Остров доктора Моро

Montgomery’s “Bank Holiday.”

           

           ThenIshutthedoor,lockedit,andwentintotheenclosurewhereMoreaulaybesidehislatestvictims,thestaghoundsandthellamaandsomeotherwretchedbrutes,withhismassivefacecalmevenafterhisterribledeath,andwiththehardeyesopen,staringatthedeadwhitemoonabove.Isatdownupontheedgeofthesink,andwithmyeyesuponthatghastlypileofsilverylightandominousshadowsbegantoturnovermyplans.InthemorningIwouldgathersomeprovisionsinthedingey,andaftersettingfiretothepyrebeforeme,pushoutintothedesolationofthehighseaoncemore.IfeltthatforMontgomerytherewasnohelp;thathewas,intruth,halfakintotheseBeastFolk,unfittedforhumankindred.

           IdonotknowhowlongIsattherescheming.Itmusthavebeenanhourorso.ThenmyplanningwasinterruptedbythereturnofMontgomerytomyneighbourhood.Iheardayellingfrommanythroats,atumultofexultantcriespassingdowntowardsthebeach,whoopingandhowling,andexcitedshrieksthatseemedtocometoastopnearthewater’sedge.Theriotroseandfell;Iheardheavyblowsandthesplinteringsmashofwood,butitdidnottroublemethen.Adiscordantchantingbegan.

           Mythoughtswentbacktomymeansofescape.Igotup,broughtthelamp,andwentintoashedtolookatsomekegsIhadseenthere.ThenIbecameinterestedinthecontentsofsomebiscuit-tins,andopenedone.Isawsomethingoutofthetailofmyeye,aredfigure,andturnedsharply.

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