"I had fever, you know, but the thing was remarkably real. It was like lantern pictures melting on the screen. Background and figures were accurate and lifelike. In the last scene, I knew I was in Columbine's cabin and can hardly persuade myself I was quite asleep. The tide splashed about the boat; I could smell the mud."
"Yet you saw Wyndham's uncle change into the horrible old mulatto."
Marston nodded. "He faded and got distinct again, different, but not different altogether. This was the puzzling thing. However, the story the agent told us about the Leopards had haunted me and I'd often thought about Rupert Wyndham. Perhaps it was because I saw his portrait and he was like my partner."
"You mean he was like him physically?"
"That's not all. Of course a portrait doesn't tell one very much, but I thought Harry had Rupert's temperament."
"I see," said Mabel, knitting her straight brows. "To begin with, do you know Rupert Wyndham's temperament?"
"In a way; Harry and Ellams, the agent, talked about him much. He was a daring man; I think reckless is the proper word. We sober folks have our code, we must do this and not the other; men like Rupert Wyndham have none. If a thing looked worth getting, he'd venture much and break rules for it. Harry, you know, is like that; I mean he'd venture much. Well, I think Rupert made some rash experiments in Africa. He studied the negroes' habits and tried to get their point of view."
"With an object, you suggest? What did he want?"
"Harry imagined it was power."
"Ah," said Mabel. "Harry wants Flora. And he has Rupert's recklessness!"