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noisy； it was all one to John。 If a train of heavy artillery could have
come up and commenced ball practice outside the window； it
would have been all the same to him。 He was a long way beyond
surprise。 A ghost couldn’t have overtaken him。
By and by he heard a footstep—a hurried； and yet cautious
footstep—coming on towards the house。 It stopped； advanced
again； then seemed to go quite round it。 Having done that； it came
beneath the window； and a head looked in。
It was strongly relieved against the darkness outside by the
glare of the guttering candles。 A pale； worn； withered face； the
eyes—but that was owing to its gaunt condition—unnaturally
large and bright； the hair； a grizzled black。 It gave a searching
glance all round the room； and a deep voice said：
‘Are you alone in this house？’
John made no sign； though the question was repeated twice；
and he heard it distinctly。 After a moment’s pause； the man got in
at the window。 John was not at all surprised at this； either。 There
had been so much getting in and out of window in the course of
the last hour or so； that he had quite forgotten the door； and
seemed to have lived among such exercises from infancy。
The man wore a large； dark； faded cloak； and a slouched hat； he
walked up close to John； and looked at him。 John returned the
compliment with interest。
‘How long have you been sitting thus？’ said the man。
John considered； but nothing came of it。
‘Which way have the party gone？’
Some wandering speculations relative to the fashion of the
stranger’s boots； got into Mr Willet’s mind by some accident or
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other； but they got out again in a hurry； and left him in his former
state。
‘You would do well to speak；’ said the man； ‘you may keep a
whole skin； though you have nothing else left that can be hurt。
Which way have the party gone？’
‘That！’ said John； finding his voice all at once； and nodding with
perfect good faith—he couldn’t point； he was so tightly bound—in
exactly the opposite direction to the right one。
‘You lie！’ said the man angrily； and with a threatening gesture。
‘I came that way。 You would betray me。’
It was so evident that John’s imperturbability was not assumed；
but was the result of the late proceedings under his roof； that the
man stayed his hand in the very act of striking him； and turned
away。
John looked after him without so much as a twitch in a single
nerve of his face。 He seized a glass； and holding it under one of the
little casks until a few drops were collected； drank them greedily
off； then throwing it down upon the floor impatiently； he took the
vessel in his hands and drained it into his throat。 Some scraps of
bread and meat were scattered about； and on these he fell next；
eating them with voracity； and pausing every now and then to
listen for some fancied noise outside。 When he had refreshed
himself in this manner with violent haste； and raised another
barrel to his lips； he pulled his hat upon his brow as though he
were about to leave the house； and turned to John。
‘Where are your servants？’
Mr Willet indistinctly remembered to have heard the rioters
calling to them to throw the key of the room in which they were；
out of window； for their keeping。 He therefore replied； ‘Locked
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up。’
‘Well for them if they remain quiet； and well for you if you do
the like；’ said the man。 ‘Now show me the way the party went。’
This time Mr Willet indicated it correctly。 The man was
hurrying to the door； when suddenly there came towards them on
the wind； the loud and rapid tolling of an alarm…bell； and then a
bright and vivid glare streamed up； which illumined； not only the
whole chamber； but all the country。
It was not the sudden change from darkness to this dreadful
light； it was not the sound of distant shrieks and shouts of
triumph； it was not this dread invasion of the serenity and peace of
night； that drove the man back as though a thunderbolt had struck
him。 It was the Bell。 If the ghastliest shape the human mind has
ever pictured in its wildest dreams had risen up before him； he
could not have staggered backward from its touch； as he did from
the first sound of that loud iron voice。 With eyes that started from
his head； his limbs convulsed； his face most horrible to see； he
raised one arm high up into the air； and holding something
visionary back and down； with his other hand； drove at it as
though he held a knife and stabbed it to the heart。 He clutched his
hair； and stopped his ears； and travelled madly round and round；
then gave a frightful cry； and with it rushed away： still； still； the
Bell tolled on and seemed to follow him—louder and louder； hotter
and hotter yet。 The glare grew brighter； the roar of voices deeper；
the crash of heavy bodies falling； shook the air； bright streams of
sparks rose up into the sky； but louder than them all—rising faster
far； to Heaven—a million times more fierce and furious—pouring
forth dreadful secrets after its long silence—speaking the language
of the dead—the Bell—the Bell！
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What hunt of spectres could surpass that dread pursuit and
flight！ Had there been a legion of them on his track； he could have
better borne it。 They would have had a beginning and an end； but
here all space was full。 The one pursuing voice was everywhere： it
sounded in the earth； the air； shook the long grass； and howled
among the trembling trees。 The echoes caught it up； the owls
hooted as it flew upon the bre