And the friend that I had loved came towards me, and we walked together
with our hands clasped. But I hated him.
And all day long I kept beside him, or followed him unseen, lest by
chance he should learn the secret of that hidden door; and at night I lay
awake watching him.
But one night I sleep, and, when I open my eyes, he is no longer near me.
I run swiftly up the narrow stairs and along the silent corridor. The
tapestry is drawn aside, and the hidden door stands open, and in the room
beyond the friend that I loved is kneeling before an open chest, and the
glint of the gold is in my eyes.
His back is towards me, and I crawl forward inch by inch. I have a knife
in my hand, with a strong, curved blade; and when I am near enough I kill
him as he kneels there.
His body falls against the door, and it shuts to with a clang, and I try
to open it, and cannot. I beat my hands against its iron nails, and
scream, and the dead man grins at me. The light streams in through the
chink beneath the massive door, and fades, and comes again, and fades
again, and I gnaw at the oaken lids of the iron-bound chests, for the
madness of hunger is climbing into my brain.
Then I awake, and find that I really am hungry, and remember that in
consequence of a headache I did not eat any dinner.
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