Читать книгу The Mysterious Disappearance of the Chevalier Valmont онлайн | страница 5
“I must run off! Flee this place!” the panic-stricken passenger thought to himself.
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He felt around for the door handle. As he did so, the revolver he had been holding in his hand fell to the floor, and went off.
“If you’re trying to scare me, forget it,” meowed the monster, showing his large teeth. “Your popgun won’t do you any good, pal. Better think of your immortal soul, for your last hour has come.”
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(14)
He started to take off the ring, but with little success.
“Don’t bother,” said the monster. “The robbers will take it off your finger. They will be here quite soon, I presume. But by that time, you will long be dead. As for me, I’m not interested in petty knick-knacks. It’s moments like this that add purpose to my life. To watch my victim tremble in fear – that’s what I live for. And, as much as I’d love to prolong this moment – beautiful as it is – I’m afraid that we may soon be interrupted by one of these vulgar creatures who make a living out of robbing others.”
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The passenger stopped fumbling with the ring. He just sat there, spellbound, listening to the monster.
Meanwhile, the cat continued:
(15)
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Suddenly, the cat broke off his speech, and pricked up his ears. The next moment, a loud cry shattered the night’s silence: “Listen to my command! We shall now attack this monster! Draw your swords, fellas, and follow me!” There was a cracking of branches, and a dark figure swung down from a tree. It landed on the monster’s head, and began to stab at him furiously with a sword. The cat tried his best to shake off his attacker, but to no avail.
Blood now covered the monster’s face. Meowing pitifully, the cat took off into the night-covered forest.