His room was as black as pitch with the thick darkness, (for the shutters were close fastened, through fear of robbers,) and so !
knew that he could not see the opening of the door, and I kept
pushing it on steadily, steadily.
I had my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when my
thumb slipped upon the tin fastening, and the old man sprang up
in bed, crying out - "Who's there?"
I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move
a muscle, and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down. He
was still sitting up in the bed listening; – just as I have done,
night after night, hearkening to the death watches in the wall.1