THE BAIT THAT LURED
I went along the tunnel in the direction of le Vieil Ange. It was broad day now, and the distance between the cataract and the open ground where the gold had been mined was sufficiently short for the whole length of the passage to be faintly visible.
It was a reach of deep twilight, brightening into sunlight at either end.
I picked my way carefully, peering into the numerous small caves and fissures in the wall on either hand. And I was about half-way through when I saw a shadow running in front of me and making no sound.
It was Duchaine. There could be no mistaking that tall, gaunt figure, just visible against the distant day.
He was running in his bare feet and, therefore, in complete silence, and he leaped across the rocky floor as though he wore moccasins.
I raced along the tunnel after him. But he seemed to be endowed with the speed of a deer, for he kept his distance easily, and I would never have caught him had he not stopped for an instant at the approach of the ledge.
There, just as he was poising himself to leap, I seized him by the arm.
"M. Duchaine! M. Duchaine! Stop!" I implored him. "Don't you know that I am your friend and only wish you well? I am your friend—your daughter Jacqueline's friend. I want to save you!"
He did not attempt violence, but gazed at me with hesitation and pathetic doubt.