alf a gale of
wind, and with the floe scarce covered? Why had he sought to kill me?
Had he not recognised my voice? I wondered. And, above all, how had he
come to have a dagger ready in his hand? A dagger, or even a sharp
knife, seemed out of keeping with the age in which we lived; and a
gentleman landing from his yacht on the shore of his own estate, even
although it was at night and with some mysterious circumstances, does
not usually, as a matter of fact, walk thus prepared for deadly
onslaught. The more I reflected, the further I felt at sea. I
recapitulated the elements of mystery, counting them on my fingers: the
pavilion secretly prepared for guests; the guests landed at the risk of
their lives and to the imminent peril of the yacht; the guests, or at
least one of them, in undisguised and seemingly causeless terror;
Northmour with a naked weapon; Northmour stabbing his most intimate
acquaintance at a word; last, and not least strange, Northmour fleeing
from the man whom he had sought to murder, and barricading himself, like
a hunted creature, behind the door of the pavilion. Here were at least
six separate causes for extreme surprise; each part and parcel with the
others, and forming all together one consistent story. I felt almost
ashamed to believe my own senses.

As I thus stood, transfixed with wonder, I began to grow painfully
conscious of the injuries I had received in the scuffle; skulked round
among the sand-hills; and, by a devious path, regained the shelter of
the wood. On the way, the old nurse passed again within several yards of
me, still carrying her lantern, on the return journey to the
mansion-house of Graden. This made a seventh suspicious feature in the
case. Northmour and his guests, it appeared, were to cook and do the
cleaning for themselves, while the old woman continued to inhabit the
big empty barrack among the policies. There must surely be great cause
for secrecy when so many inconveniences were confronted to preserve it.

So thinking, I made my way to the den. For greater security I trod out
the embers of the fire, and lit my lantern to examine the wound upon my
shoulder. It was a trifling hurt, although it bled somewhat freely, and
I dressed it as well as I could (for its position made it difficult to
reach) with some rag and cold water from the spring. While I was thus
busied I mentally declared war against Northmour and his mystery. I am
not an angry man by nature, and I believe the