Only one hour till the train was due, after which I could turn in for
the night.

A louder peal of thunder shook the house, and fiercer flashed the
lightning. Minute after minute went by, and each seemed an age. The
roar and din of the elements only deepened the gloom inside, where the
uncertain kerosene lamp darkened the shadows.

Suddenly to my overstrained nerves the ceaseless clicking of the
instrument seemed to say, "Watch the box--watch the box--watch the box."
As a particular strain of melody will at times repeat itself in the
mind, and obstinately keep time to every movement, till one is well-nigh
distracted, so this refrain began to enchain every sense: "Watch the
box--watch the box--watch the box." Till now my depressed spirits were
due only to the solitude and the storm. No suspicion of evil or danger
had tormented me.

Peering more closely into the dingy corner, I saw only the ordinary pine
box, with what seemed to be a square paper, or placard, on the side
facing me. Probably the address, bunglingly adjusted on the side instead
of the top, or else a stain of mud from the late rough drive. At all
events I was not curious enough to approach more nearly the ghostly
visitant.

Ten minutes had crept by, when a muffled noise in the dark corner
distinctly sounded above the pelting raindrops, while as if to mock at
my quickened fears, the wires continued their monotonous warning,
"Watch the box--watch the box--watch the box." I did watch the box, and
now as if by inspiration I grasped the situation. There was indeed a man