“Something has gone wrong, sure,” said Nick to himself. “I must act quickly or all is lost.”
He stirred his foot upon the floor so as to make a faint noise.
Then, for a second, he listened.
Surely Benton was creeping up toward him.
And another sound now began to be audible. It was the faint noise of impeded breathing.
Nick knew that sound. In the midst of that perfect darkness he recognized the person who was breathing as plainly as if he had seen the man by the light of day.
It was Pete, the negro.
Nick had known Pete for some years. The negro had a slight asthmatic affection, which made his breathing just the least bit more difficult than a healthy man’s.
He also had a peculiar habit of drawing in his breath with a faint rattling sound once in about two minutes.
These noises Nick recognized, and he grasped the whole situation instantly.