"Heart of Darkness"
by Joseph Conrad

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     "The manager sends me -- " he began in an official tone, and stopped short. "Good God!" he said, glaring at the wounded man.

     We two whites stood over him, and his lustrous and inquiring glance enveloped us both. I declare it looked as though he would presently put to us some questions in an understandable language; but he died without uttering a sound, without moving a limb, without twitching a muscle. Only in the very last moment, as though in response to some sign we could not see, to some whisper we could not hear, he frowned heavily, and that frown gave to his black death-mask an inconceivably sombre, brooding, and menacing expression. The lustre of inquiring glance faded swiftly into vacant glassiness.

 

     "Can you steer?" I asked the agent eagerly.

     He looked very dubious; but I made a grab at his arm, and he understood at once I meant him to steer whether or no. To tell you the truth, I was morbidly anxious to change my shoes and socks.

     "He is dead," murmured the fellow, immensely impressed.

     "No doubt about it," said I, tugging like mad at the shoe-laces. "And by the way, I suppose Mr. Kurtz is dead as well by this time."

 
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