(From the pocket journal of Edgar Willard)344Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡv7j8e6w10H
Oct. 25, ‘50344Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0EvxuKQdwH
344Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpZHrkGAr59
Mr. Beal has slept nearly all this day. His face is pallid and much thinner. I fear recurrence of his fever is inevitable.
While refreshing his water carafe I caught sight of two mailed letters to Mr. Tibbles in Florida. He plans to return to Christian’s Lot; ‘twill be the killing of him if I allow it! Dare I steal away to Ministers’ Corners and hire a buggy? I must, and yet what if he wakes? If I should return and find him gone again?344Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeO9meI1Crg
The noises have begun in our walls again. Thank God he still sleeps! My mind shudders from the import of this.
344Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpom4LxnsJE
344Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZO5z3Le3lh
344Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3EfjYEHyf9
344Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡX6XIUeKxSZ
Later344Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTzktKPlmp9
344Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7OMAKkOCy9
I brought him dinner on a tray. He plans on rising later, and despite his evasions, I know what he plans; yet I go to Ministers’ Corners. Several of the sleeping powders prescribed to him during his late illness remained with my things; he drank one with his tea, all-unknowing. He sleeps again.
To leave him with the Things that shamble behind our walls terrifies me; to let him continue even one more day within those walls terrifies me even more greatly. I have locked him in. 344Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBKIy8Kln0r
God grant that he should still be there, safe and sleeping, when I return with the buggy?
344Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtushmZIFc5
344Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuUHMy8frZR
Still later344Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtq1aC8dWjd
344Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6VH6KYkzDY
Stoned me! Stone me like a wild and rabid dog! Monsters and fiends! These, that call themselves men! We are prisoners here----
The dogs have begun to gather.
ns216.73.216.154da2
