The lantern had fallen and gone out. But what was my
astonishment to see Northmour slip at a bound into the pavilion, and hear
him bar the door behind him with a clang of iron!
He had not pursued me. He had run away. Northmour, whom I knew for the
most implacable and daring of men, had run away! I could scarce believe my
reason; and yet in this strange business, where all was incredible, there
was nothing to make a work about in an incredibility more or less. For why
was the pavilion secretly prepared? Why had Northmour landed with his
guests at dead of night, in half a gale of wind, and with the floe scarce
covered? Why had he sought to kill me? Had he not recognized my voice? I
wondered. And, above all, how had he come to have a dagger ready in his
hand? A dagger, or even a sharp knife, seemed out of keeping with the age
in which we lived; and a gentleman landing from his yacht on the shore of
his own estate, even although it was at night and with some mysterious
circumstances, does not usually, as a matter of fact, walk thus prepared
for deadly onslaught. The more I reflected, the further I felt at sea. I
recapitulated the elements of mystery, counting them on my fingers: the
pavilion secretly prepared for guests; the guests landed at the risk of
their lives and to the imminent peril of the yacht; the guests, or at
least one of them, in undisguised and seemingly causeless terror;
Northmour with a naked weapon; Northmour stabbing his most intimate
acquaintance at a word; last, and not least strange, Northmour fleeing
from the man whom he had sought to murder, and barricading himself, like a
hunted creature, behind the door of the pavilion.
Pages:
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228