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II

           

           “Begpardon?”

           “Suicide!That’swhatI’llhavetowritetomyownersdirectlyIgetin.”

           “Unlessyoumanagetorecoverhimbeforetomorrow,”Iassented,dispassionately....“Imean,alive.”

           HemumbledsomethingwhichIreallydidnotcatch,andIturnedmyeartohiminapuzzledmanner.Hefairlybawled:

           “Theland—Isay,themainlandisatleastsevenmilesoffmyanchorage.”

           “Aboutthat.”

           Mylackofexcitement,ofcuriosity,ofsurprise,ofanysortofpronouncedinterest,begantoarousehisdistrust.ButexceptforthefelicitouspretenseofdeafnessIhadnottriedtopretendanything.Ihadfeltutterlyincapableofplayingthepartofignoranceproperly,andthereforewasafraidtotry.Itisalsocertainthathehadbroughtsomeready-madesuspicionswithhim,andthatheviewedmypolitenessasastrangeandunnaturalphenomenon.AndyethowelsecouldIhavereceivedhim?Notheartily!Thatwasimpossibleforpsychologicalreasons,whichIneednotstatehere.Myonlyobjectwastokeepoffhisinquiries.Surlily?Yes,butsurlinessmighthaveprovokedapoint-blankquestion.Fromitsnoveltytohimandfromitsnature,punctiliouscourtesywasthemannerbestcalculatedtorestraintheman.Buttherewasthedangerofhisbreakingthroughmydefensebluntly.Icouldnot,Ithink,havemethimbyadirectlie,alsoforpsychological(notmoral)reasons.

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Roboto Lora
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