ed myself of his
death; I imagined he had died of fright. But what was my surprise on
finding that his neck was actually broken--actually twisted out of the
vertebrae. Had this been done in the dark?--must it not have been by a
hand human as mine?--must there not have been a human agency all the
while in that room? Good cause to suspect it. I cannot tell. I cannot do
more than state the fact fairly; the reader may draw his own inference.

Another surprising circumstance--my watch was restored to the table from
which it had been so mysteriously withdrawn; but it had stopped at the
very moment it was so withdrawn; nor, despite all the skill of the
watchmaker, has it ever gone since--that is, it will go in a strange
erratic way for a few hours, and then comes to a dead stop--it is
worthless.

Nothing more chanced for the rest of the night. Nor, indeed, had I long
to wait before the dawn broke. Not till it was broad daylight did I quit
the haunted house. Before I did so, I revisited the little blind room in
which my servant and myself had been for a time imprisoned. I had a
strong impression--for which I could not account--that from that room
had originated the mechanism of the phenomena--if I may use the
term--which had been experienced in my chamber. And though I entered it
now in the clear day, with the sun peering through the filmy window, I
still felt, as I stood on its floor, the creep of the horror which I had
first there experienced the night before, and which had been so
aggravated by what had passed in my own chamber. I could not, indeed,
bear to stay more than half a minute within those walls. I descended the
stairs, and again I heard the footfall before me; and when I opened the
street door, I thought I could distinguish a very low laugh. I gained my
own home, expecting to find my runaway servant there. But he had not
presented himself; nor did I hear more of him for three days, when I
received a letter from him, dated from Liverpool, to this effect:--

"HONOURED SIR,--I humbly entreat your pardon, though I
can scarcely hope that you will think I deserve it,
unless--which Heaven forbid!--you saw what I did. I feel that
it will be years before I can recover myself; and as to being
fit for service, it is out of the question. I am therefore
going to my brother-in-law at Melbourne. The ship sails
to-morrow. Perhaps the long voyage may set me up. I do nothing
now but start a