With a bound he reached forward and pulled the door open. Then a great silence fell upon him and a rigidity as of the grave seized and stiffened his powerful frame.
The man confronting him from the darkness was Sweetwater.
XXXVI. THE MAN WITHIN AND THE MAN WITHOUT
An instant of silence, during which the two men eyed each other; then, Sweetwater, with an ironical smile directed towards the pistol lightly remarked:
“Mr. Challoner and other men at the hotel are acquainted with my purpose and await my return. I have come—” here he cast a glowing look at the huge curtain cutting off the greater portion of the illy-lit interior—“to offer you my services, Mr. Brotherson. I have no other motive for this intrusion than to be of use. I am deeply interested in your invention, to the development of which I have already lent some aid, and can bring to the test you propose a sympathetic help which you could hardly find in any other person living.”
The silence which settled down at the completion of these words had a weight which made that of the previous moment seem light and all athrob with sound. The man within had not yet caught his breath; the man without held his, in an anxiety which had little to do with the direction of the weapon, into which he looked. Then an owl hooted far away in the forest, and Orlando, slowly lowering his arm, asked in an oddly constrained tone:
“How long have you been in town?”
The answer cut clean through any lingering hope he may have had.
“Ever since the day your brother was told the story of his great misfortune.”