By the Watchman's Clock. Leslie Ford

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…<P> 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…