As the
moments slipped by his sense of displeasure increased, with
mankind in general, with himself, and with the judge--principally
with the judge--who was to make a foolish target of himself in
the morning. He was going to give the man who had wrecked his
life a chance to take it as well. Mahaffy's cold logic dealt
cynically with the preposterous situation his friend had created.
In the midst of his angry meditations he heard a clock strike in
the hall and counted the strokes. It was nine o'clock. Surely
Yancy and Cavendish had been gone their hour! He quitted his
seat and strolled restlessly about the house. He felt deeply
indignant with everybody and everything. Human intelligence
seemed but a pitiable advance on brute instinct. A whole day had
passed and what had been accomplished? Carrington, the judge,
Yancy, Cavendish--the four men who might have worked together to
some purpose had widely separated themselves; and here was the
duel, the very climax of absurdity. He resumed his dark corner
and waited another hour. Still no Carrington, and Yancy and
Cavendish had not come up from the raft.
"Fools!" thought Mahaffy bitterly. "All of them fools!"
At last he decided to go back to the judge; and a moment later
was hurrying down the lane in the direction of the highroad, but,
jaded as he was by the effort he had already put forth that day,
the walk to Raleigh made tremendous demands on him, and it was
midnight when he entered the little town.
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