The great rushing mass was just upon me, when something, perhaps a projection from the rock or an unevenness in the path, gave it a slight outward bias. The result was, that before it came to me its course had begun to trend away from the wall; as it reached me, it was half over the edge on the other side, leaving a gap in which I stood unharmed; next instant it had overbalanced and gone down into the chasm, the noise of its fall reverberating in and out of the cliffs like thunder.
I can remember standing there leaning against the rock half-dazed with the shock of my danger, for the moment hardly realizing it and my miraculous escape. When I had pulled myself together and could look round, a great gap in the piled-up rock above where I had been working showed me whence the mass had been dislodged. My sudden suspicion and panic had saved me, for had I remained up there I must have been crushed. Indeed, had I been surprised a couple of paces higher up the path it would have been all over with me.
I now made all haste to leave the dangerous spot; scrambled down to the ravine below, passed what came so near being the engine of my death, the huge boulder now resting peacefully enough on the bed of the chasm, and so round the next corner of the rock in search of the Professor. It was rather surprising to me that I had not already seen him or his daughter hurrying to ascertain the result of the fall, which they must have heard. As I came out of the comparatively open space in front of the ridge, my surprise was increased by the sight of the father and daughter talking casually together. The Professor was leaning in a careless attitude against a rock with what looked like a smile on his face; the girl stood by talking vehemently, it seemed, as I drew nearer, and he,—yes, I was sure of it—he laughed. So intent were they on whatever they were talking about, that neither noticed me till I was within fifty paces of them. It had further struck me as odd when the Professor began carelessly to play with the hammer, throwing it from one hand to the other in a way that argued either great fortitude in a man wounded as he professed to be, or an amazingly rapid recovery.
With a start he became aware of my approach. Even at that distance I could see that his face changed curiously twice: once to an involuntary, then to what I was sure was an assumed expression. Reading his looks the girl turned; her face also was a puzzle; startled at first, then relieved. The Professor dropped his hammer and came forward with alacrity.
“My dear Mr. Tyrrell,” he exclaimed effusively, “glad to see you safe. That was a nasty fall, and we hardly dared wonder whether you had escaped. Heaven be thanked, it is all right, or I should never have forgiven myself for putting you to work there. But it seemed to me safe enough.”
I was scarcely in the mood to take his fluent, if jerky, apologies in a very charitable spirit, particularly as I seemed to detect an indication of disappointment lurking beneath them; and my suspicion was rather strengthened by a sort of confused shame in the face of the girl, who said nothing.
“You did not seem particularly anxious as to my fate,” I could not help remarking. “But for my providentially having moved from the place where you set me to work I must have been killed.”
The Professor now looked grave and concerned enough for anything.
“Tut, tut! Is it possible! I shall never cease to regret having put you in such danger. I am so very, very sorry. Believe me, I would have staked my reputation against the chance of such an occurrence.”
“I hope it will be a lesson to you, father,” the girl said in a low voice.