J. C. Snaith, Fortune (1910)
“ Yet just as he came up to us, with his sword gleaming in the moonlight, he tripped over Sir Richard Pendragon’s outstretched leg and measured his length upon the earth. Before he could utter a cry, Sir Richard Pendragon had buried a knife in his heart.“The dead don’t speak,” he whispered in a soft voice. He wiped the stains from his dagger upon the gaberdine of the man he had slain and replaced it in his jerkin.In the next moment he had disappeared. In the fashion of a hugeous reptile he had crawled through the hole he had made into the interior of the King’s pavilion. ”
