Sir David Suchet

and so much cold wind rushed through it that it struck chill to me as if I had left the natural world.

Before he stirred, I was near enough to him to have touched him.

Not even then removing his eyes from me, he stepped back one step and lifted his hand.

This was a lonesome post to occupy, I said, and it had riveted my attention when I looked down from up yonder.

A visitor was a rarity, I should suppose, not an unwelcome rarity, I hoped.

In me he merely saw a man who had been shut up within narrow limits all his life, and who, being at last set free, had a newly awakened interest in these great works.

To such purpose I spoke to him, but I am far from sure of the terms I used.

For besides that I am not happy in opening any conversation, there was something in the man that daunted me.

He directed a most curious look towards the red light near the tunnel's mouth and looked all about it, as if something were missing from it, and then looked at me.

That light was part of his charge, was it not?

He answered in a low voice, Well, don't you know it is?

The monstrous thought came into my mind as I perused the fixed eyes and the saturnine face that this was a spirit, not a man.

I have speculated since whether there may have been infection in his mind.

In my turn I stepped back, but in making the action I detected in his eyes some latent fear of me.

This put the monstrous thought to flight.

You looked at me, I said, forcing a smile, as if you had a dread of me.

I was doubtful, he returned, whether I had seen you before.

Where?

He pointed to the red light he had looked at.

There, I said.