person and the murderer. The narrow cell in which we stood, its
rudely-fashioned walls and arches, destitute of communication with the
external air, and its palpable dark scarcely penetrated by the rays of a
solitary candle, added to the silence which was deep and universal,
produced an impression on my fancy which no time will obliterate.

Perhaps my imagination was distempered by terror. The incident which I
am going to relate may appear to have existed only in my fancy. Be that
as it may, I experienced all the effects which the fullest belief is
adapted to produce. Glancing vaguely at the countenance of Watson, my
attention was arrested by a convulsive motion in the eyelids. This
motion increased, till at length the eyes opened, and a glance, languid
but wild, was thrown around. Instantly they closed, and the tremulous
appearance vanished.

I started from my place and was on the point of uttering some
involuntary exclamation. At the same moment, Welbeck seemed to recover
from his reverie.

"How is this?" said he. "Why do we linger here? Every moment is
precious. We cannot dig for him a grave with our hands. Wait here, while
I go in search of a spade."

Saying this, he snatched the candle from my hand, and hasted away. My
eye followed the light as its gleams shifted their place upon the walls
and ceilings, and, gradually vanishing, gave place to unrespited gloom.
This proceeding was so unexpected and abrupt, that I had no time to
remonstrate against it. Before I retrieved the power of reflection, the
light had disappeared and the footsteps were no longer to be heard.