At the 'almost' I stopped, being brought up suddenly with a fierce beat
of blood through my veins, and a jump fit to burst them, for I had heard
a scuffling noise in the passage that led to the cave, as if someone had
stumbled against a loose stone in the dark. I did not know then, but have
learnt since, that where there is a loud noise, such as the roaring of a
cascade, the churning of a mill, or, as here, the rage and bluster of a
storm--if there arise some different sound, even though it be as slight
as the whistle of a bird, 'twill strike the ear clear above the general
din. And so it was this night, for I caught that stumbling tread even
when the gale blew loudest, and sat motionless and breathless, in my
eagerness of listening, and then the gale lulled an instant, and I heard
the slow beat of footsteps as of one groping his way down the passage in
the dark. I knew it was not Elzevir, for first he could not be back from
Poole for many hours yet, and second, he always whistled in a certain way
to show 'twas he coming and gave besides a pass-word; yet, if not
Elzevir, who could it be? I blew out the light, for I did not want to
guide the aim of some unknown marksman shooting at me from the dark; and
then I thought of that gaunt strangler that sprang on marbleworkers in
the gloom; yet it could not be the Mandrive, for surely he would know his
own passages better than to stumble in them in the dark. It was more
likely to be one of the hue and cry who had smelt us out, and hoped
perhaps to be able to reconnoitre without being perceived on so awful a
night. Whenever Elzevir went out foraging, he carried with him that
silver-butted pistol which had once been Maskew's, but left behind the
old rook-piece. We had plenty of powder and slugs now, having obtained a
store of both from Ratsey, and Elzevir had bid me keep the matchlock
charged, and use it or not after my own judgement, if any came to the
cave; but gave as his counsel that it was better to die fighting than to
swing at Dorchester, for that we should most certainly do if taken. We
had agreed, moreover, on a pass-word, which was _Prosper the
Bonaventure_, so that I might challenge betimes any that I heard coming,
and if they gave not back this countersign might know it was not Elzevir.
So now I reached out for the piece, which lay beside me on the floor, and
scrambled to my feet; lifting the deckle in the darkness, and feeling
with my fingers in the pan to see 'twas full of powder.
The lull in the storm still lasted, and I heard the footsteps
advancing, though with uncertain slowness, and once after a heavy
stumble I thought I caught a muttereth oath, as if someone had struck
his foot against a stone.
Then I shouted out clear in the darkness a 'Who goes there?' that rang
again through the stone roofs. The footsteps stopped, but there was no
answer. 'Who goes there?' I repeated. 'Answer, or I fire.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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