Self-revealing words,which an instant before would have aroused Sweetwater's deepest interest!But they had suddenly lost all force for the unhappy listener.The sight of that hole still shining brightly before his eyes had distracted his thoughts and roused his liveliest apprehensions.If that book should be allowed to lie where it had fallen,then he was in for a period of uncertainty he shrank from contemplating.Any moment his neighbour might look up and catch sight of this hole bored in the backing of the shelves before him.Could the man who had been guilty of submitting him to this outrage stand the strain of waiting indefinitely for the moment of discovery?He doubted it,if the suspense lasted too long.
Shifting his position,he placed his eye where his ear had been.
He could see very little.The space before him,limited as it was to the width of the one volume withdrawn,precluded his seeing aught but what lay directly before him.Happily,it was in this narrow line of vision that Mr.Brotherson stood.He had resumed work upon his model and was so placed that while his face was not visible,his hands were,and as Sweetwater watched these hands and noticed the delicacy of their manipulation,he was enough of a workman to realise that work so fine called for an undivided attention.He need not fear the gaze shifting,while those hands moved as warily as they did now.
Relieved for the moment,he left his post and,sitting down on the edge of his cot,gave himself up to thought.
He deserved this mischance.Had he profited properly by Mr.Gryce's teachings,he would not have been caught like this;he would have calculated not upon the nine hundred and ninety-nine chances of that book being left alone,but upon the thousandth one of its being the very one to be singled out and removed.Had he done this,-had he taken pains to so roughen and discolour the opening he had made,that it would look like an ancient rat hole instead of showing a clean bore,he would have some answer to give Brotherson when he came to question him in regard to it.But now the whole thing seemed up!He had shown himself a fool and by good rights ought to acknowledge his defeat and return to Headquarters.But he had too much spirit for that.He would rather -yes,he would rather face the pistol he had once seen in his enemy's hand.Yet it was hard to sit here waiting,waiting -Suddenly he started upright.
He would go meet his fate -be present in the room itself when the discovery was made which threatened to upset all his plans.He was not ashamed of his calling,and Brotherson would think twice before attacking him when once convinced that he had the Department behind him.
"Excuse me,comrade,"were the words with which he endeavoured to account for his presence at Brotherson's door."My lamp smells so,and I've made such a mess of my work to-day that I've just stepped in for a chat.If I'm not wanted,say so.I don't want to bother you,but you do look pleasant here.I hope the thing I'm turning over in my head -every man has his schemes for making a fortune,you know -will be a success some day.I'd like a big room like this,and a lot of books,and -and pictures."Craning his neck,he took a peep at the shelves,with an air of open admiration which effectually concealed his real purpose.What he wanted was to catch one glimpse of that empty space from his present standpoint,and he was both astonished and relieved to note how narrow and inconspicuous it looked.Certainly,he had less to fear than he supposed,and when,upon Mr.Brotherson's invitation,he stepped into the room,it was with a dash of his former audacity,which gave him,unfortunately,perhaps,a quick,strong and unexpected likeness to his old self.
But if Brotherson noticed this,nothing in his manner gave proof of the fact.Though usually averse to visitors,especially when employed as at present on his precious model,he quite warmed towards his unexpected guest,and even led the way to where it stood uncovered on the table.
"You find me at work,"he remarked."I don't suppose you understand any but your own?""If you mean to ask if I understand what you're trying to do there,I'm free to say that I don't.I couldn't tell now,off-hand,whether it's an air-ship you're planning,a hydraulic machine or -or -He stopped,with a laugh and turned towards the book-shelves."Now here's what I like.These books just take my eye.
"Look at them,then.I like to see a man interested in books.Only,I thought if you knew how to handle wire,I would get you to hold this end while I work with the other.""I guess I know enough for that,"was Sweetwater's gay rejoinder.
But when he felt that communicating wire in his hand and experienced for the first time the full influence of the other's eye,it took all his hardihood to hide the hypnotic thrill it gave him.Though he smiled and chatted,he could not help asking himself between whiles,what had killed the poor washerwoman across the court,and what had killed Miss Challoner.Something visible or something invisible?Something which gave warning of attack,or something which struck in silence.He found himself gazing long and earnestly at this man's hand,and wondering if death lay under it.It was a strong hand,a deft,clean-cut member,formed to respond to the slightest hint from the powerful brain controlling it.But was this its whole story.Had he said all when he had said this?
