He was motionless when I saw him, and he had his eyes fixed upon me with a solemn and stern expression.
My first thought was that the fellow was some Ghazi or Afghan fanatic who had stolen in with the intention of stabbing me, and with this idea in my mind I had all the will to spring from my couch and defend myself, but the power was unaccountably lacking.
An overpowering languor and want of energy possessed me.

Had I seen the dagger descending upon my breast I could not have made an effort to avert it.

I suppose a bird when it is under the influence of a snake feels very much as I did in the presence of this gloomy-faced stranger.
My mind was clear enough, but my body was as torpid as though I were still asleep.
I shut my eyes once or twice and tried to persuade myself that the whole thing was a delusion, but every time that I opened them there was the man still regarding me with the same stony, menacing stare.
The silence became unendurable.

I felt that I must overcome my languor so far as to address him.

I am not a nervous man, and I never knew before what Virgil meant when he wrote "adhoesit faucibus ora." At last I managed to stammer out a few words, asking the intruder who he was and what he wanted.
"Lieutenant Heatherstone," he answered, speaking slowly and gravely, "you have committed this day the foulest sacrilege and the greatest crime which it is possible for man to do.