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Wells, H. G. (Herbert George), 1866-1946

"Twelve Stories and a Dream"

If I'd had
any sense I should have told him straight away of the treasure
and taken him into Co. I've no doubt he'd have come into Co. A child,
with a few hours to think it over, could have seen the connection
between my diving-dress and the loss of the Ocean Pioneer. A week
after he left I went out one morning and saw the Motherhood, the
salver's ship from Starr Race, towing up the channel and sounding.
The whole blessed game was up, and all my trouble thrown away. Gummy!
How wild I felt! And guying it in that stinking silly dress! Four
months!"
The sunburnt man's story degenerated again. "Think of it," he said,
when he emerged to linguistic purity once more. "Forty thousand
pounds worth of gold."
"Did the little missionary come back?" I asked.
"Oh, yes! Bless him! And he pledged his reputation there was a man
inside the god, and started out to see as much with tremendous
ceremony. But there wasn't--he got sold again. I always did hate
scenes and explanations, and long before he came I was out of it
all--going home to Banya along the coast, hiding in bushes by day,
and thieving food from the villages by night.


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