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II
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“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.