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Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894

"St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England"

He gave a stifled
cry, went tumbling back where he had come from, and I could hear
the twelve-pounder accompany him in his fall. Chevenix, at the
same moment, broke out in a roaring voice: 'The hell-hound! If
he's killed my dog!' and I judged, upon all grounds, it was as well
to be off.

CHAPTER XXX--EVENTS OF WEDNESDAY; THE UNIVERSITY OF CRAMOND

I awoke to much diffidence, even to a feeling that might be called
the beginnings of panic, and lay for hours in my bed considering
the situation. Seek where I pleased, there was nothing to
encourage me and plenty to appal. They kept a close watch about
the cottage; they had a beast of a watch-dog--at least, unless I
had settled it; and if I had, I knew its bereaved master would only
watch the more indefatigably for the loss. In the pardonable
ostentation of love I had given all the money I could spare to
Flora; I had thought it glorious that the hunted exile should come
down, like Jupiter, in a shower of gold, and pour thousands in the
lap of the beloved. Then I had in an hour of arrant folly buried
what remained to me in a bank in George Street. And now I must get
back the one or the other; and which? and how?
As I tossed in my bed, I could see three possible courses, all
extremely perilous. First, Rowley might have been mistaken; the
bank might not be watched; it might still be possible for him to
draw the money on the deposit receipt.


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