Nor I the other. Nevertheless I truly felt that
these humble strings were, in a subtler sense, ties that bound us
together. No wonder Kemper's behaviour had slightly irritated me.
I looked up at the silver moon; I glanced at Kemper's unlovely bulk,
swathed in a blanket; I contemplated the dog-tent with, perhaps, that
slight trace of sentiment which a semi-tropical moon is likely to inspire
even in a jellyfish. And suddenly I remembered Grue and looked for him.
He was accustomed to sleep in his boat, but I did not see him in either
of the boats. Here and there were a few lumpy shadows in the moonlight,
but none of them was Grue lying prone on the ground. Where the devil had
he gone?
Cautiously I untied my ankle string, rose in my pajamas, stepped into my
slippers, and walked out through the moonlight.
There was nothing to hide Grue, no rocks or vegetation except the
solitary palm on the back-bone of the reef.
I walked as far as the tree and looked up into the arching fronds. Nobody
was up there. I could see the moonlit sky through the fronds. Nor was
Grue lying asleep anywhere on the other side of the coral ridge.
And suddenly I became aware of all my latent distrust and dislike for the
man.
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