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The thing was still seated in the chair, straining over the table

with bowed head, and humped back, and long fantastic arms. Had it

not been for the red jagged tear in the neck and the clotted

black pool that was slowly widening on the table, one would have

said that the man was simply asleep.

How quickly it had all been done! He felt strangely calm, and

walking over to the window, opened it and stepped out on the

balcony. The wind had blown the fog away, and the sky was like a

monstrous peacock's tail, starred with myriads of golden eyes. He

looked down and saw the policeman going his rounds and flashing

the long beam of his lantern on the doors of the silent houses.

The crimson spot of a prowling hansom gleamed at the corner and

then vanished. A woman in a fluttering shawl was creeping slowly

by the railings, staggering as she went. Now and then she stopped

and peered back. Once, she began to sing in a hoarse voice. The

policeman strolled over and said something to her. She stumbled

away, laughing. A bitter blast swept across the square. The

gas-lamps flickered and became blue, and the leafless trees shook

their black iron branches to and fro. He shivered and went back,

closing the window behind him.