"'Whoever is there, come out, or I shall fire,' he shouted; but nothing
came, and he blazed forth both barrels into the dark. As though the
report had been a signal, all the doors along the north and east walls
moved slowly open, and Wentworth and his men were staring, frightened
into the black shapes of the empty doorways.

"Wentworth loaded his gun quickly, and called to the dog; but the brute
was burrowing away in among the men; and this fear on the dog's part
frightened Wentworth more, he told me, than anything. Then something else
happened. Three of the candles over in the corner of the hall went out;
and immediately about half a dozen in different parts of the place. More
candles were put out, and the hall had become quite dark in the corners.

"The men were all standing now, holding their clubs, and crowded
together. And no one said a word. Wentworth told me he felt positively
ill with fright. I know the feeling. Then, suddenly, something splashed
on to the back of his left hand. He lifted it, and looked. It was covered
with a great splash of red that dripped from his fingers. An old Irishman
near to him, saw it, and croaked out in a quavering voice:--'The
bhlood-dhrip!' When the old man called out, they all looked, and in the
same instant others felt it upon them. There were frightened cries
of:--'The bhlood-dhrip! The bhlood-dhrip!' And then, about a dozen
candles went out simultaneously, and the hall was suddenly dark. The dog
let out a great, mournful howl, and there was a horrible little silence,
with everyone standing rigid. Then the tension broke, and there was a mad
rush for the main door. They wrenched it open, and tumbled out into the
dark; but something slammed it with a crash after them, and shut the dog
in; for Wentworth heard it howling as they raced down the drive. Yet no
one had the pluck to go back to let it out, which does not surprise me.