...
It was several minutes, even after the conveyal of an apparently
inanimate body downstairs, before his wife first made clear signs of
intelligence; and even these were little more than grotesque
expressions of fear--rolling eyes and exclamations. It was another
quarter of an hour before any kind of connected story could be got out
of her. One conclusion only was evident, that Mrs. Nugent did not
propose to fetch the forgotten candle still burning on the
cloth-covered, brass-nailed table, but that it must be fetched
instantly; the door locked on the outside, and the key laid before her
on that tablecloth. These were the terms that must be conceded before
any further details were gone into.
Plainly there was but one person to carry out these instructions, for
the little servant-maid was already all eyes and mouth at the few
pregnant sentences that had fallen from her mistress's lips. So
Mr. Nugent himself, cloth cap and all, stepped upstairs once more.
He paused at the door and looked in.
All was entirely as usual. In spite of the unpleasant expectancy
roused, in spite of himself and his godliness, by the words of his
wife and her awful head-nodding, the room gave back to him no echo or
lingering scent of horror.
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