He had heard the criminal hireling
of Felix Marchand say that it should be done at midnight, and that the
explosive should be laid under that part of the bridge which joined the
Manitou bank of the Sagalac. As though in very truth he saw with his
eyes, he stopped short not far from the point where the bridge joined the
land, and stood still, listening.
For several minutes he was motionless, intent, as an animal waiting for
its foe. At last his newly-sensitive ears heard footsteps approaching and
low voices. The footsteps came nearer, the voices, though so low, became
more distinct. They were now not fifty feet away, but to the delirious
Ingolby they were as near as death had been when his fingers closed on
the pistol in his room.
He took a step forward, and with passionate voice and arms outstretched,
he cried:
"You shall not do it-by God, you shall not touch my bridge!
I built it. You shall not touch it. Back, you devils-back!"
The terrier barked loudly.
The two men in the semi-darkness in front of him cowered at the sight of
this weird figure holding the bridge they had come to destroy. His words,
uttered in so strange and unnatural a voice, shook their nerves. They
shrank away from the ghostly form with the outstretched arms.
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