e he saw only the distorted shadow
of broad shoulders and bowed head. He was doing apparently nothing, and
stirred not from the spot, as though he were meditating--or, perhaps,
reading a paper. And not a sound issued from the room.

Once more the Capataz stepped back. He wondered who it was--some
Monterist? But he dreaded to show himself. To discover his presence
on shore, unless after many days, would, he believed, endanger the
treasure. With his own knowledge possessing his whole soul, it seemed
impossible that anybody in Sulaco should fail to jump at the right
surmise. After a couple of weeks or so it would be different. Who could
tell he had not returned overland from some port beyond the limits of
the Republic? The existence of the treasure confused his thoughts with
a peculiar sort of anxiety, as though his life had become bound up with
it. It rendered him timorous for a moment before that enigmatic, lighted
door. Devil take the fellow! He did not want to see him. There would be
nothing to learn from his face, known or unknown. He was a fool to waste
his time there in waiting.

Less than five minutes after entering the place the Capataz began his
retreat. He got away down the stairs with perfect success, gave one
upward look over his shoulder at the light on the landing, and ran
stealthily across the hall. But at the very moment he was turning out of
the great door, with his mind fixed upon escaping the notice of the man
upstairs, somebody he had not heard coming briskly along the front ran
full into him. Both muttered a stifled exclamation of surprise, and
leaped back and stood still, each indistinct to the other. Nostromo was
silent. The other man spoke first, in an amazed and deadened tone.

"Who are you?"

Already Nostromo had seemed to recognize Dr. Monygham. He had no doubt
now. He hesitated the space of a second. The idea of bolting without a
word presented itself to his mind. No use! An inexplicable repugnance
to pronounce the name by which he was known kept him silent a little
longer. At last he said in a low voice--

"A Cargador."

He walked up to the other. Dr. Monygham had received a shock. He flung
his arms up and cried out his wonder aloud, forgetting himself before
the marvel of this meeting. Nostromo angrily warned him to moderate
his voice. The Custom House was not so deserted as it looked. There was
somebody in the lighted room above.

There is no more evanescent quality in an accomplishe