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"Yes, yes, we're coainst the stone passage wall

"Have you heard the news?" he cried i at them like a man about to fall over a cliff "In an hour they'll land! They're bringing books with the in the tower at a ti?"

Poe said: "We're doing everything we can, Blackwood You're new to all this Co to Mr Charles Dickens' place----"

"--to contemplate our doom, our black doom," said Mr Bierce, with a wink

Theythroats of the castle, level after direen level, down into"Don't worry," said Poe, his brow like a huge white la the dead sea tonight I've called the others Your friends and mine, Blackwood--Bierce They're all there The animals and the old women and the tall ; the pits, yes, and the penduluhed quietly "Yes, even the Red Death I never thought--no, I never thought the ti like the Red Death would actually be Butthey asked for it, and they shall have it!"

"But are we strong enough?" wondered Blackwood

"How strong is strong? They won't be prepared for us, at least They haven't the i rocket men with their antiseptic blooion About their necks, on gold chains, scalpels Upon their heads, a diade incense urns which in reality are only ger out superstition The names of Poe, Bierce, Hawthorne, Blackwood--blasphemy to their clean lips"

Outside the castle they advanced through a watery space, a tarn that was not a

tarn, which ht, a ures swayed at ca, knitting, in the firelight; knitting pain andwickedness into wax arlic and cayenne and saffron hissed up to fill the night with evil pungency

"Get on with it!" said Poe "I'll be back!"

All down the erew up and blew into black s in mountain towers and licorice ravens spilled out with the bronze sounds and spun away to ashes

Over a lonely moor and into a small valley Poe and Bierce hurried, and found themselves quite suddenly on a cobbled street, in cold, bleak, biting weather, with people stoy withal, and candles flaring in the s of offices and shops where hung the Yuletide turkeys At a distance so their pale breaths on the wintry air, were trilling, "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlereat clock continuously sounded ht Children dashed by frorubby fists, on trays and under silver bowls

At a sign which read SCROOGE, MARLEY AND DICKENS, Poe gave the Marley-faced knocker a rap, and froust of music almost swept them into a dance And there, beyond the shoulder of the oatee andhis hands, and Mrs Fezziwig, one vast substantial s with other hter ran about a table like chandelier crystals given a sudden push of wind The large table was heaped with brawn and turkey and holly and geese; with es and apples; and there was Bob Cratchit and Little Dorrit and Tiny Tiht be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of ment of an underdone potato--who else but Mr Marley, chains and all, while the wine poured and the brown turkeys did their excellent best to steam!

"What do you want?" demanded Mr Charles Dickens

"We've coain, Charles; we need your help," said Poe