Again he whistled, but louder than
before, and again it was repeated. With feelings akin to those of the
condemned wretch when he drops the fatal handkerchief, he sounded the
last note of the signal. His breath was suspended. Suddenly he felt the
ground give way beneath his feet, and he was precipitated into a chasm,
dark, and by no means soft at the nether extremity.
This was a reception for which he was not prepared. He had sustained a
severe shock; but luckily his bones were whole. Recovering from his
alarm, he heard a low jabbering noise, and presently a light, which, it
seems, had been extinguished by his clumsiness, was again approaching.
The intruder saw, with indescribable horror, a hideous black dwarf
bearing a torch. He was dressed in the Eastern fashion. A soiled turban,
torn and dilapidated, and a vest of crimson, showed symptoms of former
splendour that no art could restore. This mysterious being came near,
muttering some uncouth and unintelligible jargon; while the unfortunate
captive, caught like a wolf in a trap, looked round in vain for some
outlet whereby to escape. The only passage, except the hole through
which he had tumbled, was completely filled by the broad, unwieldy lump
of deformity that was coming towards him.
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