A SCHERZO 173 



looked at my watch on lighting the candle) when 

 both of us were waked simultaneously by a terrific 

 crash outside our door — or, more properly speaking, 

 by a sustained series of crashes, culminating in a 

 last heavy thud, followed by dead silence. Such 

 a horrible clatter could have but one interpretation. 

 In spite of our having just been awakened from 

 deep and dreamless sleep, it was impossible not to 

 recognise the fact that some weighty person, wearing 

 heavy boots, had tumbled from the top of the 

 stairs to the bottom, and probably lay at that 

 moment in the passage below, lifeless, or at best in 

 an unconscious condition. In a few seconds the 

 two of us were standing at the head of the staircase 

 eagerly gazing, with the assistance of the feeble 

 light shed by our candle, into the gloom below, 

 in the vain endeavour to decipher the awful mys- 

 tery that lay there, enwrapt in the impenetrable 

 silence. 



Close to the bottom the stairway took a sharp 

 turn to the left, and whatever ghastly revelation 

 awaited us remained invisible beyond that bend. 

 With beating heart and nervous tread we descended 

 the steps candle in hand, inquiring tremulously (and 

 unnecessarily) as we went, if any one were there. 



