One night, not long after the beginning of my new life in Liverpool, I was lying in bed listening to the wind and rain beating over the housetops and driving against the windows, when suddenly there came a loud rap at my door.
"Who's there ?" I demanded, starting out of bed.
As I heard no answer, I repeated my inquiry and stood a moment listening.

I could hear nothing, however, but the wind and rain.
Lighting a candle and dressing myself with all haste, I opened the door.

I could just discern the figure of a bent old man standing in the hallway, when a gust of wind suddenly put out the candle.

The door leading to the street was open, and the old man was probably a straggler come to importune me for shelter or for something to eat.

As I relit the candle, he entered my room and stood facing me, but he did not speak.
His clothes were dripping and he was blinking at me with strange, gleaming eyes.