Портрет Доріана Грея

           Heknewwhatitwas. Itwasaknifethathehadbroughtup,somedaysbefore,tocutapieceofcord,andhadforgottentotakeawaywithhim. Hemovedslowlytowardsit,passingHallwardashedidso. Assoonashegotbehindhim,heseizedit,andturnedround. Hallwardstirredinhischairasifhewasgoingtorise. Herushedathim,anddugtheknifeintothegreatveinthatisbehindtheear,crushingtheman’sheaddownonthetable,andstabbingagainandagain. 

           Therewasastifledgroan,andthehorriblesoundofsomeonechokingwithblood. Threetimestheoutstretchedarmsshotupconvulsively,wavinggrotesquestiff-fingeredhandsintheair. Hestabbedhimtwicemore,butthemandidnotmove. Somethingbegantotrickleonthefloor. Hewaitedforamoment,stillpressingtheheaddown. Thenhethrewtheknifeonthetable,andlistened. 

           Hecouldhearnothingbutthedrip,driponthethreadbarecarpet. Heopenedthedoorandwentoutonthelanding. Thehousewasabsolutelyquiet. Noonewasabout. Forafewsecondshestoodbendingoverthebalustrade,andpeeringdownintotheblackseethingwellofdarkness. Thenhetookoutthekeyandreturnedtotheroom,lockinghimselfinashedidso. 

           Thethingwasstillseatedinthechair,strainingoverthetablewithbowedhead,andhumpedback,andlongfantasticarms. Haditnotbeenfortheredjaggedtearintheneck,andtheclottedblackpoolthatwasslowlywideningonthetable,onewouldhavesaidthatthemanwassimplyasleep. 

           Howquicklyithadallbeendone! Hefeltstrangelycalm,and,walkingovertothewindow,openedit,andsteppedoutonthebalcony.