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This is quite the place, with dust and that horrible smell.
Miss Emily had been a tradition, a duty, and a care; a sort of hereditary obligation upon the town, dating Colonel Sartoris in 1894.
The deputation officer was lead through the hallway, which smelled of dust and disuse-a close, dank smell.
The next night, four men crossed Miss Emily´s lawn, and sprinkled lime in the cellar and in all the outbuildings.
¨I want some poison,¨ she said to the druggist. ¨I want the best you have. I don´t care what kind. Arsenic, is that a good one?¨
Already we knew that there was one room in that region above stairs which no one had seen in forty years, and which would have to be forced.
The man himself lay in bed. For a while we stood there, looking down at the profound and fleshless grin. Then we noticed that in the second pillow was the indentation of a head, where a long strand of iron-grey hair laid.
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