THE YELLOW DOVE
foot of the bed. Hammersley did not move his head, which remained bent forward over the book, but from the tail of his eye he noted that the tall footboard of the old-fashioned bed partially concealed him. Propped up as he was he could see the man’s head as far down as the tip of his nose, but all of his head was in shadow. Arguing from this, everything upon the bed below the line of the flame of the candle was invisible to him. But a quick glance showed Hammersley that the man was not looking at him. His dark eyes were peering straight before him at the opposite wall and his mind was wrapped in some gloomy vision.
The plan he had in mind required subtlety. He marked the shadows upon the ceiling and moved up in the bed so that his own shadow would be thrown behind the line of sight of his guardian. Then he paused again, his eyes fixed on the pages, waiting for Senf to look at him again. He heard the man move in his chair, which creaked as he settled more comfortably into it. And when Hammersley looked again, only his eyes were visible, their gaze fixed darkly ahead of him.
Hammersley now puffed a volume of smoke from his pipe and slowly wriggled his left arm forward under him, so that he could see the knot that tied his wrists. It was a large knot, but vulnerable. He puffed more smoke, meanwhile watching the top of the head of Senf. As it did not move, he lay over half upon his back, and, taking care not to disturb the book, slowly advanced his arms behind him toward the blaze of the candle. The knot of the rope caught and blazed, but the candle sputtered, and he quickly withdrew his hands, sending a volume of smoke from his pipe to neutralize the odor. Senf sniffed the air curiously.
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