"I am dying, and have much to explain before I go.Be generous, and do not think too harshly of me.Suspend your judgment until I have spoken.You must come by stealth, or you will not be permitted to see me.Follow my directions carefully and you will have no trouble in reaching me.Go at once to the cave on Malabar Hill, whistle thrice, and one will appear who will conduct you safely to me.Follow him, and whatever happens, make no noise.Do not delay - I can last but little longer."LONA."I did not even pause to re-read the letter, or to ask why it was necessary to follow such singular directions in order to be led to her.Isimply knew she had written to me; that she was dying; that she wanted me; that was all, but it was enough.Dazed, filled with a strange mixture of dread and yearning, I hurried to the cave.It was already night when I reached it - just such a moonlit night as that on which, nearly a year before, Lona and I had planned our elopement; and now that heart, which then had beaten so wildly against mine, was slowly throbbing itself into eternal silence, - and I - I had been more than dead ever since.
I looked about on all sides, but no human being was visible.I whistled thrice, but no sound came in response.Again I whistled, with the same result.Where was my guide? Perhaps he was in the cave and had not heard me.I entered it to see, but had barely passed the narrow portal when a voice said close behind me: "Did you whistle, Sahib?" The suddenness, the strangeness of this uncanny appearance, so close to me that I felt the breath of the words upon my neck, sent a chill over me.I shall never forget that feeling! Many times since then have I dreamt of a hand that struck me from out the darkness, while the same unspeakable dread froze up my life, until, by repetition, it has sunk deep into my soul with the weight of a positive conviction.I know, as I now write, that this will be my end, and his will be the hand that strikes.The fibre of our lives is twisted in a certain way, and each has its own fixed mode of unravelling, - this will be mine.
When I had recovered from the first momentary shock I turned and looked behind me.There, close upon me, with his huge form blocking the narrow entrance, stood Rama Ragobah, my rival, his face hideous with malignant triumph! I was trapped, and that, too, by a man whom my hatred, could it have worked its will, would have plunged into the uttermost hell of torment.I felt sure my hour had come, but my assassin should not have the satisfaction of thinking I feared him.I did not permit myself to betray the slightest concern as to my position - indeed, after the shock of the first surprise, I did not care so very much what fate awaited me.Why should I? Had I not seriously thought of taking my own life? Was it not clear now that Lona, whose own handwriting had decoyed me, had most basely betrayed me into her husband's hands? If I had wished to end my own life before, surely now, death, at the hands of another, wasno very terrible thing.Could I have dragged that other down with me, I would have rejoiced at the prospect!
Ragobah broke the silence."You have left your stick this time, I see," he said, as he unsheathed the long knife I had once before escaped, and ostentatiously felt its edge as if he were about to shave with it.
"You were in haste, Sahib, when you left me last time, or I should not now have the pleasure of this interview.Be assured I shall do my work more thoroughly this time.Behind you there is a hole partly filled with water.If you drop a stone into this well, it is several seconds before you hear the splash, and there is a saying hereabouts that it is bottomless.I am curious to know if this be true, and I am going to send you to see.Of course, if the story is well founded, I shall not expect you to come back.That would be unreasonable, Sahib."All this was said with a refined sarca** which maddened me, and, as he concluded, he began to edge stealthily toward me.So strong is the instinct of self-preservation within us that I doubt not a would-be suicide, caught in the act of hanging himself, would struggle madly for his life were someone else to forcibly adjust the noose about his neck.At all events, I found myself unwilling, at the last moment, to have someone else launch me into eternity and, as I wished to gain time to think what I should do to escape, I said to him:
"Why do you bear me such malice? Can you not see that any injury I may have done you was purely in self-defence? You sought the quarrel, and I took the only means at hand to protect myself.I did not, as you know, seek to kill you, a thing I could easily have done, but was content merely to make good my escape.I -""Bah!" he said, interrupting me savagely."That has nothing to do with it.Had you only pounded my head you might live, but you have pounded my heart! It is for that I hate you, and for that you die!""What have I done?" I asked.
