H. Bedford-Jones

“ Not a bit of it. Reflections from the rising sun on the concrete which filled the skulls to the bone-level? Not a bit of it; such reflections would not come in a scarlet flame from the eyes of each and every skull. They were reflecting the lurid sunrise squarely at me, of course; but those hollow eye-sockets were filled with red fire.
I dropped the glasses, seized the paddle, and spurted for home, savagely determined to run down the uncanny hoodoo which had settled on this house of mine. As I drew nearer to my landing. I could see those red skull-eyes flaming more and more distinctly. ”

“ Now, I glanced at every room in my course, and I can swear that the house was absolutely empty. So was the kitchen when I reached it. Yet by the stove, whence it had obviously been knocked by some direct agency, the double boiler lay on the floor, a pool of water surging from it, and running directly to the stove from the doorway—but not back again—was a single fine of muddy tracks. They were the tracks of the pterodactyl!
I was staggered, right enough. A prehistoric monster with a wing-spread of twenty-five feet does not hide easily in a bare kitchen ”

“ Folly though it undoubtedly was, I had indulged a secret conviction that M. J. B. was Balliol's sweetheart; now she proved to be his sister, but although this fact afforded great relief, it none the less gave me new anxiety I have always noticed that girls, especially very charming and attractive girls like Martha Balliol, are all too seldom free and heart-whole. Somebody else always seems to get acquainted with them first. ”