But he could not rise--not that he felt any physical impediment, but that he could not make a resolve strong enough--like one in irksome company, who wants to leave, but waits in vain a fit opportunity.
Delay grew to agony, but still he sat.
He became aware that he was not alone.

His whole skin seemed to contract with a shuddering sense of presence.

Gradually, as he gazed straight in front of him, slowly, in the chair on the opposite side of the fire-place, grew visible the form of a man, until he saw it quite plainly--that of a seafaring man, in a blue coat, with a red sash round his waist, in which were pistols, and a dagger.

He too sat motionless, fixing on him the stare of fierce eyes, black, yet glowing, as if set on fire of hell.

They filled him with fear, but something seemed to sustain him under it.