come, into that darkness all returned.

As the gloom receded, the Shadow was wholly gone. Slowly, as it
had been withdrawn, the flame grew again into the candles on the
table, again into the fuel in the grate. The whole room came once
more calmly, healthfully into sight.

The two doors were still closed, the door communicating with the
servant's room still locked. In the corner of the wall, into which
he had so convulsively niched himself, lay the dog. I called to
him,--no movement; I approached,--the animal was dead: his eyes
protruded; his tongue out of his mouth; the froth gathered round
his jaws. I took him in my arms; I brought him to the fire. I
felt acute grief for the loss of my poor favorite,--acute self-
reproach; I accused myself of his death; I imagined he had died of
fright. But what was my surprise on finding that his neck was
actually broken. Had this been done in the dark? Must it not have
been by a hand human as mine; must there not have been a human
agency all the while in that room? Good cause to suspect it. I
cannot tell. I cannot do more than state the fact fairly; the
reader may draw his own inference.

Another surprising circumstance,--my watch was restored to the
table from which it had been so mysteriously withdrawn; but it had
stopped at the very moment it was so withdrawn, nor, despite all
the skill of the watchmaker, has it ever gone since,--that is, it
will go in a strange, erratic way for a few hours, and then come to
a dead stop; it is worthless.

Nothing more chanced for the rest of the night. Nor, indeed, had I