Jacob Gray was so horrified at the awful sight that met his eyes, upon opening the cupboard in the old attic, that for some moments he could neither think, move, nor speak; and it was only the strong present dread of some one coming upon him suddenly from the lower part of the house and taking his life, upon finding he was aware of the murdered man being in the cupboard, that aroused him from the absolute lethargy of fear he was rapidly falling into.
The body lay on its face at his feet, and it appeared to have been propped up in the cupboard, merely by the shutting of the door quickly, so that it had fallen out the moment Gray had, by opening the door, removed the support.
He felt that there was no chance for him but putting the loathsome object back again into its receptacle, and our readers may imagine what a terrible job it was to such a man as Jacob Gray to raise that hideous mass of death, and replace it in the cupboard. He stooped and laid his trembling hands upon the neck. He dragged it up—the head hung about in that strange loose manner which indicates a certain stage in the progress of decomposition.
Gray shuddered, and bungled much over what he had to do, because his object was to get the dead body into the cupboard without looking at the face; and he, therefore, sedulously turned his head away.
The weight was very great, and after many fruitless efforts, Gray found it impossible to get the body fixed for one instant, so as to allow him to close the door. Once he caught one of the ghastly bands between the door and the side-post. Then, by not being quick enough, the body leaned forward, and he caught the hideous distorted face in the same way.
A cry of horror burst from his lips, as his eyes inadvertently fell upon the horrible visage, and now that he had once looked he could not turn his eyes away, had he been offered a world for the effort.
“Horrible! Horrible!” he moaned, and then letting go the door, the body fell as at first, with a heavy lump upon its face, at his feet.
“I shall be murdered here,” thought Gray, “and must leave at all hazards. I—I had better risk being again seen, and hooted by the mob, than remain here to certain death.”
He approached the window as he spoke; but to his horror, he found by the shout that at once greeted him, that his tormentors were still there.
“What can save me now?” he groaned, “I am lost—lost.”