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Updated: June 1, 2025
And now this! . . ." He looked all round the Cage. . . . "Where's my wife?" he asked. "I was talking to her only a moment ago," answered d'Alcacer. "I don't know the time. My watch is on board the yacht; but it isn't late, you know." Mr. Travers flung off with unwonted briskness the light cotton sheet which covered him.
Belarab murmured, "You ought to have allowed me to make friends with Daman last night." A faint uneasiness was stealing into Lingard's breast. A moment later d'Alcacer came up, inconspicuously watched over by two men with lances, and to his anxious inquiry Lingard said: "I don't think there is anything going on. Listen how still everything is.
I sat in a state of blessed vacuity. I believe I was the happiest of us three. Unless you, too, Mrs. Travers. . . ." "It's absolutely no use your fishing for my thoughts, Mr. d'Alcacer. If I were to let you see them you would be appalled." "Thoughts really are but a shape of feelings. Let me congratulate you on the impassive mask you can put on those horrors you say you nurse in your breast.
"I am trying to keep it off," he said in the same tone. "What? Trying to keep thought off?" "Yes." "Is this the time for such experiments?" asked d'Alcacer. "Why not? It's my reprieve. Don't grudge it to me, Mr. d'Alcacer." "Upon my word I don't. But isn't it dangerous?" "You will have to take your chance." D'Alcacer had a moment of internal struggle.
"I am afraid, d'Alcacer, that you, too, are not very strong-minded. I am going to take a blanket off this bedstead. . . ." He flung it hastily over his arm and followed d'Alcacer closely. "What I suffer mostly from, strange to say, is cold." Mrs. Travers and Lingard were waiting near the gangway. To everybody's extreme surprise Mr. Travers addressed his wife first.
He had nothing to expect from joining our voyage, no advantage for his political ambitions or anything of the kind. I suppose you asked him on board to break our tete-a-tete which must have grown wearisome to you." "I am never bored," declared Mr. Travers. "D'Alcacer seemed glad to come. And, being a Spaniard, the horrible waste of time cannot matter to him in the least."
His last glance on earth! I am left with this thing. Absolutely unimportant. A dead talisman." With a nervous jerk she flung the ring overboard, then with a hurried entreaty to d'Alcacer, "Stay here a moment. Don't let anybody come near us," she burst into tears and turned her back on him.
Of Lingard d'Alcacer had seen almost nothing since they had landed, for the Man of Fate was extremely busy negotiating in the recesses of Belarab's main hut; and the thought that his life was being a matter of arduous bargaining was not agreeable to Mr. d'Alcacer.
Travers' sandals d'Alcacer looked over the back of his chair. But he turned his head away at once and Mrs. Travers, leaning her elbow on the rail and resting her head on the palm of her hand, looked across the calm surface of the lagoon, idly. She was turning her back on the Cage, the fore-part of the deck and the edge of the nearest forest.
"She has gone . . . where naturally she would be anxious to go first of all since she has managed to come to us," answered d'Alcacer, wording his answer with the utmost regard for the delicacy of the situation. The stillness of Lingard seemed to have grown even more impressive. He spoke again. "I wonder what those two can have to say to each other."
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