That was why Ricardo's eyes
lingered on that building. The girl would surely be easier to "size up"
than Heyst. A sight of her, a mere glimpse, would have been something to
go by, a step nearer to the goal--the first real move, in fact. Ricardo
saw no other move. And any time she might appear on that veranda!
She did not appear; but, like a concealed magnet, she exercised her
attraction. As he went on, he deviated towards the bungalow. Though his
movements were deliberate, his feral instincts had such sway that if he
had met Heyst walking towards him, he would have had to satisfy his
need of violence. But he saw nobody. Wang was at the back of the house,
keeping the coffee hot against Number One's return for breakfast. Even
the simian Pedro was out of sight, no doubt crouching on the door-step,
his red little eyes fastened with animal-like devotion on Mr. Jones, who
was in discourse with Heyst in the other bungalow--the conversation of
an evil spectre with a disarmed man, watched by an ape.
His will having very little to do with it, Ricardo, darting swift
glances in all directions, found himself at the steps of the Heyst
bungalow. Once there, falling under an uncontrollable force of
attraction, he mounted them with a savage and stealthy action of his
limbs, and paused for a moment under the eaves to listen to the silence.
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