Page 475 - nostromo-a-tale-of-the-seaboard

‘Who are you?’
Already Nostromo had seemed to recognize Dr.
Monygham. He had no doubt now. He hesitated the space of
a second. The idea of bolting without a word presented itself
to his mind. No use! An inexplicable repugnance to pro-
nounce the name by which he was known kept him silent a
little longer. At last he said in a low voice—
‘A Cargador.’
He walked up to the other. Dr. Monygham had received
a shock. He flung his arms up and cried out his wonder
aloud, forgetting himself before the marvel of this meeting.
Nostromo angrily warned him to moderate his voice. The
Custom House was not so deserted as it looked. There was
somebody in the lighted room above.
There is no more evanescent quality in an accomplished
fact than its wonderfulness. Solicited incessantly by the
considerations affecting its fears and desires, the human
mind turns naturally away from the marvellous side of
events. And it was in the most natural way possible that the
doctor asked this man whom only two minutes before he
believed to have been drowned in the gulf—
‘You have seen somebody up there? Have you?’
‘No, I have not seen him.’
‘Then how do you know?’
‘I was running away from his shadow when we met.’
‘His shadow?’
‘Yes. His shadow in the lighted room,’ said Nostromo,
in a contemptuous tone. Leaning back with folded arms at
the foot of the immense building, he dropped his head, bit-

Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard