Червона кімната

           Thatincidentforatimerestoredmynerve,andadimporcelainChinamanonabuhltable,whoseheadrockedasIpassed,scarcelystartledme. 

           ThedooroftheRedRoomandthestepsuptoitwereinashadowycorner. ImovedmycandlefromsidetosideinordertoseeclearlythenatureoftherecessinwhichIstood,beforeopeningthedoor. Hereitwas,thoughtI,thatmypredecessorwasfound,andthememoryofthatstorygavemeasuddentwingeofapprehension. IglancedovermyshoulderattheblackGanymedeinthemoonlight,andopenedthedooroftheRedRoomratherhastily,withmyfacehalfturnedtothepallidsilenceofthecorridor. 

           Ientered,closedthedoorbehindmeatonce,turnedthekeyIfoundinthelockwithin,andstoodwiththecandleheldaloftsurveyingthesceneofmyvigil,thegreatRedRoomofLorraineCastle,inwhichtheyoungDukehaddied; orratherinwhichhehadbegunhisdying,forhehadopenedthedoorandfallenheadlongdownthestepsIhadjustascended. Thathadbeentheendofhisvigil,ofhisgallantattempttoconquertheghostlytraditionoftheplace,andnever,Ithought,hadapoplexybetterservedtheendsofsuperstition. Therewereotherandolderstoriesthatclungtotheroom,backtothehalf-incrediblebeginningofitall,thetaleofatimidwifeandthetragicendthatcametoherhusband’sjestoffrighteningher.