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The Return of Dr. Fu-Manchu | Sax Rohmer | |
A Cry On The Moor |
Page 1 of 5 |
Of the events intervening between this moment and that when death called to us out of the night, I have the haziest recollections. An excelent dinner was served in the bleak and gloomy dining-room by the mulatto, and the crippled author was carried to the head of the table by this same Herculean attendant, as lightly as though he had but the weight of a child. Van Roon talked continuously, revealing a deep knowledge of all sorts of obscure matters; and in the brief intervals, Nayland Smith talked also, with almost feverish rapidity. Plans for the future were discussed. I can recall no one of them. I could not stifle my queer sentiments in regard to the mulatto, and every time I found him behind my chair I was hard put to repress an shudder. In this fashion the strange evening passed; and to the accompaniment of distant, muttering thunder, we two guests retired to our chambers in Cragmire Tower. Smith had contrived to give me my instructions in a whisper, and five minutes after entering my own room, I had snuffed the candles, slipped a wedge, which he had given me, under the door, crept out through the window onto the guttered ledge, and joined Smith in his room. He, too, had extinguished his candles, and the place was in darkness. As I climbed in, he grasped my wrist to silence me, and turned me forcibly toward the window. "Listen!" he said. |
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The Return of Dr. Fu-Manchu Sax Rohmer |
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