Let me of three years before when he attempted to discredit my evidences of Nahuac culture

and Yucatan, which was the result of years of careful research.

Our relations had been anything but cordial.

However, I received him and found anything but

anything but cordial.

However, I received him and found his manner,

hasty and abrupt, but rather abstracted as if his dislike for me

had been thrust aside in some driving passion that had hold of him.

His errand was quickly stated.

He wished my aid in obtaining a volume in the first edition of Von Junst's

nameless cults, the edition known as the Black Book, not from its color, but because of its dark contents.

He might almost as well have asked me for the original Greek translation of the Necronomicon, though since my return from Yucatan

I had devoted practically all my time to my avocation of book collecting.

I had not stumbled onto any hint that the book in the Dusseldorf edition was still in existence.

It's time to go back to the library armed with charms and wards because we got us a spooky book story.

H.P. podcraft.

You know, I've tried to use that black book line before from the opening there.

But I could never really pull it off. I like I'll put on a... black book line before from the opening there.

But I could never really pull it off.

I like I'll put on a red shirt and be like,

how do you like my black shirt?

And then the store clerk or whatever I'll be like, but that's a red shirt.

...