Francis Worcester Doughty

Summary

Francis Worcester Doughty Mirrikh, or, A Woman from Mars… (1892)

I was looking down as Maurice made this remark; gazing into the interior court yard behind the Nagkon Wat, a space surrounded by low, crumbling stone structures, any one of which, even if we had run down stairs at the top of our speed, it would have taken us a good ten minutes to reach.
Five had not elapsed since the disappearance of Mr. Mirrikh—I doubt greatly if it was more than three.
“Look! Look!” I cried, suddenly seizing Maurice by the arm. “Look! Now will you believe?”
“Great God! It is the man himself!
Source: Wikisource

Francis Worcester Doughty Mirrikh, or, A Woman from Mars… (1892)

God is omnipotent, omnipresent, but invisible. He made the earth, but the sun was his master mechanic. By all means let us be sun worshipers, old fellow, but for heaven’s sake, don’t drag me into any discussion with your friend upstairs. Such thoughts as I unfolded to you a few moments ago belong to certain frames of mind in which I seldom indulge. If you transgress, don’t be surprised to find me roughly repudiating all I said. I’m in no mood to argue with a Buddhist adept to-day.
Source: Wikisource

Francis Worcester Doughty Mirrikh, or, A Woman from Mars… (1892)

I whispered. “Whoever he is, or whatever he is, he is certainly a gentleman. Respect his wishes and let him go.”
“Bother!” said Maurice, pulling himself away. “He called me a Yankee, let me show him I’ve got my share of Yankee curiosity. Come on George, I intend to find out where he goes.”
And he stepped through the door, leaving me to follow or not, as I pleased.
I chose to follow, for I confess that my curiosity had gained the better of my politeness.
Was the strange episode at Panompin about to be repeated, and in broad daylight?
Source: Wikisource

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