Page 506 - nostromo-a-tale-of-the-seaboard

He was absolutely the only one. The doctor surrendered.
There was something in the genius of that Genoese seaman
which dominated the destinies of great enterprises and of
many people, the fortunes of Charles Gould, the fate of an
admirable woman. At this last thought the doctor had to
clear his throat before he could speak.
In a completely changed tone he pointed out to the Ca-
pataz that, to begin with, he personally ran no great risk. As
far as everybody knew he was dead. It was an enormous ad-
vantage. He had only to keep out of sight in the Casa Viola,
where the old Garibaldino was known to be alone—with
his dead wife. The servants had all run away. No one would
think of searching for him there, or anywhere else on earth,
for that matter.
‘That would be very true,’ Nostromo spoke up, bitterly, ‘if
I had not met you.’
For a time the doctor kept silent. ‘Do you mean to say
that you think I may give you away?’ he asked in an un-
steady voice. ‘Why? Why should I do that?’
‘What do I know? Why not? To gain a day perhaps. It
would take Sotillo a day to give me the estrapade, and try
some other things perhaps, before he puts a bullet through
my heart—as he did to that poor wretch here. Why not?’
The doctor swallowed with difficulty. His throat had gone
dry in a moment. It was not from indignation. The doctor,
pathetically enough, believed that he had forfeited the right
to be indignant with any one—for anything. It was simple
dread. Had the fellow heard his story by some chance? If
so, there was an end of his usefulness in that direction. The

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