English fiction -- 19th century; Short stories, English
‘Malūa! Malūa!’ (which is by interpretation ‘Go easy’). ‘I guess it can
be done,’ he drawled softly to himself. ‘Anything to see? No--o. Stop,
though,’--to the intelligent eye, as he drew himself together in his
chair, the spring was very near now--‘I guess I’m wrong all the time,
there _is_ something almighty curious to see, for those who have the
sand.’
‘What’s that?’
‘We--ell, it mightn’t interest _you_, but it’s a place they call “La
boîte du diable”--kind of a cavern in the side of a hill. Considerable
few people have been to see it, and none stayed very long. Reckon _you_
won’t care about it.’
An indescribable sneer was in Mr Denver’s voice, and the Major, though
far gone, was not _too_ far gone to seize upon it as an insult.
‘You mean, I wouldn’t dare,’ he said, huskily. ‘Confound you, sir,
d’you think I’ve not got as much pluck as you?’
‘Guess not,’ said Dick, drily.
‘D----n you, sir!’ said Massinger, furiously; ‘I’ll bet you that £200
I’ve just paid you, I go to that hole, whatever it is, and stay there
as long or longer than you do.’
For answer, Mr Denver rose slowly.
‘Put it in writing,’ he said, and, producing pen and paper out of
his pocket, he reached down the saloon ink-bottle, and pushed them
over to Massinger. The latter, quite sobered, stared a minute at his
nonchalant companion, then sat down, and without saying a word penned
the following lines in a shaky hand:
‘“I bet Mr Dick Denver the sum of £200 that I visit with him a
condemned hole called ‘La boîte du diable,’ and stay there as long or
longer than he does.”
‘Will that do?’
‘Play or pay,’ added Mr Denver, calmly.
‘“Play or pay.”
‘“Albert Massinger, October 9th, 188-”--he signed his name, and threw
it across to Dick, who signed his own, and pocketed the document.
‘Guess I’ll call for you after dinner at your hotel,’ he said; ‘might
be happier with pistols, it’s kind of a skeery place. Good-night,’ he
nodded, and without another word, lounged up on to the silent deck, the
suspicion of an unholy smile flickering on his impassive features.
SCENE III
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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