All through that grim night there was this ceaseless drumming of dead hands against dead wood, of knuckles rapping against every door. They said nothing; they did not try to force their way in. They only knocked, as their colonel knocked, politely but doggedly.
At the break of day, a sudden calm was ordered. The barrage was completed. I rushed to the window where I had seen Roberts. That ghastly visage was gone. I came nearer the pane, and looked down: There was Roberts, lying prone beside the house, face covered by the silk cloth I had laid over it.
Tale Told 