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Blackwood, Algernon, 1869-1951

"Three More John Silence Stories"


Sangree was as much relieved as I was, and within an hour of sunset that
very evening we met him on the arrival of the little coasting steamer,
and carried him off in the dinghy to the camp we had prepared on a
neighbouring island, meaning to start for home early next morning.
"Now," he said, when supper was over and we were smoking round the fire,
"let me hear your story." He glanced from one to the other, smiling.
"You tell it, Mr. Hubbard," Sangree interrupted abruptly, and went off a
little way to wash the dishes, yet not so far as to be out of earshot.
And while he splashed with the hot water, and scraped the tin plates
with sand and moss, my voice, unbroken by a single question from Dr.
Silence, ran on for the next half-hour with the best account I could
give of what had happened.
My listener lay on the other side of the fire, his face half hidden by a
big sombrero; sometimes he glanced up questioningly when a point needed
elaboration, but he uttered no single word till I had reached the end,
and his manner all through the recital was grave and attentive.


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