The following lines conclude Richard Connell’s short story “The Most Dangerous Game”:
The general sucked in his breath and smiled. I congratulate you,” he said. “You have won the game.”
Rainsford did not smile. “I am still a beast at bay,” he said, in a low hoarse voice. “Get ready, General Zaroff.”
The general made one of his deepest bows. “I see,” he said. “Splendid! One of us is to furnish a repast for the hounds. The other will sleep in this very excellent bed. On guard Rainsford…”
He had never slept in a better bed, Rainsford decided.