The Beetle A Mystery

iousness during the long hours which followed. I was aware of the extinction of the lamp, and of the black darkness which ensued. I heard a rustling sound, as if the man in the bed was settling hims

speculation, in the days gone by, I had imagined it as quite possible that he would feel. It is very far from certain that feeling necessarily expires with what we call life. I continually asked

barked-there was the clatter of a milk can. Shafts of light stole past the blind, increasing in intensity. It still rained, now and again it pattered against the pane. The wind must have shi

at my side, looking down at me. It stooped, then knelt. My only covering was unceremoniously thrown from off me, so that I lay there in my nakedness. Fingers prodded me then and there, as if I had been some beast ready for the butcher's stall. A face looked into mine, and, in front of me, were those dreadful eyes. Then, whether I was dead or living, I said to mysel

d to his feet, and said, whether speaki

as dead!-and better!

eard a door open and shut,

e night before I could not guess. My first fear was that he had left it behind him in the room with me,-it might be, as a sort of watchdog. But, as the minutes and the hours passed, and there was still no sign or

ttention of whoever was within. Vehicles-probably tradesmen's carts-drew up in front, their stopping being followed by more or less assiduous assaults upon the knocker and the bell. But in every case their appeals remained unheeded. Wh

e times, and then there was the sound of footsteps quietly retreating, and the gate re-closing. Between one and two the caller came again; there was a repetition of the same signal,-that it was a signal I did not doubt; followed by the same retreat. About three the mysterious visitant returned. The signal was repeated, and, when there was no response, fingers tapped softl

g him without. He went through the familiar pantomime of the three squeaky calls both at the front door and the back,-followed by the tapping of the fingers on the panels. This time, however, he also tried the window panes,-I could hear, quite distinctly, the clear, yet disti

le as a perpendicular brick wall. There was the noise of what seemed to be the scratching of claws, as if it experienced considerable difficulty in obtaining a hold on the unyielding surface. What kind of creature it was I could not think,-I was astonished to find that it was a creature at all. I ha

dly that which was likely to be the product of human fingers,-it was sharp and definite, rather resembling the striking of the point of a nail against the glass. It was not loud, but in time-it continued with much persistency-it became plainly vicious. It

vouring, by force of pressure, to gain an entrance through the pane. So violent did its contortions become that I momentarily anticipated the yielding of the glass, and the excited assailant coming crashing through. Considerably to my relief the window proved more impregnable than seemed at one time likely. The stolid resistance proved,

queaks of the persistent caller. I imagined that he had returned, as before, alone, to renew his attacks upon the window,-until it was made plain, as it quickly was, that, with him, was some sort of a companion. Immediately there arose, from without, the noise of battle. Two creatures, whose cries were, to me, of so unusual a character, that I found it impossible to even guess at their identity, seemed to be waging war to the knife upon the doorstep. After a minute or two of furious contention, victory seemed to rest with one of the combatants, for the other fled, squeaking as with pain. While I listened, with strained attention, for t

and

y, at the word of comman

in which I had seen him last, was the being I had made acquaintance with under