Looking upward, I surveyed the ceiling of my prison. It was some
thirty or forty feet overhead, and constructed much as the side walls.
In one of its panels a very singular figure riveted my whole
attention. It was the painted figure of Time as he is commonly
represented, save that, in lieu of a scythe, he held what, at a casual
glance, I supposed to be the pictured image of a huge pendulum such as
we see on antique clocks. There was something, however, in the
appearance of this machine which caused me to regard it more
attentively. While I gazed directly upward at it (for its position was
immediately over my own) I fancied that I saw it in motion. In an
instant afterward the fancy was confirmed. Its sweep was brief, and of
course slow. I watched it for some minutes, somewhat in fear, but more
in wonder. Wearied at length with observing its dull movement, I
turned my eyes upon the other objects in the cell.
A slight noise attracted my notice, and, looking to the floor, I saw
several enormous rats traversing it. They had issued from the well,
which lay just within view to my right. Even then, while I gazed, they
came up in troops, hurriedly, with ravenous eyes, allured by the scent
of the meat.
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