CHAPTER XVIII
MOONLIGHT MIDNIGHT MADNESS
In order effectively to lull suspicion, after the first few weeks on the island, Beekman had made no attempt at all to approach the forbidden building, not even by day. He rightly judged that the listless people of the island would presently tire of their unwonted night duty and the watch would be abandoned eventually. Nevertheless, he neglected no precaution on that particular night as he stole out of his house. The tropic moon filled the sky with splendor and the island with light. It was easy for him, however, to keep in the dark shadow of the palm trees.
Walking with the utmost circumspection and care and looking about him constantly for any possible watcher, he at last reached the platform whence he had been so violently thrust on the day of his arrival. The building was placed in such a way that the platform was in deep shadow. He stepped up on it and tried the door. It did not give to his pressure, and although he finally thrust against it with all his strength, which was considerable now that he was completely restored to health and bodily vigor, it remained immovable.
He had examined the door carefully as he had passed it many times, and he now decided that it must be secured inside by bars of wood in slots. There was no latch or lock outside of it. Only old Kobo knew its secret.
Balked there, he stole around the building, taking care to keep on the side away from the moon. He hoped that there might be another entrance at the back. If he could find one it would be better for him to get in that way, rather than by climbing through one of the windows, which were much higher from the ground than those of the ordinary houses of the settlement. That method of entrance indeed presented no difficulty to an active man, especially as he would be aided by the creepers, but to attempt it was apt to attract attention and, therefore, it must only be resorted to in default of any better plan.
He followed the wall carefully, turned the rear corner of the building and discovered, what he had half suspected, beneath a screen of vines and leafage an opening set low down near the ground. He parted the vines and peered into the thick darkness within. There was, of course, absolutely nothing to be seen. He had no means of making a light. For a moment he had an idea of going back to the oven, a Dutch oven, he called it now, where a fire was constantly kept burning, to kindle a torch. He decided that would be too risky and had just made up his mind to venture into the black pit that yawned before him, not a single detail of which was visible, when a hand fell lightly on his shoulder.
He turned, clenched his fist and then let his hands fall as he saw in the shadow the familiar face and figure of Truda. She laid her finger upon her lips, turned, took a few steps away from him, looked back and beckoned to him. He followed her instantly. There was something so emphatic and suggestive in her gesture and bearing that he could do nothing else. Besides, he was never so happy as when in her presence, and she had never looked so beautiful to him as then in the shadow, seen wraithlike, against the bright moonlight beyond. The exploration of the building could wait.
One remarkable thing he had noticed about Truda was the soundlessness with which she moved. She never seemed to break a twig or rustle a leaf as she passed. There was something fairylike in her motions. It gave him an eery feeling to see her wavering in the moonlight before him like the shadows of wind-blown leaves. He followed after, using the same caution as before. He wondered whither she would lead him and what would be the end of this adventure. He had become measurably familiar with the island paths during his sojourn of several months upon it and he soon realized that she was leading him to that point of vantage whence every morning it was her duty to watch the sea. It seemed to him an appropriate and beautiful place for a midnight tryst, and he followed her with a beating heart, gladder for every step he took. He did not attempt to overtake her. Indeed, he had tested her before, and for short distances she was fleeter than he; besides, although they were now far from the settlement, the spell of the night was upon them with all its mystery. They must make no noise on any account. He did not possess her power of silent motion. She put her feet down by instinct, he by calculation. This handicapped him. Besides, he was quite content to follow.
Meanwhile, he redoubled his care. One never knew, he thought, when Hano might appear, and old Kobo had a habit of presenting himself suddenly at unexpected moments. So they went on and on. He felt like the fabled knight of old, who pursued fleeting Fortune.