Hestoodohresholdofasmallwhiteroomfurnishedonlywithanironbed,aet,andtwochairs.OnthebedlaytheterribleNegrohehadmetoairsatSingershouse.Hisfacewasveryblackagainstthewhite,stiffpillows.

    Thedarkeyeswerehotwithhatredbuttheheavy,bluishlipswereposed.Hisfacewasmotionlessasablackmaskexceptfortheslow,widefluttersofhisnostrilswitheachbreath.

    Getout,theNegrosaid.

    Wait------Jakesaidhelplessly.Whydoyousaythat?’

    Thisismyhouse.’

    JakecouldnotdrawhiseyesawayfromtheNegrosterribleface.Butwhy?’

    Youareawhitemanandastranger.’

    Jakedidnotleave.Hewalkedwithcumbersomecautionto

    ohestraightwhitechairsaedhimself.TheNegromovedhishandsontheterpane.Hisblackeyesglitteredwithfever.Jakewatchedhim.Theywaited.Intheroomtherewasafeelingtenseasspiracyorasthedeadlyquietbeforeanexplosion.

    Itwaslongpastmidnight.Thewarm,darkairofthespringmswirledthebluelayersofsmokeintheroom.Onthefloorwerecrumpledballsofpaperandahalf-emptybottleofgin.Scatteredashesweregrayontheterpane.DoctorCopelandpressedhisheadtenselyintothepillow.Hehadremovedhisdressing-gownandthesleevesofhiswhitecottonnightshirtwererolledtotheelbow.Jakeleanedforwardinhischair.HistiewasloosenedandthecollarofhisshirthadwiltedwithsweatThroughthehourstherehadgrowweenthemalong,exhaustingdialogue.Andnoausehade.

    Sothetimeisreadyfor------Jakebegan.ButDoctorCopelandinterruptedhim.Nowitisperhapsnecessarythatwe------hemurmuredhuskily.Theyhalted.Eachlookedintotheeyesoftheotherandwaited.Ibegyourpardon,Doctor