His Name Was Walter chapter sampler

candle stuck to a cracked saucer, with a box of matches beside it. ‘I suppose this happens quite a bit out here,’ said Mrs Fiori. Her voice was shaky, too. She got up, lit the candle, and brought it back to the table, placing it carefully right in the centre. Colin switched off his torch. Flickering yellow light played on the faces of the people sitting on the benches. Behind them, shadows crawled. For some reason the room seemed much quieter, so that they all became aware of the subtle sounds of the house — creaks, little scuffles and taps, and the soft whistling of the wind through every gap and crack. Grace glanced nervously over her shoulder. ‘I’m sure the lights will come on again soon,’ Mrs Fiori said, determinedly cheerful. ‘In the meantime, Colin, why don’t you read us another chapter? Use your torch — I don’t want you to strain your eyes.’ Colin flicked the torch on again. Beneath his fingers, the painting of the cave leaped into startling life. The mice seemed to tremble on their stools. The hawk’s eyes seemed to glare straight into his. He turned to the text beside the picture.

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