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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"Uncle Bernac A Memory of the Empire"


We climbed them, only to find our way barred by a heavy door.
'Surrender, Toussac!' cried Savary. 'It is useless to attempt to escape
us.
A hoarse laugh sounded from behind the door.
'I am not a man who surrenders. But I will make a bargain with you.
I have a small matter of business to do to-night. If you will leave me
alone, I will give you my solemn pledge to surrender at the camp
to-morrow. I have a little debt that I wish to pay. It is only to-day
that I understood to whom I owed it.'
'What you ask is impossible.'
'It would save you a great deal of trouble.'
'We cannot grant such a request. You must surrender.'
'You'll have some work first.'
'Come, come, you cannot escape us. Put your shoulders against the door!
Now, all together?'
There was the hot flash of a pistol from the keyhole, and a bullet
smacked against the wall between us. We hurled ourselves against the
door. It was massive, but rotten with age. With a splintering and
rending it gave way before us. We rushed in, weapons in hand, to find
ourselves in an empty room.


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