Крижаний сфінкс
Chapter XX. “Unmerciful Disaster“
Wehadexchangedhardlyadozenwordssincetheiceberghadbeguntomoveagain.WhenDirkPeterscameuptome,hedidnotaddressmeatfirst,andwassointentonhisthoughtsthatIwasnotquitesurehesawme.Atlength,heleanedbackagainstanice-block,andspoke:
“Mr.Jeorling,”hesaid,“youremember,inyourcabinintheHalbrane,Itoldyouthe—theaffairoftheGrampus?”
Irememberedwell.
“ItoldyouthatParker’snamewasnotParker,thatitwasHolt,andthathewasNedHolt’sbrother?”
“Iknow,DirkPeters,”Ireplied,“butwhydoyourefertothatsadstoryagain?”
“Why,Mr.Jeorling?Havenot—haveyouneversaidanythingaboutittoanybody?”
“Nottoanybody,”Iprotested.“HowcouldyousupposeIshouldbesoill-advised,soimprudent,astodivulgeyoursecret,asecretwhichoughtnevertopassourlips—adeadsecret?”
“Dead,yes,dead!Andyet,understandme,itseemstomethat,amongthecrew,somethingisknown.”
IinstantlyrecalledtomindwhattheboatswainhadtoldmeconcerningacertainconversationinwhichhehadoverheardHearnepromptingMartinHolttoaskthehalf-breedwhatwerethecircumstancesofhisbrother’sdeathonboardtheGrampus.Hadaportionofthesecretgotout,orwasthisapprehensiononthepartofDirkPeterspurelyimaginary?
“Explainyourself,”Isaid.
“Understandme,Mr.Jeorling,Iamabadhandatexplaining.
