Just as Lavelle paused at the foot of the hill and waved his hand,
Rowgowskii looked up from where he was cutting turf on the eastern
slope. Unconsciously his hand went to his flattened nose. It was an
action which invariably had come to accompany any glance which had
Lavelle for its objective.
Emily was hidden from his view, but the Russian could imagine her
standing up there on the crest answering Lavelle's signal. He knew well,
too, the light there must be in her eyes. He had surprised it there many
times in the preceding three or four days, even as she had startled the
animal lust in his.
Rowgowskii dropped the piece of metal which he was using for a cutting
tool. It was part of the boat's air tank with which Lavelle had planned
to repair the damage done by the boulder. His gaze followed the two men
crossing the meadow until he saw Chang stop suddenly and look back. He
started as if the Chinaman had the power of reading his thoughts. A
guilty conscience is ever the quick prey of an honest eye. With much
show of industry he picked up his cutter and resumed the stripping of
turf. This activity lasted but a minute. Then, his gaze wandered around
the empty sea, only to return to the two men below.
In the second that the Russian's eyes picked them up again a menacing
oscillation passed through the earth and brought him in terror off his
knees. He saw the Chinaman pitch headlong out of sight. The next second
whipped Lavelle from his view. The palm tree remained the single object
in the meadow.
Rowgowskii hesitated a moment, hearkening for a sound from above him or
from the meadow. The silence was unbroken save by the purr of the
morning breeze.
With the sneak of a stalking panther in his tread he darted around to
the southern slope. A second's pause, a flashing glance behind to
reassure himself that "The Shadow" and the yellow man were, indeed,
gone, and he sprang up the hill.