The flickering light grew stronger, and then Douglas realized that it was burning some distance from the servant. The flame became stronger, and by its rays a face grew out of the surrounding darkness. A strong, handsome face, whose pallor was enhanced by the heavy black beard and dark shaggy eyebrows. The eyes were fixed on Nicodemus, who stood in the shadow with his back to the rest, and the two stared unblinkingly at each other. The silence was intolerable. Eleanor and the three men stood transfixed, too astounded to move. Suddenly a choking sob burst from Nicodemus. He threw out his arms as if to ward off some overmastering horror, swayed forward, and fell heavily to the floor.
The candle flickered suddenly as it was raised and applied to a wall gas jet. The sudden light caused the spellbound spectators of the scene to blink violently; then, as their eyes grew accustomed to the illumination, they made out the figure of a tall man in nondescript clothes standing near the chimney.
“Who—who are you, and where in hell did you come from?” gasped Brett.
“I am Barry Thornton, formerly of the United States Navy.” The newcomer caught sight of Eleanor, and stretched out his arms pleadingly. “My dear, dear daughter.”
Eleanor, grown deadly white, clutched the table for support. “I don’t understand,” she stammered.
“I forgot.” The newcomer’s arms dropped to his side. “You were too young to remember me when I last saw you. Fortunately,” meeting Brett’s incredulous stare, “Nicodemus knows me.”
“Your spectacular appearance seems to have knocked him silly,” exclaimed Captain Lane, regaining his voice. “I reckon we’ll have to bring him around before he can identify you properly.”
“Nicodemus, tell these gentlemen who I am,” commanded the newcomer.
“Yo’ is my marse, Cap’n Barry Thornton, suh.” The voice came from behind Douglas, and all in the room wheeled in that direction. There stood Nicodemus, his eyes starting from his head, his face gray with fright. He had entered unnoticed a second before.
Eleanor’s senses were reeling. With desperate effort she controlled herself. “Then who is that?” she cried, frantically, pointing to the motionless figure which was partly hidden from their view by the divan.