He began to fold up the papers expeditiously.
He stretched out his hand for the ring. The ring was gone! Gone, although
no human creature had entered the room; gone, although no form had crossed
the doorway. Gone!
He would not sleep there, that was certain.
He stuffed the papers into his pocket. As he did so, three slow and
distinct taps were given on the crown of his head. Bonaparte's jaw fell:
each separate joint lost its power: he could not move; he dared not rise;
his tongue lay loose in his mouth.
"Take all, take all!" he gurgled in his throat. "I--I do not want them.
Take"--
Here a resolute tug at the grey curls at the back of his head caused him to
leap up, yelling wildly. Was he to sit still paralyzed, to be dragged away
bodily to the devil? With terrific shrieks he fled, casting no glance
behind.
...
When the dew was falling, and the evening was dark, a small figure moved
toward the gate of the furthest ostrich-camp, driving a bird before it.
When the gate was opened and the bird driven in and the gate fastened, it
turned away, but then suddenly paused near the stone wall.
"Is that you, Waldo?" said Lyndall, hearing a sound.
The boy was sitting on the damp ground with his back to the wall. He gave
her no answer.
"Come," she said, bending over him, "I have been looking for you all day.
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