"
"And did you set him going?" I asked.
"I did," said Marlow, composing his features into an impenetrable
expression which somehow assured me of his success better than an air of
triumph could have done.
* * * * *
"You made him talk?" I said after a silence.
"Yes, I made him . . . about himself."
"And to the point?"
"If you mean by this," said Marlow, "that it was about the voyage of the
_Ferndale_, then again, yes. I brought him to talk about that voyage,
which, by the by, was not the first voyage of Flora de Barral. The man
himself, as I told you, is simple, and his faculty of wonder not very
great. He's one of those people who form no theories about facts.
Straightforward people seldom do. Neither have they much penetration.
But in this case it did not matter. I--we--have already the inner
knowledge. We know the history of Flora de Barral. We know something of
Captain Anthony. We have the secret of the situation. The man was
intoxicated with the pity and tenderness of his part. Oh yes!
Intoxicated is not too strong a word; for you know that love and desire
take many disguises.
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