Il faut dire that during all this I had glanced several
times at Bolter, who seemed profoundly asleep. But now alarmed I
tried to wake him. In vain, he slept like the dead; his face, always
a pasty white, now like marble in the moonlight. After some
hesitation I put the blanket back on the bed and held it fast. The
pulling at once began and increased in strength, and I, by this time
thoroughly alarmed, put all my strength against it, and hung on like
grim death.
"To get a better hold I had taken a turn over my head (or perhaps
simply to hide), when suddenly I felt a pressure outside on my body,
and a movement like fingers--they gradually approached my head. Mad
with fear I chucked off the blanket, grasped a Hand, gazed on it for
one moment in silent horror, and threw it away! No wonder, it was
attached to no arm or body, it was hairy and dark coloured, the
fingers were short, blunt, with long, claw-like nails, and it was
minus a thumb! Too frightened to get up I had to stop in bed, and, I
suppose, fell to sleep again, after fresh vain attempts to awaken
Bolter. Next morning I told him about it.
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