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Hodgson, William Hope, 1877-1918

"The House on the Borderland"


Then, cautiously, and with many misgivings as to whether it was not a
mad act that I was attempting, I climbed slowly down, using the rope as
a support, until I reached the hole. Here, still holding on to the rope,
I stood, and peered in. All was perfectly dark, and not a sound came to
me. Yet, a moment later, it seemed that I could hear something. I held
my breath, and listened; but all was silent as the grave, and I breathed
freely once more. At the same instant, I heard the sound again. It was
like a noise of labored breathing--deep and sharp-drawn. For a short
second, I stood, petrified; not able to move. But now the sounds had
ceased again, and I could hear nothing.
As I stood there, anxiously, my foot dislodged a pebble, which fell
inward, into the dark, with a hollow chink. At once, the noise was taken
up and repeated a score of times; each succeeding echo being fainter,
and seeming to travel away from me, as though into remote distance.
Then, as the silence fell again, I heard that stealthy breathing.


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