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To escape from his immediate neighbourhood McCurdie went to the other end of the seat and faced Lord Doyne, who had resumed his gold glasses and his listless contemplation of obscure actresses. McCurdie lit a pipe, Doyne another black cigar. The train thundered on. Presently they all lunched together in the restaurant car.
My reason tells me that this place is only a commonplace moor, yet it seems like a Valley of Bones haunted by malignant spirits who have lured us here to our destruction. There's something guiding us now. It's just uncanny." "Why on earth did we ever come?" croaked Biggleswade. Lord Doyne answered: "The Koran says, 'Nothing can befall us but what God hath destined for us. So why worry?"
McCurdie fretted and shook his fist in the direction of Trehenna. "And when we get there we have still a twenty miles' motor drive to Foullis Castle. It's a fool name and we're fools to be going there." "I shall die of bronchitis," wailed Professor Biggleswade. "A man dies when it is appointed for him to die," said Lord Doyne, in his tired way; and he went on smoking long black cigars.
A fire was made, they knew not how, water drawn they knew not whence, and a kettle boiled. Doyne accustomed to command, directed. The others obeyed. At his suggestion they hastened to the wreck of the car and came staggering back beneath rugs and travelling bags which could supply clean linen and needful things, for amid the poverty of the house they could find nothing fit for human touch or use.
The ruby was gone, and, so, also, was the eldest member of our party an elderly dark-faced Irishman named Doyne, who, the previous day, had angrily disputed Moynglass's right to carry the ruby. "We searched for Doyne all that day, but could find no trace of him. The next day we tracked across a glacier-like expanse littered with large blocks of sandstone. It was a grim spot.
"How can we get on with a broken axle? The thing's as useless as a man with a broken back. Gad, I was right. I said it was going to be an infernal journey." The little Professor wrung his hands. "But what's to be done?" he cried. "Tramp it," said Lord Doyne, lighting a fresh cigar. "It's ten miles," said the chauffeur. "It would be the death of me," the Professor wailed.
"It's not the dying that worries me," said McCurdie. "That's a mere mechanical process which every organic being from a king to a cauliflower has to pass through. It's the being forced against my will and my reason to come on this accursed journey, which something tells me will become more and more accursed as we go on, that is driving me to distraction." "What will be, will be," said Doyne.
McCurdie kept his hand uplifted, and gazed over their heads at the wall, and his gaze was that of a man in a trance, and he spoke: "Unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given " Doyne sprang from his chair, which fell behind him with a crash. "Man what the devil are you saying?"
Morehead, Alexander Negris, Alexander Sutherland, William Tennant, and William Weir. E. Hamilton, Mrs. Hemans, W. M. Hetherington, Alexander Maclagan, John Malcolm, Percy Bysshe Shelley, Charles Doyne Sillery, Thomas Stoddart, William Tennant, James Thomson, Alaric A. Watts, and Mrs. Grant of Laggan. A rare combination of talent!
Upon this people looked ruefully at her and at each other, as if the question had given them a glimpse into the darkness in which she was sitting. "Ah, no, ma'am," said Mrs. Doyne, "that's on'y the sedge-laves in the win' round the big pool just back of the house. Few days of the year there is, summer or winter, but they'll be shoosh-sooin' that way. A dhrary sort of noise it is to my mind.
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