The Most Dangerous Game 18

The bed was good, and the pajamas of the softest silk, and he was tiredin every fiber of his being, but nevertheless Rainsford could not quiethis brain with the opiate of sleep. He lay, eyes wide open. Once hethought he heard stealthy steps in the corridor outside his room. Hesought to throw open the door; it would not open. He went to the windowand looked out. His room was high up in one of the towers. The lights ofthe chateau were out now, and it was dark and silent; but there was afragment of sallow moon, and by its wan light he could see, dimly, thecourtyard. There, weaving in and out in the pattern of shadow, wereblack, noiseless forms; the hounds heard him at the window and lookedup, expectantly, with their green eyes. Rainsford went back to the bedand lay down. By many methods he tried to put himself to sleep. He hadachieved a doze when, just as morning began to come, he heard, far offin the jungle, the faint report of a pistol. General Zaroff did not appear until luncheon. He was dressed faultlesslyin the tweeds of a country squire. He was solicitous about the state ofRainsford’s health. “As for me,” sighed the general, “I do not feel so well. I am worried,Mr. Rainsford. Last night I detected traces of my old complaint.” To Rainsford’s questioning glance the general said, “Ennui. Boredom.”