“But there can be no danger now? from a blind man?” she queried.
“I shall never be able to trust him,” I averred, “and far less now that he is blind. The liability is that his part helplessness will make him more malignant than ever. I know what I shall do to-morrow, the first thing—run out a light anchor and kedge the schooner off the beach. And each night when we come ashore in the boat, Mr. Wolf Larsen will be left a prisoner on board. So this will be the last night we have to stand watch, and because of that it will go the easier.”
We were awake early and just finishing breakfast as daylight came.
“Oh, Humphrey!” I heard Maud cry in dismay and suddenly stop.
I looked at her. She was gazing at the Ghost. I followed her gaze, but could see nothing unusual. She looked at me, and I looked inquiry back.
“The shears,” she said, and her voice trembled.
I had forgotten their existence. I looked again, but could not see them.
“If he has—” I muttered savagely.
She put her hand sympathetically on mine, and said, “You will have to begin over again.”
“Oh, believe me, my anger means nothing; I could not hurt a fly,” I smiled back bitterly. “And the worst of it is, he knows it. You are right. If he has destroyed the shears, I shall do nothing except begin over again.”