As with most of Lovecraft, I do think this is desperately overwritten - the man wouldn't recognise restraint if it surged out of a grave and bit him. That being said, this is still relatively creepy, and the short length mitigates the worst of the excess. There's also the fact that it's about two awful people getting their just deserts, and I do appreciate that. As well as the bats. Bats improve most stories... bats and the dim howling of a distant hound meant that I liked this more than normal, considering who the author is.