Journal Entry 86 - December 4th, 1888 – 6:27 a.m. [Continued]
At the bottom of the dank steps, we found old furniture, cobwebbed spinning wheels, and stacks of empty coffins. As we continued our search, Edgar heard footfalls shuffling down the stairway. Believing it could be Clifford or Mason, he ran up—though Bierce and I insisted he wait. And it was after he no longer responded to our questions that we knew Edgar had also disappeared. We made haste, nearly skipping over and tripping up the wet, crumbling steps. Whatever had befallen us that night, we knew, was something beyond explanation. As we ran into the antechamber, the clock tolled twelve—and with each ding, the candles and lamps dimmed—and the frowning bust, by degrees, smiled. It felt as if a heaviness fell over the whole mansion at the stroke of twelve.
[This journal entry continues.]
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