A long silence followed. Along the whole line of the manned stockade the whisperings had ceased. The vibrations of the gong had died out, too. Only the watchers perched in the highest boughs of the big tree made a slight rustle amongst the leaves.
“What are you thinking of, Captain Lingard?” d'Alcacer asked in a low voice. Lingard did not change his position.
“I am trying to keep it off,” he said in the same tone.
“What? Trying to keep thought off?”
“Yes.”
“Is this the time for such experiments?” asked d'Alcacer.
“Why not? It's my reprieve. Don't grudge it to me, Mr. d'Alcacer.”
“Upon my word I don't. But isn't it dangerous?”
“You will have to take your chance.”
D'Alcacer had a moment of internal struggle. He asked himself whether he should tell Lingard that Mrs. Travers had come to the stockade with some sort of message from Jorgenson. He had it on the tip of his tongue to advise Lingard to go and see Mrs. Travers and ask her point blank whether she had anything to tell him; but before he could make up his mind the voices of invisible men high up in the tree were heard reporting the thinning of the fog. This caused a stir to run along the four sides of the stockade.