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Updated: May 14, 2025
I saw little of Simon Colliver before starting, though he came twice, as I heard, to the 'Welcome Home' to inquire for me, and each time found me absent. On board, however, being the only other passenger, I was naturally thrown much into his society, and confess that I found him a most diverting companion.
I write this in my cabin, alone Colliver having had another assigned to him by Mr. Sanderson's express wish.
It lies in the Kolpetty suburb, in the midst of most lovely gardens, and is called Blue Bungalow, from the colour in which it is painted. I have made many excursions with Mr. Eversleigh on the lagoon; but for me the only object in this land of beauty is the great Peak. I cannot endure this idleness much longer. Colliver seems to have vanished: at least, I have not seen him. "Jan. 25th, 1849.
They were the eyes of Simon Colliver. So then in Oxford Street, after all, I had met him. He was cleverly disguised as I guessed, by the same hands that had painted my own face and looked to the casual eye but an ordinary bagman. But art could not change those marvellous eyes, and I knew him in an instant.
"Sing ho! but he waits for you." To London had Simon Colliver come, and somewhere, some day, he would be mine. Until that day I sought a living face in a city of dead men, and down that illimitable slope to Holborn, and back again, I would tramp until the pavements were silent and deserted, then seek my lodging and throw myself exhausted on the bed.
Doubtless, some victim's of those many that went down in the Belle Fortune; or perhaps the skull of John Railton, sunk here above the treasure to gain which he had taken the lives of other men and lost in the end his own. It was a grisly thought, but apparently troubled Colliver little, for with a jerk of his arm he sent it bowling down the sands towards the breakers.
Don't you see the likeness? "It was solemn truth. Feature by feature that atrocious face was simply a reproduction of Colliver's. As I stared in amazement, it seemed more and more marvellous that I had not noticed the resemblance before. True, each feature was distorted and exaggerated to produce the utter malignity of its expression. But the face was the face of Colliver.
"Pearls, pearls before swine! Swine did I say? Snakes, if it's not an insult to a snake to give its name to such as Colliver. What did you say, Jasper?" "We'll have him." "Jasper, my boy," said he, scanning me for a second time oddly, "maybe you'll be better in bed. Try to sleep again, my poor lad what do you think?" "I think," I answered, "that we have not yet looked at the clasp."
He has gone gone to catch the first train for Cornwall, and will be at Dead Man's Rock to-night. Quick! see if you cannot rise." I sat up. The water had dripped from me, forming a great pool at our end of the boat. In it she was kneeling, and beside her lay a heavy knife and the cords with which Simon Colliver had bound me. "Yes," I said, "I will follow.
I have written to Margery, but torn the letter up on second thoughts, as I had better wait until I hear news of a vessel in which I can safely travel home. Mr. I wonder in what part of the world Colliver is travelling now. "July 1st. Oh, this weary waiting! Shall I never see the shores of England again? "July 4th. In answer to my entreaties, Mr.
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