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As Jim Brand lay dying, his wife left him with his nurse and went into the next room to rest. She sat in the dark, staring into the night.
Suddenly Mrs. Brand saw headlights come rapidly up the driveway. "Oh, no," she thought. "I don't want visitors now, not now." But it wasn't a car bringing a visitor. It was an old hearse with maybe a half dozen small men hanging from the sides. At least that's what it looked like. The hearse screeched to a stop. The men jumped off and stared up at her, their eyes glowing with a soft, yellow light, like cats' eyes.
She watched with horror as they disappeared into the house. An instant later they were back, lifting something into the hearse. Then they drove off at high speed, wheels squealing, the gravel in the driveway flying in all directions.
At that moment, the nurse came in to say that Jim Brand had died.