George Allan England

“ The housekeeper returned to the library, half distracted, half exultant with evil malice. “Drat her, why don't she come? Wait till she sees you! Faker! Rotten fakers, the both of you! And you with that old man's blood on your very hands! Faker! Murderer!”
The housekeeper, a very witch of Endor in her fury, advanced on Mrs. Forrester. Her clawlike hands grasped as a vulture's claws grasp. The other woman, quivering with blind horror, retreated as from a harpy of destruction. ”

“ For the moment Mrs. Forrester felt no wonder at the housekeeper being up and about at that hour of the night. All that she realized was that Miss Grush meant help. Racked, riven with paralyzing terror, she pointed a shaking hand.
“Something—something terrible—has happened! Look there!”
The housekeeper advanced from the rear door of the library, keen-eyed, squinting through her heavy-lensed spectacles.
“What is it?” she demanded. “My soul and senses, what?”
“See there! Mr. Lockwood! ”

“ No untoward sound or sight marred the peace of the ancient dwelling. Calm silence possessed it. Still from the lower hall she could hear the clock on the landing as it kept its unhurried rhythm—tic-tac, tic-tac—marking off the seconds irretrievably for good or evil. ”