The Most Dangerous Game 7

The menacing look in the eyes did not change. The revolver pointing asrigidly as if the giant were a statue. He gave no sign that heunderstood Rainsford’s words, or that he had even heard them. He wasdressed in uniform–a black uniform trimmed with gray astrakhan. “I’m Sanger Rainsford of New York,” Rainsford began again. “I fell off ayacht. I am hungry.”  The man’s only answer was to raise with his thumb the hammer of hisrevolver. Then Rainsford saw the man’s free hand go to his forehead in amilitary salute, and he saw him click his heels together and stand atattention. Another man was coming down the broad marble steps, an erect,slender man in evening clothes. He advanced to Rainsford and held outhis hand. In a cultivated voice marked by a slight accent that gave it addedprecision and deliberateness, he said, “It is a very great pleasure andhonor to welcome Mr. Sanger Rainsford, the celebrated hunter, to my home.” Automatically Rainsford shook the man’s hand. “I’ve read your book about hunting snow leopards in Tibet, you see,”explained the man. “I am General Zaroff.”