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Quiller-Couch, Arthur Thomas, Sir, 1863-1944

"Poison Island"

It came to us in the lull between two waves that
broke and raised up the sands to ripple round his feet.
"_Both_ hands up, Mr. Glass!"
Dr. Beauregard advanced a step.
But instead of lifting his arms, the man curved them before him, and
held them so, as if to protect his treasure, while he sank on his
knees beside the box. His face was yellow with terror.
"You fool!" The Doctor, still holding him covered, advanced step by
step to the box, and bent over it, staring down at him. The rest of
us--that is to say, Miss Belcher, Captain Branscome, and I--under I
know not what compulsion, followed and came to a halt a few paces
behind him. Standing so, I felt, rather than saw, that Plinny and
Mr. Goodfellow, attracted by the report of the pistol, were peering
at us over the ridge of rocks on the right.
"You fool!" Dr. Beauregard repeated, and suddenly dropped the butt of
his musket upon the loose cover of the chest.
"You fool!" said he, a third time, and tearing aside a splintered
board, dipped his hand and held it up full of sparkling stones.
Opening his fingers slowly, he let a few jewels rattle back upon the
heap, and held out a moderate fistful towards the cowering Glass.
"Did you actually suppose, having proved me once, that I would suffer
such a common cut-throat as you to march off with my treasure?
Look up at me, man! I charge you with having murdered Coffin, even
as you have just murdered that other poor blockhead who trusted you.


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