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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"Uncle Bernac A Memory of the Empire"


'Where the devil has he got to?' cried Savary, glaring round him.
'This is the top room of all. There is nothing above it.'
It was a square empty space with a few corn-bags littered about. At the
further side was an open window, and beside it lay a pistol, still
smoking from the discharge. We all rushed across, and, as we craned our
heads over, a simultaneous cry of astonishment escaped from us.
The distance to the ground was so great that no one could have survived
the fall, but Toussac had taken advantage of the presence of that cart
full of grain-sacks, which I have described as having lain close to the
mill. This had both shortened the distance and given him an excellent
means of breaking the fall. Even so, however, the shock had been
tremendous, and as we looked out he was lying panting heavily upon the
top of the bags. Hearing our cry, however, he looked up, shook his fist
defiantly, and, rolling from the cart, he sprang on to the back of
Savary's black horse, and galloped off across the downs, his great beard
flying in the wind, untouched by the pistol bullets with which we tried
to bring him down.


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