Gone were my fever dreams, the foul
horrors that had haunted me, and my obscene demons were vanished
utterly away and with them, as it seemed, the inertia of my late
sickness.
To die, and in so doing take evil with me, leaving the world so much
the better? To die, and perhaps find for myself that oblivion, that
untroubled rest that I so earnestly desired? Surely Death, after all,
was the Great Good Thing? So I walked on at leisurely pace, serene,
assured and utterly content.
Reaching the high road, I followed it until I espied a rutted byway
bounded on the one hand by lofty trees and on the other by a high and
sinister wall. At the same leisurely pace I strolled down this dark
lane and thus arrived at a pair of tall and very massive iron gates.
Here I paused, and though the adjacent trees cast much shadow,
presently discovered a bell handle to which I applied myself
forthwith.
After some delay the door of the lodge opened and a figure appeared,
though strangely vague and indistinct and then, peering at me through
the bars of the gate, I saw a gigantic negro, his skin as black as his
livery.
"Is your master in?" I demanded.
"Who yo' mean--mah master?" he replied in surly tone.
"I wish to see Mr. Haredale or Captain Danby."
"No sich names hyah!"
"Well then, I want Mr. Trenchard."
"Who's yo' se'f to see Mas'r Trenchard?"
"I am an--acquaintance of his."
"Well, ah don' know yo' face, so ah guess dey's bof' out fo' you an'
so's yo'se'f--an' can stay out, fo' shure.
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