The key being turned, however, the hole was not entirely closed.

Sherlock Holmes bent down to it, and instantly rose again with a sharp intaking of the breath.
"There is something devilish in this, Watson," said he, more moved than I had ever before seen him.

"What do you make of it ?" I stooped to the hole, and recoiled in horror.

Moonlight was streaming into the room, and it was bright with a vague and shifty radiance.
Looking straight at me, and suspended, as it were, in the air, for all beneath was in shadow, there hung a face,--the very face of our companion Thaddeus.

There was the same high, shining head, the same circular bristle of red hair, the same bloodless countenance.