kened round the San Tome mine this illusion acquired force,
permanency, and authority. It claimed him at last! This claim, exalted
by a spiritual detachment from the usual sanctions of hope and reward,
made Dr. Monygham's thinking, acting, individuality extremely dangerous
to himself and to others, all his scruples vanishing in the proud
feeling that his devotion was the only thing that stood between an
admirable woman and a frightful disaster.

It was a sort of intoxication which made him utterly indifferent to
Decoud's fate, but left his wits perfectly clear for the appreciation
of Decoud's political idea. It was a good idea--and Barrios was the only
instrument of its realization. The doctor's soul, withered and shrunk by
the shame of a moral disgrace, became implacable in the expansion of its
tenderness. Nostromo's return was providential. He did not think of him
humanely, as of a fellow-creature just escaped from the jaws of death.
The Capataz for him was the only possible messenger to Cayta. The very
man. The doctor's misanthropic mistrust of mankind (the bitterer because
based on personal failure) did not lift him sufficiently above common
weaknesses. He was under the spell of an established reputation.
Trumpeted by Captain Mitchell, grown in repetition, and fixed in
general assent, Nostromo's faithfulness had never been questioned by Dr.
Monygham as a fact. It was not likely to be questioned now he stood in
desperate need of it himself. Dr. Monygham was human; he accepted the
popular conception of the Capataz's incorruptibility simply because no
word or fact had ever contradicted a mere affirmation. It seemed to be
a part of the man, like his whiskers or his teeth. It was impossible to
conceive him otherwise. The question was whether he would consent to
go on such a dangerous and desperate errand. The doctor was observant
enough to have become aware from the first of something peculiar in the
man's temper. He was no doubt sore about the loss of the silver.

"It will be necessary to take him into my fullest confidence," he said
to himself, with a certain acuteness of insight into the nature he had
to deal with.

On Nostromo's side the silence had been full of black irresolution,
anger, and mistrust. He was the first to break it, however.

"The swimming was no great matter," he said. "It is what went
before--and what comes after that--"

He did not quite finish what he meant to say, breaking off short, as
thou