A hoarse cry broke from him.
For there--straight ahead--a white face with straining eyes stared
into his own!
And then he saw it was but his own reflection in a patch of mirror
stuck into the panel opposite.
But the shock of that pallid mask confronting him had already
unnerved him utterly.
He drew his eyes away, glanced around, and spied a black portmanteau
propped beside a packing-case in the angle made by the wall and the
flooring. In mad haste to reach the open air, but dimly remembering
Geraldine's caution, he grasped the handles, flung a look behind him,
and clambered up the ladder again, and out upon deck.
The worst was over; but he could not rest until again in his boat.
As he untied the painter, he noticed the ray of his lantern dancing
wildly up and down the opposite bank with the shaking of his hand.
Cursing his forgetfulness, he turned the slide, slipped the lantern
into his pocket, and, lowering himself gently with the portmanteau,
dropped, seized the paddles, and rowed away as for dear life.
He had put three boats' lengths between him and the hull, and was
drawing a sigh of relief, when a voice hailed him, and then--
A tongue of flame leapt out, and a loud report rang forth upon the
night. He heard something whistle by his ear.
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