{"product_id":"2940012986177","title":"THE MYSTERY OF EDWIN DROOD","description":"CHAPTER I—THE DAWN\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAn ancient English Cathedral Tower?  How can the ancient English\u003cbr\u003eCathedral tower be here!  The well-known massive gray square tower of its\u003cbr\u003eold Cathedral?  How can that be here!  There is no spike of rusty iron in\u003cbr\u003ethe air, between the eye and it, from any point of the real prospect.\u003cbr\u003eWhat is the spike that intervenes, and who has set it up?  Maybe it is\u003cbr\u003eset up by the Sultan’s orders for the impaling of a horde of Turkish\u003cbr\u003erobbers, one by one.  It is so, for cymbals clash, and the Sultan goes by\u003cbr\u003eto his palace in long procession.  Ten thousand scimitars flash in the\u003cbr\u003esunlight, and thrice ten thousand dancing-girls strew flowers.  Then,\u003cbr\u003efollow white elephants caparisoned in countless gorgeous colours, and\u003cbr\u003einfinite in number and attendants.  Still the Cathedral Tower rises in\u003cbr\u003ethe background, where it cannot be, and still no writhing figure is on\u003cbr\u003ethe grim spike.  Stay!  Is the spike so low a thing as the rusty spike on\u003cbr\u003ethe top of a post of an old bedstead that has tumbled all awry?  Some\u003cbr\u003evague period of drowsy laughter must be devoted to the consideration of\u003cbr\u003ethis possibility.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShaking from head to foot, the man whose scattered consciousness has thus\u003cbr\u003efantastically pieced itself together, at length rises, supports his\u003cbr\u003etrembling frame upon his arms, and looks around.  He is in the meanest\u003cbr\u003eand closest of small rooms.  Through the ragged window-curtain, the light\u003cbr\u003eof early day steals in from a miserable court.  He lies, dressed, across\u003cbr\u003ea large unseemly bed, upon a bedstead that has indeed given way under the\u003cbr\u003eweight upon it. Lying, also dressed and also across the bed, not\u003cbr\u003elongwise, are a Chinaman, a Lascar, and a haggard woman.  The two first\u003cbr\u003eare in a sleep or stupor; the last is blowing at a kind of pipe, to\u003cbr\u003ekindle it.  And as she blows, and shading it with her lean hand,\u003cbr\u003econcentrates its red spark of light, it serves in the dim morning as a\u003cbr\u003elamp to show him what he sees of her.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e‘Another?’ says this woman, in a querulous, rattling whisper.  ‘Have\u003cbr\u003eanother?’\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe looks about him, with his hand to his forehead.","brand":"SAP","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":47073567015152,"sku":"2940012986177","price":0.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0737\/7593\/9824\/files\/2940012986177_p0.jpg?v=1763575207","url":"https:\/\/shop-qa.barnesandnoble.com\/products\/2940012986177","provider":"Barnes \u0026 Noble (DEV)","version":"1.0","type":"link"}