I moved a step or two forward, gingerly, reaching out with my hands, lest I struck, unawares, against some unseen thing. But,–I was so hungry so famine-goaded what would I not have given to have lighted on something good to eat! Should I, now I had ascertained that–the room was, at least, partially furnished, beat a retreat? Or should I push my researches further? It would have been rapture to have thrown off my clothes, and to have sunk down, on the carpet, then and there, to sleep. To my poor, travel-worn feet, it was luxury after the puddly, uneven road. It reminded me, somehow, even then, of the turf in Richmond Park,–it caressed my instep, and sprang beneath my tread.

I have had my feet on some good carpets in my time I know what carpets are but never did I stand upon a softer one than that. The moment I did so I became conscious that, at any rate, the room was not entirely unfurnished. Raising myself by means of the sill I slipped my legs into the room. Who, with a heart in his bosom, would deny it me? Hardly the most punctilious landlord. Several of the prolific Marsh's novels were published posthumously.Well, if the house was empty, in such a plight as mine I might be said to have a moral, if not a legal, right, to its bare shelter. He began to publish short stories, mostly adventure tales, as 'Bernard Heldmann,' before adopting the name 'Richard Marsh' in 1893. Heldman was educated at Eton and Oxford University. The Beetle remained in print until 1960, and was subsequently resurrected in 20. He is best known for his supernatural thriller The Beetle: A Mystery, which was published in the same year as Bram Stoker's Dracula and was initially even more popular. Richard Marsh (October 12, 1857–August 9, 1915) was the pseudonym of the British author born Richard Bernard Heldmann. Several of the prolific Marsh's novels were published posthumously.

The beetle marsh