there could be no doubt, from its loudness, that it was near, and even
in the house. It was no less manifest that the sound arose from the
discharge of a pistol. Some hand must have drawn the trigger. I
recollected the disappearance of the candle from the room below.
Instantly a supposition darted into my mind which made my hair rise and
my teeth chatter.

"This," I said, "is the deed of Welbeck. He entered while I was absent
from the room; he hied to his chamber; and, prompted by some unknown
instigation, has inflicted on himself death!" This idea had a tendency
to palsy my limbs and my thoughts. Some time passed in painful and
tumultuous fluctuation. My aversion to this catastrophe, rather than a
belief of being, by that means, able to prevent or repair the evil,
induced me to attempt to enter his chamber. It was possible that my
conjectures were erroneous.

The door of his room was locked. I knocked; I demanded entrance in a low
voice; I put my eye and my ear to the keyhole and the crevices; nothing
could be heard or seen. It was unavoidable to conclude that no one was
within; yet the effluvia of gunpowder was perceptible.

Perhaps the room above had been the scene of this catastrophe. I
ascended the second flight of stairs. I approached the door. No sound
could be caught by my most vigilant attention. I put out the light that
I carried, and was then able to perceive that there was light within the
room. I scarcely knew how to act. For some minutes I paused at the door.
I spoke, and requested permission to enter. My words were succeeded by a
death-like stillness. At length I ventured softly to withdraw the bolt,
to open and to advance within the room. Nothing could exceed the horror
of my expectation; yet I was startled by the scene that I beheld.