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! ”
