It was hidden from him almost at once by the man's massive head; but
he had seen enough, more than enough, to verify a certain suspicion
which had long been quartered at the back of his brain.
Stealthily he drew himself back from the cliff edge, and sat up on the
damp grass. Again his eyes swept the horizon; there was something of a
glare in them. He was drenched through and through by the rain, but
he did not know it. Had Muriel seen him at that moment she might have
likened him with a shudder to an eagle that viewed its quarry from
afar.
He returned to the house without further lingering, and spent the two
hours that followed in prowling ceaselessly up and down his library.
At the end of that time he sat down suddenly at the writing-table, and
scrawled a hasty note. His face, as he did so, was like the face of an
old man, but without the tolerance of age.
Finishing, he rang for his servant. "Take this note," he said, "and
ask at the Brethaven Arms if a gentleman named Captain Grange is
putting up there. If he is, send in the note, and wait for an answer.
If he is not, bring it back."
The man departed, and Nick resumed his prowling. It seemed that he
could not rest. Once he went to the window and opened it to listen to
the long roar of the sea, but the fury of the blast was such that
he could scarcely stand against it.
Pages:
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321