"Bierce, Ambrose - The Damned Thing" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bierce Ambrose)

upon one knee, his head thrown back at a frightful angle, hatless, his long hair
in disorder and his whole body in violent movement from side to side, backward
and forward. His right arm was lifted and seemed to lack the handЧ at least, I
could see none. The other arm was invisible. At times, as my memory now reports
this extraordinary scene, I could discern but a part of his body; it was as if
he had been partly blotted outЧ I can not otherwise express itЧ then a shifting
of his position would bring it all into view again.
"All this must have occurred within a few seconds, yet in that time Morgan
assumed all the postures of a determined wrestler vanquished by superior weight
and strength. I saw nothing but him, and him not always distinctly. During the
entire incident his shouts and curses were heard, as if through an enveloping
uproar of such sounds of rage and fury as I had never heard from the throat of
man or brute!
"For a moment only I stood irresolute, then, throwing down my gun, I ran forward
to my friend's assistance. I had a vague belief that he was suffering from a fit
or some form of convulsion. Before I could reach his side he was down and quiet.
All sounds had ceased, but, with a feeling of such terror as even these awful
events had not inspired, I now saw the same mysterious movement of the wild oats
prolonging itself from the trampled area about the prostrate man toward the edge
of a wood. It was only when it had reached the wood that I was able to withdraw
my eyes and look at my companion. He was dead."
III
The coroner rose from his seat and stood beside the dead man. Lifting an edge of
the sheet he pulled it away, exposing the entire body, altogether naked and
showing in the candle light a clay-like yellow. It had, however, broad
maculations of bluish- black, obviously caused by extravasated blood from
contusions. The chest and sides looked as if they had been beaten with a
bludgeon. There were dreadful lacerations; the skin was torn in strips and
shreds.
The coroner moved round to the end of the table and undid a silk handkerchief,
which had been passed under the chin and knotted on the top of the head. When
the handkerchief was drawn away it exposed what had been the throat. Some of the
jurors who had risen to get a better view repented their curiosity, and turned
away their faces. Witness Harker went to the open window and leaned out across
the sill, faint and sick. Dropping the handkerchief upon the dead man's neck,
the coroner stepped to an angle of the room, and from a pile of clothing
produced one garment after another, each of which he held up a moment for
inspection. All were torn, and stiff with blood. The jurors did not make a
closer inspection. They seemed rather uninterested. They had, in truth, seen all
this before; the only thing that was new to them being Harker's testimony.
"Gentlemen," the coroner said, "we have no more evidence, I think. Your duty has
been already explained to you; if there is nothing you wish to ask you may go
outside and consider your verdict."
The foreman roseЧ a tall, bearded man of sixty, coarsely clad.
"I should like to ask one question, Mr. Coroner," he said. "What asylum did this
yer last witness escape from?"
"Mr. Harker," said the coroner, gravely and tranquilly, "from what asylum did
you last escape?"
Harker flushed crimson again, but said nothing, and the seven jurors rose and
solemnly filed out of the cabin.