudley, hoarsely.
'A friend,' answered a sweet voice.
And a key was introduced, the door quickly unlocked, and Uncle Silas
entered. I saw that frail, tall, white figure, the venerable silver locks
that resembled those upon the honoured head of John Wesley, and his thin
white hand, the back of which hung so close to my face that I feared to
breathe. I could see his fingers twitching nervously. The smell of perfumes
and of ether entered the room with him.
Dudley was trembling now like a man in an ague-fit.
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