CHAPTER 9: The Tantrums of Ned Land
Just then a noise was audible outside. Footsteps rang on
the metal tiling. The locks were turned, the door opened,
the steward appeared.
Before I could make a single movement to prevent him, the Canadian
rushed at the poor man, threw him down, held him by the throat.
The steward was choking in the grip of those powerful hands.
Conseil was already trying to loosen the harpooner's hands from his
half-suffocated victim, and I had gone to join in the rescue, when I
was abruptly nailed to the spot by these words pronounced in French:
"Calm down, Mr. Land! And you, professor, kindly listen to me!"