frenzied entanglement again with sheets and
pillow-case, succeeded in breaking four matches in quick succession. They
cracked, it seemed to him, like pistol shots, till he half expected that
this creature, waiting there in the darkness, must leap out in the
direction of the sound to attack him. The fifth lit, and a moment later
the candle was burning dimly, but with its usual exasperating leisure and
delay. As the flare died down, then gradually rose again, he fairly
swallowed the room with a single look, wishing there were eyes all over
his body. It was a very faint light. At first he saw nothing, heard
nothing--nothing alive, that is.

"I must act! I must do something--at once!" he remembered thinking. For,
to wait meant to leave the choice and moment of attack to this other....

Cautiously, and very slowly, therefore, he wriggled to the edge of the
bed and slid over, searching with his feet for slippers, but finding
none, yet not daring to lower his eyes to look; then stood upright with
a sudden rush, shading the candle from his eyes with one hand and
peering over it.

As a rule, in moments of overwhelming emotion, the eyes search too
eagerly, too furiously, to see properly at all; but this does not seem to
have been the case with Spinrobin. The shadows ran about like water and
the flickering of the candle-flame dazzled, but there, opposite to him,
over by the darkness of the dead fireplace, he saw instantly the small
black object that was the immediate cause of his terror. Its actual shape
was merged too much in the dark background to be clearly ascertainable,
but near the top of it, where presumably the head was, the candle-flame
shone reflected in two brilliant points of light that were directed
straight upon his face, and he knew that he was looking into the eyes of
a living creature that was not the very least on the defensive. It was a
living creature, aggressive and unafraid.

For perhaps a couple of minutes--or was it seconds only?--these two
beings with the breath of life in them faced one another. Then Spinrobin
made a step cautiously in advance; lowering his candle he moved towards
it. This he did, partly to see better, partly to protect his bare legs.
The idea of protection, however, seems to have been merely instinct, for
at once this notion that it might dash forward to attack him was merged
in the unaccountable realization of a far grander emotion, as he
perceived that this "living creature" facing