nd alive--trembling with life. There was something soothing, something
endlessly soothing in the sound of the river. It suggested the ceaseless
movement of life to the final fulness thereof.

So still was the room that it might have seemed to be without life, were
it not for a faint sound of breathing. The bed, however, was empty,
and no chair was occupied; but on a settle in a corner beside an unused
fireplace sat a man, now with hands clasped between his knees, again
with arms folded across his breast; but with his head always in a
listening attitude. The whole figure suggested suspense, vigilance and
preparedness. The man had taken off his boots and stockings, and his
bare feet seemed to grip the floor; also the sleeves of his jacket were
rolled up a little. It was not a figure you would wish to see in
your room at midnight unasked. Once or twice he sighed heavily, as he
listened to the river slishing past and looked out to the sparkle of the
skies. It was as though the infinite had drawn near to the man, or else
that the man had drawn near to the infinite. Now and again he brought
his fists down on his knees with a savage, though noiseless, force. The
peace of the river and the night could not contend successfully against
a dark spirit working in him. When, during his vigil, he shook his
shaggy head and his lips opened on his set teeth, he seemed like one who
would take toll at a gateway of forbidden things.

He started to his feet at last, hearing footsteps outside upon the
stairs. Then he settled back again, drawing near to the chimney-wall,
so that he should not be easily seen by anyone entering. Presently there
was the click of a latch, then the door opened and shut, and cigar-smoke
invaded the room. An instant later a hand went up to the suspended
oil-lamp and twisted the wick into brighter flame. As it did so, there
was a slight noise, then the click of a lock. Turning sharply, the
man under the lamp saw at the door the man who had been sitting in
the corner. The man had a key in his hand. Exit now could only be had
through the door opening on to the river.

"Who are you? What the hell do you want here?" asked the fellow under
the lamp, his swarthy face drawn with fear and yet frowning with anger.

"Me--I am Jean Jacques Barbille," said the other in French, putting
the key of the door in his pocket. The other replied in French, with
a Spanish-English accent. "Barbille--Carmen's husband! Well, who would
have