His presence led the conversation into other channels. He said little -- I do not recall anything of what he did say. I thought his voice singularly rich and melodious¹（悦耳的） , but it affected² me in the same way as his eyes and smile. In a few minutes I rose to go. He also rose and put on his overcoat.

'Mr. Manrich,' he said, 'I am going your way.'

'The devil you are!' I thought. 'How do you know which way I am going?' Then I said, 'I shall be pleased to have your company.'

We left the building together. No cabs were in sight, the street cars had gone to bed, there was a full moon and the cool night air was delightful³; we walked up the California Street Hill. I took that direction thinking he would naturally wish to take another, toward one of the hotels.

'You do not believe what is told of the Hindu jugglers,' he said abruptly⁴.

'How do you know that?' I asked.

Without replying he laid his hand lightly upon my arm and with the other pointed⁵ to the stone sidewalk directly in front. There, almost at our feet, lay the dead body of a man, the face upturned and white in the moonlight! A sword whose hilt sparkled with gems⁶ stood fixed⁷ and upright in the breast; a pool of blood had collected on the stones of the sidewalk（人行道） .

I was startled and terrified -- not only by what I saw, but by the circumstances under which I saw it. Repeatedly during our ascent⁸ of the hill my eyes, I thought, had traversed the whole reach of that sidewalk, from street to street. How could they have been insensible to this dreadful object now so conspicuous⁹ in the white moonlight.

As my dazed faculties¹⁰ cleared I observed that the body was in evening dress; the overcoat thrown wide open revealed the dress-coat, the white tie, the broad expanse of shirt front pierced by the sword. And -- horrible revelation! -- the face, except for its pallor, was that of my companion! It was to the minutest detail of dress and feature Dr. Dorrimore himself. Bewildered and horrified¹¹, I turned to look for the living man. He was nowhere visible, and with an added terror I retired¹² from the place, down the hill in the direction whence I had come. I had taken but a few strides when a strong grasp upon my shoulder arrested me. I came near crying out with terror: the dead man, the sword still fixed in his breast, stood beside me! Pulling out the sword with his disengaged hand, he flung it from him, the moonlight glinting upon the jewels of its hilt and the unsullied steel of its blade. It fell with a clang upon the sidewalk ahead and -- vanished! The man, swarthy（黝黑的） as before, relaxed his grasp upon my shoulder and looked at me with the same cynical¹³ regard that I had observed on first meeting him. The dead have not that look -- it partly restored me, and turning my head backward, I saw the smooth white expanse of sidewalk, unbroken from street to street.