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The Lair of the White Worm | Bram Stoker | |
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"Am I looking grave?" asked Sir Nathaniel inconsequently when he reentered the room. "You certainly are, sir." "We little thought when first we met that we should be drawn into such a vortex. Already we are mixed up in robbery, and probably murder, but--a thousand times worse than all the crimes in the calendar--in an affair of ghastly mystery which has no bottom and no end--with forces of the most unnerving kind, which had their origin in an age when the world was different from the world which we know. We are going back to the origin of superstition--to an age when dragons tore each other in their slime. We must fear nothing--no conclusion, however improbable, almost impossible it may be. Life and death is hanging on our judgment, not only for ourselves, but for others whom we love. Remember, I count on you as I hope you count on me." "I do, with all confidence." "Then," said Sir Nathaniel, "let us think justly and boldly and fear nothing, however terrifying it may seem. I suppose I am to take as exact in every detail your account of all the strange things which happened whilst you were in Diana's Grove?" "So far as I know, yes. Of course I may be mistaken in recollection of some detail or another, but I am certain that in the main what I have said is correct." "You feel sure that you saw Lady Arabella seize the negro round the neck, and drag him down with her into the hole?" "Absolutely certain, sir, otherwise I should have gone to her assistance." |
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The Lair of the White Worm Bram Stoker |
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