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The Club of Queer Trades by G. K. (Gilbert Keith) Chesterton
page 15 of 178 (08%)
stepped in, feeling in his pocket for matches. As his right hand
was thus occupied, a pair of great slimy hands came out of the
darkness, hands clearly belonging to a man of gigantic stature,
and seized him by the back of the head. They forced him down, down
in the suffocating darkness, a brutal image of destiny. But the
Major's head, though upside down, was perfectly clear and
intellectual. He gave quietly under the pressure until he had slid
down almost to his hands and knees. Then finding the knees of the
invisible monster within a foot of him, he simply put out one of
his long, bony, and skilful hands, and gripping the leg by a
muscle pulled it off the ground and laid the huge living man, with
a crash, along the floor. He strove to rise, but Brown was on top
like a cat. They rolled over and over. Big as the man was, he had
evidently now no desire but to escape; he made sprawls hither and
thither to get past the Major to the door, but that tenacious
person had him hard by the coat collar and hung with the other
hand to a beam. At length there came a strain in holding back this
human bull, a strain under which Brown expected his hand to rend
and part from the arm. But something else rent and parted; and the
dim fat figure of the giant vanished out of the cellar, leaving
the torn coat in the Major's hand; the only fruit of his adventure
and the only clue to the mystery. For when he went up and out at
the front door, the lady, the rich hangings, and the whole
equipment of the house had disappeared. It had only bare boards
and whitewashed walls.

"The lady was in the conspiracy, of course," said Rupert, nodding.
Major Brown turned brick red. "I beg your pardon," he said, "I
think not."

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