CHAPTER XX
The firing had ceased; the boat began to glide forwards once more. But Mr. Heard's eye remained fixed upon the ill-omened black rock. The sun's rays had already licked dry the moisture on its surface; it shone with a steady dull glow. Some malefic force seemed to dwell here. Some demon haunted the place, peering out of the crevices or rising up from the turquoise-tinted water at its foot. The suicides' rock!
That vague sense of apprehension, of impending disaster, once more invaded him. Suddenly it revealed itself in definite terms. A ghastly notion flitted through his mind.
"You think it possible that Denis—?" he began.
His friend seemed to have lost all interest in that subject. It was a way he had.
"Denis? I really could not tell. I'm not sufficiently in his confidence….
