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Stout, Rex, 1886-1975

"Under the Andes"


We had just removed the traces of our work as completely as
possible and secreted the clubs of yellow metal in a corner of
the apartment when the sound of pattering footsteps came from the
corridor.
Harry gave me a quick glance; I moved between him and the door.
But it was Desiree.
She entered the room hurriedly and crossed to the farther side,
then turned to face the door. Her cheeks were glowing brightly,
her eyes flashed fire, and her breast heaved with unwonted
agitation. Before either she or I had time to speak Harry had
sprung to her side and grasped her arm.
"What has he done now?" he demanded in a tone scarcely audible in
its intensity.
"I--don't--know," said Desiree without removing her eyes from the
door. "Let me go, Harry; let me sit down. Paul! Ah! I was
afraid."
"For us?" I asked.
"Yes--partly. The brute! But then, he is human, and that is his
way. And you--I was right--you should have gone to the Cave of
the Sun when he required your presence."
"But it was merely an invitation. Cannot one refuse an
invitation?" I protested.
"But, my dear Paul, the creature is royal--his invitations are
commands.


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