That's him; if it ain't heaven it's got to be hell. But how old Peters
ever lived this long with Castleton monkeyin' with him is a mighty funny
thing.--But who's that?"
A rap had sounded on my door. My caller had arrived.
I did not succeed in getting back to Bainbridge and Peters so soon as I
had expected. My business in the town dragged along far into the
evening, and it was nine o'clock by the time I was at liberty. At ten
o'clock I sent for a conveyance, and was driven to Peters' house, where
I arrived just before midnight.
I found Peters sleeping soundly, and Bainbridge dozing in a chair. My
entrance aroused Bainbridge. He arose, smiling, and was apparently glad
to see me. I saw at a glance that he had been successful in obtaining
from Peters the secrets of his antarctic voyage. "Well?" I asked.
"The information which I have gained," said Bainbridge, "even could I
procure no more, would suffice to explain all those mysteries that Poe
hints at as fact, and much that he seems to apprehend with that sixth
sense which in the genius approaches a union of clairvoyance and
prescience--mysteries of which he does not speak in language
sufficiently clear for common comprehension.
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