Furtively, instinctively, I slunk back behind the table and drew and cocked my revolver.

The door swung open and he came forth.

Never had I seen so profound a despair as that which I saw on his face,--the face of Wolf Larsen the fighter, the strong man, the indomitable one.

For all the world like a woman wringing her hands, he raised his clenched fists and groaned.

One fist unclosed, and the open palm swept across his eyes as though brushing away cobwebs.
"God! God!" he groaned, and the clenched fists were raised again to the infinite despair with which his throat vibrated.
It was horrible.