above the fireplace is an oil portrait of a serious-looking black man of late middle-age with a neatly groomed mustache starting to gray. a couple of candles sit on the mantel below the portrait, giving it the semblance of a shrine.
the candles below the portrait of othar go out, sending up thin wisps of smoke.
othar's portrait, upside-down, seems to be looking bemusedly down on us.
later, dorr stands at the head of the cellar stairs, looking around the empty parlor. he gives a nod down the stairs and the men troop up past him, carrying sacks of earth.
the professor's eyes widen with concern as he hears the voices, off:
the voices approach:
the professor emerges from the cellar. mrs. munson awaits with her friend who is likewise togged out in fancy sunday dress and carrying a shiny black purse.
the room is filled with smoke.
the cat, with a human finger in its mouth, sidles cautiously to one side, warily eying someone.
dorr skulks at a corner of the living room's picture window, peering out at the street.
the professor scowls.