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Blackwood, Algernon, 1869-1951

"Three More John Silence Stories"

Whatever it was
had now to be faced and dealt with.
"No one has been actually injured so far?" he asked aloud, but in a
matter-of-fact tone that lent reality to grim possibilities.
"Good heavens, no!" cried the Canadian, throwing down his dishcloths
and coming forward into the circle of firelight. "Surely there can be no
question of this poor starved beast injuring anybody, can there?"
His hair straggled untidily over his forehead, and there was a gleam in
his eyes that was not all reflection from the fire. His words made me
turn sharply. We all laughed a little short, forced laugh.
"I trust not, indeed," Dr. Silence said quietly. "But what makes you
think the creature is starved?" He asked the question with his eyes
straight on the other's face. The prompt question explained to me why I
had started, and I waited with just a tremor of excitement for the
reply.
Sangree hesitated a moment, as though the question took him by surprise.
But he met the doctor's gaze unflinchingly across the fire, and with
complete honesty.


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