By the Watchman's Clock

Slowly I turned to face the hall and the doorway. I waited in an agony of suspense. The great house was as silent as an empty grave, with the pulse of time beating eternally against it: tick, tock; tick, tock; tick, tock... Gradually I relaxed and let my hand drop, until -- I shrieked and turned -- and raised my hand dripping with blood. I stared at it like a maniac, and then at the thing it had touched...