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"Is there any way by which you can begin at what you think is the beginning?" asked the other. Ashton-Kirk took up the parcel which Fuller had laid at his elbow. "Here is one way," he answered. "Let us see where it leads us." He stripped off the wrapper, and the bayonet which had killed the numismatist was revealed, blood-clotted and ugly.
The sun cleared the horizon, washing a sudden warmth over them. Lea gasped. "Your throat's been cut! You're bleeding to death!" "Not really," he said, touching his fingertips lightly against the blood-clotted wound that circled his neck. "Just superficial." Depression sat on him as he suddenly remembered the battle and death of the previous night.
With one fierce rush the remaining Frenchmen were struck down or were seized by their assailants. Nine prostrate men upon the deck showed how fierce had been the attack, how desperate the resistance. Badding leaned panting upon his blood-clotted hammer. "By Saint Leonard!" he cried, "I thought that this little master had been the death of us all.
I found myself looking down at one of those thickset Burmans whom I always associated with Fu-Manchu's activities. He lay quite flat, face downward; but the back of his head was a shapeless blood-clotted mass, and a heavy stock-whip, the butt end ghastly because of the blood and hair which clung to it, lay beside him. I started back appalled as Smith caught my arm.
We set him down, and the three of us examined him from top to toe, stripping off his steel coat, pulling apart his blood-clotted linen, prying into his very boots. But no papers revealed themselves. "What were they, Monsieur?" A drawn look had come over Monsieur's face. "Papers which the king gave me, and which I, fool and traitor, have lost."
We have men-stealers for ministers, women-whippers for missionaries, and cradle-plunderers for church members. The man who wields the blood-clotted cowskin during the week fills the pulpit on Sunday, and claims to be a minister of the meek and lowly Jesus.
Thundering hoof-beats, crashing blows, shrieks and groans and falling bodies, a sense of being caught in a wolf pack took possession of the girl; and the feeling grew with every sidelong glance she had of the savage sweating dust-grimed faces, in their jungles of blood-clotted hair. The battle-madness was upon them, and they were no longer men, but beasts of prey.
And woe to him on whom he chanced to turn and look; his wild eye and torn face, his blood-clotted beard, would freeze with horror those who gazed, and disaster or death followed hard on the track of the vision. It is a hundred years now, and more, since last the "Grey Man" was seen.
Above the tree-tops he saw the roof and gables of his uncle's house, and, as he mopped his face with his blood-clotted handkerchief, he trudged toward it. Old Welborne himself was on the lawn inspecting his beehives, near the front gate, when his nephew entered, and he turned toward him, staring curiously. "Why, what's the matter?" the old man asked.
Sanguinary as the first affair was, it had been short, leaving him time to carry out his original design, almost equally tragical in its execution. Here and there, a spear standing up, with a tuft of light-coloured hair, blood-clotted upon its blade, is proof of this. Quite as successful, too.
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