The recollection of that afternoon will always be graven on my mind.
Northmour and I were persuaded that an attack was imminent; and if it had
been in our power to alter in any way the order of events, that power
would have been used to precipitate rather than delay the critical moment.
The worst was to be anticipated; yet we could conceive no extremity so
miserable as the suspense we were now suffering. I have never been an
eager, though always a great, reader; but I never knew books so insipid
as those which I took up and cast aside that afternoon in the pavilion.
Even talk became impossible, as the hours went on. One or other was always
listening for some sound, or peering from an upstairs window over the
links. And yet not a sign indicated the presence of our foes.
We debated over and over again my proposal with regard to the money; and
had we been in complete possession of our faculties, I am sure we should
have condemned it as unwise; but we were flustered with alarm, grasped at
a straw, and determined, although it was as much as advertising Mr.
Huddlestone's presence in the pavilion, to carry my proposal into effect.
The sum was part in specie, part in bank paper, and part in circular notes
payable to the name of James Gregory. We took it out, counted it, inclosed
it once more in a dispatch box belonging to Northmour, and prepared a
letter in Italian which he tied to the handle. It was signed by both of us
under oath, and declared that this was all the money which had escaped the
failure of the house of Huddlestone. This was, perhaps, the maddest action
ever perpetrated by two persons professing to be sane. Had the dispatch
box fallen into other hands than those for which it was intended, we stood
criminally convicted on our own written testimony; but, as I have said, we
were neither of us in a condition to judge soberly, and had a thirst for
action that drove us to do something, right or wrong, rather than endure
the agony of waiting. Moreover, as we were both convinced that the hollows
of the links were alive with hidden spies upon our movements, we hoped
that our appearance with the box might lead to a parley, and, perhaps, a
compromise.
It was nearly three when we issued from the pavilion. The rain had taken
off; the sun shone quite cheerfully. I had never seen the gulls fly so
close about the house or approach so fearlessly to human beings. On the
very doorstep one flapped heavily past our heads, and uttered its wild cry
in my very ear.
"There is an omen for you," said Northmour, who like all freethinkers was
much under the influence of superstition. "They think we are already
dead."
I made some light rejoinder, but it was with half my heart; for the
circumstance had impressed me.
A yard or two before the gate, on a patch of smooth turf, we set down the
dispatch box; and Northmour waved a white handkerchief over his head.
Nothing replied. We raised our voices, and cried aloud in Italian that we
were there as ambassadors to arrange the quarrel, but the stillness
remained unbroken save by the seagulls and the surf. I had a weight at my
heart when we desisted; and I saw that even Northmour was unusually pale.
He looked over his shoulder nervously, as though he feared that some one
had crept between him and the pavilion door.
"By God," he said in a whisper, "this is too much for me!"