Joseph Conrad: Nostromo

PART THIRD: THE LIGHTHOUSE 8. CHAPTER EIGHT (continued)

Once more the Capataz stepped back. He wondered who it was--some
Monterist? But he dreaded to show himself. To discover his
presence on shore, unless after many days, would, he believed,
endanger the treasure. With his own knowledge possessing his
whole soul, it seemed impossible that anybody in Sulaco should
fail to jump at the right surmise. After a couple of weeks or so
it would be different. Who could tell he had not returned
overland from some port beyond the limits of the Republic? The
existence of the treasure confused his thoughts with a peculiar
sort of anxiety, as though his life had become bound up with it.
It rendered him timorous for a moment before that enigmatic,
lighted door. Devil take the fellow! He did not want to see him.
There would be nothing to learn from his face, known or unknown.
He was a fool to waste his time there in waiting.

Less than five minutes after entering the place the Capataz began
his retreat. He got away down the stairs with perfect success,
gave one upward look over his shoulder at the light on the
landing, and ran stealthily across the hall. But at the very
moment he was turning out of the great door, with his mind fixed
upon escaping the notice of the man upstairs, somebody he had not
heard coming briskly along the front ran full into him. Both
muttered a stifled exclamation of surprise, and leaped back and
stood still, each indistinct to the other. Nostromo was silent.
The other man spoke first, in an amazed and deadened tone.

"Who are you?"

Already Nostromo had seemed to recognize Dr. Monygham. He had no
doubt now. He hesitated the space of a second. The idea of
bolting without a word presented itself to his mind. No use! An
inexplicable repugnance to pronounce the name by which he was
known kept him silent a little longer. At last he said in a low
voice--

"A Cargador."

He walked up to the other. Dr. Monygham had received a shock. He
flung his arms up and cried out his wonder aloud, forgetting
himself before the marvel of this meeting. Nostromo angrily
warned him to moderate his voice. The Custom House was not so
deserted as it looked. There was somebody in the lighted room
above.