Text race history for . (siglemic)

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I placed my revolver, cocked, upon the top of the wooden case behind which I crouched. Holmes shot the slide across the front of his lantern and left us in pitch darkness - such an absolute darkness as I have never before experienced. The smell of hot metal remained to assure us that the light was still there, ready to flash out at a moment's notice. To me, with my nerves worked up to a pitch of expectancy, there was something depressing and subduing in the sudden gloom, and in the cold dank air of the vault.

Game Time WPM Accuracy
44637 2019-11-16 04:44:57 137.39 99%
41682 2019-07-19 23:02:08 127.63 99%