‘But was my own destroyer, and will be
My own hereafter.’
What a black vista of possibilities——”
Here he broke off, suddenly startled by a snaky blue glare that flashed into the room like the swift sweep of a sword-blade. Springing up from the table he rubbed his dazzled eyes.
“Why—what was that?” he exclaimed.
“Lightning!” replied Karl, just entering at the moment—“and a very nasty specimen of it. ... I’d better put all the knives and steel things by.”
And he proceeded to do this, while Kremlin still stood in the centre of the room, his sight yet a little confused by the rapidity and brilliancy of that unexpected storm-flash. A long low ominous muttering of thunder, beginning far off and rolling up nearer and nearer till it boomed like a volley of cannon in unison with the roar of the sea, followed,—then came silence. No rain fell, and the wind only blew moderately enough to sway the shrubs in front of the house lightly to and fro.
“It will be a stormy night,” said Dr. Kremlin then, recovering himself and taking up his Byron—“I am sorry for the sailors! You had better see well to all the fastenings of the doors and windows.”
“Trust me!” replied Karl sententiously—“You shall not be carried out to sea against your will if I can help it—nor have I any desire to make such a voyage myself. I hope, Herr Doctor”—he added with a touch of anxiety—“you are not going to spend this evening in the tower?”
“I certainly am!” answered Kremlin, smiling—“I have work up there, and I cannot afford to be idle on account of a thunderstorm. Why do you look so scared? There is no danger.”