Mister Scribbles

     Here I take an expensive diving knife and behold! it is transformed into a cheap kris.  I like making things, often out of better things.  Here lies a parallel or two.

     But the hope that was in Rainsford's brain when he climbed died, for he saw in the shallow valley that General Zaroff was still on his feet.  But Ivan was not.  The knife, driven by the recoil of the springing tree, had not wholly failed...      "Nerve, nerve, nerve!"  he panted, as he dashed along.  A blue gap showed between the trees dead ahead.  Ever nearer drew the hounds.  Rainsford forced himself on toward that gap.  He reached it.  It was the shore of the sea.  Across a cove he could see the gloomy gray stone of chateau.  Tweny feet below him the sea rumbled and hissed.  Rainsford hesitated.  He heard the hounds.       Then he leaped far out into the sea.                                ...