CHAPTER XXXI. AT THE CORNER.
“L'homme s'agite et Dieu le mêne.”
The two men on the edge of the canal waited and listened again. It seemed still possible that Von Holzen had swum away in the darkness—had perhaps landed safely and unperceived on the other side.
“This,” said Cornish, at length, “is a police affair. Will you wait here while I go and fetch them?”
But Roden made no answer, and in the sudden silence Cornish heard the eerie sound of chattering teeth. Percy Roden had morally collapsed. His mind had long been t a great tension, and this shock had unstrung him. Cornish seized him by the arm, and held him while he hook like a leaf and swayed heavily.
“Come, man,” said Cornish, kindly—“come, pull yourself together.”
He held him steadily and patiently until the shaking eased.
“I'll go,” said Roden, at length. “I couldn't stay ere alone.”
And he staggered away towards The Hague. It seemed hours before he came back. A carriage rattled past Cornish while he waited there, and two foot-passengers paused for a moment to look at him with some suspicion.