"It is a living man," he said in his thoughts.

"I hear his footstep, and I hear old Poquelin's footsteps, too, separately, over on the veranda.

I am not discovered; the thing has passed; there is that odor again; what a smell of death! Is it coming back?
Yes.

It stops at the door of the cabin.

Is it peering in at the sleeping mute?
It moves away.