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Hope, Anthony, 1863-1933

"Rupert of Hentzau"

He
laid hold of the handle and turned it; the door opened, and the
passage lay dark and apparently empty before us.
"You stay here, as we arranged," whispered the colonel. "Give me
the matches, and I'll go in."
James handed him the box of matches, and he crossed the
threshold. For a yard or two we saw him plainly, then his figure
grew dim and indistinct. I heard nothing except my own hard
breathing. But in a moment there was another sound--a muffled
exclamation, and a noise of a man stumbling; a sword, too,
clattered on the stones of the passage. We looked at one another;
the noise did not produce any answering stir in the house; then
came the sharp little explosion of a match struck on its box;
next we heard Sapt raising himself, his scabbard scraping along
the stones; his footsteps came towards us, and in a second he
appeared at the door.
"What was it?" I whispered.
"I fell," said Sapt.
"Over what?"
"Come and see. James, stay here."
I followed the constable for the distance of eight or ten feet
along the passage.
"Isn't there a lamp anywhere?" I asked.
"We can see enough with a match," he answered. "Here, this is
what I fell over."
Even before the match was struck I saw a dark body lying across
the passage.


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Rodzic Po Ludzku Pajacyk Akogo Nasze Dzieci Fundacja Sloneczko