Now he lay there, a doubled-up mass, with ugly distorted features, and a dark wet stain dripping slowly on to the carpet. He was an old, skilled vampire. "Well—well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content. Let’s go on climbing now. At ninethirty he climbed into the chair and signified to Ah Cum that he was ready. The spy—if there was one hiding out in the late Jarvis Remenham’s empty house—would be taken unawares. This gloom was impossible.
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