Here were at least six
separate causes for extreme surprise; each part and parcel with the
others, and forming all together one consistent story. I felt almost
ashamed to believe my own senses.
As I thus stood, transfixed with wonder, I began to grow painfully
conscious of the injuries I had received in the scuffle; skulked round
among the sand hills; and, by a devious path, regained the shelter of the
wood. On the way, the old nurse passed again within several yards of me,
still carrying her lantern, on the return journey to the mansion house of
Graden. This made a seventh suspicious feature in the case. Northmour and
his guests, it appeared, were to cook and do the cleaning for themselves,
while the old woman continued to inhabit the big empty barrack among the
policies. There must surely be great cause for secrecy, when so many
inconveniences were confronted to preserve it.
So thinking, I made my way to the den. For greater security, I trod out
the embers of the fire, and lighted my lantern to examine the wound upon
my shoulder. It was a trifling hurt, although it bled somewhat freely, and
I dressed it as well as I could (for its position made it difficult to
reach) with some rag and cold water from the spring. While I was thus
busied, I mentally declared war against Northmour and his mystery. I am
not an angry man by nature, and I believe there was more curiosity than
resentment in my heart.
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