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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"The Mystery of Cloomber"


First I would look doon the corridor in the one way, and syne I'd look
doon in t'ither, but it aye seemed to me as though there was something
coming up frae the side that I wasna lookin' at. I had a cauld sweat on
my broo, and my hairt was beatin' twice tae ilka tick o' the clock, and
what feared me most of a' was that the dust frae the curtains and things
was aye gettin' doon intae my lungs, and it was a' I could dae tae keep
mysel' frae coughin'.
Godsakes! I wonder my hair wasna grey wi' a' that I went through. I
wouldna dae it again to be made Lord Provost o' Glasgie.
Weel, it may have been twa o'clock in the mornin' or maybe a little
mair, and I was just thinkin' that I wasna tae see onything after
a'--and I wasna very sorry neither--when all o' a sudden a soond cam tae
my ears clear and distinct through the stillness o' the nicht.
I've been asked afore noo tae describe that soond, but I've aye foond
that it's no' vera easy tae gie a clear idea o't, though it was unlike
any other soond that ever I hearkened tae. It was a shairp, ringin'
clang, like what could be caused by flippin' the rim o' a
wineglass, but it was far higher and thinner than that, and had in it,
tae, a kind o' splash, like the tinkle o' a rain-drop intae a
water-butt.
In my fear I sat up amang my cairpets, like a puddock among
gowan-leaves, and I listened wi' a' my ears. A' was still again
noo, except for the dull tickin' o' the distant clock.
Suddenly the soond cam again, as clear, as shrill, as shairp as ever,
and this time the general heard it, for I heard him gie a kind
o' groan, as a tired man might wha has been roosed oot o' his sleep.


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