ARTHUR
39

"Come back" he said in a commanding tone, "and take the lamp. I'll wait for you."

I obey. When I returned with the light, a suspicion arose in my mind, that Welbeck had taken this opportunity to fly; and that, upon returning to the foot of the stairs, he had, I'll find a place deserted by everyone but the dead. My blood is frozen by this picture. The momentarily inspired resolution was to follow the example of the fugitive, and allow those who might come together the next day in this place, to concoct their own conjectures about the cause of this calamity.

Meanwhile, I cast an anxious look ahead. Welbeck was found in the same place and posture where she was left. Lifting the corpse and shroud in his hand, he directed me to follow him. The dome below is tall and broad. He moved from one to the other until we reached a small, secluded cell. Here he threw his load to the ground. In the fall, Watson's face happened to slip from the cover. His closed eyes and his sunken muscles became tenfold terrifying and miserable by the weak light that the candle shed on it.

This thing didn't go unnoticed by Welbeck. He leaned against the wall, and, folding his hands, withdrew from the reverie. He looked at Watson's face, but his appearance showed his concern for working elsewhere.

For me, my situation will not be easily explained. My eyes travel in fear from one object to another. In turns it is set on the person who was killed and the murderer. The narrow cell in which we stood, its coarsely made walls and arches, unrelated to the outside air, and its vivid darkness almost impenetrable to the light of a candle, added to the deep and universal silence, it made an impression on my fantasies that would not be obliterated by time.

Maybe my imagination is plagued by terror. The incident I was about to tell may seem to exist only in my delusion. In any case, I experienced all the effects produced by full confidence. Glancing faintly at Watson's face, my attention was restrained by the convulsive movements in the eyelids. This movement increased, until finally the eyes opened, and the sight, lethargic but wild, was thrown around. Instantly they closed, and the trembling appearance disappeared.

I started from my place and almost uttered some involuntary exclamations. At the same time, Welbeck seemed to be recovering from his reverie.

"How is this?" said. "Why are we lingering here? Every moment is precious. We can't dig a grave for him with our hands. Wait here, while I go looking for a shovel."

I am not, on ordinary occasions, poor in balance; but perhaps the human imagination naturally hates death, until taught to be indifferent by habit. Every circumstance combined to fill me with trembling and panic. For a while, I was enabled to endure my situation with the exertion of my mind. That lifeless human remains are powerless to injure or benefit, I am completely convinced. I invoke this belief to help me, and am able, if not to conquer, yet curb, my fears. I listened to capture the sound of Welbeck's returning footsteps, and hoped each new moment would end my solitude.

No signal of his arrival was given. It finally occurred to me that Welbeck had left with no intention of returning; that his hatred had wooed me here to face the consequences of his actions. He had escaped and blocked every door behind him. This suspicion might have been considered to have defeated my courage, and led to a desperate attempt at my release.

I reached out and advanced. I paid too little attention to the situation and the direction of these domes and passageways, to advance with unwavering accuracy. My fears also tend to confuse my perceptions and confuse my steps. Despite the danger of encountering the barrier, I rushed towards the entrance with rainfall.

My courage was quickly punished. In an instant, I was repelled by a protruding corner of the wall, with such force that I staggered backwards and fell. The punch was shocking, and, when I regained consciousness, I felt a stream of blood flowing from my nostrils. My clothes were moistened with this unwanted effusion, and I could not help but think of the danger I had to endure by being detected in this niche, covered by these accusing stains.

This reflection once again got me up and encouraged my exertion. I now proceed with greater vigilance and caution. I've lost all the different ideas about my path. My movements are disheveled. All my work is to avoid obstacles and advance whenever emptiness permits. In this way, the entrance was finally found, and, after various attempts, I arrived, beyond my expectations, at the foot of the stairs.

I went up, but quickly found an insurmountable obstacle. The door at the head of the stairs was closed and blocked. My greatest strength was deployed in vain, to break the key or hinge. Thus my deepest worries were met. Welbeck has left me to defend murder charges; to negate the most egregious and plausible suspicion that the course of human events is capable of producing.