They drew aside; and, as I live, I thought that little moment was to be Rattray’s last on earth. I watched, but nothing happened; on the contrary, both men seemed agreed, the Portuguese gesticulating, the Englishman nodding, as they stood conversing at the window. Their faces were strangely reassuring. I began to reason with myself, to rid my mind of mere presentiment and superstition. If these two really were at one about me (I argued) there might be no treachery after all. When I came to think
the Portuguese holding out his hand for the match.
“Did you lock the gate, senhor?” asked Santos.
“No; but I will now.”
As I opened it I heard a door open within. I could hardly let the latch down again for the sudden trembling of my fingers. The key turned behind me ere I had twenty yards’ start.