““Resting” is not a very accurate word, because American beds can rival any marble or granite tabletop for hardness. Ardan was sleeping rather badly, tossing and turning between the napkins that served as his sheets. He was dreaming of installing a more comfortable bed in his projectile when a violent noise awakened him. His door was being shaken by disorderly blows, apparently struck with some sort of metal instrument. Loud shouting was mingled with this early morning uproar. “Open your door!” ...cried a voice. “In the name of heaven, open your door!” Ardan had no reason to grant such a loudly stated request. However, he got up and opened the door just as it was about to yield to the efforts of his obstinate visitor. J. T. Maston burst into the room. An artillery shell could not have entered with less ceremony. “Yesterday Barbicane was publicly insulted at the meeting,” he said abruptly. “He challenged his adversary, who’s none other than Captain Nicholl! They’re fighting this morning in the Skersnaw Woods!MoreLessRead More Read Less
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