Page:Arthur Stringer--The House of Intrigue.djvu/355

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CHAPTER NINETEEN

I DON'T know how long it was afterward that I woke up. But gradually I became conscious of a very pleasant swaying and rocking motion. It seemed like being lulled on the topmost branches of a pine-tree waving in a sleepy evening breeze. It left me so contented that I was quite willing to lie there. Then the lazy whispering of pine branches merged into a louder sound, and one much more like the purring of machinery. So I finally decided to open my eyes and investigate.

It startled me a little to find that I could only half-way succeed in this effort. For one eye, I discovered, altogether refused to open. And that shook the last of the drowsiness out of me.

"Where am I?" I asked of nobody in particular, as I made an effort to sit up in the swaying leather seat into which I was wedged by means of three or four heavy sofa-pillows.

I could open one eye, but that was all. For across my other eye, I discovered, there was a linen bandage. And under this bandage, I further found, was

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