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Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips), 1866-1946

"The Black Box"


"What's that?" he exclaimed.
Lenora still clung to his arm.
"I hate this place," she whispered. "It terrifies me. What are we looking
for, Mr. Quest?"
"Can't say that I know exactly," the latter answered, "but I guess we'll
find out where that cry came from. Sounded to me uncommonly like a human
effort."
They made their way up as far as the hedge, which they skirted for a few
yards until they found an opening. Then Quest gave vent to a little
exclamation. Immediately in front of them was a small hut, built
apparently of sticks and bamboos, with a stronger framework behind. The
sloping roof was grass-grown and entwined with rushes. The only apology
for a window was a queer little hole set quite close to the roof.
"The sort of place where the Professor might keep some of his pets," Quest
observed thoughtfully. "We'll have a look inside, any way."
There was a rude-looking door, but Quest, on trying it, found it locked.
They walked around the place but found no other opening. All the time from
inside they could hear queer, scuffling sounds. Lenora's cheeks grew
paler.
"Must we stay?" she murmured. "I don't think I want to see what's inside.
Mr. Quest! Mr. Quest!"
She clung to his arm. They were opposite the little aperture which served
as a window, and at that moment it suddenly framed the face of a creature,
human in features, diabolical in expression. Long hair drooped over one
cheek, the close-set eyes were filled with fury, the white teeth gleamed
menacingly.


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