“The maids now complained to me. ‘They could not do their work,’ they argued, ‘if they were deprived of sleep, and sleep was out of the question whilst the disturbances continued. I must get rid of the clock.’ “To this proposition, however, I was by no means agreeable. I certainly had no reason to like the clock--indeed I loathed and hated it--but in some indefinable manner it fascinated me. I could not, I dare not part with it. ‘I have no doubt,’ I protested, ‘the annoyances will cease as soon as the clock has become at home with its surroundings. Have patience and all will be well.’ “They agreed to wait a little longer before giving me notice, and I fully hoped that my prophecy would be fulfilled. But the clock was far more persistent than I had anticipated. Adopting fresh tactics, it began a series of persecutions that speedily brought matters to a crisis. “Christina, the cook, was the first victim. “Not being a very fluent scribe, her letters caused her endless labour, and she often sat up writing long after the other servants had gone to bed. “On the night in question she was plodding on wearily when the intense stillness of the house made her suddenly think of the time; it must be very late! Dare she venture in the hall? “Christina was not a nervous woman; she had hitherto discredited all ghost-stories, and was quite the last person in the house to accept the theory that the present disturbances were due to any superphysical agency. She now, however, recollected all that had been said on the subject, and the close proximity of the clock filled her with dread; her fears being further augmented by the knowledge of her isolation--unluckily her room was completely cut off from any other in the house. “Hastily putting away her writing materials, she was preparing to make a precipitate rush for the stairs when a peculiar thumping riveted her attention. “Her blood congealed, her legs tottered, she could not move an inch. What was it? “Her heart--only the pulsations of her heart. “She burst out laughing. How truly ridiculous. “Catching her breath and casting fearful looks of apprehension on all sides, she advanced towards the stairs and ‘tiptoeing’ stealthily across the hall, tried in vain to keep her eyes from the clock. But its sonorous ticking brought her to a peremptory halt. “She stood and listened. Tick! tick! tick! It was so unlike any other ticking she had ever heard, it appalled her. “The clock, too, seemed to have become blacker and even more gigantic. “It reared itself above her like a monstrous coffin. “She was now too terrified to think of escape, and could only clutch hold of the bannisters in momentary terror of some fresh phenomenon. “In this helpless condition she watched the clock slowly increase in stature till its grotesquely carved summit all but swept the ceiling, whilst a pair of huge, toeless, grey feet protruded from beneath its base.