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Weyman, Stanley John, 1855-1928

"Under the Red Robe"

It made itself visible, displaying nothing
else; a wisp of light in the bottom of a black bowl. Yet my
spirits rose with a great bound at sight of it; for I knew that I
had stumbled on the place I sought.
In the common run of things I should have weighed my next step
carefully, and gone about it slowly. But here was no place for
thought, nor room for delay; and I slid down the side of the
hollow on the instant, and the moment my feet touched the bottom
sprang to the door of the little hut, whence the light issued. A
stone turned under my feet in my rush, and I fell on my knees on
the threshold; but the fall only brought my face to a level with
the face of the man who lay inside on a bed of fern. He had been
reading. Startled by the sound I made, he dropped his book, and
in a flash stretched out his hand for a weapon. But the muzzle
of my pistol covered him, he was not in a posture from which he
could spring, and at a sharp word from me he dropped his hand;
the tigerish glare which flickered for an instant in his eyes
gave place to a languid smile, and he shrugged his shoulders.


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