Instead of pulling the door to its place, I pushed it a little, knocking with my knuckles at the same time.

But as no one answered, I pushed it further, and put in my head.

It was a disagreeable thing I saw.
The room was like mine in every way, save that the bed was moved to the middle of the open space, and there were two candles on two tables.

On the bed lay a dead man.

I felt what we call a brivido,--a shiver like an ague.
It was the body of an old man, with a face like yellow wax, and a singularly unpleasant expression even in death.