There was no answer and suddenly a strange, quite unreasoning terror caught her by the throat.It was all that she could do not to cry out and run down to the gas-lit passage.She held herself there by sheer force; the smell of the sea was now very strong; there was a tang of rotten seaweed in it.
As she remained there she could see more clearly, but it seemed that the room was full of some dim obscuring mist.She moved forward into the room, knocked her knee against a table, and then as the panic gained upon her called more loudly, "Uncle...Uncle.Are you in?
Where are you? It's I, Maggie."
"Oh well...of course he isn't here," she said to herself."He's downstairs." And yet, strangely, something seemed to persuade her that he was there; it was as though he were maliciously hiding from her to tease her.
Feeling her way cautiously, her hands before her face, she moved forward to close the windows, thinking that she must shut out that abominable sound of the sea and the stale stink of the seaweed.She was suddenly caught by a sweep of rain that wetted her hair and face and neck.She started back and touched a piece of damp cloth.She turned, and there, very close to her but above her and staring over her head, was Uncle Mathew's face.It was so close to her that she could have touched it by putting up her hand.It was white-grey and she would not have seen it at all had she not been very near to it.
She realised nothing, but she felt that her knees were trembling and that she would fall if she did not steady herself.She put out her hand and clutched damp heavy thick cloth, cloth that enwrapped as it seemed some weighty substance like stone or brick.
She passed her hand upwards and suddenly the damp cloth gave way beneath her fingers, sinking inwards against something soft and flabby.She sprang away.She stood for one shuddering moment, then she screamed again and again, shrieking and running, as it were for her life, out of the room, down the passage.She could not find the staircase.Oh! she could not find the staircase! She stood there, leaning against the damp wall, crying: "Oh help! Help! Quickly!"There were steps and voices, then the woman whom she had seen before appeared at the turn of the stair holding a lamp.
"What is it?" she asked, raising the light high.Maggie did not answer, only leaning there and staring down.
"You'd better come, Bill," the woman said."There's something wrong up 'ere."The woman came up the stairs followed by two men; they moved cautiously as though, they expected to find something terrible round the next corner.
"What is it?" said the woman again when she came up to Maggie.But Maggie made no answer.They pushed past her and went into the room.
Maggie followed them.She saw the room obscured by mist; she heard some whispering and fumbling, then a match was struck; there was a bead-like flare followed suddenly by the flaming of a candle.In the quick light the room was bright.Maggie saw her uncle hanging from some projection in the rough ceiling.A chair was overturned at his feet.His body was like a bag of old clothes, his big boots turning inwards towards one another.His face was a dull grey and seemed cut off from the rest of his body by the thick blue muffler that encircled his neck.He was grinning at her; the tip of his tongue protruded at her between his teeth.She noticed his hands that hung heavily like dead fish.
After that she knew no more save that the sea seemed to rush in a great flood, with a sudden vindictive roar, into the room.
