Attwater: that was the point.

Attwater had food and a treasure of pearls; escape made possible in the present, riches in the future.

They must come to grips, with Attwater; the man must die.

A smoky heat went over his face, as he recalled the impotent figure he had made last night and the contemptuous speeches he must bear in silence.

Rage, shame, and the love of life, all pointed the one way; and only invention halted: how to reach him?
had he strength enough?
was there any help in that misbegotten packet of bones against the house?
His eyes dwelled upon him with a strange avidity, as though he would read into his soul; and presently the sleeper moved, stirred uneasily, turned suddenly round, and threw him a blinking look.