nce and courage; but you had only to look at him, even in his
most amiable moment, to see that he had the temper of a slaver captain. I
never knew a character that was both explosive and revengeful to the same
degree; he combined the vivacity of the south with the sustained and
deadly hatreds of the north; and both traits were plainly written on his
face, which was a sort of danger signal. In person, he was tall, strong,
and active; his hair and complexion very dark; his features handsomely
designed, but spoiled by a menacing expression.

At that moment he was somewhat paler than by nature; he wore a heavy
frown; and his lips worked, and he looked sharply round him as he walked,
like a man besieged with apprehensions. And yet I thought he had a look of
triumph underlying all, as though he had already done much, and was near
the end of an achievement.

Partly from a scruple of delicacy--which I dare say came too late--partly
from the pleasure of startling an acquaintance, I desired to make my
presence known to him without delay.

I got suddenly to my feet, and stepped forward.

"Northmour!" said I.

I have never had so shocking a surprise in all my days. He leaped on me
without a word; something shone in his hand; and he struck for my heart
with a dagger. At the same moment I knocked him head over heels. Whether
it was my quickness, or his own uncertainty, I know not; but the blade
only grazed my shoulder, while the hilt and his fist struck me violently
on the mouth.

I fled, but not far. I had often and often observed the capabilities of
the sand hills for protracted ambush or stealthy advances and retreats;
and, not ten yards from the scene of the scuffle, plumped down again upon
the grass. The lantern had fallen and gone out. But what was my
astonishment to see Northmour slip at a bound into the pavilion, and hear
him bar the door behind him with a clang of iron!

He had not pursued me. He had run away. Northmour, whom I knew for the
most implacable and daring of men, had run away! I could scarce believe my
reason; and yet in this strange business, where all was incredible, there
was nothing to make a work about in an incredibility more or less. For why
was the pavilion secretly prepared? Why had Northmour landed with his
guests at dead of night, in half a gale of wind, and with the floe scarce
covered? Why had he sought to kill me? Had he not recognized my voice? I
wondered. And, above all, how had he come to