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Hodgson, William Hope, 1877-1918

"The House on the Borderland"

There were
no marks of blows--indeed, none had been given--but the door had been
literally riven from its hinges, by the application of enormous, silent
force. One thing that I observed affected me profoundly--the head of one
of the props had been driven right through a panel. This was, of itself,
sufficient to show how huge an effort the creatures had made to break
down the door, and how nearly they had succeeded.
Leaving, I continued my tour 'round the house, finding little else of
interest; save at the back, where I came across the piece of piping I
had torn from the wall, lying among the long grass underneath the
broken window.
Then, I returned to the house, and, having re-bolted the back door,
went up to the tower. Here, I spent the afternoon, reading, and
occasionally glancing down into the gardens. I had determined, if the
night passed quietly, to go as far as the Pit, on the morrow. Perhaps, I
should be able to learn, then, something of what had happened. The day
slipped away, and the night came, and went much as the last few
nights had gone.


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