The baby crawled towards them, seeking their blood. "I have sworn to see him hanged," he said, "and nothing shall keep me away— nothing, by——. She had, by the magic of recollection, set the picture of the typhoon between herself and her table companions: the terrible rollers thundering on the white shore, the deafening bellow of the wind, the bending and snapping palms, the thatches of the native huts scattering inland, the blur of sand dust, and those two outcasts defying the elements. Having no means of defence, Sir Rowland cleared the blood from his vision; and, turning to see whether there was any means of escape, he descried the open door behind him leading to the Well Hole, and instantly darted through it. Some foul murder has been committed. What matters it? My servant, he is wounded—and by a Frenchman, if you wish to make an arrest.
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