Yet
my mind leaped from point to point in eager speculation. The whole
thing was puzzling. I had come expecting a mere bit of play-acting,
with all details left in the control of others. I anticipated no more
than a few weeks of idleness, with, perhaps, the overseeing of a
plantation, to partially keep my time occupied. Instead I found myself
instantly involved in a network of mystery where even murder was part
of the play. Little as I liked Coombs, this Creole was even more
dangerous. The one was a rough, the other a venomous snake. So far as
the original purpose of my adventure was concerned it had already
largely faded from recollection. The swift recurrence of more
startling events dominated. The spirit of adventure, with which I was
liberally endowed, was fast taking possession of all my faculties.
Whatever mystery surrounded this house, whatever of crime lurked in the
neighborhood, I became determined to solve. For the moment I forgot
even Mrs. Bernard, and my own assumed character, in the excitement of
this new chase.
"Ze right; turn to ze right, M'sieur," said a voice behind me, and then
I saw Coombs standing before the door of the second cabin. Half
dressed as he was, his ever-present "gun" hung low at his hip, and his
face scowled in surprised recognition.
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