His eyes gleamed red and bloodshot as he stared at
the engineer.
"_Mon Dieu_, I had hoped to find you dead," he whispered huskily.
He reached up to hang the big oil lamp he carried to a hook in the log
ceiling, and Howland sat amazed at the expression on his face. Jean's
great eyes gleamed like living coals from out of a death-mask. Either
fear or pain had wrought deep lines in his face. His hands trembled as
he steadied the lamp. The few hours that had passed since Howland had
left him a prisoner on the mountain top had transformed him into an old
man. Even his shoulders were hunched forward with an air of weakness and
despair as he turned from the lamp to the engineer.
"I had hoped to find you dead, M'seur," he repeated in a voice so low it
could not have been heard beyond the door. "That is why I did not bind
your wound and give you water when they turned you over to my care. I
wanted you to bleed to death. It would have been easier--for both
of us."
From under the table he drew forth a second stool and sat down opposite
Howland. The two men stared at each other over the sputtering remnant of
the candle. Before the engineer had recovered from his astonishment at
the sudden appearance of the man whom he believed to be safely
imprisoned in the old cabin, Croisset's shifting eyes fell on the mass
of torn wood under the aperture.
Pages:
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207