The moment she entered the upper garret, however-- 'There's an ill-faured smell here, Betty,' she said, believing that they had at last found the trail of the mystery; 'but it's no like the smell o' rabbits.

Jist luik i' the nuik there ahin' the door.' 'There's naething here,' responded Betty.
'Roon the en' o' that kist there.

I s' luik into the press.' As Betty rose from her search behind the chest and turned towards her mistress, her eyes crossed the cavernous opening of the bed.

There, to her horror, she beheld a face like that of a galvanised corpse staring at her from the darkness.

Shargar was in a sitting posture, paralysed with terror, waiting, like a fascinated bird, till Mrs.Falconer and Betty should make the final spring upon him, and do whatever was equivalent to devouring him upon the spot.