Twice I stirred a foot as if to run out at the door.

Then, changing my mind, I stepped over the mastiff, and ran up the staircase.
The passage at the top was now dark; but groping down it, I found the study door open, as before, and passed in.

A sick light stole through the blinds--enough for me to distinguish the glasses and decanters on the table, and find my way to the curtain that hung before the inner room.
I pushed the curtain aside, paused for a moment, and listened to the violent beat of my heart; then felt for the door-handle and turned it.
All I could see at first was that the chamber was small; next, that the light patch in a line with the window was the white coverlet of a bed; and next that somebody, or something, lay on the bed.
I listened again.

There was no sound in the room; no heart beating but my own.

I reached out a hand to pull up the blind, and drew it back again.