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Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849

"The most interesting stories of all nations: American"

It was--it must
be--the dog, and I was distressing myself uselessly. I resolved to
call to him; I strove to utter his name--"Neptune, Neptune," but a
secret apprehension restrained me, and I was mute.
Then the chain clanked nearer and nearer to the bed, and presently
I saw a dusky, shapeless mass appear between the curtains on the
opposite side to where I was lying. How I longed to hear the whine
of the poor animal that I hoped might be the cause of my alarm.
But no; I heard no sound save the rustle of the curtains and the
clash of the iron chains. Just then the dying flame of the fire
leaped up, and with one sweeping, hurried glance I saw that the
door was shut, and, horror! it is not the dog! it is the semblance
of a human form that now throws itself heavily on the bed, outside
the clothes, and lies there, huge and swart, in the red gleam that
treacherously died away after showing so much to affright, and
sinks into dull darkness. There was now no light left, though the
red cinders yet glowed with a ruddy gleam like the eyes of wild
beasts. The chain rattled no more.


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