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  • reward that they would win from him if they carried his
  • of it—for the window, remember, was thirty feet from
  • is the recovery of the slipper by its murderous owners!
  • I got the surprise of my life when we smashed the door
  • They were approaching the river, and there was a fog to-night!
  • Her voice was low and musical; that of a cultured woman.
  • view of the courtyard, looking like pallid blotches against
  • The slipper of the Prophet? interrupted Bristol. I wonder
  • out to be lignite of little value, in the sandstone (probably
  • the basket until it was almost lost from sight. Then slowly
  • I noted a bottle of wine, a chicken, and a large melon.
  • we knew it, and as though it had been a venomous scorpion
  • to tell him that she loved him. A dozen times she thought
  • this tragic scene from the time that poor Professor Deeping
  • concluded our whispered colloquy. From the top end of the
  • At bay she faced me, this secret woman whom I knew to hold
  • wall. He staggered down again; his remarkable physical
  • There at the head of those stone steps in that common dwelling-house
  • the door who was well acquainted with the appearance of
  • a league of fantastic assassins in the heart of the metropolis.
  • the steps again, finding himself now nearly up to his armpits
  • All right, sir, said the man, with a sort of studied
  • almost made me regret that I had taken this task upon myself.
  • Faces peered from most of the windows which commanded a
  • pouring into the cave of the dragon through the open door
  • uncanniness which seems to attach to some gruesome curios.
  • he saw that one side of the case had been shattered—he
  • Museum. Then I was effectually aroused from my reverie.
  • their terrible ordeals in the untracked jungle to the south;
  • I got the surprise of my life when we smashed the door
  • the basket; then came a man with a revolver in his left
  • There was a sound of retreating footsteps, and I heard
  • and one man even sent us a cask of cider as a present.
  • and bent over a glass case. Some yellow newspaper cuttings
  • ever-present hope—that the murderous company of fanatics
  • Only once had I seen the venerable Hassan of Aleppo—a
  • Even as he realized the fact, the quarry vanished, and
  • which momentarily quickened into life the latent superstition,
  • to Inspector Bristol, and partly to the fact that under
  • Then, knowing how I had failed in my plain duty to my fellow-men—how,
  • rising, was gradually flooding the cave of the dragon.
  • I hope you will be released soon, Mr. Cavanagh, he added.
  • by the Mahatmas, of levitation. Mentally I could see a
  • it, had weakly succumbed to its uncanny fascination—I
  • one of our party was unable anywhere to purchase either
  • up against a desperate man, Mr. Cavanagh. Raise your hands.
  • she offered no word of thanks, did not even glance in my
  • curator's face; and I have never seen such an expression
  • at our arrival, and said one to the other, “This is the
  • surround that place! I thought of the horrible little yellow
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