Alfred Hitchcock's Fear and Trembling

Alfred Hitchcock's Fear and Trembling

H. G. Wells, Ray Bradbury, Alfred Hitchcock, Ambrose Bierce, M. R. James

Language: English

Pages: 144

ISBN: 2:00135323

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


by Henry S. Whitehead, Hugh Walpole, H.G. Wells, Lord Dunsany, William Irish, John Collier, M.R. James, Ambrose Bierce , Elizabeth Bowen, Ray Bradbury, John Metcalfe, H.R. Wakefield, John Buchan, Alfred Hitchcock

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certain. There is nothing wrong between us, is there, old man? I know you assured me last night, but I just want —" Fenwick looked at him and, surveying him, felt suddenly an exquisite pleasure of hatred. He liked the touch of the man's hand on his knee; he himself bent forward a little and, thinking how agreeable it would be to push Foster's eyes in, deep, deep into his head, crunching them, smashing them to purple, leaving the empty, staring, bloody sockets, said, "Why, no. Of course not. I

It is now perhaps fifteen years ago that Brent Ormerod, seeking the rest and change of scene that should help him to slay the demon neurosis, arrived in Todd toward the close of a mid-October day. A decrepit fly bore him to the one hotel, where his rooms were duly engaged, and it is this vision of himself sitting in the appalling vehicle that makes him think it was October or thereabouts, for he distinctly remembers the determined settling-down of the dusk that forced him to drive when he

rugs, and since I had brought a big box of tinned stuffs from the stores, all I needed was flour and meal and some simple groceries. I learned that there was a well on the island, and that I could count on sufficient driftwood for my fire, but to make certain I took a sack of coals and another of peats. So I set off next day in John's boat, ran with the wind through the Roost of Una when the tide was right, tacked up the coast, and came to the skerry early in the afternoon. You could see that

in daylight. My head was roughly bandaged, and the man with the withered arm was watching my face. I looked about me, trying to remember what had happened, and for a space I could not recollect. I turned to the corner, and saw the old woman, no longer abstracted, pouring out some drops of medicine from a little blue phial into a glass. "Where am I?" I asked. "I seem to remember you, and yet I cannot remember who you are." They told me then, and I heard of the haunted Red Room as one who hears a

which I had so cheerfully invoked, had only served to make this mystery deeper and more inexplicable. Handicapped by nothing more than a slight limp Brutus Hellman was up and attending to his duties about the house the next day. In response to my careful questioning, he had repeated the story of his shooting in all particulars just as he had recounted that incident to me in the gray hours of the early morning. He had even added a particular which fitted in with the liana stem as the means of

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