Ностромо

           Doyouknowwhathashappened?YourememberwhatItoldyouyesterdayaboutNostromo.Well,itseemsthatalancha,adeckedboat,comingfromZapiga,withfournegroesinher,passingclosetotheGreatIsabel,washailedfromthecliffbyawoman’svoice—Linda’s,asamatteroffact—commandingthem(it’samoonlightnight)togoroundtothebeachandtakeupawoundedmantothetown.Thepatron(fromwhomI’veheardallthis),ofcourse,didsoatonce.HetoldmethatwhentheygotroundtothelowsideoftheGreatIsabel,theyfoundLindaViolawaitingforthem.Theyfollowedher:sheledthemunderatreenotfarfromthecottage.TheretheyfoundNostromolyingonthegroundwithhisheadintheyoungergirl’slap,andfatherViolastandingsomedistanceoffleaningonhisgun.UnderLinda’sdirectiontheygotatableoutofthecottageforastretcher,afterbreakingoffthelegs.Theyarehere,Mrs.Gould.ImeanNostromoand—andGiselle.Thenegroesbroughthimintothefirst-aidhospitalneartheharbour.Hemadetheattendantsendforme.Butitwasnotmehewantedtosee—itwasyou,Mrs.Gould!Itwasyou.”

           “Me?”whisperedMrs.Gould,shrinkingalittle.

           “Yes,you!”thedoctorburstout.“Hebeggedme—hisenemy,ashethinks—tobringyoutohimatonce.Itseemshehassomethingtosaytoyoualone.”

           “Impossible!”murmuredMrs.Gould.

           “Hesaidtome,‘RemindherthatIhavedonesomethingtokeeparoofoverherhead.’...