There was nothing left but to await daylight; to remain on watch, endeavoring alone to formulate some plan of future action.
Accustomed as I was to danger, the situation set my pulses throbbing--the intense blackness, the silence, the memory of that dead face, utterly unnerving me.

I imagined things--a presence in that deserted hall through which I groped.

Some unknown horror close at hand, even a spectral passing down the stairs.

I listened, clinging to the banister-rail, feeling again helplessly for matches.

Perhaps the faint scuffling was some scurrying rat, or some puff of wind in a chimney hole, but God only knows how glad I was to discover the open door to my own room again.