"On the contrary, ma'am--though for reasons you will not easily
guess--it surprised me as I have never been surprised in all my life
before; it confounded me, dumfounded me, made chaos of my plans,
and--and--I am delighted to welcome you, ma'am! I desire to be
allowed the honour of taking wine with you."
"Willingly!" assented Miss Belcher, holding out her glass to be
replenished; "and the more so because I never drank better Rhone wine
in my life."
Dr. Beauregard stood up and bowed, his fine features overspread with
a flush of pleased astonishment.
"Madam--" began Dr. Beauregard, and I have no doubt he had a
compliment on his lips. But at that moment the hills and the
amphitheatre of cliff behind us, rang out--rang out and echoed--with
two terrible screams.
CHAPTER XXXI.
AARON GLASS.
The second scream followed the first almost before we could lift our
faces to the cliff. Dr. Beauregard had risen to his feet quickly,
without fuss, and was unstrapping his gun. But Miss Belcher was
quicker. A couple of muskets lay on the sand close beside the
luncheon-cloth, and in a trice she had snatched up one of them, and
held our host covered.
"You have deceived us, sir," she said quietly.
Dr. Beauregard looked along the barrel and into her eyes with an
admiring, half-quizzical smile.
"Good," said he. "Good, but unnecessary. That the island is
inhabited I supposed you to know, since Captain Branscome tells me he
reported catching sight of smoke yesterday when off the western
coast; but the fellows--there are, or were, three of them, by the
way--are no friends of mine."
"We have only your word for it," said Miss Belcher, without lowering
her musket.
"True, ma'am," the Doctor assented, with a bow. "I am about to give
you proof. But first of all oblige me by listening for another
moment."
He held up his hand, and while we all listened I looked around from
face to face. Captain Branscome had unslipped his gun, and stood
eyeing the Doctor with a puzzled frown. Plinny stared up at the
cliffs. She was white to the lips, but the lips were firmly set;
whereas Mr. Goodfellow's jaw hung as though loosed from its
tacklings.
So we waited for twenty seconds, maybe; but no third scream came down
from the heights.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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