FREE BOOKS

Author's List




PREV.   NEXT  
|<   101   102   103   104   105   106   107   108   109   110   111   112   113   114   115   116   117   118   119   120   121   122   123   124   125  
126   127   128   129   130   131   132   133   134   135   136   137   138   139   140   141   142   143   144   145   146   147   148   149   150   >>   >|  
was well known on the high Alps--years ago." She paused before she added those concluding words. She was about to say "in your time," but the substituted phrase was less personal, since the circumstances under which Stampa ceased to be a notability in "the street" at Zermatt were in her mind. "God in heaven!" muttered the old man, passing a hand over his face as though waking from a dream,--"God in heaven! can it be that my prayer is answered at last?" He shambled out. Spencer had waited to watch the almost continuous blaze of lightning playing on the glacier. Distant summits were now looming through the diminishing downpour of sleet. He was wondering if by any chance Stampa might be mistaken. Bower stood somewhat apart, seemingly engaged in the same engrossing task. The wind was not quite so fierce as during its first onset. It blew in gusts. No longer screaming in a shrill and sustained note, it wailed fitfully. Stampa lurched unevenly close to Bower. He was about to touch him on the shoulder; but he appeared to recollect himself in time. "Marcus Bauer," he said in a voice that was terrible by reason of its restraint. Bower wheeled suddenly. He did not flinch. His manner suggested a certain preparedness. Thus might a strong man face a wild beast when hope lay only in the matching of sinew against sinew. "That is not my name," he snarled viciously. "Marcus Bauer," repeated Stampa in the same repressed monotone, "I am Etta's father." "Why do you address me in that fashion? I have never before seen you." "No. You took care of that. You feared Etta's father, though you cared little for Christian Stampa, the guide. But I have seen you, Marcus Bauer. You were slim then--an elegant, is it not?--and many a time have I hobbled into the Hotel Mont Cervin to look at your portrait in a group lest I should forget your face. Yet I passed you just now! Great God! I passed you." A ferocity glared from Bower's eyes that might well have daunted Stampa. For an instant he glanced toward Spencer, whose clear cut profile was silhouetted against a background of white-blue ice now gleaming in a constant flutter of lightning. Stampa was not yet aware of the true cause of Bower's frenzy. He thought that terror was spurring him to self defense. An insane impulse to kill, to fight with the nails and teeth, almost mastered him; but that must not be yet. "It is useless, Marcus Bauer," he said, with a calmness so horribly u
PREV.   NEXT  
|<   101   102   103   104   105   106   107   108   109   110   111   112   113   114   115   116   117   118   119   120   121   122   123   124   125  
126   127   128   129   130   131   132   133   134   135   136   137   138   139   140   141   142   143   144   145   146   147   148   149   150   >>   >|  



Top keywords:
Stampa
 

Marcus

 

lightning

 

passed

 

Spencer

 
father
 
heaven
 

Christian

 
elegant
 

snarled


viciously

 

matching

 
repeated
 

repressed

 
fashion
 

address

 
monotone
 
hobbled
 

feared

 

frenzy


thought

 

terror

 

spurring

 

gleaming

 

constant

 

flutter

 

defense

 

useless

 

calmness

 

horribly


mastered

 
impulse
 

insane

 

background

 

forget

 
Cervin
 

portrait

 
ferocity
 

profile

 
silhouetted

glanced
 

glared

 
daunted
 
instant
 

prayer

 

answered

 
waking
 

muttered

 
passing
 

shambled