H. Bedford-Jones

“ His progress was slow, because of the darkness and the jungle walls on either hand. When at length he perceived the glinting sheen of firelight ahead, he felt as if he had passed hours on the way; in reality, it was not half an hour from the time he had left camp on the trail of Paléologue. ”

“ Farvel stood beside Hawkins, watching, scowling, and half fearful.
"Species of architect!" snapped Paléologue, a vicious lash in his voice as he gazed at the opium-smoker. "Pig that you are—away with the pipe!" As he spoke, he kicked the bamboo into the fire. "Up!"
The ruffian scrambled to his feet. Paléologue's sinister stare frightened him, and he mumbled something inarticulate.
Behind the firelight gaped the yawning doorway of some long-desolate stone temple, overgrown by the jungle, ruined, yet still preserving a room or two of its ancient chambers. ”

“ At the sound, Paléologue fired twice, deliberately. The damnable cunning of the man, his merciless cruelty, maddened Kent with sheer horror. He perceived that there was no hope for him, no pity. One of the two bullets caught his left arm, jerking him sharply around.
He broke free from Marie and plunged forward into the blackness, firing wildly with the revolver in his right hand. Everything was swept from him save the mad lust for Paléologue's throat. The stone chamber became an inferno of flying lead, choking fumes, spitting weapons. Stabs of flame here and there, both men firing at random. ”