Arthur Conan Doyle,
The Mystery of Cloomber — Chapter 9
(1889)
“ His bright, staring eyes and the deep, hectic flush upon his cheek showed that his fever was at its height.I advanced to the bedside, and, stooping over him, I placed my fingers upon his pulse, when immediately he sprang up into the sitting position and struck at me frenziedly with his clenched hands. I have never seen such intensity of fear and horror stamped upon a human face as appeared upon that that which was now glaring up at me."Bloodhound!" he yelled; "let me go—let me go, I say! Keep your hands off me! Is it not enough that my life has been ruined? When is it all to end? ”
