Get ready, General Zaroff.

I'm going home for a rest now. Thank you for a most amusing evening."

They do excessively stupid and obvious things. It's most annoying. Will you have another glass of Chablis, Mr. Rainsford?"

You shall see for yourself tomorrow.""What do you mean?"

"Oh, yes," he said, casually, as if in answer to a question, "I have electricity. We try to be civilized here."

"I am General Zaroff."

"Thank you, I'm a hunter, not a murderer.""Dear me," said the general, quite unruffled, "again that unpleasant word. But I think I can show you that your scruples are quite ill founded.""Yes?"

Hunting? Great Guns, General Zaroff, what you speak of is murder."The general laughed with entire good nature. He regarded Rainsford quizzically. "I refuse to believe that so modern and civilized a young man as you seem to be harbors romantic ideas about the value of human life. Surely your experiences in the war—"

"Oh," said the general, "it supplies me with the most exciting hunting in the world. No other hunting compares with it for an instant. Every day I hunt, and I never grow bored now, for I have a quarry with which I can match my wits."

"Hunting tigers ceased to interest me some years ago. I exhausted their possibilities, you see. No thrill left in tigers, no real danger. I live for danger, Mr. Rainsford."

"But what game—" began Rainsford."I'll tell you," said the general. "You will be amused, I know. I think I may say, in all modesty, that I have done a rare thing. I have invented a new sensation. May I pour you another glass of port?"

"you were surprised that I recognized your name. You see, I read all books on hunting published in English, French, and Russian. I have but one passion in my life, Mr. Rainsford, and it is the hunt."

But there was one small trait of the general's that made Rainsford uncomfortable.

"I fell off a yacht. I am hungry.

His eyes made out the shadowy outlines of a palatial chateau; it was set on a high bluff, and on three sides of it cliffs dived down to where the sea licked greedy lips in the shadows.

All he knew was that he was safe from his enemy

Again he heard the sound, and again. Somewhere, off in the blackness, someone had fired a gun three times.

"One superstitious sailor can taint the whole ship's company with his fear."

"Nonsense," laughed Rainsford. "This hot weather is making you soft, Whitney. Be a realist. The world is made up of two classes—the hunters and the huntees. Luckily, you and I are hunters. Do you think we've passed that island yet?"

superstition