Whilst still a few yards off, he checked himself.

If the man slept, his body was strangely distorted; one arm seemed to be beneath him, the other was extended stiffly; the face looked at the sky.

A few steps, and Dagworthy, gazing upon the face, knew it.
A cold shudder thrilled him, and he drew back.

His foot struck against something; it was a bottle.

He picked it up, and read a word in large print on the white label.
The temptation to look full into the face again was irresistible, though horror shook him as he approached.