This man is I his prisoner, I who
have the right to arrest him, I, who ought to put my hand on his
shoulder, saying, "In the Name of the Law --"
On the other hand, could I hope for a rescue from with out? Evidently
not. The police authorities must know everything that had happened at
Black Rock Creek. Mr. Ward, advised of all the incidents, would have
reasoned on the matter as follows: when the "Terror" quitted the
creek dragging me at the end of her hawser, I had either been drowned
or, since my body had not been recovered, I had been taken on board
the "Terror," and was in the hands of its commander.
In the first case, there was nothing more to do than to write
"deceased" after the name of John Strock, chief inspector of the
federal police in Washington.
In the second case, could my confreres hope ever to see me again? The
two destroyers which had pursued the "Terror" into the Niagara River
had stopped, perforce, when the current threatened to drag them over
the falls. At that moment, night was closing in, and what could be
thought on board the destroyers but that the "Terror" had been
engulfed in the abyss of the cataract? It was scarce possible that
our machine had been seen when, amid the shades of night, it rose
above the Horseshoe Falls, or when it winged its way high above the
mountains on its route to the Great Eyrie.
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