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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"The Mystery of Cloomber"


The sand dunes which lined the coast formed a continuous ridge upon our
left, cutting us off entirely from all human observation, while on the
right the broad Channel stretched away with hardly a sail to break its
silvery uniformity. The Buddhist priest and I were absolutely alone
with Nature.
I could not help reflecting that if he were really the dangerous man
that the mate affected to consider him, or that might be inferred from
the words of General Heatherstone, I had placed myself completely in his
power.
Yet such was the majestic benignity of the man's aspect, and the
unruffled serenity of his deep, dark eyes, that I could afford in his
presence to let fear and suspicion blow past me as lightly as the breeze
which whistled round us. His face might be stern, and even terrible,
but I felt that he could never be unjust.
As I glanced from time to time at his noble profile and the sweep of his
jet-black beard, his rough-spun tweed travelling suit struck me with an
almost painful sense of incongruity, and I re-clothed him in my
imagination with the grand, sweeping Oriental costume which is the
fitting and proper frame for such a picture--the only garb which does
not detract from the dignity and grace of the wearer.
The place to which he led me was a small fisher cottage which had been
deserted some years before by its tenant, but still stood gaunt and
bare, with the thatch partly blown away and the windows and doors in sad
disrepair.


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