“And then, suddenly, as my eye grew more used to the half-light, I saw,
projecting from behind the screen, as though it were stretched along the
back of a divan, the hand of a man and the lower part of his arm. I
was as startled as though I had come across a footprint on a deserted
island. Evidently, the man had been sitting there since I had come
into the room, even since I had entered the house, and he had heard the
servant knocking upon the door. Why he had not declared himself I could
not understand, but I supposed that, possibly, he was a guest, with
no reason to interest himself in the Princess's other visitors, or,
perhaps, for some reason, he did not wish to be observed. I could see
nothing of him except his hand, but I had an unpleasant feeling that he
had been peering at me through the carving in the screen, and that
he still was doing so. I moved my feet noisily on the floor and said,
tentatively, 'I beg your pardon.'
“There was no reply, and the hand did not stir. Apparently, the man
was bent upon ignoring me, but, as all I wished was to apologize for my
intrusion and to leave the house, I walked up to the alcove and peered
around it. Inside the screen was a divan piled with cushions, and on the
end of it nearer me the man was sitting. He was a young Englishman with
light-yellow hair and a deeply bronzed face. He was seated with his arms
stretched out along the back of the divan, and with his head resting
against a cushion. His attitude was one of complete ease. But his mouth
had fallen open, and his eyes were set with an expression of utter
horror. At the first glance, I saw that he was quite dead.
“For a flash of time I was too startled to act, but in the same flash I
was convinced that the man had met his death from no accident, that he
had not died through any ordinary failure of the laws of nature. The
expression on his face was much too terrible to be misinterpreted. It
spoke as eloquently as words. It told me that before the end had come he
had watched his death approach and threaten him.
“I was so sure he had been murdered that I instinctively looked on the
floor for the weapon, and, at the same moment, out of concern for my
own safety, quickly behind me; but the silence of the house continued
unbroken.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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