Hendon to the rescue

           Theoldmanglidedaway,stooping,stealthy,cat-like,andbroughtthelowbench.Heseatedhimselfuponit,halfhisbodyinthedimandflickeringlight,andtheotherhalfinshadow;andso,withhiscravingeyesbentupontheslumberingboy,hekepthispatientvigilthere,heedlessofthedriftoftime,andsoftlywhettedhisknife,andmumbledandchuckled;andinaspectandattitudeheresemblednothingsomuchasagrizzly,monstrousspider,gloatingoversomehaplessinsectthatlayboundandhelplessinhisweb.

           Afteralongwhile,theoldman,whowasstillgazing,—yetnotseeing,hismindhavingsettledintoadreamyabstraction,—observed,onasudden,thattheboy’seyeswereopen!wideopenandstaring!—staringupinfrozenhorrorattheknife.Thesmileofagratifieddevilcreptovertheoldman’sface,andhesaid,withoutchanginghisattitudeorhisoccupation—

           "SonofHenrytheEighth,hastthouprayed?"

           Theboystruggledhelplesslyinhisbonds,andatthesametimeforcedasmotheredsoundthroughhisclosedjaws,whichthehermitchosetointerpretasanaffirmativeanswertohisquestion.

           "Thenprayagain.Praytheprayerforthedying!"

           Ashuddershooktheboy’sframe,andhisfaceblenched.