It was Adam who again broke the silence. "Do you know, uncle, if we have any second sight in our family?" "No, not that I ever heard about. Why?" "Because," he answered slowly, "I have a conviction which seems to answer
all the conditions of second sight." "And then?" asked the old man, much perturbed. "And then the usual inevitable. What in the Hebrides and other places,
where the Sight is a cult--a belief--is called 'the doom'--the court from
which there is no appeal. I have often heard of second sight--we have
many western Scots in Australia; but I have realised more of its true
inwardness in an instant of this afternoon than I did in the whole of my
life previously--a granite wall stretching up to the very heavens, so
high and so dark that the eye of God Himself cannot see beyond. Well, if
the Doom must come, it must. That is all." The voice of Sir Nathaniel broke in, smooth and sweet and grave. "Can there not be a fight for it? There can for most things." "For most things, yes, but for the Doom, no. What a man can do I shall
do. There will be--must be--a fight. When and where and how I know not,
but a fight there will be. But, after all, what is a man in such a
case?" "Adam, there are three of us." Salton looked at his old friend as he
spoke, and that old friend's eyes blazed. "Ay, three of us," he said, and his voice rang. There was again a pause, and Sir Nathaniel endeavoured to get back to
less emotional and more neutral ground. "Tell us of the rest of the meeting. Remember we are all pledged to
this. It is a fight _a l'outrance_, and we can afford to throw away or
forgo no chance." "We shall throw away or lose nothing that we can help. We fight to win,
and the stake is a life--perhaps more than one--we shall see." Then he
went on in a conversational tone, such as he had used when he spoke of
the coming to the farm of Edgar Caswall: "When Mr. Caswall came in, the
negro went a short distance away and there remained. It gave me the idea
that he expected to be called, and intended to remain in sight, or within
hail. Then Mimi got another cup and made fresh tea, and we all went on
together." "Was there anything uncommon--were you all quite friendly?" asked Sir
Nathaniel quietly. "Quite friendly. There was nothing that I could notice out of the
common--except," he went on, with a slight hardening of the voice,
"except that he kept his eyes fixed on Lilla, in a way which was quite
intolerable to any man who might hold her dear." "Now, in what way did he look?" asked Sir Nathaniel. "There was nothing in itself offensive; but no one could help noticing
it." "You did. Miss Watford herself, who was the victim, and Mr. Caswall, who
was the offender, are out of range as witnesses. Was there anyone else
who noticed?" "Mimi did. Her face flamed with anger as she saw the look." "What kind of look was it? Over-ardent or too admiring, or what? Was it
the look of a lover, or one who fain would be? You understand?" "Yes, sir, I quite understand. Anything of that sort I should of course
notice. It would be part of my preparation for keeping my
self-control--to which I am pledged." "If it were not amatory, was it threatening? Where was the offence?" Adam smiled kindly at the old man. "It was not amatory. Even if it was, such was to be expected. I should
be the last man in the world to object, since I am myself an offender in
that respect. Moreover, not only have I been taught to fight fair, but
by nature I believe I am just. I would be as tolerant of and as liberal
to a rival as I should expect him to be to me. No, the look I mean was
nothing of that kind. And so long as it did not lack proper respect, I
should not of my own part condescend to notice it. Did you ever study
the eyes of a hound?" "At rest?" "No, when he is following his instincts! Or, better still," Adam went
on, "the eyes of a bird of prey when he is following his instincts. Not
when he is swooping, but merely when he is watching his quarry?" "No," said Sir Nathaniel, "I don't know that I ever did. Why, may I
ask?" "That was the look. Certainly not amatory or anything of that kind--yet
it was, it struck me, more dangerous, if not so deadly as an actual
threatening." Again there was a silence, which Sir Nathaniel broke as he stood up:

"I think it would be well if we all thought over this by ourselves. Then
we can renew the subject." CHAPTER VII--OOLANGA


Mr. Salton had an appointment for six o'clock at Liverpool. When he had
driven off, Sir Nathaniel took Adam by the arm. "May I come with you for a while to your study? I want to speak to you
privately without your uncle knowing about it, or even what the subject
is. You don't mind, do you? It is not idle curiosity. No, no. It is
on the subject to which we are all committed." "Is it necessary to keep my uncle in the dark about it? He might be
offended." "It is not necessary; but it is advisable. It is for his sake that I
asked. My friend is an old man, and it might concern him unduly--even
alarm him. I promise you there shall be nothing that could cause him
anxiety in our silence, or at which he could take umbrage." "Go on, sir!" said Adam simply. "You see, your uncle is now an old man. I know it, for we were boys
together. He has led an uneventful and somewhat self-contained life, so
that any such condition of things as has now arisen is apt to perplex him
from its very strangeness. In fact, any new matter is trying to old
people. It has its own disturbances and its own anxieties, and neither
of these things are good for lives that should be restful. Your uncle is
a strong man, with a very happy and placid nature. Given health and
ordinary conditions of life, there is no reason why he should not live to
be a hundred. You and I, therefore, who both love him, though in
different ways, should make it our business to protect him from all
disturbing influences. I am sure you will agree with me that any labour
to this end would be well spent. All right, my boy! I see your answer
in your eyes; so we need say no more of that. And now," here his voice
changed, "tell me all that took place at that interview. There are
strange things in front of us--how strange we cannot at present even
guess. Doubtless some of the difficult things to understand which lie
behind the veil will in time be shown to us to see and to understand. In
the meantime, all we can do is to work patiently, fearlessly, and
unselfishly, to an end that we think is right. You had got so far as
where Lilla opened the door to Mr. Caswall and the negro. You also
observed that Mimi was disturbed in her mind at the way Mr. Caswall
looked at her cousin." "Certainly--though 'disturbed' is a poor way of expressing her
objection." "Can you remember well enough to describe Caswall's eyes, and how Lilla
looked, and what Mimi said and did? Also Oolanga, Caswall's West African
servant." "I'll do what I can, sir. All the time Mr. Caswall was staring, he kept
his eyes fixed and motionless--but not as if he was in a trance.