Beside the bed, as if he had stepped out of the mist, or rather as if the mist had turned into his figure, for it had entirely disappeared, stood a tall, thin man, all in black.

I knew him at once from the description of the others.

The waxen face, the high aquiline nose, on which the light fell in a thin white line, the parted red lips, with the sharp white teeth showing between, and the red eyes that I had seemed to see in the sunset on the windows of St.Mary's Church at Whitby.

I knew, too, the red scar on his forehead where Jonathan had struck him.

For an instant my heart stood still, and I would have screamed out, only that I was paralyzed.