Presently the sights grew dim and died away, but the chiming laughter
still continued.
I looked up. It was Colliver laughing, and his face was that of an
arch-devil.
"It does me good to see you," he explained; "oh, yes, it is honey to
my soul. Fool! and a thousand times fool! that ever I should have
lived to triumph thus over you and your accursed house!"
Once more his voice grew shrill and his eyes flashed; once more he
collected himself.
"You shall hear it out," he said. "Look here!" and he pulled a
greasy book from his pocket. "Here is a nautical almanack. What day
is it? December 23rd, or rather some time in the morning of December
24th, Christmas Eve. On the evening of December 24th it is full
moon, and dead low water at Falmouth about 11.30 p.m. Fate (do you
believe in fate, Mr. Trenoweth?) could not have chosen the time
better. In something under twenty hours one of us will have his
hands upon the treasure. Which will it be, eh? Which will it be?"
Well I knew which it would be, and the knowledge was bitter as gall.
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