He was neither at the window, nor in his bed, nor anywhere else to be
seen, when I opened my eyes upon the world next morning; nor did any
answer come when I called his name. I raised myself and saw outside the
great branches of the wood, bathed from top to trunk in a sunshine that
was no early morning’s light; and upon this, the silence of the house
spoke plainly to me not of man still sleeping, but of man long risen and
gone about his business. I stepped barefoot across the wooden floor to
where lay my watch, but it marked an unearthly hour, for I had neglected
to wind it at the end of our long and convivial evening--of which my
head was now giving me some news. And then I saw a note addressed to me
from John Mayrant.
“You are a good sleeper,” it began, “but my conscience is clear as
to the Bombo, called by some Kill-devil, about which I hope you will
remember that I warned you.”
He hoped I should remember! Of course I remembered everything; why did
he say that? An apology for his leaving me followed; he had been obliged
to take the early train because of the Custom House, where he was
serving his final days; they would give me breakfast when ever I should
be ready for it, and I was to make free of the place; I had better visit
the old church (they had orders about the keys) and drive myself into
Kings Port after lunch; the horses would know the way, if I did not. It
was the boy’s closing sentence which fixed my attention wholly, took
it away from Kill-devil Bombo and my Aunt Carola’s commission, for the
execution of which I now held the clue, and sent me puzzling for the
right interpretation of his words:--
“I believe that you will help your friend by that advice which startled
me last night, but which I now begin to see more in than I did. Only
between alternate injuries, he may find it harder to choose which is the
least he can inflict, than you, who look on, find it. For in following
your argument, he benefits himself so plainly that the benefit to the
other person is very likely obscured to him. But, if you wish to, tell
him a Southern gentleman would feel he ought to be shot either way.
That’s the honorable price for changing your mind in such a case.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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