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A story to stir the pulses–a novel of warlocks and wizards and valiant men of might in the far-off olden time–a gripping tale of Elak of Atlantis.
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Marster Jaffray, sir,–de Joombie, de Joombie! De 'Sheen,' Marster Jaffray! He go, sir?'
"I reassured the poor old souls, and went back home."
Mr. da silva fell abruptly silent. He slowly shifted his position in his chair, and reached for, and lighted, a fresh cigarette.
Mr. Lee was absolutely silent. He did not move. Mr. Da Silva resumed, deliberately, after obtaining a light.
"You see, Mr. Lee, the West Indies are different from any other place in the world, I verily believe, sir. I've said so, anyhow, many a time, although I have never been out of the islands except when I was a young man, to Copenhagen. I've told you, exactly, what happened that particular night."
Mr. Lee heaved a sigh.
"Thank you, Mr. Da Silva, very much indeed, sir," said he, thoughtfully, and made as though to rise. His service wrist-watch indicated 6 o'clock.
"Let us have a fresh swizzel, at least, before you go," suggested Mr. Da Silva. "We have a saying here in the island, that 'a man can't travel on one leg!' Perhaps you've heard it already."
"I have," said Mr. Lee.
"Knud, Knud! You hear, mon? Knud,–tell Charlotte to mash up another bal' of ice,–you hear? Quickly now," commanded Mr. Da Silva.
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A thought-provoking tale of the origins of the human race