In the venom and dark malignity of his heart
he cursed Alice Goodwin, he cursed Valentine Greatrakes, he cursed
the world, and he cursed God, or rather would have cursed him had he
believed in the existence of such a being.
In this mood of mind he was proceeding to his lodgings, when he espied
before him the _Shan-dhinne-dhuv_, or Black Spectre with the middogue in
his hand. He stood and looked at it steadily.
"What is this?" said he, addressing the figure before him. "What pranks
are you playing now? Do you think me a fool? What brought you here? and
what do you mean by this pantomimic nonsense, Mr. Conjurer?"
The figure, of course, made no reply, except by gesture. It brandished
the middogue, or dagger, however, and pointed it three times at his
heart. The spot upon which this strange interview occurred was perfectly
clear of anything that could conceal an individual. In fact it was an
open common. Woodward, consequently, led astray by circumstances with
which the reader will become subsequently acquainted, started forward
with the intention of reaching the individual whom he suspected of
indulging himself in playing with his fears, or rather with jocularly
intending to excite them.
Pages:
613
614
615
616
617
618
619
620
621
622
623
624
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637