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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Kastle Krags, by Absalom Martin
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Kastle Krags
+       A Story of Mystery
+
+Author: Absalom Martin
+
+Release Date: August 29, 2010 [EBook #33569]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KASTLE KRAGS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ KASTLE KRAGS
+
+ A STORY OF MYSTERY
+
+ BY
+ ABSALOM MARTIN
+
+ NEW YORK
+ DUFFIELD AND COMPANY
+ 1922
+
+
+
+
+ Copyright, 1921, 1922
+ BY DUFFIELD & COMPANY
+
+ Printed in U. S. A.
+
+
+
+
+KASTLE KRAGS
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+Who could forget the Ochakee River, and the valley through which it
+flows! The river itself rises in one of those lost and nameless lakes in
+the Floridan central ridge, then is hidden at once in the live oak and
+cypress forests that creep inland from the coasts. But it can never be
+said truly to flow. Over the billiard-table flatness of that land it
+moves so slowly and silently that it gives the effect of a lake stirred
+by the wind. These dark waters, and the moss-draped woodlands through
+which they move, are the especial treasure-field and delight of the
+naturalist and scientist from the great universities of the North.
+
+It is a lost river; and it is still a common thing to see a brown,
+lifeless, floating log suddenly flash, strike, and galvanize into a
+diving alligator. The manatee, that grotesque, hair-lipped caricature of
+a sea-lion, still paddles in the lower waters; and the great gar, who
+could remember, if he would, the days when the nightmare wings of the
+pterodactyls whipped and hummed over his native waters, makes deadly
+hunting-trips up and down the stream, sword-like jaws all set and ready;
+and all manner of smaller fry offer pleasing possibilities to the
+sportsmen. The water-fowl swarm in countless numbers: fleet-winged
+travelers such as ducks and geese, long-legged dignitaries of the crane
+and heron tribe, gay-colored birds that flash by and out of sight before
+the eye can identify them, and bitterns, like town-criers, booming the
+river news for miles up and down the shores. And of course the little
+perchers are past all counting in the arching trees of the river-bank.
+
+In the forests the fleet, under-sized Floridan deer is watchful and
+furtive because of the activities of that tawny killer, the "catamount"
+of the frontier; and the black bear sometimes grunts and soliloquizes
+and gobbles persimmons in the thickets. The lynx that mews in the
+twilight, the raccoon that creeps like a furtive shadow through the
+velvet darkness, the pink-nosed 'possum that can only sleep when danger
+threatens, and such lesser folk as rabbit and squirrel, weasel and
+skunk, all have their part in the drama of the woods. Then there are the
+game-birds: wild turkey, pheasant, and that little red quail, the Bob
+White known to Southern sportsmen.
+
+Yet the Ochakee country conveys no message of brightness and cheer. Some
+way, there are too many shadows. The river itself is a moving sea of
+shadows; and if the sun ever gets to them, it is just an unhappy glimpse
+through the trees in the long, still afternoons. The trees are mostly
+draped with Spanish moss that sways like dark tresses in the little
+winds that creep in from the gulf, and the trees creak and complain and
+murmur one to another throughout the night. The air is dank, lifeless,
+heavy with the odors of vegetation decaying underfoot. There is more
+death than life in the forest, and all travelers know it, and not one
+can tell why. It is easier to imagine death than life, the trail grows
+darker instead of brighter, a murky mystery dwells between the distant
+trunks.... Ordinarily such abundant wild-life relieves the somber,
+unhappy tone of the woods, but here it some way fails to do so. No
+woodsman has to be told how much more cheerful it makes him feel, how
+less lonely and depressed, to catch sight of a doe and fawn, feeding in
+the downs, or even a raccoon stealing down a creek-bank in the mystery
+of the moon; but here the wild things always seem to hide when you want
+them most; and if they show themselves at all, it is just as a fleet
+shadow at the edge of the camp-fire. These are cautious, furtive things,
+fleet as shadows, hidden as the little flowers that blossom among the
+grass-stems; and such woodsfolk as do make their presence manifest do
+not add, especially, to the pleasure of one's visit. These are two in
+particular--the water-moccasin that hangs like a growing thing in the
+wisteria, and the great, diamond-back rattlesnake whose bite is death.
+
+The river flows into the gulf about half-way down the peninsula, and
+here is the particular field of the geologist, rather than the
+naturalist. For miles along the shore the underlying limestone and
+coraline rocks crop up above the blue-green water, forming a natural
+sea-wall. Here, in certain districts, the thickets have been cleared
+away, wide areas planted to rice, and a few ancient colonial homes stand
+fronting the sea. Also the sportsman fishes for tarpon beyond the
+lagoons.
+
+A strange, unhappy land of mystery; a misty, enchanted place whose
+tragic beauty no artist can trace and whose disconsolate appeal no man
+can fathom! Forests are never cheerful, silent and steeped in shadow as
+they are, but these moss-grown copses beside the Ochakee, and crowding
+down to the very shores of the gulf, have an actual weight of sadness,
+like a curse laid down when the world was just beginning. Yet Grover
+Nealman defied the disconsolate spirit of the land. He dared to disturb
+the cathedral silence of those mossy woods with the laughter of carefree
+guests, and to hold high revelry on the shores of that dismal sea.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+The allurement of a September day had brought me far down the trail,
+past the neck of the marsh, and far from my accustomed haunts. But I
+could never resist September weather, particularly when the winds are
+still, and the sun through the leaves dapples the trail like a fawn's
+back, and the woods are so silent that the least rustle of a squirrel in
+the thicket cracks with a miniature explosion. And for all the gloom of
+the woods, and the tricky windings and cut-backs of that restless little
+serpent of a trail, I still knew approximately where I was. A natural
+sense of direction was seemingly implanted with less essential organs in
+my body at birth.
+
+The Ochakee River wound its lazy way to the sea somewhere to my right. A
+half mile further the little trail ended in a brown road over which a
+motor-car, in favorable seasons, might safely pass. The Nealman estate,
+known for forty miles up and down the shore, lay at the juncture of the
+trail and the road--but I hadn't the least idea of pushing on that far.
+Neither fortune nor environment had fitted me to move in such a circle
+as sometimes gathered on the wide verandas of Kastle Krags.
+
+I was lighting a pipe, ready to turn back, when the leaves rustled in
+the trail in front. It was just a whisper of sound, the faintest
+scratch-scratch of something approaching at a great distance, and only
+the fact that my senses had been trained to silences such as these
+enabled me to hear it at all. It is always a fascinating thing to stand
+silent on a jungle-trail, conjecturing what manner of creature is
+pushing toward you under the pendulous moss: perhaps a deer, more
+graceful than any dancer that ever cavorted before the footlights, or
+perhaps (stranger things have happened) that awkward, snuffling,
+benevolent old gentleman, the black bear. This was my life, so no wonder
+the match flared out in my hand. And then once more I started to turn
+back.
+
+I had got too near the Nealman home, after all. I suddenly recognized
+the subdued sound as that of a horse's hoofs in the moss of the trail.
+Some one of the proud and wealthy occupants of the old manor house was
+simply enjoying a ride in the still woods. But it was high time he
+turned back! The marshes of the Ochakee were no place for tenderfeet;
+and this was not like riding in Central Park! Some of the quagmires I
+had passed already to-day would make short work of horse and rider.
+
+My eye has always been sensitive to motion--in this regard not greatly
+dissimilar from the eyes of the wild creatures themselves--and I
+suddenly caught a flash of moving color through a little rift in the
+overhanging branches. The horseman that neared me on the trail was
+certainly gayly dressed! The flash I caught was _pink_--the pink that
+little girls fancy in ribbons--and a derisive grin crept to my lips
+before I could restrain it. There was no mistaking the fact that I was
+beginning to have the woodsman's intolerance for city furs and frills!
+Right then I decided to wait.
+
+It might pay to see how this rider had got himself up! It might afford
+certain moments of amusement when the still mystery of the Floridan
+night dropped over me again. I drew to one side and stood still on the
+trail.
+
+The horse walked near. The rider wasn't a man, after all. It was a girl
+in the simplest, yet the prettiest, riding-habit that eyes ever laid
+upon, and the prettiest girl that had ridden that trail since the woods
+were new.
+
+The intolerant grin at my lips died a natural death. She might be the
+proud and haughty daughter of wealth, such a type as our more simple
+country-dwellers robe with tales of scandal, yet the picture that she
+made--astride that great, dark horse in the dappled sunlight of the
+trail--was one that was worth coming long miles to see. The dark, mossy
+woods were a perfect frame, the shadows seemed only to accentuate her
+own bright coloring.
+
+It wasn't simply because I am a naturalist that I instantly noticed and
+stored away immutably in my memory every detail of that happy, pretty
+face. The girl had blue eyes. I've seen the same shade of blue in the
+sea, a dark blue and yet giving the impression of incredible brightness.
+Yet it was a warm brightness, not the steely, icy glitter of the sea.
+They were friendly, wholesome, straightforward eyes, lit with the joy of
+living; wide-open and girlish. The brows were fine and dark above them,
+and above these a clear, girlish forehead with never a studied line. Her
+hair was brown and shot with gold--indeed, in the sunlight, it looked
+like old, red gold, finely spun.
+
+She was tanned by the Florida sun, yet there was a bright color-spot in
+each cheek. I thought she had rather a wistful mouth, rather full lips,
+half-pouting in some girlish fancy. Of course she hadn't observed me
+yet. She was riding easily, evidently thinking herself wholly alone.
+
+Her form was slender and girlish, of medium height, yet her slender
+hands at the reins held her big horse in perfect control. The heels of
+her trim little shoes touched his side, and the animal leaped lightly
+over a fallen log. Then she saw me, and her expression changed.
+
+It was, however, still unstudied and friendly. The cold look of
+indifference I had expected and which is such a mark of ill-breeding
+among certain of her class, didn't put in its appearance. I removed my
+hat, and she drew her horse up beside me.
+
+It hadn't occurred to me she would actually stop and talk. It had been
+rather too much to hope for. And I knew I felt a curious little stir of
+delight all over me at the first sound of her friendly, gentle voice.
+
+"I suppose you are Mr. Killdare?" she said quietly.
+
+Every one knows how a man quickens at the sound of his own name. "Yes,
+ma'am," I told her--in our own way of speaking. But I didn't know what
+else to say.
+
+"I was riding over to see you--on business," she went on. "For my
+uncle--Grover Nealman, of Kastle Krags. I'm his secretary."
+
+The words made me stop and think. It was hard for me to explain, even to
+myself, just why they thrilled me far under the skin, and why the
+little tingle of delight I had known at first gave way to a mighty surge
+of anticipation and pleasure. It seems to be true that the first thing
+we look for in a stranger is his similarity to us, and the second, his
+dissimilarity; and in these two factors alone rests our attitude towards
+him. It has been thus since the beginning of the world--if he is too
+dissimilar, our reaction is one of dislike, and I suppose, far enough
+down the scale of civilization, we would immediately try to kill him. If
+he has enough in common with ourselves we at once feel warm and
+friendly, and invite him to our tribal feasts.
+
+Perhaps this was the way it was between myself and Edith Nealman. She
+wasn't infinitely set apart from me--some one rich and experienced and
+free of all the problems that made up my life. Nealman's niece meant
+something far different than Nealman's daughter--if indeed the man had a
+daughter. She was his secretary, she said--a paid worker even as I was.
+She had come to see me on business--and no wonder I was anticipatory and
+elated as I hadn't been for years!
+
+"I'm glad to know you, Miss----" I began. For of course I didn't know
+her name, then.
+
+"Miss Nealman," she told me, easily. "Now I'll tell you what my uncle
+wants. He heard about you, from Mr. Todd."
+
+I nodded. Mr. Todd had brought me out from the village and had helped me
+with some work I was doing for my university, in a northern state.
+
+"He was trying to get Mr. Todd to help him, but he was busy and couldn't
+do it," the girl went on. "But he said to get Ned Killdare--that you
+could do it as well as he could. He said no one knew the country
+immediately about here any better than you--that though you'd only been
+here a month or two you had been all over it, and that you knew the
+habits of the turkeys and quail, and the best fishing grounds, better
+than any one else in the country."
+
+I nodded in assent. Of course I knew these things: on a zoological
+excursion for the university they were simply my business. But as yet I
+couldn't guess how this information was to be of use to Grover Nealman.
+
+"Now this is what my uncle wants," the girl went on. "He's going to have
+a big shoot and fish for some of his man friends--they are coming down
+in about two weeks. They'll want to fish in the Ochakee River and in the
+lagoon, and hunt quail and turkey, and my uncle wants to know if--if he
+can possibly--hire you as guide."
+
+I liked her for her hesitancy, the uncertainty with which she spoke.
+Her voice had nothing of that calm superiority that is so often heard
+in the offering of humble employment. She was plainly considering my
+dignity--as if anything this sweet-faced girl could say could possibly
+injure it!
+
+"All he wanted of you was to stay at Kastle Krags during the hunting
+party, and be able to show the men where to hunt and fish. You won't
+have to act as--as anybody's valet--and he says he'll pay you real
+guide's wages, ten dollars a day."
+
+"When would he want me to begin?"
+
+"Right away, if you could--to-morrow. The guests won't be here for two
+weeks, but there are a lot of things to do first. You see, my uncle came
+here only a short time ago, and all the fishing-boats need overhauling,
+and everything put in ship-shape. Then he thought you'd want some extra
+time for looking around and locating the game and fish. The work would
+be for three weeks, in all."
+
+Three weeks! I did some fast figuring, and I found that twenty days, at
+ten dollars a day, meant two hundred dollars. Could I afford to refuse
+such an offer as this?
+
+It is true that I had no particular love for many of the city sportsmen
+that came to shoot turkey and to fish in the region of the Ochakee. The
+reason was simply that "sportsmen," for them, was a misnomer: that they
+had no conception of sport from its beginnings to its end, and that they
+could only kill game like butchers. Then I didn't know that I would care
+about being employed in such a capacity.
+
+Yet two or three tremendous considerations stared me in the face. In the
+first place, I was really in need of funds. I had not yet obtained any
+of the higher scholastic degrees that would entitle me to decent pay at
+the university--I was merely a post-graduate student, with the
+complimentary title of "instructor." I had offered to spend my summer
+collecting specimens for the university museum at a wage that barely
+paid for my traveling expenses and supplies, wholly failing to consider
+where I would get sufficient funds to continue my studies the following
+year.
+
+Scarcity of money--no one can feel it worse than a young man inflamed
+with a passion for scientific research! There were a thousand things I
+wanted to do, a thousand journeys into unknown lands that haunted my
+dreams at night, but none of them were for the poor. The two hundred
+dollars Grover Nealman would pay me would not go far, yet I simply
+couldn't afford to pass it by. Of course I could continue my work for
+my alma mater at the same time.
+
+Yet while I thought of these things, I knew that I was only lying to
+myself. They were subterfuges only, excuses to my own conscience. The
+instant she had opened her lips to speak I had known my answer.
+
+To refuse meant to go back to my lonely camp in the cypress. I hoped I
+wasn't such a fool as that. To accept meant three weeks at Kastle
+Krags--and daily sight of this same lovely face that now held fast my
+eyes. Could there be any question which course I would choose?
+
+"Go--I should say I will go," I told her. "I'll be there bright and
+early to-morrow."
+
+I thought she looked pleased, but doubtless I was mistaken.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+It didn't take long to pack my few belongings. At nine o'clock the
+following morning I broke camp and walked down the long trail to Kastle
+Krags.
+
+No wonder the sportsmen liked to gather at this old manor house by the
+sea. It represented the best type of southern homes--low and rambling,
+old gardens and courts, wide verandas and stately pillars. It was an
+immense structure, yet perfectly framed by the shore and the lagoon and
+the glimpse of forest opposite, and it presented an entirely cheerful
+aspect as I emerged from the dark confinement of the timber.
+
+It was a surprising thing that a house could be cheerful in such
+surroundings: forest and gray shore and dark blue-green water. The house
+itself was gray in hue, the columns snowy white, the roof dark green and
+blending wonderfully with the emerald water. Flowers made a riot of
+color between the structure and the formal lawns.
+
+But more interesting than the house itself was the peculiar physical
+formation of its setting. The structure had been erected overlooking a
+long inlet that was in reality nothing less than a shallow lagoon. A
+natural sea-wall stretched completely across the neck of the inlet,
+cutting off the lagoon from the open sea. There are many natural
+sea-walls along the Floridan coast, built mostly of limestone or
+coraline rock, but I had never seen one so perfect and unbroken.
+Stretching across the mouth of the lagoon it made a formidable barrier
+that not even the smallest boat could pass.
+
+It was a long wall of white crags and jagged rocks, and I thought it
+likely that it had suggested the name of the estate. It was plain,
+however, that the wall did not withstand the march of the tides. The
+tide was running in as I drew near, and the waves broke fiercely over
+and against the barrier, and little rivulets and streams of water were
+evidently pouring through its miniature crevices. The house was built
+two hundred yards from the shore of the lagoon, perhaps three hundred
+yards from the wall, and the green lawns went down half-way to it.
+Beyond this--except of course for the space occupied by the lagoon
+itself--stretched the gray, desolate sand.
+
+Beyond the wall the inlet widened rapidly, and the rolling waves gave
+the impression of considerable depth. I had never seen a more favorable
+place for a sportsman's home. Besides the deep-sea fishing beyond the
+rock wall, it was easy to believe that the lagoon itself was the home of
+countless schools of such hard-fighting game-fish as loved such craggy
+seas. The lagoon was fretful and rough from the flowing tide at that
+moment, offering no inducements to a boatman, but I surmised at once
+that it would be still as a lake in the hours that the tide ebbed. The
+shore was a favorable place for the swift-winged shorebirds that all
+sportsmen love--plover and curlew and their fellows. And the mossy,
+darkling forest, teeming with turkey and partridge, stretched just
+behind.
+
+Yet the whole effect was not only of beauty. I stood still, and tried to
+puzzle it out. The atmosphere talked of in great country houses is more
+often imagined than really discerned; but if such a thing exists, Kastle
+Krags was literally steeped in it. Like Macbeth's, the castle has a
+pleasant seat--and yet it moved you, in queer ways, under the skin.
+
+I am not, unfortunately, a particularly sensitive man. Working from the
+ground up, I have been so busy preserving the keen edges of my senses
+that I have quite neglected my sensibilities. I couldn't put my finger
+on the source of the strange, mental image that the place invoked; and
+the thing irritated and disturbed me. The subject wasn't worth a busy
+man's time, yet I couldn't leave it alone.
+
+The house was not different from a hundred houses scattered through the
+south. It was larger than most of the larger colonial homes, and
+constructed with greater artistry. If it had any atmosphere at all,
+other than comfort and beauty, it was of cheer. Yet I didn't feel
+cheerful, and I didn't know why. I felt even more sobered than when the
+moss of the cypress trees swept over my head. But soon I thought I saw
+the explanation.
+
+The image of desolation and eery bleakness had its source in the
+wide-stretching sands, the unforgettable sea beyond, and particularly
+the inlet, or lagoon, up above the natural dam of stone. The rocks that
+enclosed the lagoon would have been of real interest to a geologist--to
+me they were merely bleak and forbidding, craggy and gray and cold.
+Unquestionably they contained many caverns and crevices that would be
+worth exploring. And I was a little amazed at the fury with which the
+incoming waves beat against and over the rocky barrier. They came with
+a veritable ferocity, and the sea beyond seemed hardly rough enough to
+justify them.
+
+Grover Nealman himself met me when I turned on to the level, gravel
+driveway. There was nothing about him in keeping with that desolate
+driveway. A familiar type, he looked the gentleman and sportsman that he
+was. Probably the man was forty-four or forty-five years old, but he was
+not the type that yields readily to middle-age. Nealman unquestionably
+still considered himself a young man, and he believed it heartily enough
+to convince his friends. Self-reliant, inured to power and influence,
+somewhat aristocratic, he could not yield himself to the admission of
+the march of the years. He was of medium height, rather thickly built,
+with round face, thick nose, and rather sensual lips; but his eyes,
+behind his tortoise-shell glasses, were friendly and spirited; and his
+hand-clasp was democratic and firm. By virtue of his own pride of race
+and class he was a good sportsman: likely a crack shot and an expert
+fisherman. Probably a man that drank moderately, was still youthful
+enough to enjoy a boyish celebration, a man who lived well, who had
+traveled widely and read good books, and who could carry out the
+traditions of a distinguished family--this was Grover Nealman, master of
+Kastle Krags.
+
+I didn't suppose for a moment that Nealman had made his own fortune.
+There were no fighting lines in his face, nor cold steel of conflict in
+his eyes. There was one deep, perpendicular line between his eyes, but
+it was born of worry, not battle. The man was moderately shrewd,
+probably able to take care of his investments, yet he could never have
+been a builder, a captain of industry. He dressed like a man born to
+wealth, well-fitting white flannels whose English tailoring afforded
+free room for arm and shoulder movements; a silk shirt and soft white
+collar, panama hat and buckskin shoes.
+
+He was not a southerner. The first words he uttered proved that fact.
+
+"So you are Mr. Killdare," he said easily. He didn't say it "Killdaih,"
+as he would had he been a native of the place. "Come with me into my
+study. I can tell you there what I've got lined up. I'm mighty glad
+you've come."
+
+We walked through the great, massive mahogany door, and he paused to
+introduce me to a middle-aged man that stood in the doorway. "Florey,"
+he said, kindly and easily, "I want you to meet Mr. Killdare."
+
+His tone alone would have identified the man's station, even if the dark
+garb hadn't told the story plainly. Florey was unquestionably Nealman's
+butler. Nor could anyone have mistaken his walk of life, in any street
+of any English-speaking city. He was the kind of butler one sees upon
+the stage but rarely in a home, the kind one associates with old,
+stately English homes but which one rarely finds in fact--almost too
+good a butler to be true. He was little and subdued and gray, gray of
+hair and face and hands, and his soft voice, his irreproachable attitude
+of respect and deference seemed born in him by twenty generations of
+butlers. He said he was glad to know me, and his bony, soft-skinned hand
+took mine.
+
+I'm afraid I stared at Florey. I had lived too long in the forest:
+the staring habit, so disconcerting to tenderfeet on their first
+acquaintance with the mountain people, was surely upon me. I think that
+the school of the forest teaches, first of all, to look long and sharply
+while you have a chance. The naturalist who follows the trail of wild
+game, even the sportsman knows this same fact--for the wild creatures
+are incredibly furtive and give one only a second's glimpse. I
+instinctively tried to learn all I could of the gray old servant in the
+instant that I shook his hand.
+
+He was the butler, now and forever, and I wondered if, beneath that
+gray skin, he were really human at all. Did he know human passion, human
+ambition and desires: sheltered in his master's house, was he set apart
+from the lusts and the madnesses, the calms and the storms, the triumphs
+and the defeats that made up the lives of other men? Yet his gray,
+rather dim old eyes told me nothing. There were no fires, visible to me,
+glowing in their depths. A human clam--better still, a gray mole that
+lives out his life in darkness.
+
+From him we passed up the stairs and to a big, cool study that
+apparently joined his bedroom. There were desks and chairs and a letter
+file. Edith Nealman was writing at the typewriter.
+
+If I had ever supposed that the girl had taken the position of her
+uncle's secretary merely as a girlish whim, or in some emergency until a
+permanent secretary could be secured, I was swiftly disillusioned. There
+was nothing of the amateur in the way her supple fingers flew over the
+keys. She had evidently had training in a business college; and her
+attitude towards Nealman was simply that of a secretary towards her
+employer. She leaned back as if waiting for orders.
+
+"You can go, if you like, Edith," Nealman told her. "I'm going to talk
+awhile with Killdare, here, and you wouldn't be able to work anyway."
+
+She got up; and she threw me a smile of welcome and friendliness as she
+walked out the study door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+Nealman had me take a chair, then seated himself before the window from
+which he could overlook the lagoon. "I always like to sit where I can
+watch it," he told me--rather earnestly, I thought. "I can't see much of
+it--just a glimpse--but that's worth while. The room I've designated for
+your use has even a better view. You can't imagine, Killdare, until
+you've lived with it, how really marvelous it is--how many colors play
+in the lagoon itself, and in the waves as they break over the
+Bridge----"
+
+"The Bridge----"
+
+"That's the name we've given to the natural rock wall that cuts off the
+lagoon--rather, the inlet--from the open sea," he explained.
+
+"It's one of the most interesting natural formations I've ever seen," I
+told him.
+
+"It is, isn't it?" He spoke with genuine enthusiasm. "And don't the
+crags take peculiar shapes around it? You see it makes a veritable
+salt-water lake out of all this end of the inlet. But Killdare--if you
+can overlook the dreariness and the desolation of it all, it certainly
+is beautiful----"
+
+I nodded. "With a creepy kind of beauty," I told him. "I wish some great
+artist could come here and paint it. But it would take a great one--to
+get the atmosphere. I've never seen a more wonderful place for a
+distinguished home."
+
+It was rather remarkable how pleased he was by the words--particularly
+coming from a humble employee. Evidently Kastle Krags was close to his
+heart. His face glowed and his eye kindled.
+
+"I'm wild about it myself," he confessed. "My friends want to know why I
+bought such a place--miles from a habitation--and guy me for a hermit,
+and all that. Once they see the place, and its devilish fascination gets
+hold of 'em, they won't want to leave."
+
+From thence the talk led to business, and he questioned me in regard to
+the game and fish of the region. I assured him that his friends would
+have sport in plenty, that I knew where to lead them to turkey and
+partridge, and that no better fishing could be found in the whole south
+than in the Ochakee River. He seemed satisfied with my knowledge of the
+country; and told me a little of his own plans. Just as Edith Nealman
+had told me, he was planning a week's fish and hunt for a half dozen of
+his man friends, beginning a fortnight from then. They were coming a
+long way--so he wanted to give them sport of the best. The servant
+problem had been easily solved--he had recruited from the negro section
+of the nearest city--but until he had talked with my friend, Mr. Todd,
+he had been at a loss as to where he could procure a suitable guide.
+
+"I'd like to have a guide for each man, if I could," he went on, "but of
+course they are not to be found. Besides, only a small part of the party
+will want to go out at once. Most of them will be content to hang around
+here, drinking my brandies and fishing in the lagoon."
+
+"How is fishing in the lagoon?" I asked.
+
+"The best. Sometimes we even take tarpon. All kinds of rock fish--and
+they fight like fiends. The rocks are just full of little crevices and
+caves, and I suppose the fish live in 'em. These same crevices are the
+source of one of the most interesting of the many legends connected with
+this house."
+
+It's a dull man that doesn't love legends, and I felt my interest
+stirring. "There are some tales here, eh?"
+
+"Tales! Man, that's one of the reasons I bought the place."
+
+Nealman needed no further urging. Evidently the old stories that almost
+invariably accumulate about such an ancient and famous manor-house as
+this, had the greatest fascination for him; and he was glad of the
+chance to narrate them to any listener. He lighted a cigarette: then
+turned to me with glistening eyes.
+
+"Of course I don't believe them," he began. "Don't get that in your head
+for an instant. All these old houses have some such yarns. But they
+surely do lend a flavor to the place--and I wouldn't have them disproved
+for thousands of dollars. And one of them--the one I just referred
+to--surely is a corker."
+
+He straightened in his chair, and spoke more earnestly. "Killdare,
+you're not troubled with a too-active imagination?"
+
+"I'll take a chance on it," I told him.
+
+"I've seen a few men, in my time, that I wouldn't tell such a yarn to
+for love nor money--especially when they are doomed to stay around here
+for a few weeks. You won't believe it, but some men are so nervous, so
+naturally credulous, that they'd actually have some unpleasant dreams
+about it. But I consider it one of the finest attractions of the place.
+
+"The yarn's very simple. About 1840, a schooner, sailing under the
+Portuguese flag, sailed from Rio de Janeiro. Her name was the _Arganil_,
+she had a mixed cargo, and she was bound for New Orleans. These are
+facts, Killdare. You can ascertain them any time from the marine
+records. But we can't go much further.
+
+"Among the crew were two brothers, Jason by name. Legend says that they
+were Englishmen, but what Englishmen were doing on a Portuguese ship I
+can't tell you. The name, however, might easily be South-European--it
+appears, you remember, in Greek mythology. Now this point also has some
+indications of truth. There was certainly one Jason, at least, shipped
+as boatswain--the position of the other is considerably in doubt.
+
+"Now we've got to get down to a matter of legend, yet with some
+substance of truth. The story goes that there was a treasure chest on
+the ship, the property of some immensely rich Brasilian, and that it
+contained certain treasures that had been the property of a Portuguese
+prince at the time that the court of Portugal was located in Rio de
+Janeiro. This was from 1808 to 1821--breaking up in a revolution just a
+hundred years ago. This is history, as you know. Just what was the
+nature of the treasure no one seems to have any idea. It was a rather
+small chest, so they say, bound with iron, and not particularly
+heavy--but it was guarded with armed men, day and night. Of course the
+prevailing belief is that it contained simply gold--the same, yellow,
+deadly stuff that built the Armada and made early American history.
+It might have been in the form of cups and vessels, beautiful things
+that had been stolen from early heathen temples--again it might have
+been jewels. No estimation of its value was ever made, as far as I
+know--except that, like all unfound-treasures, it was 'incalculable.'
+
+"You can believe as much of this as you like. Gold, however, is heavy
+stuff--no one can carry much over twenty thousand dollars worth. If the
+chest wasn't really very heavy, and really was of such incalculable
+value, it had to contain something more than gold.
+
+"This part of the story is pretty convincing. I've investigated, and the
+legends contain such a wealth of detail concerning the appearance of the
+chest, how it was guarded, and so on, and the various accounts dovetail
+so perfectly one with another, that I am personally convinced that the
+treasure was a reality--at least that such a chest existed on the old
+ship. When you get into the contents of the chest, however, you find
+only a maze of conflicting rumors. To me they tend to make the story as
+a whole even more interesting--and I'll confess I'd love to know what
+was in that chest.
+
+"Well, the _Arganil_ broke to pieces off the west coast of Florida, not
+more than twenty miles from here. That fact can not be doubted. There
+are accounts of the wreck on official record. And legend has it that
+through Heaven knows what wickedness and bloodshed and cunning, the two
+Jason brothers not only managed to get off in the stoutest of the ship's
+boats, but that they carried the treasure with them.
+
+"If there were any other members of the crew in the boat with them they
+were unquestionably murdered. Nothing was ever heard of them again. The
+two brothers are said to have landed somewhere close to this lagoon.
+
+"But naked treasure breeds murder! It is a strange thing, Killdare, but
+the naked, yellow metal, as well as glittering jewels, gets home to
+human wickedness as nothing else in the world can. If that chest had
+been full of valuable securities, even paper currency, it wouldn't have
+left such a red trail from Rio to Florida. Gold and jewels waken a fever
+of possession out of all proportion to their actual value. When they
+landed on the shore one of the Jasons neatly murdered the other and made
+off with the chest.
+
+"The same old yarn--Cain and Abel, Romulus and Remus. Killdare, did
+you know that fratricide is shockingly common? There are three kinds
+of brothers, and the Jasons were simply one of the three kinds.
+Sometimes you find brothers that love each other beyond belief, with a
+self-sacrificing devotion that is beautiful to see. Then you find the
+great mass of brothers--liking each other fairly well, loyal in a family
+scrap, fair pals but much closer to other pals that aren't their
+brothers. Then you come to this third class, a puzzle to psychologists
+the world over! Brothers that hate each other like poison snakes.
+
+"Why is it, Killdare? Jealousy? A survival from the beast? These were
+the kind of brothers that go through life bitter and hating and at
+swords' points. And all too often they get to the killing stage."
+
+"You find it in the beast-world, too," I commented. "Look at the case
+of the wolves and the dogs. They are blood-brothers, drop for drop--and
+they hate each other with a fervor that is simply blood-curdling."
+
+"True enough. I remember hearing about it. Well, one of the Jasons--the
+one whose cunning conceived of the whole wickedness to start XXXX
+with--killed the other, disposed of his body, and then through some
+unknown series of events, concealed the treasure.
+
+"He went away awhile, the old wives say--taking a small portion
+of the treasure with him. At this point the name of Jason is lost,
+irremediably, in the mist of the past. But it is true that some two
+years later a seafaring man, one who had worn earrings and who cursed
+wickedly as he talked, came back and bought a great colonial home where
+the treasure was supposed to have been concealed.
+
+"This part of the story can not be doubted. The county books contain
+records of the sale, and it's written, plain as day, on the abstract.
+The man gave his name as Hendrickson.
+
+"Legend has it that this Hendrickson was no one but Godfrey Jason,
+that he had sold and turned into cash a small part of the treasure,
+temporarily evaded his pursuers, and had bought the big manor house with
+the idea of living in luxury the rest of his life. Incidentally, he was
+accompanied by a Cuban wife.
+
+"It seemed, however, that like most evil-doers, he got little good out
+of his treasure. He paid only a small amount down on the estate, and
+after a year or two let it go back to the original owners. He went away,
+but it doesn't seem likely he took the treasure with him. At least he
+died wretchedly in poverty some months later, and had spent no large
+amount of money in between. The report of his death can be found in the
+records of the city of Tampa, in this state.
+
+"Now all this is unquestionably a mixture of truth and fact.
+Unquestionably there is a vein of truth in it; and I don't see but that
+most of it is fairly credible. But the rest of the yarn is simply
+laughable.
+
+"I tell it only because it goes with the rest--not that I believe one
+word of it myself. After you hear what it is you'll wonder I ever took
+the trouble to tell you that I disbelieved it. It's just the sort of
+thing imaginative old niggers make up to tell their children. And of
+course--the niggers on the place believe every word of it.
+
+"They say that this Jason--or Hendrickson--put a guard over his
+treasure. He was a deep-sea fisherman at one time, when he wasn't a
+seaman, with considerable acquaintance with the various man-eating
+monsters of the deep. It is known that Hendrickson did some queer
+exploring and fishing along the rocky shores beyond the estate. What
+did the villainous old pirate do but catch some big octopus--or some
+other such terrible ocean creature--and transplanted him to the lagoon
+where he was said to have concealed the treasure.
+
+"That's all there is to it. The beast is supposed to be there yet,
+growing bigger and fiercer and more terrible year by year. An octopus is
+supposed to live indefinitely, you know. Once in awhile, the story goes,
+it creeps up on the rocky shore of the lagoon and grabs off a colored
+man. When any one searches around for the chest he's apt to meet up with
+Mr. Monster! Sure proof of his existence, the niggers say, is that Mas'r
+Somebody or other, the son of one of the subsequent owners of the
+estate, also mysteriously disappeared and has never been heard of since.
+When the blacks lose one of their own number they seem to regard it as a
+mere matter of course--but when 'one of de white folks' is taken, it's
+another matter! And of course, even to this day, you can't get a colored
+man to go within two hundred yards of the lagoon at night, and they hate
+to approach it even in the daylight.
+
+"The lagoon where the chest is supposed to be hidden is the one just
+outside my window, cut off from the sea by the natural rock wall you
+just saw. The big crags and rocks and crevices are supposed to conceal
+his ferociousness the sea-monster, growing bigger and hungrier and
+fiercer every day. The house that Jason--or Hendrickson--bought,
+neglected, and let return to the owners is the one you're sitting in,
+right now."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+After Nealman and I had each smoked a cigarette, I thought of a little
+plan that might increase his guest's interest in the week's shoot and
+hunt. He had been right when he said that even incredible legends,
+believed by no one, still add flavor to the country manor. I didn't see
+why we shouldn't turn them into account.
+
+"I've got an idea," I told him, "and it all depends whether or not
+you've already sent the invitations to your guests."
+
+"No, I haven't--just haven't got around to it," he answered. "All I was
+going to do was to write to about nine or ten of my men friends. I don't
+suppose all of them can come."
+
+"Good. I thought it might be interesting if we worked that legend into
+the invitation--just to add a little spice to the fishing and hunting.
+It might serve to waken a little extra interest in your party. Of
+course--it includes poking fun at the ferocious Jason and his treasure."
+
+"They'll have a lot more fun poked at them before we're done. As I told
+you--only the colored people take them seriously at all."
+
+I took out my fountain pen, found a scrap of paper, and drew something
+like this:
+
+ [Illustration: GRAND TREASURE HUNT
+ You are hereby invited to rally round at
+ KASTLE KRAGS
+ Sept. 6-12; search for
+ SPANISH GOLD
+ on 50-50
+ basis.
+
+ The Treasure is
+ guarded by
+ AWFUL SEA-MONSTER
+
+ P.S. Bring rods and guns. Turkey,
+ quail, deer, sea-fish. All that makes
+ the sportsman's heart be glad.
+
+ R.S.V.P.]
+
+As my only drawing experience consisted in portraying specimens, it had
+no artistic pretensions whatever.
+
+He seemed pleased, adopted the plan in an instant, then began to write
+down the names of his guests so that I could prepare an invitation for
+each. Most of them, I observed, lived in great cities to the North, New
+York and Boston particularly, and one or two of the men were more or
+less nationally known. The first half dozen names came easy. Then he
+paused, frowning.
+
+"I wish I knew what to do about this bird," he muttered, as much to
+himself as to me. "Killdare, I don't suppose you've ever heard of
+him--Major Kenneth Dell?"
+
+I shook my head. "Not that I remember."
+
+"Well, I haven't either--yet I suppose he's a good sportsman. In the
+last few weeks he's got close to my best friend, Bill Van Hope, and Bill
+asked me to ask him down for this shoot. Says he's a distinguished man,
+the best of fellows, and is simply wild to try Floridan game. Oh, I'll
+put him down. If Bill recommends him he must be the goods."
+
+He completed the list in a moment, then his duties calling him
+elsewhere, he left me in the study to prepare the invitations. And the
+hour turned out fortunately for me, after all. Thinking that the room
+was empty, Edith Nealman came back to her desk.
+
+All the gold in Jason's chest could not have bought a more lovely
+picture than she made, standing framed in the doorway. She was dressed
+in a spotless cotton middy-suit, and the red scarf at her throat brought
+out to perfection the light in her eyes and the high color in her
+cheeks. Then she came in and inspected the invitations.
+
+There was no occasion for me to leave at once. We talked a while, on
+everything under the sun, and every minute something that was like
+delight kept growing within me. She'd been up against the world, this
+girl that chattered so gayly in the big, easy office-chair. She had
+known poverty, a veritable struggle for existence; yet they hadn't
+hardened her in the least. No one I had ever met had possessed a
+sweeter, truer outlook, an unfeigned friendliness and comradeship
+for every decent thing that lived. Maybe you'd call it a childish
+simplicity, but I didn't stop to consider what it was. I only knew
+that she was the prettiest and the sweetest girl I'd ever seen, and
+I was going to spend every moment possible in her presence.
+
+Oh, but I loved to hear her laugh! I kept my brain busy thinking up
+things to say to her, that might waken that rippling sound of silver
+bells! I liked to see her eyes grow serious, and her lips half-pout as
+some delightful, fanciful thought played hide-and-seek in her mind. She
+had imagination, this niece of Grover Nealman. Perhaps, after all, it
+was the secret of her charm. I didn't doubt for a moment but that she
+read romantic novels by the score, but I, for one, wouldn't hold the
+fact against her.
+
+We talked over the legend of Jason's chest; and I was a little surprised
+at her devoted interest in it. Evidently the savage tale had gone
+straight home to her imagination. Whether she put the least credence in
+it I couldn't tell.
+
+It came about, in the twilight hour, that we walked together down to the
+craggy shore of the lagoon. Then we stood and watched the light dying on
+the blue-green water.
+
+Once more the tide was rolling in. The waves beat with a startling fury
+over and against the rock wall, and in the half-light the white stones
+looked like the foam-covered fangs of a mighty sea-monster, raging at
+our intrusion. The water swept through the little crevices in the wall,
+and the cool spray, refreshing after the tropic day, swept against our
+faces.
+
+The gray sand stretched down to the desolate sea. A plover uttered his
+disconsolate, wailing cry far out to sea. Some dark heron or bittern
+rose croaking from beside the lagoon, then flapped awkwardly away. I
+felt the girl's hand on my arm as she drew closer to my side.
+
+A worthy place--this manor house of Nealman. Vague thoughts, not quite
+in keeping with the ordered dimensions of life, had hold of my mind.
+Presently the girl's grip tightened, and she pointed toward the lagoon.
+
+I saw her face before I followed her gesture. I didn't get the idea that
+she was frightened. Rather she was smiling, quietly, and her eyes
+glistened.
+
+Seventy yards out, and perhaps fifteen yards back from the Bridge, great
+bubbles were bursting upward through the blue-green troubled waters.
+Some mysterious action of the currents, stirred by the tides, was the
+unquestioned cause; yet both of us were stirred by the same fancy. It
+was as if some great, air-breathing sea-monster was exhaling beneath the
+waves.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+The next two weeks sped by as if with one rise and fall of the tides. I
+spent the time in locating the various fields of game: the tall
+holly-trees where the wild turkeys roosted, the sloughs where the bass
+were gamest, and marked down the cover of the partridge. In the meantime
+I collected specimens for the university.
+
+It came about that I didn't always go out alone. The best time of all to
+study wild-life is in late twilight and the first hours of dawn--and at
+such times Edith was unemployed. Many the still, late evenings when we
+stood together on the shore and watched the curlews in their strange,
+aerial minuet that no naturalist has even been able to explain; many the
+dewey morning that we watched the first sun's rays probe through the
+mossy forest. She had an instinctive love for the outdoors, and her
+agile young body had seemingly fibers of steel. At least she could
+follow me wherever I wanted to go.
+
+Once we came upon the Floridan deer, feeding in a natural woods-meadow,
+and once a gigantic manatee, the most rare of large American mammals,
+flopped in the mud of the Ochakee River. We knew that incredible
+confusion and bustle made by the wild turkeys when they flew to the
+tree-tops to roost; and she learned to whistle the partridge out from
+their thickets.
+
+Of course we developed a fine companionship. I learned of her early
+life, a struggle against poverty that had been about to overwhelm her
+when her uncle had come to her aid; and presently I was telling her all
+of my own dreams and ambitions. She was wholly sympathetic with my aim
+to continue my university work for a higher degree; then to spend my
+life in scientific research. I described some of the expeditions that I
+had in mind but which seemed so impossible of fulfillment--the
+exploration of the great "back country" of Borneo, a journey across that
+mysterious island, Sumatra, the penetration of certain unknown realms of
+Tibet.
+
+"But they take thousands of dollars--and I haven't got 'em," I told her
+quietly.
+
+She looked out to sea a long time. "I wish I could find Jason's treasure
+for you," she answered at last.
+
+I was used to Edith's humor, and I looked up expecting to see the
+familiar laughter in her eyes. But the luster in those deep, blue orbs
+was not that of mirth. Fancies as beautiful as she was herself were
+sweeping her away....
+
+Most of the guests arrived on the same train at the little town of
+Ochakee, and motored over to Kastle Krags. A half dozen in all had
+accepted Nealman's invitation. I saw them when they got out of their
+cars.
+
+Of course I straightened their names out later. At the time I only
+studied their faces--just as I'd study a new specimen, found in the
+forest. And when Edith and I compared notes afterward we found that our
+first impression was the same--that all six were strikingly similar in
+type.
+
+They might just as well have been brothers, chips off the same block.
+When Nealman stood among them it seemed as if he might change names with
+any one of them, and hardly any one could tell the difference. There was
+nothing distinguishing about their clothes--all were well-dressed,
+either in white or tweeds; their skins had that healthy firmness and
+good color that is seen so often in men that are free from financial
+worry; their hair was cut alike; their linen was similarly immaculate;
+their accent was practically the same. Finally they were about the same
+age--none of them very young, none further than the first phases of
+middle-age.
+
+Lemuel Marten was of course the most distinguished man in the party.
+Born rich, he had pushed his father's enterprises into many lands and
+across distant seas, and his name was known, more or less, to all
+financiers in the nation. His face was perhaps firmer than the rest--his
+voice was more commanding and insistent. He was, perhaps, fifty years of
+age, stoutly built, with crinkling black hair and vivid, gray eyes. From
+time to time he stroked nervously a trim, perfectly kept iron-gray
+mustache.
+
+Hal Fargo had been a polo-player in his day. Certain litheness and
+suppleness of motion still lingered in his body. His face was darkly
+brown, and white teeth gleamed pleasantly when he spoke. A pronounced
+bald spot was the only clew of advancing years. He was of medium height,
+slender, evidently a man of great personal magnetism and charm.
+
+Joe Nopp was quite opposite, physically--rather portly, perhaps less
+dignified than most of his friends. I put down Nopp as a dead shot, and
+later I found I had guessed right. For all his plump, florid cheeks and
+his thick, white hands, he had an eye true as a surveyor's instrument,
+nerves cold and strong as a steel chain. He was a man to be relied upon
+in a crisis. And both Edith and I liked him better than any of the
+others.
+
+Lucius Pescini was an aristocrat of the accepted type--slender, tall,
+unmistakably distinguished. His hair was such a dark shade of brown that
+it invariably passed as black, he had eyes no less dark, sparkling under
+dark brows, and his small mustache and perfectly trimmed beard was in
+vivid contrast to a rather pale skin.
+
+Of Major Kenneth Dell I had never heard. He had been an officer in the
+late war, and now he was Bill Van Hope's friend, although not yet
+acquainted with Nealman. The two men met cordially, and Van Hope stood
+above them, the tallest man in the company by far, beaming friendship
+upon them both. Dell was of medium size, sturdily built, garbed with
+exceptionally good taste in imported flannels. He also had gray, vivid
+eyes, under rather fine brows, gray hair perfectly cut, a slow smile and
+quiet ways. Solely because he was a man of endless patience I expected
+him to distinguish himself with rod and reel.
+
+Bill Van Hope, Nealman's friend of whom I had heard so much, was not
+only tall, but broad and powerful. He had kind eyes and a happy
+smile--altogether as good a type of millionaire-sportsman as any one
+would care to know. Nealman introduced him to me, and his handshake was
+firm and cordial.
+
+Nealman took them all into the great manor house: I went with Nealman's
+chauffeur to see about the handling of their luggage. This was at
+half-past four of a sunlit day in September. I didn't see any of the
+guests again until just before the dinner hour, when a matter of a
+broken fly-tip had brought me into the manor house. Thereupon occurred
+one of a series of incidents that made my stay at Kastle Krags the most
+momentous three weeks of my life.
+
+It was only a little thing--this experience in Nealman's study. But
+coming events cast their shadows before--and certainly it was a shadow,
+dim and inscrutable though it was, of what the night held in store. I
+had passed Florey the butler, gray and sphynx-like in the hallway, spoke
+to him as ever, and turned through the library door. And my first
+impression was that some other guest had arrived in my absence.
+
+A man was standing, smoking, by the window. I supposed at once that he
+was an absolute stranger. There was not a single familiar image, not the
+least impulse to my memory. I started to speak, and beg his pardon, and
+inquire for Nealman. But the words didn't come out. I was suddenly and
+inexplicably startled into silence.
+
+It is the rare man who can analyze his own mental processes. Of all the
+sensations that throng the human mind there is none so lawless, so
+sporadic in its comings and departure, so utterly illogical as fear--and
+great surprise is only a sister of fear. I can't explain why I was
+startled. There was no reason whatever for being so. I must go
+further--I was not only startled, but shaken too. It has come about that
+through the exigencies of the hunting trail I have been obliged to face
+a charging jaguar--in a jungle of Western Mexico--yet with nerves
+holding true. My nerves didn't hold true now--and I couldn't tell why.
+They jumped unnecessarily and quivered under the skin.
+
+I did know the man beside the window after all. He was Major Kenneth
+Dell that I had observed particularly closely--due to having heard of
+him before--when he had first dismounted from the car. The thing that
+startled me was that in the hour and a half or so since I had seen him
+his appearance had undergone an amazing change.
+
+It took several long seconds to win back some measure of common sense.
+Then I knew that, through some trick of nerves, I had merely attached a
+thousand times too much importance to a wholly trivial incident. In all
+probability the change in Dell's appearance was simply an effect of
+light and shadow, wrought by the window in front of which he stood.
+
+But for the instant his face simply had not seemed his own. Its color
+had been gone--indeed it had seemed absolutely bloodless. His eyes had
+been vivid holes in his white face, his features were drawn out of all
+semblance to his own, the facial lines were graven deep. His lips looked
+loose, as with one whose muscle-control is breaking.
+
+But my impression had only an instant's life. Either the man drew
+himself together at my stare, or my own vision got back to normal. He
+was himself again--the same, suave, genial sportsman I had seen dismount
+from the car. He answered my inquiry, and I turned through the library
+door.
+
+If I had seen true, there could be but one explanation: that Major Dell
+had undergone some violent nervous shock since he had entered the door
+of the manor house of Kastle Krags.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+After the dinner hour Nealman came for me, in the room just off the hall
+from his own that he had designated for my use. I'd never seen him in
+quite so gay a humor. His eyes sparkled; happiness rippled in his voice.
+His tone was more companionable too, lacking that faint but unmistakable
+air of patronage it had always previously held. He had never forgotten,
+until now, that he was the employer, I the employee. Now his accent and
+manner was one of equality, and he addressed me much as he had addressed
+his wealthy guests.
+
+He had been drinking; but he was not in the least intoxicated. Perhaps
+he had been stimulated, very slightly. He wore a dinner coat with white
+trousers.
+
+"Killdare, I want you to come downstairs," he said. "Some of my friends
+want to talk to you about shootin' and fishin'. They're keen to know
+what their prospects are."
+
+"I'd like to," I answered. "But I'll have to come as I am. I haven't a
+dinner coat----"
+
+"Of course come as you are."
+
+His arm touched mine, and he headed me down the hallway to the stairs.
+Then we walked side by side down the big, wide stairway to the big
+living-room.
+
+Already I heard the sound of the guests' laughter. As I went further the
+hall seemed simply ringing with it. There could be no further doubt of
+the success of Nealman's party. Evidently his distinguished guests had
+thrown all dignity to the winds, entering full into the spirit of play.
+
+The glimpse of the big living-room only verified this first impression.
+The guests were evidently in that wonderful mood of merriment that is
+the delight and ambition of all hosts, but which is so rarely obtained.
+Most men know the doubtful temper of a mob. Few had failed to observe
+that the same psychology extends to the simplest social gatherings. How
+often stiffness and formality haunt the drawing-room or dining-table,
+where only merriment should rule! How many times the social spirit
+wholly fails to manifest itself. To-night, evidently, conditions were
+just right, and hilarity ruled at Kastle Krags.
+
+As I came in Joe Nopp--the portly man with the clear, gray eyes--was
+telling some sort of an anecdote, and his listeners were simply shouting
+with laughter. Major Dell and Bill Van Hope were shooting craps on the
+floor, ten cents a throw, carrying on a ridiculous conversation with the
+dice. A big phonograph was shouting a negro song from the corner.
+
+There was a slight lull, however, when Nealman and I came in. Van Hope
+spoke to me first--he was the only one of the guests I had met--and the
+others turned toward me with the good manners of their kind. In a moment
+Nealman had introduced me to Joe Nopp's listeners and, an instant later,
+to Major Dell.
+
+"Mr. Killdare is down here doing some work in zoology for his
+university," Nealman explained, "and he's agreed to show you chaps where
+to find game and fish. He knows this country from A to Izzard."
+
+I held the center of the floor, for a while, as I answered their
+questions; and I can say truly I had never met, on the whole, a
+better-bred and more friendly company of men. They wanted to know all
+about the game in the region, what flies or lures the bass were taking,
+as to the prevalence of diamond-backs, and if the tarpon were striking
+beyond the natural rock wall. In their eagerness they were like boys.
+
+"You'll talk better with a shot of something good," Nealman told me at
+last, producing a quart bottle. "Have a little Cuban cheer."
+
+The bottle contained old Scotch, and its appearance put an end to all
+serious discussion. From thence on the mood of the gathering was ever
+lighter, ever happier; and I merely sat and looked on.
+
+"The question _ain't_," Hal Fargo said of me with considerable emphasis,
+"whether he knows where the turkeys are, but whether or not he knows his
+college song!"
+
+I pretended ignorance, but soon Van Hope and Nealman were singing "A
+Cow's Best Friend" at the top of their voices, while Nopp tried to drown
+them out with "Fill 'em up for Williams."
+
+Even now it could not be said that any of the group were intoxicated.
+Fargo was certainly the nearest; his cheeks were flushed and his speech
+had that reckless accent that goes so often with the first stages of
+drunkenness. The distinguished Pescini was only animated and fanciful,
+Van Hope and Marten perhaps slightly stimulated. For all the charm of
+their conversation I couldn't see that Nopp or Major Dell were receiving
+the slightest exhilaration from their drinks.
+
+But the spirit of revelry was ever higher. These men were on a holiday,
+they had left their business cares a thousand miles to the north, mostly
+they were tried companions. None of us was aware of the passing of time.
+I saw at once that my presence was not objectionable to the party, so I
+lingered long after the purpose for which I had been brought among them
+had been fulfilled--purely for the sake of entertainment. I had never
+seen a frolic of millionaires before, and needless to say I enjoyed
+every moment of it.
+
+In the later hours of night the revellers ranged further over the house.
+Joe Nopp was in the billiard room exhibiting fancy shots and pretending
+to receive the plaudits of a great multitude; Pescini and Van Hope were
+in conversation on the veranda, and Fargo was wholly absent and
+unaccounted for. I had missed Marten, the financier, for a moment; but
+his reappearance was the signal for a fresh rush to the living-room.
+
+The whole party met him with a yell. In the few moments of his absence
+he had wrought a startling change in his appearance. Over his shoulders
+he had thrown a gayly colored Indian blanket, completely hiding his trim
+dinner coat. He had tied a red cloth over his head and waxed the points
+of his iron-gray mustache until they stood stiff and erect, giving an
+appearance of mock ferocity to his face. A silver key-ring and his own
+gold signet dangled from his ears, tied on with invisible black thread.
+And to cap the climax he carried a long, wicked-looking carving-knife
+between his teeth.
+
+Of course he was Godfrey Jason himself--the same character I had
+portrayed in the invitations. Fargo made him do a Spanish dance to the
+clang of an invisible tambourine.
+
+Some of the gathering scattered out again, after his dramatic
+appearance, drifting off on various enterprises and as the hour neared
+midnight only four of us were left in the drawing-room. Marten stood in
+the center, still in his ridiculous costume. Van Hope, Nealman, Pescini
+and myself were grouped about him. And it might have been that in the
+song that followed Pescini too slipped away. I know that I didn't see
+him immediately thereafter.
+
+With a little urging Marten was induced to sing Samuel Hall--a stirring
+old ballad that quite fitted his costume. He had a pleasant baritone, he
+sung the song with indescribable spirit and enthusiasm, and it was
+decidedly worth hearing. Indeed it was the very peak of the evening--a
+moment that to the assembled guests must have almost paid them for the
+long journey.
+
+     "_For I shot a man in bed, man in bed--
+     For I shot a man in bed, and I left him there for dead,
+     With a bullet through his head--
+                 Damn your eyes!_"
+
+But the song halted abruptly. Whether he was at the middle of the verse,
+a pause after a stanza, or even in the middle of a chord I do not know.
+On this point no one will ever have exact knowledge. Marten stopped
+singing because something screamed, shrilly and horribly, out toward the
+lagoon.
+
+The picture that followed is like a photograph, printed indelibly on my
+mind. Marten paused, his lips half open, a strange, blank look of
+amazement on his face. Nealman stared at me like a witless man, but I
+saw by his look that he was groping for an explanation. Van Hope stood
+peculiarly braced, his heavy hands open, beads of perspiration on his
+temples. Whether Pescini was still with us I do not know. I tried to
+remember later, but without ever coming to a conclusion. He had been
+standing behind me, at first, so I couldn't have seen him anyway. I
+believed, however, without knowing why, that he walked into the hall at
+the beginning of the song.
+
+The sound we had heard, so sharp and clear out of the night, so
+penetrating above the mock-ferocious words of the song, was utterly
+beyond the ken of all of us. It was a living voice; beyond that no
+definite analysis could be made. Sounds do not imprint themselves so
+deeply upon the memory as do visual images, yet the remembrance of it,
+in all its overtones and gradations, is still inordinately vivid; and I
+have no doubt but that such is the case with every man that heard it.
+
+It was a high, rather sharp, full-lunged utterance, not in the least
+subdued. It had the unrestrained, unguarded tone of an instinctive
+utterance, rather than a conscious one--a cry that leaped to the lips in
+some great extremity or crisis. Yet it went further. Every man of us
+that heard it felt instinctively that its tone was of fear and agony
+unimagined, beyond the pale of our ordered lives.
+
+"My God, what's that?" Van Hope asked. Van Hope was the type of man that
+yields quickly to his impulses.
+
+None of us answered him for a moment. Then Nealman turned, rather
+slowly. "It sounded like the devil, didn't it?" he said. "But it likely
+wasn't anything. I've heard some devilish cries in the couple of weeks
+I've been here--bitterns and owls and things like that. Might have been
+a panther in the woods."
+
+Marten smiled slowly, rather contemptuously. "You'll have to do better
+than that, Nealman. That wasn't a panther. Also--it wasn't an owl. We'd
+better investigate."
+
+"Yes--I think we had better. But you don't know what hellish sounds some
+of these swamp-creatures can make. We'll all be laughing in a minute."
+
+His tone was rather ragged, for all his reassuring words, and we knew he
+was as shaken as the rest of us. A door opened into the hall--evidently
+some of the other guests were already seeking the explanation of that
+fearful sound.
+
+It seemed to all of us that hardly an instant had elapsed since the
+sound. Indeed it still rang in our ears. All that had been said had
+scarcely taken a breath. We rushed out, seemingly at once, into the
+velvet darkness. The moon was incredibly vivid in the sky.
+
+We passed into a rose-garden, under great, arching trees, and now we
+could see the silver glint of the moon on the lagoon. The tide was
+going out and the waters lay like glass.
+
+Through the rifts in the trees we could see further--the stretching
+sands, gray in the moonlight, the blue-black mysterious seas beyond.
+What forms the crags took, in that eerie light! There was little of
+reality left about them.
+
+We heard some one pushing through the shrubbery ahead of us, and he
+stopped for us to come up. I recognized the dark beard and mustache of
+Pescini. "What was it?" he asked. Excitement had brought out a
+deep-buried accent, native to some South European land. "Was it further
+on?"
+
+"I think so," Nealman answered. "Down by the lagoon."
+
+He joined us, and we pushed on, but we spread out as we neared the shore
+of the lagoon. Some one's shadow whipped by me, and I turned to find
+Major Dell.
+
+The man was severely shaken. "My God, wasn't that awful!" he exclaimed.
+"Who is it--you, Killdare?" He stared into my face, and his own looked
+white and masque-like in the moonlight. Then all of us began to search,
+up and down the shore of the lagoon.
+
+In the moonlight our shadows leaped, met one another, blended and raced
+away; and our voices rang strangely as we called back and forth. But
+the search was not long. Van Hope suddenly exclaimed sharply--an audible
+inhalation of breath, rather than an oath--and we saw him bending over,
+only his head and shoulders revealed in the moonlight. He stood just
+beside the craggy margin of the lagoon.
+
+"What is it?" some one asked him, out of the gloom.
+
+"Come here and see," Van Hope replied--rather quietly, I thought. In a
+moment we had formed a little circle.
+
+A dead man lay at our feet, mostly obscured in the shadow of the crags
+of the lagoon. We simply stood in silence, looking down. We knew that he
+was dead just as surely as we knew that we ourselves were living men. It
+was not that the light was good; that there was scarcely any light at
+all. We knew it, I suppose, from the huddled position of his form.
+
+Joe Nopp scratched a match. He held it perfectly steadily. The first
+thing it showed to me was a gray face and gray hair, and a stain that
+was not gray, but rather ominously dark, on the torn, white front of the
+man's evening shirt. Nealman peered closely.
+
+"It's my butler, Florey," he said.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+There was nothing in particular to say or do. We simply stood looking
+down, that huddled body from which life had been struck as if by a
+meteor, in the center. From time to time we looked up from it to stare
+out over the ensilvered waters of the lagoon.
+
+We all shared this same inclination--to look away into the misty
+distance, past the lagoon, past the gray shore, into the sea so
+mysterious and still. The tide was running out now, so there was no
+tumult of breaking waves on the Bridge. At intervals, and at a great
+distance, we could hear the high-pitched shriek of plover.
+
+Of course the mood lasted just an instant. It was as if we had all been
+stricken silent and lifeless, unable to speak, unable to act, with only
+the power left to look and to wonder and to dream. I suppose the finding
+of that huddled body, under those conditions, was a severe nervous shock
+to us all. Joe Nopp, he of the true eye and the steady nerve, was the
+first to get back on an every-day footing with life.
+
+"It's a fiendish crime," he said in the stillness. He spoke rather
+slowly, without particular emphasis. "Of all the people to murder--that
+gray, inoffensive little butler of yours! Nealman, let's get busy. Maybe
+we can catch the devil yet."
+
+Nealman came to himself with a start. "Sure, Joe. Tell us what to do. We
+need a directing head at a time like this."
+
+Nealman had dropped his accent. He spoke tersely, more like a man in the
+street than the aristocrat he had come to believe himself to be.
+
+"The first thing is to get word into town--Ochakee, you call it. Get
+hold of the constable, or any other authority, and tell him to notify
+the sheriff."
+
+"Ochakee's the county seat--we can reach the sheriff himself."
+
+"Good. Tell him to take steps to guard all roads for suspicious
+characters. Get out posses, if they would help. Get the coroner and all
+the official help we can get out here." He turned to me, with a
+whip-like, emphatic movement. "Killdare, you might help us here. You
+likely know the roads. Tell us what to do."
+
+"You've said what to do," I told him. "There's not enough white men in
+this part of the country to make a posse--and a posse couldn't find any
+one that wanted to hide in the cypress swamps. The thing to do--is to
+cut off the murderer's escape and starve him out. Nealman, isn't yours
+the only road----"
+
+"As far as I know----"
+
+"The marshes are almost impassible to the left, and on the other side is
+the river. If we can keep him from getting as far as Nixon's----"
+
+"Who's Nixon----"
+
+"Next planter up the road, five miles up. Get a phone to him right away.
+Young Nixon will watch all night and stop any one who tries to pass. The
+sheriff can put a man there to-morrow. Let's find a phone."
+
+Hal Fargo, seemingly as cold as a blade, started to bend over the body
+for further examination of the wound, but two of the men caught his arm.
+
+"Don't touch him, Hal," Major Dell advised, quietly. "The less we track
+up the spot and muss things up the better. The detective'll have a
+better chance for thumb prints, and things like that."
+
+"You're right, Dell," the man agreed. "And now let's get to a phone."
+
+"Good." It was Joe Nopp's cool, self-reliant voice again. "In the
+meantime, have any of you got a gun?"
+
+Lemuel Marten alone responded--he carried a little automatic pistol in
+the pocket of his dinner coat. "Here," he said. He drew the thing out,
+and it made blue fire in the moonlight in his hand.
+
+"Then, Marten, you head a hunt through these grounds. The murderer might
+still be hiding in the shrubbery. Stop every one--shoot 'em if they
+don't stop. Now Nealman, Van Hope, Killdare--where's the phone?"
+
+Nopp, Nealman, and myself started for the house; Fargo, Major Dell, and
+Pescini and Van Hope followed Marten into the more shadowed parts of the
+gardens and lawns. Before ever we reached the house we heard their
+excited shouts but we paused only an instant. "They can handle him if
+they've got him," Nopp said. "We'd better go and do our work."
+
+We divided in the hall. Nopp and I went to the phone, Nealman and Van
+Hope, at Nopp's suggestion, to round up all the servants. "Keep 'em in
+one room, and watch 'em," Nopp advised. "We'll like enough find the
+murderer among them--some domestic jealousy, or something like that.
+Don't give any of 'em a chance to get away or to destroy evidence."
+
+I telephoned to Nixon's first. The sleepy, country Central rang long and
+often, and at last a drowsy voice answered the ring.
+
+"This Charley Nixon?" I asked.
+
+"Yes." He awakened vividly at the sound of his own name.
+
+"This is Ned Killdare--I met you on the way out. I'm at
+Nealman's--Kastle Krags. A man has been murdered here, just a few
+minutes ago! I want you to watch the road with your dogs--that strip
+between the river and marsh, and not let any one go through from this
+way. Can you handle it?"
+
+Charley Nixon had borne arms in France, his father had ridden with the
+Clansmen of long ago, and his answer was clear and unhesitating over the
+wire. "Any one who tries to get by me will be S. O. L.," he said.
+
+A moment later I reached the coroner at Ochakee. He promised he could
+start for the scene at once, in his car, bringing the sheriff or his
+deputy, and that he would take all the precautions he could to cut off
+the murderer's escape. Then Nopp and I returned to the living-room.
+
+It was an unforgettable picture--that scene in the big living-room where
+Nealman's guests had been so merry a few minutes before. A bottle of
+whiskey still stood on the table in the center, half-filled glasses,
+in which the ice had not yet melted, stood beside it and on the
+window-sills and smoking stands. Little, unwavering filaments of blue
+smoke streamed up from half-burned cigarettes. In the places of the
+revelers stood a group of sobbing, terrified negroes.
+
+We were not native southerners, accustomed to seeing the black people in
+their paroxysms of fear, and the sight went straight home to all of us.
+These were the "cotton field niggers" of which old-time planters speak,
+slaves to the blackest superstitions that ever cursed the tribes of the
+Congo, and the night's crime had gone hard with them. Their faces were
+gray, rather than black, the whites of their eyes were plainly visible,
+and they made a confused babble of sound. The women, particularly, were
+sobbing and praying alternately; most of the men were either stuttering
+or apoplectic with sheer terror. Some of them cowered, shrieking, as we
+opened the door.
+
+"Shut up that noise," Nopp demanded. A dead silence followed his words.
+"No one is going to hurt you as long as you stay in here and shut up.
+Where's the boss."
+
+One of them pointed, rather feebly, to the next room. And I took the
+instant's interval to reach the side of some one that sat, alone and
+silent, in a big chair in the chimney-corner.
+
+It was Edith Nealman, and she had been rounded up with the rest of the
+house employees. Her bare feet were in slippers, and she wore a long
+dressing-gown over her night-dress. Her hair hung in two golden braids
+over her shoulders.
+
+I was glad to see that the terror of the blacks had not passed, in the
+least degree, to her. Of course she was pale and shaken, her eyes were
+wide, but her voice when she spoke was subdued and calm, and there was
+not the slightest trace of hysteria about her. "It's a dreadful thing,
+isn't it?" she said. "Poor little Florey--who'd want to murder him!"
+
+"Nobody knows--but we're going to get him, anyway," I promised rashly.
+And what transpired thereafter did not come out in the inquest.
+
+It was only a little thing, but it meant teeming worlds to me. One of
+her hands groped out to mine, and I pressed it in reassurance.
+
+Besides the native southern blacks that acted as gardeners and
+chambermaids and table hands about the place, Nealman had rounded up his
+mulatto chauffeur. Mrs. Gentry, his white housekeeper, sat a little to
+one side of the group of negroes.
+
+In a moment Nealman and Van Hope rejoined us, and we turned once more
+through the still hall that had been Florey's particular domain. An
+instant later we were out on the moonlit driveway.
+
+"I wonder if those birds will have sense enough to stay away from the
+body," Nopp said gruffly. "It would be easy to mess up and destroy every
+bit of evidence----"
+
+"Major Dell warned them," I said. "I think they'll remember."
+
+"Nevertheless, I think we'd better post a guard over it." He paused,
+eyeing an approaching figure. It was Marten, and he was almost out of
+breath.
+
+"Any luck?" Nealman asked.
+
+"Nothing." Marten paused, fighting for breath. "Something stirred over
+in the thicket--we chased it down and tried to round it up. I guess it
+wasn't anything--certainly if it had been a man we'd scared it out. Have
+you a dog?"
+
+"Haven't shipped my dogs down here yet, but coons and such things come
+out of the woods every once in a while. Where are your men----"
+
+"They'll round up here in a minute. We've been beating through the
+grounds."
+
+In a moment Major Dell and Fargo approached us from opposite sides of
+the garden, and once more we headed down toward the lagoon. A voice
+called after us, and Pescini caught up.
+
+"No trace of anything?" he asked.
+
+"Not a trace," some one replied.
+
+We walked with ever-decreasing pace, a rather uncertain group, down
+toward the crags of the shore. All of us, I think, were busy with our
+own thoughts. All of us paused, at last, forty yards from the scene of
+the tragedy.
+
+"There's really nothing further we can do," Nopp said. "If the murderer
+is among the servants we've got him--you found 'em all, didn't you,
+Nealman?"
+
+"All of 'em. No suspicious circumstances."
+
+"Good. If he is some outsider, we'll round him up. I rather think the
+former--it's too early to make a guess. But I think we'd better appoint
+a guard over the body--to keep any curious persons from coming near and
+tramping out footprints, and so on. There's apt to be a crowd of the
+curious here to-morrow."
+
+All of us nodded. Lemuel Marten whispered an oath.
+
+Nopp turned to him. "Would you mind taking that post to-night, Marten?"
+he asked. Because he already knew the man's answer, he turned to us.
+"Lem's the best man for the post," he explained. "You chaps know we'll
+all have to give an account of our actions to-night. It's customary at
+such times. And you know that Lem was busy singing his pirate song when
+the thing occurred."
+
+"That's an unnecessary point, Joe," Marten answered. "None of us will be
+in the least suspected. This poor chap--that none of us knew. However,
+I'll gladly enough act as guard."
+
+"You've still got your gun?"
+
+"I made Pescini carry it. He's a shot."
+
+Pescini handed him back the weapon, and Marten walked on across the lawn
+to his post. The rest of us waited an instant in the road, talking
+quietly to one another, and two or three of the men were getting out
+their cigarettes. It was our first breathing-spell. Then we started
+slowly back toward the house.
+
+But we halted at the sound of Marten's voice. "Wait a minute, will you?"
+he called.
+
+It is hard to explain why we all stopped in our tracks. Van Hope, whom I
+had never suspected of nerves, let his cigarette fall to the ground, a
+red streak. The voice out of the gloom was wholly quiet, subdued,
+perfectly calm, seemingly nothing to waken alarm or even especial
+interest. Perhaps what held us and startled us was the realization of an
+effort of will behind those commonplace, unruffled tones.
+
+"What is it, Lem?" Nopp asked.
+
+There was an instant's interval of unfathomable silence. "I wish you'd
+come here," Marten replied. "I'm a little balled up--as to where I am.
+These trees and shrubs are so near alike. I can't exactly find--the
+place."
+
+Nopp did get there, but he didn't go alone. All of us turned,
+half-running. And for a vague, bewildered, half-remembered moment we
+searched frantically up and down the craggy shore of the lagoon.
+
+Then in the moonlight I saw Nopp and Nealman come together, and Nopp
+seized the other's arms.
+
+"My God, Grover!" he said hoarsely. "The body has disappeared!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+There was no further possibility of a mistake. Marten's inability to
+find the body could not be further attributed to a mere confusion as to
+its correct location. In the few minutes we had been phoning and while
+the remainder of the guests had been searching for the murderer, the
+body of the murdered man had vanished from the shore of the lagoon. Nor
+had any mysterious over-sweeping of the water carried it away. We found,
+easily enough, the place where it had lain, and we knew it by the
+crushed vegetation and an ominous stain on the earth.
+
+For a moment we all stood speechless, almost motionless, gazing down on
+the place where the body had been. The guest's faces all looked oddly
+white in the moonlight. Then I heard Nealman and Nopp talking in a
+subdued voice at my side.
+
+"You see what it means," Nealman said. "The murderer came back to the
+body--that's the only explanation! That means he's still on the
+grounds--perhaps within a few hundred yards."
+
+"But what did he do with the thing? I wish I did know what it meant. It
+makes no sense. But there's nothing we can do----"
+
+His words blurred in my consciousness, and I suddenly ceased to hear
+him. The reason was simply that my own thoughts were now too busy to
+admit external impressions. If there was one thing needed in this affair
+it was careful investigation and research--the very key and basis of my
+own life's work. I was a scientist--at least I had gone a distance into
+scientific work--and scientific methods were needed now. Why shouldn't I
+direct the same method that made me a successful naturalist into the
+unraveling of this mystery?
+
+Science has explored the lightless mysteries of the deep, has measured
+the stars and traced the comets through the heavens: there was no cause
+to believe it couldn't conquer now. I was of a branch of science that
+mainly studied externals, my methods were simply accurate observation,
+tireless investigation, and logical deduction--the methods of all
+naturalists the world over; and they were just what was needed here.
+
+Presently I forgot the shaken men about me and began really to observe.
+First, I tried to fix in my mind the exact way the body had lain. It had
+been curiously huddled, lying rather on the right side--and the torn,
+stained shirt-front had been plainly visible. Its location was not far
+above high-tide mark, at the edge of the lawns--and because the craggy
+margin of the lagoon was rather precipitous at that place, not more than
+twenty feet from the water's edge at low tide.
+
+It was impossible even to hazard a guess what kind of a weapon had
+inflicted the death wound. But it had not been a clean, stabbing wound
+to the heart. The wound itself must have been a long gash downward along
+the breast, for the shirt and waistcoat had been curiously ripped and
+torn. And possibly the weapon might be found in the grass where the body
+had lain.
+
+I quietly moved back and forth among the group of men, searching for the
+gleam of moonlight upon a knife blade. It didn't reveal itself, however,
+and there seemed no course but to wait for daylight. But as I was about
+to give up the search my eye caught the glimpse of something white,
+half-hidden in the grass in the direction of the house.
+
+I quietly picked it up, saw that it was a folded piece of heavy paper or
+parchment, and slipped it into my pocket. Then I rejoined the little
+crowd of guests.
+
+"Good Lord, what can we do...?" Pescini was saying excitedly. "The lake
+can't be dragged until to-morrow. There's no use to post guards around
+this big house--the thickets are so heavy that any one could steal
+through almost any place. We've got the road guarded--and the officers
+won't come till to-morrow. It's true that a couple of us could stand
+guard here----"
+
+"I don't see what good it would do," Nopp replied. "The murderer would
+have no cause to come back again. I suggest we go to the house and get
+what rest we can. We may have to make some posses in the morning."
+
+In the privacy of my own room I took from my pocket the paper I had
+found. It proved to be of heavy parchment, whitened by time; and I felt
+at once I was running on a true scent.
+
+There could be little doubt as to the age of the document. The ink was
+fading, the handwriting itself was in the style of long ago. The fact
+that the script was scratchy and uncertain, indicated that a man of
+meager education had written it. It was, however, perfectly legible. I
+judged that the date of the missive was at least ten or twenty years
+prior to the civil war.
+
+Across the top of the page were written the words, referring evidently
+to the script beneath, "Sworn by the Book." At the very bottom was the
+cryptic phrase "int F. T." And the following, mysterious column lay
+between:
+
+     aned
+     dqbo
+     aqcd
+     trkm
+     fipj
+     dqbo
+     scno
+     ohuy
+     wvyn
+     dljn
+     dtht
+
+Of course no kind of an explanation presented itself at first. I took it
+to a mirror, tried to read it backward, then sat down to give it a
+careful analysis.
+
+I copied the column carefully, then tried to rearrange the letters to
+make sense. But no such simple treatment was availing. The fourth,
+ninth, tenth, and last words, for instance, were made up entirely of
+consonants, and no word of any language, known to me, entirely omits
+vowels. Four of the remaining seven words contained but one vowel.
+
+But I was in no mood to go further to-night. The events of the past few
+hours had been a mighty strain on the entire nervous system, and my mind
+could not cope with the problem. I spread the original parchment on the
+little table in the center of the room, then quickly undressed, turned
+out my lights, and went to bed.
+
+Sleep came at once, heavy and dreamless. I barely remember the welcome
+chill that the pre-dawn hours brought to the room. But it wasn't written
+that there should be many hours of refreshing sleep for me that night.
+
+In hardly a moment, it seemed to me, I came to myself with a start.
+Wakefulness shot through me as if by an electric shock. It was that
+fast-flying hour just before dawn: the cool caress of the wind against
+my face and the pale-blue quality of the darkness on the window-pane
+told that fact with entire plainness. It had been wakened by a hushed
+sound from across the room.
+
+It was useless to try to tell myself that the sound was a dream only, an
+imagined voice that had no basis in reality. For all that it was
+subdued, the sound was entirely sharp and clear, impossible to mistake.
+And instantly I knew its source.
+
+Some one had opened my door. There was no other possible explanation.
+Nor had it been merely the harmless mistake of one of the guests,
+confusing my room with his own. I heard the door open, but I did not
+hear it close. Nor did I hear departing steps along the corridor.
+
+My nightly visitor had come in stealth, and there was nothing to believe
+but at that instant he was waiting in the darkness on the other side of
+the room.
+
+It isn't easy to decide what to do at a time like this. I was perfectly
+willing to simulate slumber if by so doing I could increase my own
+safety. Florey's affair was still fresh in my mind. A cruel and
+cold-blooded murder had been committed at Kastle Krags earlier this
+same night: this tip-toeing visitor in my room was in all likelihood a
+desperate man, willing to repeat his crime if his own safety demanded
+it. My possessions were few: it was better to let them go than take such
+a risk.
+
+Yet a wiser, saner self told me that this was no business of thievery.
+The thing went deeper, further than I could see or guess. I lay
+listening: from time to time I could hear the boards settle beneath his
+feet. Evidently he was groping about the darkened room, in search of
+something.... Then a faint jar told me that his hand was on the iron
+railing of my bed.
+
+It wasn't a reassuring thought that he had been groping about the room
+solely to find my bed. My muscles set for a desperate leap in case I
+felt him groping nearer.... There was a long, ominous instant of
+silence. Then a little triangle of light danced out over my table-top.
+
+It was a ray from a flashlight, and it came and went so soon that there
+was no chance to make accurate observation. I did, however, see just the
+edge of his hand as he reached for something on the flat surface of the
+table. It was a white, strong hand--long, sensitive fingers--evidently
+the hand of a well-bred, middle-aged man.
+
+The light flashed out. Steps sounded softly on the floor. Then my door
+closed with a slight shock.
+
+There is no use trying to justify my inactivity during his presence in
+the room. At such times a man is guided by instinct--and my instinct had
+been to lie still and let him do his work. The action might condemn me
+in some eyes, but I felt no shame for it. And as soon as the door closed
+I sprang to the floor.
+
+Groping, I found the light, and the white beams flooded the room.
+Presently I opened the door and gazed down the gloomy hall.
+
+It was still as a tomb. There were a dozen doors along it, and any one
+of them might have closed behind the intruder. It was the hall of a
+well-ordered country manor, rather commonplace in the subdued light of a
+single globe that burned over the stairway. The opportunity to overtake
+the intruder was irredeemably past.
+
+It wasn't hard to tell what had been taken. The sheet of parchment, on
+which was written the mysterious cryptogram, was gone from the table.
+The only satisfaction I had was that the thief had failed to see and
+procure the copy of the document I had made just before retiring.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+The sheriff and the coroner arrived from Ochakee in a roadster soon
+after dawn. All of us felt relieved at their coming: they represented
+the best and most intelligent type of southern citizenry. Sheriff
+Slatterly was scarcely older than I was, and had been given his office
+for meritorious services in the late war. He was a broad-shouldered
+large-headed man, with keen, good-natured eyes, a firm mouth, and rather
+prominent chin. We scraped up an acquaintance at once on the strength of
+our Legion buttons.
+
+"I'm glad theya's a suvice man heah," he confessed to me. "It's sho' a
+mess of a case--and my deputy is busy. I've neveh wo'ked among these
+millionaih Yankee spo'ts befo', but I suppose they ah all right. Now
+tell me what you think of it all."
+
+"I don't think," I confessed. "It doesn't make good sense."
+
+He asked me questions in the vernacular of the South, and I answered
+them the best I could. Then he introduced me to the coroner.
+
+Mr. Weldon was a man of about forty years, intelligent, forceful, not
+in the least the mournful type so often seen among undertakers. He was
+rather careless in speech, but I did not ascribe it to lack of
+education. He had rather a Semitic countenance, and a very deep, manly
+voice.
+
+"Of course the first thing is to drag the lagoon," he said. "We've got
+to have a body before we can hold anything but a semblance of an
+inquest--and of course thet's where the body is. It couldn't be
+nowhere's else."
+
+All of us agreed with him. There was simply nothing else to do. The body
+had lain but thirty feet from the water's edge: it was conceivable that
+for some mysterious reason the murderer had seen fit to return and drag
+his dead into the water. The idea of him carrying it in any other
+direction was incredible.
+
+While we waited for drag hooks to be sent out from town the sheriff made
+a minute examination of the scene of the crime. He searched the ground
+for clews; and it seemed to me the little puzzled line between his brows
+deepened with every moment of the search. He stood up at last, breathing
+hard.
+
+"The murderer made a clean get away, that's certain," he observed. "It
+isn't often a man can commit a crime like this and not leave a few
+trails. I can't find a trace or a button. And if he left any tracks they
+are mixed up with those you gentlemen made last night."
+
+He went carefully over the rocks between the place where the body had
+lain and the water; but there was little for him here. Once or twice he
+paused, studying the rocks with a careful scrutiny, but he did not tell
+us what he found.
+
+About ten the drag-hooks came, and I helped Nealman bring his duckboat
+from the marshy end of the lagoon. Then the sheriff, the coroner and
+myself began the slow, tiresome work of dragging.
+
+Of course we began along the shore, close to the scene of the crime. We
+worked from the natural wall and back to a point a hundred yards beyond
+the starting-place. Then we turned back, just the width of the drag
+hooks beyond. We reached the Bridge again without result.
+
+As the moments passed the coroner's annoyance increased. Noon came and
+passed--already we had dragged carefully a spot a full hundred square
+yards in extent. The tide flowed again, beat against the Bridge and
+fretted the water, making our work increasingly difficult. And at last
+the sheriff rested, cursing softly, on his oars.
+
+"Well, Weldon?" he asked.
+
+The coroner's eyes looked rather bright as he turned to answer him. I
+got the impression that for all his outer complacency he was secretly
+excited. "Nothing, Slatterly," he said. "What do you think yourself?"
+
+"I think we're face to face with the worst deal, the biggest mystery
+that's come our way in years. In the first place, there isn't any use of
+looking and dragging any more."
+
+"But man, the body's got to be here somewhere."
+
+"Got, nothing! We've got to begin again, and not take anything for
+granted. This is still water, except for these waves the tide makes,
+breaking over the rocks--and you know a body doesn't move much in still
+water, especially the first night. For that matter the place was still
+as a slough, they say, while the tide was going out--most of the night.
+We've looked for a hundred yards about the spot. It's not there. And the
+murderer couldn't swim with it clear across the lagoon."
+
+"He might, a strong swimmer."
+
+"But what's the sense of it? Besides, a dead body ain't easy to manage.
+The thing to do is to search Florey's rooms for any evidence, then to
+get all the niggers and the white folks as well and have an unofficial
+inquest. Then we might see where we're at."
+
+"Good." The coroner turned to me. "Is there any use of hunting up Mr.
+Nealman to show us Florey's room?" he asked. "Can't you take us up
+there?"
+
+I was glad enough of the chance to be on hand for that search, so I
+didn't hesitate to answer. "You are the law. You can go where you
+like--wherever you think best."
+
+We went together up the stairs to Florey's room. There was not the least
+sign that tragedy had overtaken its occupant. It was scrupulously kept:
+David Florey must have been the neatest of men. The search, however, was
+largely unavailing.
+
+In a little desk at one corner we found a number of papers and letters.
+Some of them pertained to household matters, there was a note from some
+friend in Charleston, a folder issued by a steamship plying out of
+Tampa, and a letter from Mrs. Noyes, of New Hampshire, who seemed to be
+the dead man's sister. At least the salutation was "Dear Brother Dave,"
+and the letter itself dealt with the fortunes of common relatives. Then
+there were a few short letters from one who signed himself "George."
+
+There was nothing of particular interest. Mostly they were
+notifications of arrivals and departures in various cities, and they
+seemed to concern various business ventures. "I've got a good lead," one
+of them said, "but it may turn out like the rest." "Things are
+brightening up," another went. "I believe I see a rift in the clouds."
+
+"George" was unquestionably a traveler. One of the notes had been
+written from Washington, D. C., one from Tampa, the third from some
+obscure port in Brazil. They were written in a rather bold, rugged, but
+not unattractive hand.
+
+The only document that gave any kind of a key to the mystery was a
+half-finished letter that protruded beneath the blotter pad on his desk.
+It was addressed "My dear Sister," and was undoubtedly in answer to the
+"Mrs. Noyes" letter. The sheriff read it aloud:
+
+     My dear Sister:
+
+     I got the place here and like it very much. Mr. Nealman is a
+     fine man to work for. I get on with my work very well. The
+     house is located on a lagoon, cut off from the open sea by a
+     natural rock wall--a very lovely place.
+
+     But you will be sorry to hear that my old malady, g----, is
+     troubling me again. I don't think I will ever be rid of it.
+     It is certainly the Florey burden, going through all our
+     family. I can't hardly sleep, and don't know that I'll ever
+     get rid of it, short of death. I'm deeply discouraged, yet I
+     know----
+
+At that point the letter ended. The sheriff's voice died away so slowly
+and tonelessly that it gave almost the effect of a start. Then he laid
+the letter on the desk and smoothed it out with his hands.
+
+"Weldon?" he asked jerkily. "Do you s'pose we've got off on the wrong
+foot, altogether?"
+
+"What d'ye mean?"
+
+"Do you suppose that poor devil did himself in? At least we've got a
+motive for suicide, and a good one--and there's none whatever for
+murder. You know what old Bampus used to say--find the motive first."
+
+"Of course you mean the disease he writes of. Why didn't he spell it
+out."
+
+"He was likely just given to abbreviations. Lots of men are. The word
+might have been a long one, and hard to spell."
+
+"Most invalids, I've noticed, rejoice in the long names of their
+diseases!"
+
+"Not a bad remark, from an undertaker. I suppose you mean they get your
+hopes all aroused by their diseases when they ain't got 'em, you old
+buzzard. But seriously, Weldon. He writes here that his old malady has
+come back on him, some disease that runs through his family--that he's
+discouraged, that he doesn't think he'll ever be rid of it. You know
+that ill-health is the greatest cause for suicide--that more men blow
+out their own brains because they are incurably sick than for any other
+reason. He says he can't sleep. And what leads to suicide faster than
+that!"
+
+"All true enough. But it don't hold water. Where's the knife? What
+became of the body? Suicides don't eat the knife that killed them, lay
+dead, and then crawl away. You'll have to do better."
+
+"He might not have been quite dead. Even doctors have been deceived
+before now, and crawled into the water to end his own misery. You can
+bet I'm going to keep the matter in mind."
+
+And it was a curious thing that this little handful of letters also set
+me off on a new tack. A possibility so bizarre and so terrible that it
+seemed almost beyond the pale of credibility flashed to my mind. I
+watched my chance, and slipped one of the "George" letters into my
+pocket.
+
+The idea I had was vague, not overly convincing, and it left a great
+part of the mystery still unsolved--but yet it was a clew. I waited
+impatiently until the search was concluded. Then I sought the telephone.
+
+A few minutes later a telegraphic message was clicking over the wires to
+Mrs. Noyes, in New Hampshire, notifying her of her brother's murder and
+disappearance, and asking a certain question. There was nothing to do
+but wait patiently for the answer.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+In midafternoon the coroner called all the occupants of the manor house
+together in the big living-room. He had us draw chairs to make a half
+circle about him, and the sheriff took a chair at his side. He began at
+once upon a patient, systematic questioning of every one present.
+
+None of us could read the thoughts behind his rather swarthy face. His
+coal-black eyes were alike unfathomable: whether he believed that the
+murderer was then sitting in our circle we could not guess. "Of course
+this is not an official inquest," he told us. "The real inquest can't
+be held until there is a body to hold it over. I'm doing this in
+co-operation with the sheriff. And of course I needn't tell you that all
+of you are held here, with orders not to leave the immediate grounds,
+until a formal inquest can be held."
+
+"But what if you never find the body?" Marten asked. "Some of us--can't
+stay forever."
+
+"The law takes heed of no man's business," the coroner answered,
+somewhat sternly. "However, I'll have counsel from the state in a few
+days, and then we can tell what to do. The district attorney will be
+here just as soon as his work will permit."
+
+He called Nealman first. Except for a strange and startling deepening of
+the worry-line between his brows I would have thought that he was wholly
+unshaken. Weldon asked his name, place of birth, thirdly his occupation.
+
+"I can't hardly say--I'm interested in finance," Nealman said in reply
+to the third question.
+
+"And how long have you occupied this house?"
+
+"Less than a month. I bought it last winter, but it has been under the
+charge of--of a caretaker until that time."
+
+"Who was the caretaker?"
+
+Nealman's voice fell a note. "Florey--the man murdered last night."
+
+"Ah." The coroner paused an instant, as if deep in thought. "And how did
+he happen to come into your employ?"
+
+"He was employed at this house by its previous owner, just a few days or
+weeks before I purchased it. He asked for work here when I came to take
+possession. He was an experienced butler, he said."
+
+"Then that's all you know about the dead man?"
+
+"Absolutely all."
+
+"His full name?"
+
+"I made out his check to David Florey. I assumed he was an Englishman."
+
+"You didn't know that, for sure?"
+
+"No." Nealman hesitated, as if secretly startled. "I really didn't know
+it, when I come to think about it. I always assumed that he was."
+
+"He was a good servant?"
+
+"Excellent. I can go further. The best, most conscientious butler I ever
+had."
+
+"Did you ever get the idea he had any enemies?"
+
+"No. He seemed the most peaceable of men."
+
+"None of the other servants were jealous of him?"
+
+"On the contrary, they seemed to like him very much."
+
+"He stayed close to his work?"
+
+"He scarcely ever went to town. Once or twice he asked me for permission
+to go with my chauffeur--for a hair cut, and so on."
+
+"What did you observe about his health? Did it seem to be good?"
+
+"It seemed so. Very good."
+
+The coroner's interest quickened. "You weren't aware, then, that he had
+an incurable malady?"
+
+"No. And I don't think he had. At least I never saw the least sign of
+it. None of the other servants ever mentioned it."
+
+"Did he look like a man in good health?"
+
+"He was rather gray--from his indoor life, I suppose. But he never
+looked sick to me."
+
+"You think he was murdered, then?"
+
+"Good Heavens, I don't see how we can think anything else!"
+
+"You can ascribe no reason for his murder."
+
+"Absolutely none."
+
+"You can't, eh." The coroner paused, several seconds. "To come back to
+yourself. You were here less than a month. May I ask what was your idea
+in buying this manor house?"
+
+"I hardly understand----"
+
+"What did you get it for, a home?"
+
+"I can't hardly say a home. I got it more for a winter shooting and
+fishing lodge. My home is on the Hudson. I'm very fond of fishing and
+shooting. I loved the place on sight."
+
+"I take it, then, that you are a man of large financial means--able to
+indulge your whims even to the extent of buying a shooting and fishing
+lodge such as this?"
+
+Nealman stiffened slightly. "I don't see how that point can possibly
+have any bearing on this case."
+
+"The merest detail of the lives of any one of the actors involved often
+throws light upon a crime." The coroner spoke slowly, seemingly choosing
+his words with care.
+
+"I am not a man of great wealth, if that's what you want to know,"
+Nealman answered at last. "I feel--I felt able at the time to buy this
+house."
+
+"No great financial disaster has overtaken you since, I judge?"
+
+Nealman's voice dropped a tone, and he spoke with a curious hesitancy.
+"No. I shouldn't say that there had."
+
+The coroner halted, gazing absently at the carpet, and then began on a
+new tack. "This butler of yours--I suppose you paid him a good wage?"
+
+"It would be considered so, among the men of his occupation."
+
+"Do you know if he had any large amount of money saved, or if he carried
+any large amount on his person?"
+
+"Not that I know of. He was very non-committal about his affairs."
+
+"He was a good butler," the coroner commented.
+
+"Yes. Excellent. If you mean, did he carry enough money on his person to
+invite robbery, I should say that I don't think he did. Of course I
+don't know for certain. However, I know that he had banking connections
+in Ochakee."
+
+"What of your other employees. Do you know anything about them?"
+
+"They all came recommended. I know nothing further except, of course, in
+regard to my housekeeper and chauffeur."
+
+"Your chauffeur is a colored man?"
+
+"Yes. He has been with me for four years. A man of good character and
+habits."
+
+"Do you know where he was at the time of the murder?"
+
+"I do not."
+
+"Your housekeeper--she has been in your employ a long time, also?"
+
+"About two years."
+
+"Was she well known to the murdered man?"
+
+"Her acquaintance began with him at the same time as my own--less than a
+month ago."
+
+"How old is this lady?"
+
+"She sits in the circle. You can ask her if you like. I have never put
+the question to her."
+
+Every one smiled at this sally. The housekeeper, a buxom woman of fifty
+years, flushed and giggled alternately.
+
+"Where were your other servants at the time of the murder?"
+
+"I suppose most of them were in bed. Sam, the negro boy, was in the
+kitchen, helping me to serve my guests."
+
+"Then David Florey was not on duty that night?"
+
+"I didn't watch Mr. Florey closely, Mr. Weldon. He was the kind of
+servant that didn't seem to require watching. He helped me serve some
+cold drinks immediately after dinner. I didn't see him again."
+
+"You don't know at what hour he ventured out into the lawns?"
+
+"I do not. I was under the impression that he was in the pantry or hall
+for several hours after dinner. I can not say definitely."
+
+"And now will you describe the crime--that is, what you yourself heard
+and saw?"
+
+"Beginning where?"
+
+"At the beginning. Where you were, who was with you, and all you can
+tell me."
+
+"I was in this room. I don't know the exact time--it must have been
+close to midnight. My guests were here with me."
+
+"All of them?"
+
+Nealman paused, seemingly considerably disturbed. "I can't say that all
+of them were in my immediate sight," he replied at last. "My guests were
+free of the house--some of them were at the billiard tables, others in
+the library, and so on. I can say definitely that Mr. Marten, Mr. Van
+Hope, and Mr. Killdare were in the room. Mr. Pescini was with us until
+just before we heard the sound."
+
+"How long before?"
+
+"I can't say for certain. It didn't seem to me more than a minute or
+two."
+
+"You don't know where the others were?"
+
+"Not exactly. I had left Mr. Fargo in the billiard room a moment before.
+Major Dell and Mr. Nopp had been talking on the veranda."
+
+"None of these men indicated any previous acquaintance with the butler?"
+
+"None whatever. They were all northern men, from my own part of the
+country."
+
+"All of them were your friends?"
+
+"Yes." His face changed expression, ever so little. "Yes, of course."
+
+"You four men were in the lounging-room--and you heard a certain sound.
+Will you describe the sound?"
+
+"It was a scream--I can't describe it any further."
+
+"Rather a long-drawn scream, or just a sharp utterance?"
+
+"I would say it was rather long--and very loud."
+
+"You knew at once it was the scream of a man?"
+
+"I thought at first it might be some wild thing--perhaps a panther or a
+lynx--even a water bird."
+
+"Yet it must have been a very distressing sound, was it not? Would you
+say it was a cry of agony or of fear?"
+
+"Both. Yes--I would say it was a cry of both fear and agony."
+
+"Then what did you do? Tell exactly what happened."
+
+"We went out to investigate. My other guests ran out the same time."
+
+"You didn't see them run out?"
+
+"No, but I met most of them outside. At such times one doesn't observe
+closely. We ran down to the shore of the lagoon, at the place we've
+indicated to you, and there we found David Florey, lying dead. There
+was no one near, and no weapons were lying beside him--at least I didn't
+see any. He was lying on his side, and his vest and shirt were torn and
+wet with blood. Some of us went at once to telephone--Mr. Killdare, Mr.
+Van Hope, Mr. Nopp and myself. The others began to beat through the
+garden in search of the murderer."
+
+"No one stayed with the body?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You're perfectly certain Mr. Florey was dead, Mr. Nealman."
+
+"I didn't dream of anything else at the time, Mr. Weldon. He lay
+huddled, his face drawn, and certainly there was a terrible wound in his
+breast."
+
+"These men that hunted through the gardens and lawns. Were they armed?"
+
+"Mr. Marten had a pistol. The others were unarmed."
+
+"They stayed close together?"
+
+"I don't think they did. I can't say for sure."
+
+"Then what happened?"
+
+"We telephoned, met the searching party, and all of us went back to the
+body. It was gone."
+
+"No action or word of any of your guests wakened your suspicions?"
+
+"None whatever."
+
+"You suspect no one?"
+
+"No one. I am absolutely in the dark."
+
+"Remember, as the occupant of the house, you are in a better position to
+give us a right steer than any one else. I want you to think hard. You
+observed, at no time, any suspicious circumstances?"
+
+"None whatever." Nealman's voice was firm.
+
+"What weapon, would you say, inflicted the wound?"
+
+"I don't know. It wasn't a pistol, of course. We didn't hear a shot. We
+didn't examine the wound carefully, but I would say it was some metal
+instrument, not overly sharp. It might have been a dull knife."
+
+"Would a knife likely have torn the shirt and vest as you describe?"
+
+"It doesn't seem likely, unless the murderer gave a furious, downward
+stroke."
+
+The coroner paused again, and the room was utterly silent. "You have
+never heard any story, any legend--any set of facts connected with this
+house and its occupants that might explain the murder?"
+
+Nealman waited a long time before he answered. "None that are the least
+credible."
+
+"You've got something on your mind, Nealman. Credible or not, I want to
+hear it."
+
+"I can't bring myself to repeat such a silly story. All old houses have
+various legends. This particular legend is not worth hearing."
+
+"I'm sorry, Mr. Nealman, but I must be the judge of that. You have the
+same as admitted that the story has occurred to your mind. What was it,
+please?"
+
+Nealman's voice lowered perceptibly, and he answered with evident
+difficulty. "A silly thing about a buried treasure--and a sea-monster--a
+giant octopus or something like that--that had been set to guard it--in
+the lagoon."
+
+As we waited we heard the faint scream of the plover on the shore and
+the lapping waves of the tide. Most of the white men were smiling
+grimly--the negroes were gray as ashes.
+
+"You will admit that the tragedy of last night, the nature of the wound
+and the disappearance of the body, brought the legend forcibly to your
+memory?"
+
+"I couldn't help but remember it," Nealman answered. "But it's inane and
+silly--just the same."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+Nealman was of course the most important witness. Further testimony was
+really only in corroboration of his. The coroner called on Marten next.
+
+This man spoke bluntly, answering all questions in a vigorous, rather
+masterful voice. Financier, he said simply, in answer to the question as
+to his occupation.
+
+"You were with Mr. Nealman when you heard Florey's scream?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Who else was there?"
+
+"Mr. Van Hope and Mr. Killdare."
+
+"Do you know the exact location of any other of the guests at the time
+of the murder?"
+
+"No, not exactly. They were all in rooms adjoining the living-room."
+
+"You're sure of that?"
+
+"Practically sure. They came in and out every few minutes."
+
+"Did you have any previous acquaintance with the dead man?"
+
+"None whatever."
+
+In reply to the coroner's questions, he testified as to the finding of
+the body, the nature of the scream we had heard and gave a similar
+report as to the appearance of the wound. He had observed no suspicious
+actions on the part of any one.
+
+"You led the search, I believe, through the gardens?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You were the one man that was armed. May I ask how you happened to have
+a pistol in the pocket of dinner clothes?"
+
+"I was held up, once," Marten replied straightforwardly. "Several years
+ago. I've carried a pistol ever since."
+
+The coroner nodded. "Did your party stay together in searching the
+gardens, or did they scatter out?" he asked.
+
+"We scattered out. We couldn't have hoped to find any one if we had
+stayed together. We called back and forth, however."
+
+"You kept track of one another all the time?"
+
+"I can't say that. The gardens and grounds are large and full of
+shrubbery."
+
+"The search lasted--how long?"
+
+"Only a few minutes."
+
+The coroner dismissed him at this point, calling on Mr. Van Hope. The
+latter told of his long acquaintance with Nealman, and verified in every
+detail the story that his friend had told.
+
+"And where were you, Mr. Dell, when the scream was heard?" the coroner
+asked.
+
+"In the library," was the reply. Major Dell spoke evenly, but his keen,
+flushed face showed that he was taking the most keen and lively interest
+in the proceedings.
+
+"Why weren't you with the others in the party?"
+
+"We were all running all over the house. I was trying to find Mr.
+Nealman's copy of Jordan's work on fish. Fargo and I had got into an
+argument about black bass."
+
+"Mr. Fargo was not with you at the time?"
+
+"I was alone. I had left Mr. Fargo at the billiard table."
+
+Weldon's voice changed in tone. "And how did the argument come out, may
+I ask."
+
+Major Dell smiled dryly. "It isn't concluded yet," he said.
+
+The coroner paused, then took a new tack. "You heard the sound
+distinctly?"
+
+"Distinctly, but probably not so clearly as Mr. Nealman heard it. The
+library is back of the lounging-room."
+
+"Then what did you do?"
+
+"I ran outside. I joined Nealman and some of the other guests on the
+grounds, and went down with them to investigate."
+
+"You took part in the hunt through the grounds?"
+
+"Yes. I beat back and forth with the rest."
+
+"And saw or heard nothing suspicious?"
+
+"Something moved in the shrubbery, but we couldn't locate it. Nealman
+thought afterward it was a raccoon or some other small animal."
+
+"You knew Mr. Florey?"
+
+"I had never set eyes upon him before."
+
+"You've had long acquaintance with Mr. Nealman, however?"
+
+Major Dell hesitated, just an instant. "No. I had never met Mr. Nealman
+until last night."
+
+The coroner's interest quickened. "You didn't? How did you happen to be
+included among his guests?"
+
+"I was a great friend of his friend, Mr. Van Hope. I was invited through
+his kindness. He wanted me to have a taste of shooting and fishing."
+
+"What is your occupation, Mr. Dell?"
+
+"I am interested in finance, in a modest way."
+
+"You saw, heard or knew of nothing connected with this murder that you
+haven't testified."
+
+"No." Dell paused, considering. "Nothing, I'm sure."
+
+"I say 'murder.' Testimony has gone to show that Florey was dead, not
+just severely wounded, when you and the others reached his side. Mr.
+Dell, do you think there is any possibility that life remained in his
+body when you saw him beside the inlet?"
+
+Dell spoke clearly. "None whatever," he said.
+
+"You speak very sure."
+
+"I am sure. I've seen too many dead men ever to make a mistake. The
+position of the body, the features--everything told it as plain as day."
+
+The coroner leaned forward. His eyes gleamed. "And where and how did you
+happen to see all these dead men, may I ask?"
+
+There was an instant's second of strain throughout the room. All of us,
+I think, were siding with Major Dell--from the sheer instinctive
+distrust of constituted authority that seems to be implanted in our
+bodies at birth. Dell looked down, and his face was gray.
+
+"In the Argonne," he said, quietly. The room was deathly still.
+
+Fargo, called immediately after, testified as to his argument with Dell
+as to the nature of black bass. Dell had left him, he said, to go into
+the library.
+
+"You were alone in the billiard room when you heard the cry?"
+
+"Yes. But I ran outdoors and joined the others."
+
+Van Hope testified as to his acquaintance with Major Dell, saying that
+they had known each other for several months, and that Dell belonged to
+one of his clubs. He verified Nealman's story perfectly.
+
+"And what is your occupation, Mr. Pescini?" the coroner asked.
+
+"I am in the publishing business, in New York."
+
+"You have a long acquaintance with Mr. Nealman?"
+
+"Something over four years."
+
+"Where were you when you heard David Florey scream?"
+
+"On the veranda."
+
+"Alone?"
+
+"Yes, alone. I had been with Mr. Van Hope and Nealman a few moments
+before. I was rather hot, and I went out on the veranda for a breath of
+air. I rushed out toward the sound, and Nealman and his party caught up
+with me."
+
+He testified that he had taken part in the search, and was utterly
+baffled as to the solution of the mystery.
+
+Nopp was in the music room, he said, looking for a certain record that
+he wished his friends to hear. He had been in the billiard room a few
+seconds before. He had heard the cry but faintly, and had not been
+especially alarmed. The shouts of the other guests, he said, rather than
+the scream of the dying man, had caused him to rush out and join in the
+investigation. He had known Nealman a long time, was an architect by
+profession, and had been one of those to partake in the hunt through the
+gardens.
+
+Last of all the white men, he called on me. I told of my relations with
+Nealman, the work I had been hired to do and, my own reactions to the
+fearful scream in the darkness. I had been with Marten, Van Hope and
+Nealman and had sent through the calls to Ochakee.
+
+"You saw or heard nothing beyond that which these other gentlemen have
+testified?"
+
+"Nothing at all," I answered.
+
+"You have made no subsequent discoveries?"
+
+Just for a moment I was silent, conjecturing what my answer should be.
+Was I to tell of the cryptogram I had found beside the body, and its
+theft during the night?
+
+I couldn't see how the least good would come of it. Indeed, if last
+night's intruder was in the room, listening to my testimony, he would be
+very glad to know if I had discovered the theft. I had resolved to work
+out the case in my own way, employing the methods of a naturalist, and
+these agents of the law were not my allies.
+
+"Nothing has come to my observation," I told him simply.
+
+If he had pressed the matter he might have got the admission out of me;
+but fortunately he turned to other subjects.
+
+There was quite a little stir of interest throughout the circle when he
+began to question Edith. None of us will forget the picture of that
+golden head, graced by the sunlight slanting through the leaded panes of
+the window, the flushed, lovely face, the frank eyes and the girlish
+figure, lost in the big chair. She was in such contrast to the rest of
+us. Except for the housekeeper, buxom and fifty, she was the only white
+woman present; and she could have been the daughter of any one of the
+gray men in the circle.
+
+She had gone to her room about ten, she said, and had read for perhaps
+an hour. Her room was just over the front hall. About eleven she went to
+bed, and the coroner's questions brought out the interesting fact that
+seemingly she had been the last of the household--unless the murderer
+himself was to be included thus--to have seen Florey alive. Her bed
+stood just beside the front window, and just before she had retired she
+had seen him walking out toward the lagoon.
+
+The whole circle, tired of the dull testimony of the past hour, leaned
+forward in rapt attention. "He was alone?" the coroner asked.
+
+"Yes. I think I heard the door close behind him--I'm not sure. Then I
+saw his form in the moonlight on the front lawn."
+
+"You recognized him at once?"
+
+"Not at once. I thought perhaps it was one of the guests. But in a
+bright patch of moonlight I saw him plain."
+
+"Where did he go?"
+
+"He turned down the driveway toward the lagoon. I didn't see him again."
+
+At the sound of the piercing scream she got up and put on a
+dressing-gown, but she did not come down at once. She was afraid, she
+said--she didn't know what to do. She had no knowledge as to the
+activities and the positions of the other members of the household at
+the time of the crime.
+
+She had come to work as her uncle's secretary but a few weeks before;
+and she verified perfectly Nealman's testimony in regard to the dead
+servant. If he had had enemies in the household she had not been aware
+of it, she knew of no chronic malady, and she did not think that he
+carried any large amount of money on his person. The scream had seemed
+to her to be one of unfathomable fear.
+
+The housekeeper, Mrs. Gentry, was the last of the white people to be
+called upon; and her testimony threw no new light upon the problem. She
+was in bed and asleep, and the shouts of the men without had wakened
+her.
+
+The coroner called on the negroes in turn, and I was a little amazed
+at the ease with which he wrung their testimony out of them. He knew
+these dark people: no northern man could have hoped to have been so
+successful. Sometimes he shouted at them as if in fury, sometimes he
+wheedled or jested with them.
+
+Not one of them but could prove an alibi. They were all in their own
+quarters, they said, at the moment of the tragedy. Because this was the
+South and they were black, they did not know Florey, a white man, very
+well. And they had all been frightened nearly out of their wits by the
+events of the night.
+
+One by one he questioned them, but the inquest ended just as it
+began--with the affair of Florey's murder as great a mystery as ever.
+At the end of the fatiguing afternoon we were face to face with the
+baffling fact that only four men had proven satisfactory alibis--Lemuel
+Marten, Van Hope, Nealman and myself--and that any one of the dozen or
+more men and women in that great, rambling house might have done the
+deed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+Two telegrams had come for Mr. Nealman during the inquest; but the negro
+messenger who had brought them had been too frightened by the august
+session in the living-room to disturb him. It came about that Nealman
+didn't get them until he and Van Hope left the room together.
+
+The yellow envelopes were lying on a little table in the hall, and
+Nealman started, perceptibly, at the sight of them. Except for that
+nervous reflex through his body I wouldn't have given the messages a
+second thought. Nealman picked them up, and still carrying on a
+fragmentary conversation with his friend, tore out the messages.
+
+He did not merely tear off the edges. In his eagerness his clawing
+fingers ripped the envelopes wide open, endangering the messages
+themselves within. He opened one of them, and his eye leaped over the
+script.
+
+He took one curious, short breath, then opened the second message, more
+carefully now. Then he crowded both of them into his outer coat pocket.
+
+At that point his conversation with Van Hope took a curious trend. He
+still seemed to be trying to talk in his usual casual voice; yet a
+preoccupation so deep, so engrossing was upon him that his friend's
+words must have seemed to reach him from another sphere. It was a brave
+effort; but his disjointed sentences, his blurred perceptions, told the
+truth only too plainly.
+
+Nealman had received disastrous news. His lips were smiling, but his
+eyes were filled with some alien light. What that light was neither Van
+Hope nor I could tell. It might have been frenzy. Quite likely it was
+fear.
+
+"Bad news, old man?" Van Hope blurted out at last, impulsively. They
+were old friends--he was risking the charge of ill-bred curiosity to
+offer sympathy to the other.
+
+"Not very good, old man. I'll see you later about it. If you'll excuse
+me I'll go to my room--and answer 'em."
+
+He turned up the stairs--Van Hope walked out onto the verandas. I waited
+for Edith, and in a moment we were walking under the magnolias,
+listening to the twilight boomings of a bittern on the lagoon.
+
+"And what do you think of it?" I asked her.
+
+No human memory could forget her lustrous eyes, solemn and yet lighted
+by the beauty of her thoughts, as she gazed out over the waters,
+troubled by the flowing tide.
+
+"I can't make anything out of it," she told me at last. "It doesn't seem
+to make good sense. Yet there have been hundreds of more baffling
+mysteries, and they all were cleared up at last. Cleared up
+intelligently, too, if you know what I mean."
+
+"You mean--with credible motives and actions behind them."
+
+"Yes, and _human_ actions. I'm thinking about--you know what. Human
+agents were the only agents in this crime. In the end it will prove out
+that way."
+
+"Then you aren't at all superstitious about--this." I indicated that
+eery, desolate lagoon with its craggy margin, stretching away like a
+ghost-lake in the gray light. As always the tidal waves were bursting
+with ferocious, lunging onslaughts on the natural rock wall, and the
+foam gleamed incredibly white against the dark water.
+
+"Not in the least," she answered me. "I don't like the place when the
+tide's rolling in--it's too rough and too fierce--but it's lovely in
+the ebb-tide! Did you ever see anything so still as it is then--the
+water's edge creeping inward, and such a wonderful blue-green? No, I'm
+not superstitious about it at all. I'm going swimming, one of these
+nights, when the tide's going out. I'd cross it to-night in an
+emergency."
+
+"You're a strong swimmer, then."
+
+"I can swim well enough--nothing to boast of though. Ned"--for we had
+got to the first name stage, long since--"this whole matter will be
+cleared up in a few days more. Such things always do come out right. I
+wouldn't be surprised if that poor man's body should be found any day,
+dragged into some thicket. The rocks are full of caves--perhaps the drag
+hooks simply failed to find it."
+
+"And your uncle--he feels the way you do?"
+
+"Of course. If you are talking about that silly legend--it gives him
+only the keenest delight as a big story to tell his friends. He has no
+more superstitious fear about this lagoon than I have."
+
+"Have you talked to him since the inquest?"
+
+"You know I haven't."
+
+"He got two telegrams to-day. They seemed to go mighty hard with him. I
+was wondering--whether you ought to go to him now."
+
+A little line came between her straight brows. "I can't imagine what
+they could be----" she said.
+
+"The loss of some friend? Financial loss, perhaps----?"
+
+"I don't know. The latter, if anything. For I do know he's been buying
+certain stocks--awfully heavy."
+
+"Playing the stock market, eh----?"
+
+"I don't think I should have told you that. But I know you won't say
+anything about it. Oh, I do hope he hasn't had any real misfortune----"
+
+Our talk veered to other subjects, and for a while we stood and watched
+the twilight descending over the lagoon. The crags were never so
+mysterious. They seemed to take weird shapes in the half-light, and the
+water sucked and lapped about their stony feet.
+
+In a little while her hand stole into mine. It rested softly, and
+neither of us felt the need of words. The twilight deepened into that
+pale darkness of the early Floridan night.
+
+"How I'd like to help him, if he's in trouble," she said at last, almost
+whispering. "And how I'd like to help you--do all the things you want to
+do."
+
+"I'm glad--that you care about it," I told her, not daring to look down
+into that sober, wistful face.
+
+"I _do_ care about it," she declared. She bent, until her lips were
+close to my ear. "And I believe I see the way."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+Nealman did not come down to dinner. He sent his apologies to the
+guests, pleading a headache, and through some mayhap of circumstance the
+coroner took his place at the head of the great, red-mahogany table.
+There was a grim symbolism in the thing. No one mentioned it, not one of
+those aristocratic sportsmen were calloused enough to jest about it, but
+we all felt it in the secret places of our souls.
+
+The session at Kastle Krags was no longer one of revelry. I could fancy
+the wit, the repartee, the gaiety and laughter that had reigned over the
+board the evening previous; but Nealman's guests were a sober group
+to-night. At the unspoken dictates of good taste no man talked of last
+night's tragedy. Rather the men talked quietly to one another or else
+sat in silence. A burly negro, rigged out in a dinner coat of ancient
+vintage, helped with the serving in Florey's place.
+
+After dinner I halted the sheriff in the hall, and we had a single
+moment of conversation. "Slatterly," I said, "I want you to give me some
+authority."
+
+"You do, eh?" He paused, studying my face. "What do you want to do?"
+
+"I want your permission--to go about this house and grounds where and
+when I want to--and no complications in case I am caught at it. Maybe
+even go into some of the private rooms and effects of the guests. I want
+to follow up some ideas that I have in mind."
+
+"And when do you want to do it?"
+
+"Any time the opportunity offers. I'm not going to do anything
+indiscreet. I won't get in your way. But I'm deeply interested in this
+thing, I've had scientific training, and I want to see if I can't do
+some good."
+
+His eyes swept once from my shoes to my head. "From amateur detectives,
+as a rule--Good Lord deliver us," he said with quiet good humor. "But
+Killdare--I don't see why you shouldn't. Two heads are better than
+one--and I don't seem to be getting anywhere. Really, the more
+intelligent help we can get--from people we can co-operate with, of
+course--the better."
+
+"I'm free, then, to go ahead?"
+
+"Of course with reasonable limits. But ask my advice before you make any
+accusations--or do anything rash."
+
+By previous arrangement Mrs. Gentry, the housekeeper, was waiting for
+me on the upper floor. There could be no better chance to search the
+guests' rooms. All of the men were on the lower floor, smoking their
+after-dinner cigars and talking in little groups in the lounging-room
+and the veranda. Of course Nealman was in his room, but even had he been
+absent, a decent sense of restraint would have kept me from his
+threshold. And of course Marten and Van Hope had established perfect
+alibis at the inquest.
+
+We entered Fargo's room first. It was cluttered with his bags, his guns
+and rods, but the thing I was seeking did not reveal itself. I looked in
+the inner pockets of his coat, in the drawers of his desk, even in the
+waste-paper basket without result. Such personal documents as Fargo had
+with him were evidently on his person at that moment.
+
+Nopp's room was next, but I was less than twenty seconds across his
+threshold. He had been writing a letter, it lay open on his desk, and I
+needed to glance but once at the script. If my theory was right Nopp
+could be permanently dropped from the list of suspects of Florey's
+murder.
+
+But the next room yielded a clew of seemingly inestimable importance.
+After the drawers had been opened and searched, and the desk examined
+with minute care, I searched the inner pocket of a white linen coat that
+the occupant of the room had worn at the time of his arrival. In it I
+found a letter, addressed to some New York firm, sealed, stamped, and
+ready to send.
+
+How familiar was the bold, free hand in which the address was written!
+Not a little excited, I compared it with the script of the "George"
+letter I had taken from Florey's room. As far as my inexperienced eye
+could tell the handwriting was identical.
+
+The room was that of Lucius Pescini. If I had not been mistaken in the
+handwriting, I had proven a previous relationship and acquaintance,
+extending practically over the whole lifetime of both men, between the
+distinguished, bearded man that came as Nealman's guest and the gray
+butler who had died on the lagoon shore the previous night.
+
+I put the letter back in the man's coat-pocket; then joined Mrs. Gentry
+in the hall. She went to her own room. I turned down the broad stairs to
+the hall. And the question before me now was whether to report my
+discovery to the officials of the law.
+
+I had started down the stairs with the intention of telling them all I
+knew. By the time I had reached the hall I had begun to have serious
+doubts as to the wisdom of such a course. After all I had learned
+nothing conclusive. Handwriting evidence is at best uncertain; even
+experts have made mistakes in comparing signatures. In this regard it
+was quite different from finger-prints--those tell-tale stains that
+never lie. True, the handwriting looked identical to the naked eye, but
+a microscope might prove it entirely dissimilar. Was I to cast suspicion
+on a distinguished man on such fragile and uncertain grounds?
+
+Pescini had been in the lounging-room only a few minutes before the
+crime was committed. It seemed doubtful that he would have had time to
+cover the distance between the house and the lagoon, strike Florey low,
+and get back to the place where we met him in the short time of his
+absence.
+
+Besides, I wanted to work alone. I couldn't bring myself to share my
+discoveries with Slatterly and Weldon.
+
+The hall below was deserted and half in darkness. I met Marten and Nopp
+on the way to their rooms: passing into the library I found Hal Fargo
+seated under a reading-lamp, deep in "Floridan fauna." Major Dell was
+smoking quietly on the veranda, gazing out over the moonlit lawns. Van
+Hope and Pescini himself were seated at the far end of the
+lounging-room, evidently in earnest conversation.
+
+I sat down across the room where from time to time I could glance up and
+observe the bearded face of my suspect. How animated he was, how
+effective the gestures of his firm, strong hands. Was that the hand I
+had seen in the flashlight over my table the preceding night? He had
+rather thin, esthetic lips, half concealed by his mustache. Yet it
+wasn't a cruel or degenerate face.
+
+But soon I forgot about Pescini to marvel at the growing, oppressive
+heat of the night. The chill that usually drops over the West coast in
+the first hours of darkness, did not manifest itself to-night. It was
+the kind of heat that brings a flush to the face and a ghastly crawling
+to the brain, swelling the neck glands until the linen collar chokes
+like strangling fingers, and heightens the temper clear to the
+explosion-point. Van Hope and Pescini tore at their collars, seemingly
+at first unaware as to the source of their discomfort.
+
+In reality the heat wave had overspread us rather swiftly, and what was
+its source and by what shiftings of the air currents it had been sent
+to harry us was mostly beyond the wit of man to tell. The temperature
+must have been close to a hundred in that big, coolly furnished room,
+and the veranda outside seemed to offer no relief. The dim warmth from
+the electric lights above, added to the sweltering heat of the air, was
+wholly perceptible on the heated brain, and seemed to stretch the
+over-taut nerves to the breaking-point.
+
+"Isn't this the devil?" Van Hope exclaimed as I came out. "It wasn't
+half so hot at sunset. For Heaven's sake let's have a drink."
+
+"Whiskey'd only make us hotter, would it not?"
+
+"The English don't think so--but they're full of weird ideas. Have that
+big coon bring us some lemonade then--iced tea--anything. This is the
+kind of night that sets men crazy."
+
+Men who have spent July in India, when the humidity is on the land,
+could appreciate such heat, but it passed ordinary understanding. It
+harassed the brain and fevered the blood, and warned us all of lawless
+demons that lived just under our skins. A man wouldn't be responsible,
+to-night. The devil inside of him, recognizing a familiar temperature,
+escaped his bonds and stood ready to take any advantage of openings.
+
+It was a curious thing that there was no perceptible wind over the
+lagoon. Perhaps the reason was that we invariably associate wind with
+coolness, rather than any sort of a hushed movement of the air--and the
+impulse that brushed up on the veranda to us was as warm as a child's
+breath on the face. There was simply no whisper of sound on shore or sea
+or forest. The curlews were stilled, the wild creatures were likely
+lying motionless, trying to escape the heat, the little rustlings and
+murmurings of stirring vegetation was gone from the gardens. But that
+first silence, remarkable enough, seemed to deepen as we waited.
+
+There is a point, in temperature, that seems the utter limit of cold.
+Mushers along certain trails in the North had known that point--when
+there seems simply no heat left in the bitter, crackling, biting air.
+The temperature, at such times, registers forty--fifty--sixty below. Yet
+the scientist, in his laboratory, with his liquid hydrogen vaporizing in
+a vacuum, can show that this temperature is not the beginning of the
+fearful scale of cold. To-night it was the same way with the silence.
+There simply seemed no sound left. But as we waited the silence grew and
+swelled until the brain ceased to believe the senses and the image of
+reality was gone. It gave you the impression of being fast asleep and
+in a dream that might easily turn to death.
+
+The mind kept dwelling on death. It was a great deal more plausible than
+life. The image of life was gone from that bleak manor house by the
+sea--the sea was dead, the air, all the elements by which men view their
+lives. The forest, lost in its silence, its most whispered voices
+stilled, was a dead forest, incomprehensible as living.
+
+I went upstairs soon after. I thought it might be cooler there.
+Sometimes, if you go a few feet off the ground, you find it XXXX
+cooler--quite in opposition to the fact that hot air rises. There was no
+appreciable difference, however; but here, at least, I could take off my
+outer clothes. Then I got into a dressing-gown and slippers and waited,
+with a breathlessness and impatience not quite healthy and normal, for
+the late night sea breeze to spring up.
+
+Seemingly it had been delayed. The hour was past eleven, the sweltering
+heat still remained. There was no way under Heaven to pass the time. One
+couldn't read, for the reason that the mental effort of following the
+lines of type was incomprehensibly fatiguing. I had neither the energy
+nor the interest to work upon the cryptogram--that baffling column of
+four-lettered words. Yet the brain was inordinately active. Ungoverned
+thought swept through it in ordered trains, in sudden, lunging waves,
+and in swirling eddies. Yet the thoughts were not clean-cut, wholly
+true--they overlapped with the bizarre and elfin impulses of the fancy,
+and the fine edge of discrimination between reality and dreams was some
+way dulled. It wasn't easy to hold the brain in perfect bondage.
+
+To that fact alone I try to ascribe the curious flood of thoughts that
+swept me in those midnight hours. Except for the heat, perhaps in a
+measure for the silence, I wouldn't have known them at all. I got to
+thinking about last night's crime, and I couldn't get it out of mind.
+The conceptions I had formed of it, the theories and decisions, seemed
+less and less convincing as I sat overlooking those shadowed, silent
+grounds. So much depends on the point of view. Ordinarily, our will
+gives us strength to believe wholly what we want to believe and nothing
+else. But the powers of the will were unstable to-night, the whole seat
+of being was shaken, and my fine theories in regard to Pescini seemed to
+lack the stuff of truth. I suppose every man present provided some
+satisfactory theory to fit the facts, for no other reason than that we
+didn't want to change our conception of Things as They Are. Such a
+course was essential to our own self-comfort and security. But my
+Pescini theory seemed far-fetched. In that silence and that heat,
+anything could be true at Kastle Krags!
+
+From this point my mind led logically to the most disquieting and
+fearful thing of all. What was to prevent last night's crime from
+recurring?
+
+It isn't hard to see the basis for such a thought. Some way, in these
+last, stifling, almost maddening hours, it had become difficult to rely
+implicitly on our rational interpretation of things. Certain things are
+credible to the every-day man in the every-day mood--things such as
+aeronautics and wireless, that to a savage mind would seem a thousand
+times more incredible than mere witchcraft and magic--and certain things
+simply can not and will not be believed. Society itself, our laws, our
+customs, our basic attitude towards life depends on a fine balance of
+what is credible and what is not, an imperious disbelief in any
+manifestation out of the common run of things. It is altogether good for
+society when this can be so. Men can not rise up from savagery until it
+is so. As long as black magic and witchcraft haunt the souls of men,
+there is nothing to trust, nothing to hold to or build towards, nothing
+permanent or infallible on which to rely, and hope can not escape from
+fear, and there is no promise that to-day's work will stand till
+to-morrow. Men are far happier when they may master their own beliefs.
+There is nothing so destructive to happiness, so favorable to the
+dominion of Fear, as an indiscriminate credulity. Those African
+explorers who have seen the curse of fear in the Congo tribes need not
+be told this fact.
+
+But to-night this fine scorn of the supernatural and the bizarre was
+some way gone from my being. It wasn't so easy to reject them now. Those
+hide-and-seek, half-glimpsed, eerie phantasies that are hidden deep in
+every man's subconscious mind were in the ascendancy to-night. They had
+been implanted in the germ-plasm a thousand thousand generations gone,
+they were a dim and mystic heritage from the childhood days of the race,
+the fear and the dreads and horrors of those dark forests of countless
+thousands of years ago, and they still lie like a shadow over the
+fear-cursed minds of some of the more savage peoples. Civilization has
+mostly got away from them, it has strengthened itself steadily against
+them, building with the high aim of wholly escaping from them, yet no
+man in this childlike world is wholly unknown to them. The blind,
+ghastly fear of the darkness, of the unknown, of the whispering voice or
+the rustling of garments of one who returns from beyond the void is an
+experience few human beings can deny.
+
+The cold logic with which I looked on life was in some way shaken and
+uncertain. The fanciful side of myself crept in and influenced all my
+thought-processes. It was no longer possible to accept, with implicit
+faith, that last night's crime was merely the expression of ordinary,
+familiar moods and human passions, that it would all work out according
+to the accepted scheme of things. Indeed the crime seemed no longer
+_human_ at all. Rather it seemed just some deadly outgrowth of these
+weird sands beside the mysterious lagoon.
+
+The crime had seemed a thing of human origin before, to be judged by
+human standards, but now it had become associated, in my mind, with
+inanimate sand and water. It was as if we had beheld the sinister
+expression of some inherent quality in the place itself rather than the
+men who had gathered there. It was hard to believe, now, that Florey had
+been a mere actor in some human drama that in the end had led to murder.
+He had been little and gray and obscure, seemingly apart from human
+drama as the mountains are apart from the sea, and it was easier to
+believe that he had been merely the unsuspecting victim of some outer
+peril that none of us knew. Slain, with a ragged, downward cut through
+the breast--and his body dragged into the lagoon!
+
+What was to prevent the same thing from happening again? Before the
+week was done other of the occupants of that house might find themselves
+walking in the gardens at night, down by the craggy shore of the
+lagoon! Nealman, others of the servants, any one of the guests--Edith
+herself--wouldn't circumstance, sooner or later, take them into the
+shadow of that curse? Who could tell but that the whole thing might be
+reënacted before this dreadful, sweltering night was done!
+
+The occupants of the house wouldn't be able to sleep to-night. Some of
+them would go walking in the gardens, rambling further down the
+beguiling garden paths that would take them at last to that craggy
+margin of the inlet. Some of them might want a cool glimpse of the
+lagoon itself. Would we hear that sharp, agonized, fearful scream again
+streaming through the windows, gripping the heart and freezing the
+blood in the veins? Any hour--any moment--such a thing might occur.
+
+But at that point I managed a barren and mirthless laugh. I was letting
+childlike fancies carry me away--and I had simply tried to laugh them to
+scorn. Surely I need not yield to such a mood as this, to let the
+sweltering heat and the silence change me into a superstitious savage.
+The thing to do was to move away from the window and direct my thought
+in other channels. Yet I knew, as I argued with myself, that I was
+curiously breathless and inwardly shaken. But these were nothing in
+comparison with the fact that I was some way _expectant_, too, with a
+dreadful expectancy beyond the power of naming.
+
+Then my laugh was cut short. And I don't know what half-strangled
+utterance, what gagging expression of horror or regret or fulfilled
+dread took its place on my lips as a distinct scream for help, agonized
+and fearful, came suddenly, ripped through the darkness from the
+direction of the lagoon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+The most outstanding thing about that sound was its amazing loudness. It
+was hard to believe that a human voice could develop such penetration
+and volume. It had an explosive quality, bursting upon the eardrums with
+no warning whatsoever, and the man who had cried out had evidently given
+the full power of his lungs. It was probably true that the moist, hot
+atmosphere, hanging almost without motion, was a perfect medium for
+transmitting sound. Besides, my windows were open, facing the lagoon.
+
+I heard the sound die away. The silence dropped down again to find me
+standing wholly motionless before the window, one hand resting on the
+sill, seemingly with all power of action gone. It was a shattering blow
+to spirit and hope that there was no further sound from that deathly
+still lagoon. Further calls would indicate that the outcome of the
+affair was still in doubt, that there was still use to hope and
+struggle. But there was a sense of dreadful finality in that unbroken
+silence. The drama that had raged on that craggy shore was already
+closed and done.
+
+The sound had not been only a cry for help. It had been charged full of
+the knowledge of impending death.
+
+Motion came back to my body; and I sprang to the door. The interlude
+of inactivity couldn't have been more than a second in duration. That
+still, upper corridor was coming to life. Some one flashed on a light at
+the end of the hall, and the door of the room just opposite mine flew
+open. Van Hope, also in dressing-gown and slippers, stood on the
+threshold.
+
+He saw me, and pushed through into the hall. His face had an almost
+incredible pallor in the soft light. In a moment his strong hand had
+seized my arm.
+
+"Good God, I didn't dream that, did I?" he cried. "I was dozing--you
+heard it, didn't you----"
+
+"Of course I heard----"
+
+"Some one screamed for help! I heard the word plain. Good Lord, it's
+last night's work done over----"
+
+What he said thereafter I didn't hear. I was running down the hall
+toward the stairway, and at the head of the stairs I almost collided
+with Major Dell, just emerging from his room. He had evidently gone to
+bed, and he had just had time to jerk on his trousers over his pajamas
+and slip on a pair of romeos. The light was brighter here, and I got a
+clear picture of his face.
+
+It is a curious thing what details imprint themselves ineffaceably
+on the memory in a moment of crisis. Perhaps--as in the world of
+beasts--all the senses are incalculably sharpened, the thought processes
+are clean-cut and infallible, and images have a clarity unequalled at
+any other time. I got the idea that Dell had been terribly moved by that
+scream in the darkness. His emotion had seemingly been so violent that
+it gave the impression of no emotion. His face looked blank as a sheet
+of white paper.
+
+I rushed by him, and I heard him and Van Hope descending the stairs just
+behind me. The hall was still lighted, but long shadows lay across the
+broad veranda. Fargo, his book still in his hand, stood just outside the
+door.
+
+"What was it, Killdare?" he asked me. "I couldn't tell from where it
+was----"
+
+"The lagoon!" I answered. In the instant Van Hope and Dell caught up
+with me, and the four of us raced down the driveway.
+
+Instinctively we went first to the place on the shore where Florey had
+been slain the night before. The action was a clear indication of what
+was in our minds--that this matter was in some way darkly related to the
+crime of the night before. But the sand was bare, and the grass
+unshadowed in the moonlight.
+
+For a moment we stood, aghast and shaken, gazing out over the lagoon. It
+was still as glass. The tide was running out, and not a wave stirred in
+all its darkened expanse. We saw the image of the moon far out, scarcely
+wavering, and the long, bright trail that it made across the water to
+our eyes. The night was still stifling hot, and the lagoon conveyed an
+image of coolness.
+
+"Don't stand here!" Fargo cried. "We've got to make a search. Some poor
+devil is likely lying somewhere in these gardens----"
+
+The house was lighted now, and in an uproar, and some of the other
+guests were racing down the driveway to us. In this regard it might have
+been last night's tragedy reënacted. There was, however, one significant
+change.
+
+The iron self-control, the coolness, the perfect discipline of mind and
+muscle that had marked the finding of the dead body on the shore the
+preceding night was no longer entirely manifest. These northern men,
+cold as flint ordinarily, were no longer wholly self-mastered. One
+glance at their faces, loose and pale in the moonlight, and the first
+sound of their voices told this fact only too plainly. It was not,
+however, that they were completely broken. Their training and their
+manhood was too good for that.
+
+We didn't stop to answer their queries. We began to search through the
+gardens, examining every shadow, peering into every covert. We tried to
+direct each other according to our several ideas as to the source of the
+sound. We all agreed, however, that the sound had seemed to come from
+the immediate vicinity of the natural rock wall that formed the lagoon.
+
+The next few moments were not very coherent. We called back and forth,
+encountered one another in the shadows, knew moments of apprehension
+when the brush walls cut us off from our fellows, but we found nothing
+that might have explained that desperate cry of a few moments before. At
+last some one called out commandingly from the shores of the lagoon.
+
+"Come here, every one," he said. The voice rose above our confused
+utterances, and all of us, recognizing a leader, hurried to him. Pescini
+was standing beside the craggy shore, a strange and imposing figure in
+the wealth of moonlight, at the edge of that tranquil water.
+
+Pescini, after all, was showing himself one of the most self-mastered
+men among us. Any one could read the fact in his voice. How white his
+skin looked in the moonlight, how raven-black his mustache and beard! He
+was still in the garb he had worn at dinner, immaculate and unruffled.
+
+"We're not getting anywhere," he said. "Is every one here?"
+
+"Here!" It was Joe Nopp's voice, and he immediately joined us. We waited
+an instant, seeing if any further searchers were yet to come in. But the
+thickets were as hushed as the lagoon itself.
+
+"Let's take another tack," Pescini said. "There's nothing in these
+gardens. If there is we'll find it in an organized search. Remember--our
+search got us nowhere last night. Let's count up, and see if we're all
+all right."
+
+We waited for him to continue. All of us breathed deeply and hard.
+
+"Then let's go up to the house to do it," Nopp suggested. "We know we're
+not all here now--there's no use getting alarmed before we're sure. Go
+up to the living-room."
+
+His voice was oddly penetrative, wakening a whole flood of unwelcome
+thoughts.... We were not all here, he said--seemingly not even all the
+white occupants of Kastle Krags had obeyed the common instinct to answer
+and investigate that cry! Yet it all might come to nothing, after all. A
+close tabulation might account for every one--and that the remainder of
+our party had merely not yet wakened. Stranger things have happened.
+We told ourselves, in silent ways, that we had heard of men sleeping
+through more fearful sounds than that! I agreed with Nopp that the thing
+to do was to go to the living-room, make a careful count, and then see
+where we stood.
+
+In a moment we had started back. We were not afraid we had left some of
+our party still searching through the gardens. No man cared to be alone
+out there to-night, and all of us kept close track of our fellows. Edith
+was standing just before the veranda, on the driveway, as we came up.
+The coroner, who had taken time fully to dress, met us half-way down the
+lawns.
+
+We walked almost in silence; and quietly, rather grimly, Joe Nopp
+flashed on all the lights of the big living-room.
+
+"Go ahead, Slatterly," he said to the sheriff, "See that we're all
+here."
+
+"Let Killdare do it. I don't know you all, you know----"
+
+So I made the count, just as sometimes we did after raids over No Man's
+Land. The sheriff and the constable were both present, Mrs. Gentry, the
+housekeeper, was standing, pale but remarkably self-possessed, at the
+inner door of the room. Of course I couldn't count up the blacks. Most
+of them were evidently hiding in their rooms. And every one of the six
+guests answered his name.
+
+"There's just one more name to give," Nopp said at last.
+
+"But there's no use naming it," some one answered in a queer, flat
+voice. "He's not here."
+
+Nopp turned, and bounded like a deer up the stairs. All of us knew what
+he had gone to do: to see if the missing man was in his room. And there
+was nothing for us but to wait for his report.
+
+But in a moment we heard his step on the stairs. He sprang down among
+us, and evidently his fine self-mastery was breaking within him. His
+fine eyes held vivid points of light.
+
+"My God, he's gone," he said. "Not a sign of him."
+
+"It can't be true," Pescini answered.
+
+"It is. His bed is rumpled--but not thrown back or slept in."
+
+Von Hope, the missing man's closest friend, suddenly gasped aloud. "But
+I won't believe it--not until we make a search!" he cried. "It can't be
+true."
+
+"Believe it or not. Search through the grounds or call through the
+house. Nealman's gone just as Florey's body went last night."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+We searched through the house, grimly and purposefully; but Nealman, the
+genial host of Kastle Krags, was neither revealed to our eyes or gave
+answer to our calls. It was no longer possible to doubt but that it was
+his voice that had uttered that fearful cry for help.
+
+While the coroner, whose special province is death, led the guests in a
+detailed search through the grounds, Sheriff Slatterly and I examined
+the missing man's room. And here I was to learn the contents of those
+mysterious telegrams that had reached Nealman after the inquest of the
+preceding day.
+
+They were lying on his desk, one of them torn in two as if in a fit of
+anger, the other rumpled from a hundred readings. I read aloud to the
+sheriff:
+
+     BLAIR COMBINE FORCING I. S. AND H. TO BOTTOM. MOVE QUICK IF
+     YOU CAN.
+
+The second read:
+
+     I. S. AND H. DOWN TO 28. ALL YOUR INDUSTRIALS SMASHED WIDE
+     OPEN. FLETCHER NEALMAN GOES DOWN IN SMASH.
+
+The sheriff halted in his search and took the messages from my hand.
+"I'm not much up on the stock market," he said. "Do you know what these
+mean----"
+
+"Not exactly. I know that I. S. and H. stock has taken a fearful
+drop--if he had bought heavily on margin his whole fortune might have
+been wiped out. Blair is a prominent speculator on the exchange.
+Industrials refer, of course, to industrial stocks. Fletcher Nealman was
+Mr. Nealman's uncle, supposed to be a man of great wealth----"
+
+"Then you think--Nealman was ruined financially?" He paused, seemingly
+studying his hands. "I wonder if it could be true."
+
+"You mean of course--the same thing that you guessed about Florey.
+Suicide?"
+
+"Yes. I'll admit there's plenty against it."
+
+"If suicide--why did he cry for help?"
+
+"Many a man cries for help after he's started to do himself in. The
+darkness scares 'em, when it's too late to turn back. That wouldn't
+puzzle me at all. Killdare, do you know the importance of example?"
+
+"I know that what one man does, another's likely to do."
+
+"I'm not saying that Nealman killed himself, but listen how much there
+is to say for such a theory. You're right--what one man does, another's
+likely to do. A curious thing about suicides, Weldon tells me, is that
+they usually come in droves. One man sets an example for another. Say
+you're worrying to death about something, sick perhaps, or financially
+ruined, and you hear of some fellow--some chap you know, perhaps, a man
+you respect almost as much as you respect yourself--suddenly getting out
+of all his difficulties all nice and quiet--with one little click to the
+head? Isn't it likely you'd begin thinking about the same thing for
+yourself? Call it mob psychology--I only know it happens in fact.
+
+"I'm more confident than ever that Florey did himself in, on account of
+his sickness. Here was Nealman, worried to death over money matters,
+holding a lot of options on a falling market. It's true that we didn't
+find Florey's knife, but who can say but maybe Nealman himself threw it
+into the lagoon, and dragged the body afterward, so that no one would
+guess it was suicide. He liked Florey--he didn't want any one to know
+he had done himself in. Maybe he was thinking already about doing the
+same thing to himself, and in such a case he'd been glad enough to have
+some one hide the evidence of suicide. To-day he gets word of a final
+smash, and he stays all day in his room, brooding about it. To-night
+comes this heat--enough to drive a man crazy. Maybe he just called out
+to make us think it was murder. Proud men don't usually want the world
+to know that they've killed themselves.
+
+"Then there's one other thing--more important still. What's that book,
+open, on the table?"
+
+I glanced at its leathern cover. "The Bible," I told him.
+
+"The Holy Book. And how often do you find a worldly man like this
+Nealman getting out the Bible and reading it? Doesn't it show that he
+was planning something mighty serious--that he wanted to give his soul
+every chance before he took the last step? It's a common thing for
+suicides to read the Bible the last thing. And what are these?"
+
+He showed me a rumpled sheet of paper, procured from the waste-basket,
+on which had been written a number of unrelated figures.
+
+"I can't say," I told him. "Probably he was doing some figuring about
+his losses."
+
+"Looks to me like he was out of his head--was just writin' any old
+figures down. But maybe you're right."
+
+It was true that the bed had not been slept in. Nealman had lain down on
+it, however, and disarranged the spread. Many cigarette and cigar stubs
+filled the smoking stand, and a half-filled whiskey-and-soda glass stood
+on the window sill.
+
+No other clews were revealed, so we went down to the study. The guests
+of Kastle Krags had not gone back to their beds. They sat in a little
+white-faced group beside the window, talking quietly. Marten beckoned
+the sheriff to his side.
+
+"What have you found out, Slatterly?" he asked.
+
+He spoke like a man used to having his questions answered. There was a
+note of impatience in his voice, too, perhaps of distrust. Slatterly
+straightened.
+
+"Nothing definite. Nealman has unquestionably vanished. His bed hasn't
+been slept in, but is ruffled. Undoubtedly it was his voice we heard. I
+think I'll be able to give you something definite in a little while."
+
+"I'd like something definite now, if you could possibly give it. That's
+two men that have disappeared in two nights--and we seem to be no nearer
+an explanation than we were at first. This isn't a business that can be
+delayed, Mr. Slatterly."
+
+"If you must know--I think both men committed suicide."
+
+"You do!"
+
+"It certainly is the most reasonable theory, in spite of all there is
+against it." Then he told of Nealman's financial disaster, of the Bible
+open on his desk, and all the other points he had to back his theory.
+
+"And I suppose Florey swallowed his knife, and threw his own body into
+the lagoon!" Fargo commented grimly.
+
+Slatterly turned to him, his eyes hard and bright. "We'll have your
+jokes to-morrow," he reproved him sternly. "Of course some one else did
+that. I've got a theory--not yet proven--to explain it, but I can't give
+it out yet."
+
+"How do you account for Florey's body not being found in the lagoon?"
+Marten asked quietly.
+
+"I can't account for it. We might have missed it--I don't see how we
+could, but we might have done so. I'm going to have men dragging the
+lagoon all day, over and over again--until we find _both_ bodies."
+
+"You are convinced that Nealman, too, lies dead in the lagoon?"
+
+"Where else could he be? Did you hear that cry a few hours ago?"
+
+"Good Heavens! Could I ever forget it? My old friend----"
+
+"Was it faked? Could any man have faked a cry like that?"
+
+"Heavens, no! It had the fear and the agony of death right in it. There
+can't be any hope of that, Slatterly."
+
+The sheriff gazed about the little circle of white faces. No one
+dissented. That cry was real, and there had been tragic need and
+extremity behind it: we knew that fact if we knew that we lived.
+Evidently the sheriff had completely given over the theory that he had
+suggested, half-heartedly, to me--that Nealman might have cried out to
+hide the fact of his own suicide.
+
+"No man could have cried out like that to deceive, and then disappear.
+No, Mr. Marten, the man that gave that cry is dead, in all probability
+in the lagoon, and there seems no doubt but that Nealman was the man."
+
+"Yet you think he was a suicide."
+
+"A suicide often cries out for help when it is too late to back out. But
+of course--I can't say for sure."
+
+"You're mistaken in that, Slatterly." Van Hope drew himself together
+with a perceptible effort. "I've known this man for years--and in the
+end, you'll see it isn't suicide. He wasn't the type that commits
+suicide. He's young, he'd be getting himself together to meet that Blair
+gang that ruined him and chase 'em into their holes. The suicide theory
+is far-fetched, at best."
+
+"It may be," the sheriff agreed. "I only wish there could be some light
+thrown on this affair----"
+
+"There will be, Slatterly." Marten's voice dropped almost to a monotone.
+"This is too big a deal for one man--or two men either. We've been
+talking, and we've decided to send for some one to help you out."
+
+"You have, eh?" Slatterly stiffened. "If I need help I can send through
+my own channels--get some state or national detectives----"
+
+"That's all right. Get 'em if you want to. The more the better. But
+you haven't got any help yet--even the district attorney has failed
+to come and won't come for at least a day or two more. We've got a
+private detective in mind--one of the biggest in America. His name's
+Lacone--you've heard of him. It won't be an official matter at all. Van
+Hope is hiring him--a wholly private enterprise. I know you'll all be
+glad to have his co-operation."
+
+"If it's a private venture, I have nothing further to say," Slatterly
+told him stiffly. "When do you expect him?"
+
+"He's operating in the Middle West. He can't possibly make it until day
+after to-morrow----"
+
+"Twenty-four hours, eh?"
+
+"It's after midnight now. Probably not for forty-eight hours."
+
+"By that time, I hope to have the matter solved." Then his business took
+him elsewhere, and he strode away.
+
+There was one thing more I could do. It was an obligation, and yet,
+because it was in the way of service, it was a happiness too. I climbed
+the broad stairs and stopped at last before Edith's door.
+
+She called softly in answer to my knock. And in a moment she had opened
+the door.
+
+She was fully dressed, waiting ready for any call that might be made
+upon her. And the picture that she made, framed in the doorway, went
+straight to my heart.
+
+Her eyes were still lustrous with tears, and the high girlish color and
+the light of happiness was gone from her face. It was wistful, like that
+of a grief-stricken child. Her voice was changed too, in spite of all
+her struggle to make it sound the same. And at first I stood helpless,
+not knowing what to say or do.
+
+"I came--just to see if I could be of any aid--in any way."
+
+"I don't think you can," she answered. "It's so good of you, though, to
+remember----"
+
+"There's no one to notify--no telegrams to send----"
+
+"I don't think so, yet. We're not sure yet. Ned, is there any chance for
+him to be alive----"
+
+"Not any."
+
+Her hand touched my arm. "You haven't any idea how he died?"
+
+"No. It's absolutely baffling. But try not to think about it. Everything
+will come out right for you, in the end."
+
+I hadn't meant to say just that--to recall her to the uncertainty of her
+own future now that her uncle, financially ruined, had disappeared.
+
+"I'm not thinking--about what will happen to me." She suddenly
+straightened, and her eyes kindled. "About the other--Ned, I'm not going
+to try to keep from thinking about it. I'm going to think about it all I
+can, until I see it through. Only thought, and keen, true thought, can
+help us now. I've had to do a lot of thinking in my life, overcoming
+difficulties. And there's no one really vitally interested but me--I was
+the closest relative, except for his uncle, that Nealman had. I'm going
+to find out the mystery of that lagoon! Perhaps, in finding it, I can
+solve a lot of other problems too--perhaps the one you just mentioned.
+Uncle Grover was kind to me, he gave me his protection and shelter--and
+I'm going to know what killed him!"
+
+I found myself staring into her blazing, determined eyes. She meant what
+she said. The fire of a zealot was in her face. "Good Heavens, Edith!
+That isn't work for a woman----"
+
+"It's work for anybody, with a clear enough brain to see the truth, and
+courage to prove it out----"
+
+In some mysterious way her hands had got into mine. We were standing
+face to face in the shadowed hall. "But promise me--you won't go into
+danger!"
+
+"I promise--that I'll take every precaution--to preserve myself."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+As soon as daylight came the coroner held another inquest. Again the
+occupants of the great manor house, black and white, were gathered in
+the living-room, and the coroner called on each person in turn. Possible
+suspects had been numerous in the case of Florey's death: in regard to
+this second mystery they seemingly included almost every one in the
+house.
+
+I was able to state positively that Major Dell and Van Hope were in
+their own rooms at the time, or such a short time afterward as to
+preclude them from any possible connection with the crime. I had seen
+the latter on his threshold: both of us had encountered Major Dell as he
+emerged from his room, his trousers slipped on over his pajamas. The
+court had to take each man's word in every other instance.
+
+The coroner questioned Fargo particularly closely. I had testified that
+we had met him, at the lower hallway, fully dressed, and evidently the
+official attributed sinister importance to the fact. Fargo stood tightly
+by his guns, however, testifying that he sat in the same chair in the
+library from shortly after the dinner hour until he had heard the
+scream.
+
+"What was the nature of the scream, Mr. Fargo?" the coroner asked.
+
+"It was very high and loud--I would say a very frantic scream."
+
+"You would say it was a cry of agony? Like some one mortally wounded?"
+
+"I wouldn't hardly think so."
+
+"And why not?"
+
+"I don't think a wounded man could have uttered that scream. It was too
+loud and strong--given by a man whose strength was still largely
+unimpaired."
+
+The coroner leaned nearer. "How further would you describe it?"
+
+"It was a distinct cry for help," Fargo answered. "The word he said was
+'Help'--I heard it distinctly. But it wasn't a cry of any one mortally
+injured. If anything, it was a cry of--fear."
+
+"Where did it come from?"
+
+"From the lagoon."
+
+The coroner's eyes snapped. "If you knew it was from the lagoon why did
+you ask Mr. Killdare, when he encountered you last night, where it was
+from."
+
+Fargo stiffened, meeting his gaze. "I wasn't sure last night, Mr.
+Weldon," he answered. "I knew it was somewhere in that direction. When
+Mr. Killdare said it was from the lagoon I instantly knew he was right.
+I can't say just how I knew. All the testimony I've heard to-day proves
+the same thing."
+
+"No one wants you to tell what other people have testified, Mr. Fargo,"
+the coroner reproved him. "We want to know what you saw with your own
+eyes and heard with your own ears and what you thought at the time, not
+now. To go further. You think that the cry was uttered by a man whose
+strength was unimpaired. A strong, full-lunged cry. Moreover, it was
+given in deadly fear. Does that suggest anything in your mind?"
+
+"I don't see what you are getting at."
+
+"You say it was a long, full-voiced cry. Or did you say it was long?"
+
+"I don't think I said so. It was rather long-drawn, though. It's
+impossible to give a full-lunged cry without having it give the effect
+of being long-drawn."
+
+"You would say it lasted--how long?"
+
+"A second, I should say. Certainly not more. Just about a second."
+
+"A second is a long time, isn't it, Mr. Fargo, when a man stands at the
+brink of death. Often the tables can be turned in as long a time as a
+second. Many times a second has given a man time to save his life--to
+prepare a defense--even to flee. Does it seem to you unusual that a man
+would give that much energy and time to cry for help when he was still
+uninjured, and still had a second of life."
+
+"Not at all--under certain circumstances."
+
+"What circumstances?"
+
+"It would depend on the nature of the force. A man might see--that while
+he still had strength left to fight, he wouldn't have the least chance
+to win."
+
+"Exactly. Yet if a man had time to call out that way, he'd at least have
+time to run. A man can take a big jump in a second, Fargo."
+
+Fargo's voice fell. "Perhaps he couldn't run."
+
+"Ah!" The coroner paused. "Because he was in the grasp of his
+assailant?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Yet he still had his strength left. Nealman was a man among men, wasn't
+he, Fargo?"
+
+"Indeed he was!" Fargo's eyes snapped. "I'd like to see any one deny
+it."
+
+"He wasn't a coward then. He'd fight as long as he had a chance, instead
+of giving all his energies to yelling for help--help that could not
+reach him short of many seconds. In other words, Nealman knew that he
+didn't have the least kind of a fighting chance. He was in the grasp of
+his assailant so he couldn't run. And his assailant was strong--and
+powerful enough--that there was no use to fight him."
+
+It was curious how his voice rang in that silent room. Fargo had leaned
+back in his chair, as if the words struck him like physical blows. A
+negro janitor at one side inhaled with a sharp, distinct sound.
+
+"It might have been more than one man," Fargo suggested uneasily.
+
+"Do you believe it was?"
+
+"I don't know. It's wholly a blank to me."
+
+"Have you any theory where the body is?"
+
+"I suppose--in the lagoon."
+
+"Would you say that cry was given while he was in the water?"
+
+"I hardly think so. I'm slightly known as a swimmer, Mr. Weldon--was
+once, anyway, and I know something about the water. A drowning man can't
+call that loud. Mr. Nealman was a corking good swimmer himself--nothing
+fancy at all, but fairly well able to take care of himself. When he
+disappeared the tide was running out--the lagoon on this side of the
+rock wall was still as glass. If Mr. Nealman, through some accident or
+other, fell in that lagoon he'd swim out--unless he was held in. At
+least he'd try to swim out. And by the time he found out he couldn't
+make the shore, he'd be so tired he couldn't cry out like he did last
+night."
+
+"I see your point. I don't know that it would always work out.
+Occasionally a man--simply loses his nerve."
+
+"Not Nealman--in still water, most of which isn't over five feet deep."
+
+"'Unless he was held in,' you say. What do you think held him in?"
+
+Fargo's hands gripped his chair-arms. "Mr. Weldon, I don't know what you
+want me to say," he answered clearly. "I feel the same way about this
+mystery that I felt about the other--that human enemies did him to
+death. I don't think anything held him in. I think he was dead before
+ever he was thrown into the water. I think two or three men--perhaps
+only one--surrounded him--probably pointed a gun at him. He yelled for
+help, and they killed him--probably with a knife or black-jack. That's
+the whole story."
+
+The coroner dismissed him, then slowly gazed about the circle. For the
+first time I began to realize that these mysteries of Kastle Krags were
+pricking under his skin. He looked baffled, irritated, his temper was
+lost, as gone as the missing men themselves.
+
+Ever his attitude was more belligerent, pugnacious. His lips were set in
+a fighting line, his eyes scowled, and evidently he intended to wring
+the testimony from his witnesses by third degree methods. Suddenly he
+whirled to Pescini.
+
+"How did you happen to be fully dressed at the time of Nealman's
+disappearance last night?" he demanded.
+
+Pescini met his gaze coolly and easily. Perhaps little points of light
+glittered in his eyes, but his pale face was singularly impassive. "I
+hadn't gone to bed," he answered simply.
+
+"How did that happen? Do you usually wait till long after midnight to go
+to bed?"
+
+"Not always. I have no set hour. Last night I was reading."
+
+"Some book that was in your room?"
+
+"A book I had carried with me. 'The diary of a Peruvian Princess' was
+the title. An old book--but exceedingly interesting."
+
+He spoke gravely, yet it was good to hear him. "I'll make a note of it,"
+the coroner said, falling into his mood. But at once he got back to
+business. "You didn't remove your coat?"
+
+"No. I got so interested that I forgot to make any move towards bed."
+
+The coroner paused, then took another tack. "You've known Nealman for a
+long time, have you not, Pescini?"
+
+"Something over four years, I should judge."
+
+"You knew him in a business way?"
+
+"More in a social way. We had few business dealings."
+
+"Ah!" The coroner seemed to be studying the pattern of the rugs. "The
+inquiry of the other day showed you and he from the same city. I suppose
+you moved largely in the same circle. Belonged to the same clubs, and
+all that? Mr. Pescini, was Nealman a frequent visitor to your house?"
+
+The witness seemed to stiffen. The coroner leaned forward in his chair.
+
+"He came quite often," the former replied quietly. "He was a rather
+frequent dinner guest. He and I liked to talk over various subjects."
+
+"You will pardon me, Mr. Pescini, if I have to venture into personal
+subjects--subjects that will be unpleasant for you to discuss. This
+inquiry, however, takes the place of a formal inquest. Two men have
+disappeared. It is the duty of the state, whose representative I am, to
+spare no man's sensibilities in finding out the truth. We've got to get
+down to cases. You understand that, I suppose."
+
+"Perfectly." Pescini leaned back, folding his hands. "Perfectly," he
+said again.
+
+"I believe you recently filed and won a suit for divorce against your
+wife, Marie Pescini. Isn't this true?"
+
+The witness nodded. None of us heard him speak.
+
+"May I ask what was your grounds, stated in your complaint?"
+
+"I don't see that it makes any difference. The grounds were the only
+ones by which divorce can be granted in the State of New York."
+
+"Infidelity, I believe?"
+
+"Yes. Infidelity."
+
+"You named certain co-respondents?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I ask you this. Was there any man whom you regarded as one of those
+that had helped to break up your home that, for any reason in the world,
+you did not name in your complaint?"
+
+"There was not. You are absolutely off on the wrong track."
+
+The coroner dismissed him pre-emptorily, then turned to Edith Nealman.
+He asked her the usual questions, with considerable care and in rather
+surprising detail--how long she had worked as Nealman's secretary,
+whether he had any enemies; he sounded her as to the missing man's
+habits, his finances, his most intimate life.
+
+"When did you last see Mr. Nealman?" he asked quickly.
+
+"Just before yesterday's inquest--when he went to his room."
+
+"He didn't call you for any work?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You didn't see him in the corridor--in his room--in the study adjoining
+his room--or anywhere else?"
+
+"No." Edith's face was stark white, and her voice was very low. Not one
+of us could ever forget how she looked--that slim, girlish figure in the
+big chair, the frightened eyes, the pale, sober face. The coroner
+smiled, a little, grim smile that touched some unpleasant part of me,
+then abruptly turned to Mrs. Gentry, the housekeeper.
+
+"I'll have to ask you to give publicly, Mrs. Gentry, the testimony you
+gave me before this inquest."
+
+"I didn't tell you that to speak out in court," the woman replied,
+angrily. "There wasn't nothin' to it, anyway. I'm sorry I told you----"
+
+"That's for me to decide--whether there was anything to it. It won't
+injure any one who is innocent, Mrs. Gentry. What happened, about
+ten-thirty or eleven o'clock."
+
+The woman answered as if under compulsion--in the helpless voice of one
+who, in a long life's bitter struggle, has learned the existence of many
+masters. Mrs. Gentry had learned to yield. To her this trivial court was
+a resistless power, many of which existed in her world.
+
+"I was at the end of the corridor on the second floor--tendin' to a
+little work. Then I saw Miss Edith come stealin' out of her room."
+
+"You say she was 'stealing.' Describe how she came. Did she give the
+impression of trying to go--unseen?"
+
+"Yes. I don't think she wanted any one to see her. She went on tip-toe."
+
+"Did she carry anything in her hands?"
+
+"Yes. She had a black book, not big and not little either. She had it
+under her arm. She crept along the hall, and a door opened to let her
+in."
+
+"What door was it?"
+
+"The door of Mr. Nealman's suite--a little hall, with one door leading
+into his chamber--the other to his study."
+
+"Nealman opened the door for her, then?"
+
+"Yes. I saw his sleeve as he closed it behind her."
+
+The coroner's face grew stern, and he turned once more to Edith. To all
+outward appearance she hadn't heard the testimony. She leaned easily in
+her big chair, and her palm rested under her chin. Her eyes were shadowy
+and far-away.
+
+"How can you account for that, Miss Nealman?" Weldon asked.
+
+"There's nothing I can say about it," was her quiet answer.
+
+"You admit it's true, then?"
+
+"I can't make Mrs. Gentry out a liar." It seemed to me that a dim smile
+played at her lips; but it was a thing even closely watching eyes might
+easily mistake. "It's perfectly true."
+
+"Then why, Miss Nealman, did you tell us a few minutes ago you hadn't
+seen Mr. Nealman since afternoon? That was a lie, was it not? I didn't
+ask you to take formal oath when you gave me your testimony. I presumed
+you'd stay by the truth. Why did you tell us what you did?"
+
+"I didn't see any use in trying to explain. I didn't tell you--because
+Mr. Nealman asked me not to."
+
+A little shiver of expectancy passed over the court. "What do you mean?"
+
+"Just that--he asked me to tell no one about my visit to the little
+study adjoining his room. The whole thing was simply this--there's
+certainly no good in withholding it any more. About eleven he rang for
+me. There is a bell, you know, that connects that study with my room. I
+answered it as I've always done. He asked me if I had a Bible--and I
+told him I did. He asked me to get it for him, as quietly as possible.
+
+"I got it--quietly as possible--just as he said. There was nothing very
+peculiar about it--he often wants some book out of the library. I gave
+him the book and he dismissed me, first asking me to tell no one, under
+any conditions, that he had asked for it. I didn't know why he asked it,
+but he is my employer, and I complied with his request. Mrs. Gentry saw
+me as I was coming down the hall with the Bible under my arm. I didn't
+tell you about it because he asked me not to."
+
+"It was your Bible, then, that we found in his room?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"Mr. Nealman was given to reading the Bible at various times?"
+
+"On the contrary I don't think he ever read it. He didn't have a copy.
+He was not, outwardly, according to the usual manifestations, a highly
+religious man."
+
+"Yet you say he was intrinsically religious? At least, that he had
+religious instincts?"
+
+"He had very fine instincts. He had a great deal of natural religion."
+
+"You often brought him books, you say. Yet you must have thought it
+peculiar--that he would ask for the Bible--in the dead of night."
+
+"Yes." Her voice dropped a tone. "Of course it was peculiar."
+
+"Then why didn't you notify some one about it?"
+
+"Because he told me not to."
+
+The coroner seemed baffled--but only for an instant. "Did it occur to
+you that he was perhaps trying to get some religious consolation--just
+before he took some important or tragic step? Did the thought
+of--suicide ever occur to you?"
+
+"No. It didn't occur to me. My uncle didn't commit suicide."
+
+"You have only your beliefs as to that?"
+
+"Yes, but they are enough. I know him too well. I'm sure he didn't
+commit suicide."
+
+"How did he appear when you talked to him--excited, frenzied? Did he
+seem changed at all?"
+
+"I think he was somewhat excited. His eyes were very bright. I wouldn't
+call him desperate, however. He was dressed in the flannels he had worn
+when he went to his room. Of course he looked dreadfully worn and
+tired--he had been through a great deal that day. As you know he had
+just heard about his frightful losses on the stock exchange, wiping out
+his entire fortune and even leaving some few debts."
+
+"You went away quietly--at once? Leaving him to read the Bible?"
+
+"Very soon. We talked a few minutes, perhaps."
+
+Then the coroner began upon a series of questions that were abhorrent to
+every man in the room. There was nothing to do, however, but to listen
+to them in silence. The man was within his rights.
+
+"You say that Nealman was your uncle?" he asked.
+
+The girl's eyes fastened on his, and narrowed as we watched her. "Of
+course. My father's brother."
+
+"A blood relative, eh?" The coroner spoke more slowly, carefully. "I
+suppose you could prove that point to the satisfaction of a court."
+
+"With a little time. I'd have to go back to the records of my own old
+home. What are you getting at?"
+
+"What was your father's name, may I ask?"
+
+"Henry H. Nealman."
+
+"Older or younger than Grover Nealman?"
+
+"Nearly ten years older, or thereabouts."
+
+"Where was Mr. Nealman born?"
+
+"In Rensselaer, New York. His father was named Henry H. Nealman, also.
+He was a rug manufacturer. There was also one sister that died many
+years ago--Grace Nealman. Are you satisfied that I am really his niece,
+Mr. Weldon?"
+
+"Perfectly." The coroner nodded, slowly. "Perfectly satisfied."
+
+He dismissed her, but it came about that I failed to hear the testimony
+given immediately thereafter. One of Slatterly's men that had been sent
+for to help him drag the lake brought me in a telegram.
+
+It was the belated answer to the wire I had sent to Mrs. Noyes, of New
+Hampshire the previous day, and signed by the woman's husband. It read
+as follows:
+
+     MY WIFE DIED LAST MONTH LEAVING ME TO MOURN. THE LETTERS
+     WERE UNQUESTIONABLY FROM GEORGE FLOREY DAVID'S BROTHER. THEY
+     HAVE BEEN BITTER ENEMIES SINCE YOUTH OVER SOME SECRET
+     BUSINESS. FIND GEORGE FLOREY AND YOU WILL FIND THE MURDERER.
+     I HAVEN'T EVER SEEN HIM AND SO FAR HAVE BEEN UNABLE TO FIND
+     PHOTO. IF ONE TURNS UP I WILL SEND IT ON.
+
+                         WILLIAM NOYES.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+Grover Nealman had disappeared, and no search could bring him back to
+Kastle Krags. The hope that we all had, that some way, some how he would
+reappear--destroying in a moment that strange, ghastly tradition that
+these last two nights had established--died in our souls as the daylight
+hours sped by. Even if we could have found him dead it would have been
+some relief. In that case we could ascribe his death to something we
+could understand--a sudden sickness, a murderer's blow, perhaps even his
+own hand at his throat, all of which were within our bourne of human
+experience. But it was vaguely hard for us to have two men go, on
+successive nights, and have no knowledge whence or how they had gone.
+
+Of course no man hinted at this hardship. It was simply the sort of
+thing that could not be discussed by intelligent men. Yet we were human,
+only a few little generations from the tribal fire and the
+witch-doctors, and it got under our skins.
+
+Grover Nealman's body was not lying in some unoccupied part of the
+house, nor did we find him in the gardens. Telephone messages were
+sent, but Nealman had not been seen. And after six hours of patient
+search, under that Floridan sun, it was no longer easy to believe that
+he lay at the bottom of the lagoon.
+
+The sheriff's men dragged tirelessly, widening out their field of search
+until it covered most of the lagoon, but they found neither Nealman nor
+Florey. Some of the work was done in the flow-tide, when the waves
+breaking on the rocky barrier made the lagoon itself choppy and rough.
+They came in tired and discouraged, ready to give up.
+
+In the meantime Van Hope had heard from Lacone--but his message was not
+very encouraging either. It would likely be forty hours, he said, before
+he could arrive at Kastle Krags. Of course Van Hope and his friends
+agreed that there was nothing to do but wait for him.
+
+The sun reached high noon and then began his long, downward drift to the
+West. The shadows slowly lengthened almost imperceptibly at first, but
+with gradually increasing speed. The heat of the day climbed, reached
+its zenith; the diamond-back slept heavily in the shade, a deadly
+slumber that was evil to look upon; and the water-moccasin hung
+lifelessly in his thickets--and then, so slowly as to pass belief, the
+little winds from the West sprang up, bringing relief. It would soon be
+night at Kastle Krags. The afternoon was almost gone.
+
+Not one of those northern men mentioned the fact. They were
+Anglo-Saxons, and that meant there were certain iron-clad restraints on
+their speech. Because of this inherent reserve they had to bottle up
+their thoughts, harbor them in silence, with the risk of a violent nerve
+explosion in the end. Insanity is not common among the Latin peoples.
+They find easy expression in words for all the thoughts that plague
+them, thus escaping that strain and tension that works such havoc on the
+nervous system. Slatterly and Weldon, native Floridans, had learned a
+certain sociability and ease of expression under that tropical sun,
+impossible to these cold, northern men; and consequently the day passed
+easier for them. Likely they talked over freely the mystery of Kastle
+Krags, relieved themselves of their secret dreads, and awaited the
+falling of the night with healthy, unburdened minds. They were naturally
+more superstitious than the Northerners. They had listened to Congo
+myths in the arms of colored mammies in infancy. But superstition, while
+a retarding force to civilization, is sometimes a mighty consolation
+to the spirit. The tribes of Darkest Africa, seeing many things that
+in their barbarism they can not understand, find it wiser to turn
+to superstition than to go mad. Thus they escape that bitter,
+nerve-wracking struggle of trying to adjust some inexplicable mystery
+with their every-day laws of matter and space and time. They likely find
+it happier to believe in witchcraft than to fight hopelessly with fear
+in silence.
+
+A little freedom, a little easy expression of secret thoughts might have
+redeemed those long, silent hours just before nightfall. But no man told
+another what he was really thinking, and every man had to win his battle
+for himself. The result was inevitable: a growing tension and suspense
+in the very air.
+
+It was a strange atmosphere that gathered over Kastle Krags in those
+early evening hours. Some way it gave no image of reality. It was
+vaguely hard to talk--the mind moved along certain channels and could
+not be turned aside. We couldn't disregard the fact that the night was
+falling. The hours of darkness were even now upon us. And no man could
+keep from thinking of their possibilities.
+
+I noticed a certain irritability on the part of all the guests.
+Their nerves were on edge, their tempers--almost forgotten in their
+years of social intercourse--excitable and uncertain. They were all
+pre-occupied, busy with their own thoughts--and a man started when
+another spoke to him.
+
+It couldn't be truly said that they had been conquered by fear. These
+were self-reliant, masterful men, trained from the ground up to be
+strong in the face of danger. Yet the mystery of Kastle Krags was
+getting to them. They couldn't forget that for two nights running some
+power that dwelt on that eerie shore had claimed one of the occupants of
+the manor house--and that a third night was even now encroaching over
+the forest. Any legend however strange concerning the old house could
+not wake laughter now. It was true that from time to time one of
+the guests laughed at another's sallies, but always the sound rang
+shockingly loud over the verandas and was some way disquieting to every
+one that heard it. Nor did we hear any happy, carefree laughter such as
+had filled the halls that first night. Rather these were nervous,
+excited sounds, conveying no image of mirth, and jarring unpleasantly on
+us all.
+
+The hot spell of the previous night was fortunately broken, yet some of
+us chose to sit on the verandas. Through rifts in the trees we could
+watch the darkness creeping over the sea and the lagoon. There was no
+pleasure here--but it was some way better than staying in our rooms and
+letting the night creep upon us unawares. It seemed better to face it
+and watch it, staring away into it with rather bright, wide-open
+eyes....
+
+The trees blurred on the lawns. The trunks faded until they seemed like
+the trunks of ghost-trees, haunting that ancient shore. It was no longer
+possible to distinguish twig from twig where the branches overlapped.
+
+The green grass became a strange, dusky blue; the gray sand of the shore
+whitened; the blue-green waters turned to ink except for their
+silver-white caps of foam. Watching closely, our eyes gradually adjusted
+themselves to the fading light, conveying the impression that the
+twilight was of unusual length. Perhaps we didn't quite know when the
+twilight ended and the night began.
+
+The usual twilight sounds reached us with particular vividness from the
+lagoon and the forest and the shore. We heard the plover, as ever; and
+deeper voices--doubtless those of passing sea-birds, mingled with
+theirs. But the sounds came intermittently, sharp and penetrating out of
+the darkness and the silence, and they always startled us a little.
+Sometimes the thickets rustled in the gardens--little, hushed noises
+none of us pretended to hear. A frog croaked, and the hushed little
+wind creaked the tree-limbs together. Once some wild creature--possibly
+a wildcat, but more likely a great owl--filled the night with his weird,
+long-drawn cry. We all turned, and Van Hope, sitting near by, smiled
+wanly in the gloom.
+
+Darkness had already swept the verandas, and Van Hope's was the only
+face I could see. The others were already blurred, and even their forms
+were mere dark blotches of shadow. A vague count showed that there was
+six of us here--and I was suddenly rather startled by the thought that I
+didn't know just who they were. The group had changed from time to time
+throughout the evening, some of the men had gone and others had taken
+their chairs, and now the darkness concealed their identities. It
+shouldn't have made any difference, yet I found myself dwelling, with a
+strange persistency, on the subject.
+
+The reason got down to the simple fact that, in this house of mystery,
+a man instinctively wanted to keep track of all his fellows. He wanted
+to know where they were and what they were doing. He found himself
+worrying when one of them was gone. I suppose it was the instinct of
+protection--a feeling that a man's absence might any moment result in
+a shrill scream of fear or death in the darkness. Van Hope sat to my
+left, a little further to the right was Weldon, the coroner. There were
+three chairs further to the right, but which of the five remaining
+guests occupied them I did not know.
+
+Three white men--two of the guests and the sheriff--were unaccounted
+for. My better intelligence told me that they were either in the
+living-room or the library, perhaps in their own rooms, yet it was
+impossible to forget that these men were of the white race, largely free
+from the superstition that kept the blacks safely from the perilous
+shores of the lagoon. Any one of a dozen reasons might send them walking
+down through the gardens to those gray crags from which they might never
+return.
+
+I found myself wondering about Edith, too. She had excused herself and
+had gone to her room, ostensibly to bed, but I couldn't forget our
+conversation of the previous night and her resolve to fathom the mystery
+of her uncle's disappearance. Would she remain in the security of her
+room, or must I guard her, too?
+
+How slow the time passed! The darkness deepened over land and sea. The
+moon had not yet risen--indeed it would not appear until after midnight.
+The great, white Floridan stars, however, had pushed through the dark
+blue canopy of the night, and their light lay softly over the gardens.
+The guests talked in muffled tones, their excited laughter ringing out
+at ever longer intervals. The coals of their cigars glowed like
+fireflies in the gloom.
+
+By ten o'clock two of the six chairs were vacant. Two of the guests had
+tramped away heavily to their rooms, not passing so near that I could
+make sure of their identity. Soon after this a very deep and curious
+silence fell over the veranda.
+
+The two men to my right, Weldon the coroner and one of the guests, were
+smoking quietly, evidently in a lull in their conversation. I didn't
+particularly notice them. Their silence was some way natural and easy,
+nothing to startle the heart or arrest the breath. If they had been
+talking, however, perhaps the moment would have never got hold of me as
+it did. The silence seemed to deepen with an actual sense of motion,
+like something growing, and a sensation as inexplicable as it was
+unpleasant slowly swept over me.
+
+It was a creepy, haunting feeling that had its origin somewhere beyond
+the five senses. Outwardly there was nothing to startle me, unless it
+was that curious, deepening silence. The darkness, the shore, the
+starlit gardens were just the same. Nor was it a perceptible, abrupt
+start. It came slowly, growing, creeping through me. I had no
+inclination to make any perceptible motion, or to show that anything was
+different than it was before. I turned slowly to Van Hope, sitting to my
+left.
+
+Instinctively I knew that here was the source of my alarm. It was
+something that my subconscious self had picked up from him. He was
+sitting motionless in his chair, his hand that held his cigar half
+raised to his lips, staring away into the distant gardens.
+
+There is something bad for the spirit in the sight of an entirely
+motionless figure. The reason is simply that it is out of accord with
+nature--that the very soul of things, from the tree on the hill to the
+stars in the sky, is motion never ending. A figure suddenly changed to
+stone focuses the attention much more surely than any sudden sound or
+movement. Perhaps it has its origin in the deep-hidden instincts,
+harking back to those long ago times when the sudden arresting of all
+motion on the part of the companion indicated the presence of some great
+danger and an attempt to escape its gaze. Even to-day it indicates a
+thought so compelling that the half-unconscious physical functions are
+suspended: a fear or a sensation so violent that life seems to die in
+the body.
+
+Van Hope couldn't get his cigar to his lips. He held it between his
+fingers, a few inches in front. He was watching so intently that his
+face looked absolutely blank. A little shiver that was some way related
+to fear passed over me, and I had all the sensations of being violently
+startled. Then Van Hope suddenly got to his feet with a short, low
+exclamation.
+
+Our nerves on edge, instantly all three of us were beside him--Weldon,
+myself, and Joe Nopp. All of us tried to follow his gaze into the gloom.
+"What is it?" Weldon asked.
+
+Van Hope, seemingly scarcely aware of us before, instantly rallied his
+faculties and turned to us. In a single instant he had wrenched back
+complete self-control--an indication of self-mastery such as I had
+rarely seen surpassed. He smiled a little, in the gloom, and dropped his
+hand to his side.
+
+"I suppose it was nothing," he answered. "I guess I'm jumpy. Maybe half
+asleep. But I saw some one--walking through the gardens down by the
+lagoon."
+
+Van Hope spoke rather lightly, in a wholly commonplace voice. He had not
+been, however, half asleep. The frozen face I had seen was of complete
+wakefulness.
+
+"A man, you say--down by the lagoon?" Weldon asked.
+
+"Yes. Of course there's always a chance for a mistake. Probably it
+wouldn't be anything anyway--just one of the men getting a little air.
+Watch a minute--maybe you'll see him again."
+
+We watched in silence, and listened to one another's breathing. But the
+faint shadows, in that starlit vista, were unwavering.
+
+"It wasn't likely anything----" Van Hope said apologetically. "I was
+thinking, though, that any stranger ought to be investigated----"
+
+"He had, too," Weldon agreed. "Not just any stranger. Any one who goes
+walking down there in the darkness ought to be questioned--whether he's
+one of us or not. But are you sure you saw anything?"
+
+"Not sure at all. I thought I did, though. I thought I saw him step,
+distinctly, through a rift in the trees. Excuse me for bothering you."
+
+None of us felt any embarrassment on Van Hope's account, or any
+superciliousness if he had been unnecessarily alarmed. It was wholly
+natural, this third night of three, to wonder and be stirred by any
+moving thing in the darkened gardens.
+
+But we waited and watched in vain. There were no cries from the shore of
+the lagoon. The silence remained unbroken, and after awhile the thought
+turned to other channels.
+
+Van Hope rose at last, hurled his cigar stub to the lawns and for a
+breath stood watching its glowing end pale and die. The disappearance of
+his old friend had gone hard with him. You could see it in the stoop of
+his shoulders. He looked several years older.
+
+"Nothing to do now--but go to bed," he commented quietly. "Maybe we can
+get some sleep to-night."
+
+"The third night's the charm," Nopp answered grimly. "How do we know but
+that before this night is over we'll be gathered out here again." He
+paused, and we tried to smile at him in the darkness. Nopp was speaking
+with a certain grim humor, yet whatever his intentions, none of us got
+the idea that he was jesting. "It's worked two nights--why not three.
+I'd believe anything could happen at this goblin house----"
+
+We listened to him with relief. It was some way good for our spirits to
+have one of us speak out what we had all been thinking and had strained
+so hard to hide. Nor did we think less of him for his frankness. We knew
+at first, and we knew now, that Nopp's nerve was as good or better than
+any man in the gathering, and he had never showed it better than in
+speaking frankly now.
+
+"Bunk, Nopp," Van Hope answered. "You're mixing coincidence up with
+atmosphere. It was a strange and a devilish thing that those two crimes
+should have happened two nights running, but it will work out perfectly
+plausible--mark my words. And coincidences don't happen three times in a
+row."
+
+Nopp lifted his face to the starlit skies. "My boy," he said, rather
+superciliously, "_anything_ could happen at Kastle Krags."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+After I went to my room I worked for an hour on the cryptogram, found
+beside Florey's body. The mysterious column of four-letter words,
+however, did not respond to any methods of translation that I knew. For
+another hour thereafter I lay awake in my bed beside the window.
+
+It was one of the few spots in the house that offered a fairly clear
+glimpse of the lagoon. The trees opened, like curtains: I could see the
+water darkly blue in the starlight, and the faint, gray line, like a
+crayon mark, that was the natural rock wall. The tide was coming in now:
+I could see the white manes of the sea-horses as they charged over the
+barrier. The whole surface of the lagoon was fretted by them.
+
+Had Nopp spoken true--could there be a recurrence of last night's
+tragedy? Could any situation arise in human affairs that would result in
+three murders, one after another, all under practically the same and the
+most mysterious conditions? It was possible, by a long stretch of the
+imagination, to conceive of two such crimes occurring on successive
+nights--the murderer striking again, through some unknown movement of
+events, to hide his first crime--but coincidences do not happen thrice!
+If indeed these disappearances could be wholly attributed to human
+activities, human designs and human passions, there was no need of lying
+awake and expectant this third night. Surely no super-criminal had
+declared remorseless war against _all_ of the occupants of that house.
+Certainly we could sleep in peace to-night!
+
+But I couldn't get away from the same thought that haunted me
+before--that these crimes lay somehow without the bourne of human event
+and circumstance, that they were some way native to this strange, old
+manor-house beside the sea. It wasn't easy to lose one's self in sleep.
+I felt no shame at my own uneasiness. It was true that the crimes had
+both occurred, evidently, on the shore of or near the lagoon, but could
+the curse that lay upon the old estate extend its baleful influence into
+the house itself? Anything could happen at Kastle Krags, Nopp had said,
+and it became increasingly difficult to disbelieve him.
+
+Since the intrusion of two nights before I had slept with a chair
+blocked firmly against my door, knowing that no one could enter from
+the corridor, at least without waking me. My own pistol lay just under
+my mattress where the hand could reach it in an instant. Both these
+things were an immense consolation now. I would not be so helpless in
+case of another midnight visitor.
+
+Yet I had no after-image of terror in thinking upon the intruder of two
+nights before. Strangely, that hand reaching in the flashlight was the
+one redeeming feature of this affair of Kastle Krags. That hand was
+flesh and blood, and thus the whole mystery seemed of flesh and blood
+too. If this incident did not confine the mystery to the realm of human
+affairs, at least it showed that there were human motives and human
+agents playing their parts in it.
+
+Was that intruder Pescini? The hand could easily have been his--firm,
+strong, aristocratic, sensitive and white. After all, there was quite a
+case to be made against Pescini. "Find George Florey and you'll find the
+murderer," William Noyes had written. And the whole business of proving
+that Pescini was George Florey was simply that of proving his
+handwriting and that of the "George" notes we had found in the butler's
+room were the same.
+
+"They have been bitter enemies since youth." Rich, proud, distinguished,
+had this bearded man carried a life-long hatred for the humble servitor
+of Kastle Krags? What boyhood rivalry, what malice, what blinding,
+bitter jealousy had wakened such a hatred as this? Yet who can trace the
+slightest action from its origin to its consummation; much less such a
+complex human drama as this. No man can see truly into the human heart.
+It seemed fairly credible that this gray servant might hate, with that
+bitter hatred born of jealousy, his richer, more distinguished
+brother--yet human relations, in their fullness, are beyond the ken of
+the wisest men. It would be easy to prove or disprove whether or not
+Pescini and Florey were brothers: the "George" letters were secure in
+the hands of the State, and a copy of Pescini's handwriting could be
+procured with ease. Besides their lives and origins would likely be easy
+to trace.
+
+Florey's letter to his sister was further proof of Pescini's guilt. I
+made an entirely different interpretation of it than that of the
+officials. I did not think that he was referring to any physical
+disease. I believed, at the first hearing, and I believed still that he
+had written in veiled language of the persecutions of his brother:
+
+     "My old malady, G---- is troubling me again," Florey had
+     written. "I don't think I will ever be rid of it. It is
+     certainly the Florey burden--going through all our family.
+     I can't hardly sleep and don't know how I'll ever get rid of
+     it. I'm deeply discouraged, yet I know...."
+
+I did not share the sheriff's view that "G----" referred to some
+long-named malady that, either for the sake of abbreviation or because
+he could not spell it, he had neglected to write out in full. I felt
+sure it meant "George" and nothing else. "The Florey burden----"--what
+was more reasonable than that his family had been cursed by feuds
+within. I hadn't forgotten my talk with Nealman. He had spoken of the
+hatred sometimes borne by one brother for another; and had named the
+Jason family, main characters in the treasure legend of the old manor
+house, as a case in point. But Florey had got rid of his burden at last.
+He had got rid of it by death.
+
+Could I make myself believe that Pescini had lured his brother to the
+shore, killed him, seized an opportunity to hurl his body into the
+lagoon, from which, by the thousandth chance, our drag-hooks had failed
+to find it; and the following night, to conceal his guilt, had struck
+down his host? Perhaps the former was true, and that the crime, coming
+just previous to his own financial failure, had suggested suicide to
+Nealman's mind. No one had track of Pescini the night of the crime. For
+that matter, unlike Van Hope, Major Dell, and several others, he was not
+undressed and in his room when Nealman had disappeared. And the coroner
+had suggested a motive for murder in the matter of Pescini's suit for
+divorce.
+
+It wasn't easy to believe that such an obviously distinguished
+and cultured man could stoop to murder. There is such a thing,
+criminologists say, as a criminal face; but Pescini had not the least
+semblance of it. Criminologists admit, however, in the same breath that
+they are constantly amazed at the varied types that are brought before
+them, charged with the most heinous crimes. Pescini looked kind,
+self-mastered, not given to outlaw impulses. Yet who could say for sure.
+
+I was already falling to sleep.... It was hard to keep the sequence
+of thought; absurd fancies swept between. Ever my hold on wakefulness
+was less. It was pleasant to believe that the mystery would soon be
+unraveled, all with a commonplace explanation.... At first I gave no
+heed to a rapid footfall in the corridor.
+
+Yet in an instant I was wide awake. In the silent hall the footfall was
+perfectly distinct, carrying through the walls of my room, and echoing
+somewhere in the wall behind me. In any quiet home, in any land, it
+would have been impossible to disregard those footsteps. There was a
+distinct tone of urgency behind them that simply could not be denied. In
+this dark house of mystery the senses rallied, quickened, and seemed to
+lie waiting to contend with any emergency.
+
+The steps were not only hurried and urgent. They were
+_frenzied_--although they were not running footsteps. At the same time
+they gave the image of some one trying to hurry, some one trying to
+conquer himself, and yet not move too loudly. It was as if he was some
+way fearful to waken the poignant silence of that shadowed corridor.
+
+"He is coming to my door," I told myself. It was wholly likely that I
+spoke the words aloud; at least, I believed them as unwaveringly as if
+the man outside had thus announced his intentions. No man can ever tell
+how such knowledge comes to him. Perhaps it is coincidence--that he
+expects such a summons on a hundred different occasions before it ever
+comes to him in reality. Yet many things already proven true are a
+thousand times harder to believe than telepathy--the transmission of
+messages according to no known laws of matter and space.
+
+The tread itself was peculiar. It had an odd, shuffling quality that was
+hard to analyze. Then some one rapped excitedly on my door.
+
+"What is it?" I asked.
+
+I was already out of bed, groping for my light switch.
+
+"It's me--Wilkson," was the reply. "Boss, will ye open de do'?"
+
+I knew Nealman's colored janitor--a middle-aged servant of an
+old-fashioned, almost departed glory--but for an instant I found it
+almost incredible that this was his voice. The tones were blurred,
+lifeless, spoken as if from drawn lips. There was only one thing to
+believe, and I fought it off as long as I could: that the man outside my
+door was simply stricken and almost dead with fear.
+
+It wasn't easy to open the door to hear what he had to tell. A scream in
+the night is one thing; a chattering fellow man, just on the other side
+of a pine door, is quite another. But I took away the chair and turned
+the knob.
+
+The man's face was almost as hard to recognize as his voice. It was
+Wilkson, beyond possibility of doubt, but he was no longer the tranquil,
+genial serving-man. His face had the strangest gray hue pen ever tried
+to describe. I could see the whites of his eyes, his lips were rounded,
+he was almost unconscious from sheer terror.
+
+At that moment I began to strive hard to remember certain truths--one of
+them being that little things, laughed away by an Anglo-Saxon, have been
+known to instill the most unfathomable depths of fear into an unlettered
+southern negro. What seemed terrible to him might be only laughable to
+me. I thought of these things in order to brace myself for what he had
+to tell.
+
+At that moment I knew the inroads that the events of the last two nights
+had made upon me--likely upon every man and woman in the house. I could
+have met that gray face much more bravely the night previous, and would
+have likely been largely unmoved by it two nights before. But mystery,
+the lack of sleep, the terrible possibilities to which both crimes had
+pointed, had over-stretched the nerves and taken the pith from the
+thews. The sight of that terrified face sent a sharp chill of fear
+through every avenue of my nerves. I felt its icy touch in my veins.
+Kastle Krags was getting to me--denial of that fact was impossible even
+to myself.
+
+"Iscuse me, Boss," he said humbly, pathetically, if I had ever known
+what pathos was. In his terror he wanted to propitiate the whole world,
+and was begging my indulgence of his intrusion. "Boss, is Majo' Del in
+yo' room?"
+
+"No." I didn't reprove him for failing to notice that my light was out.
+"Where is he?"
+
+"Boss, he am gone. He's gone just like them other two am gone." His
+voice died and a low moan escaped his lips. "Boss, who'll they be takin'
+nex'? Gawd, who'll they be takin' nex'----?"
+
+I seized his arm, trying to steady him. "Listen, Wilkson," I commanded.
+"How do you know he's gone----"
+
+"Telephone message come for him, Boss. Telegram, from Ochakee. And he
+ain't here to get it. He's gone--just like dem oder two men has gone
+befo' him."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+It wasn't easy to steady Wilkson so that he could tell an intelligent
+story. His own dark superstitions had hold of him, and his shambling
+search through the darkened corridors had stretched his nerves to the
+absolute breaking-point. It was evident at once that there was nothing
+to do but let him take his time and get the story out the best he could.
+After all, immediate action had never helped matters in this affair of
+Kastle Krags. There had been a grim finality about everything that had
+occurred. Those who were gone had not been brought back by prompt
+search.
+
+He did not respond to any of the ruses so often used to get a colored
+man to talk--scorn or incredulity or sternness. He was aware of nothing
+but his own terror, and the image in those fear-widened eyes no man
+could guess.
+
+"You say a telegram came for him, Wilkson?" I asked gently. "Some one
+phoned it in?"
+
+"De phone bell rung, jus' off de su'vant's rooms," he explained. "It was
+a message fo' Majo' Dell. 'Get him up to get dis telegram,' some white
+gen'lman said, so I done went to get him up. He ain't in his room. Bed
+not been slept in. I called and no one answered. Den I ask Mrs.
+Gentry--she saw him go down the hall hour ago, all dressed, and seen him
+turn in yo' room----"
+
+"He's not here. He hasn't been here." I slipped on a dressing-gown
+and slippers, then stood a moment with Wilkson in the darkened hall.
+It was curious that the housekeeper should have made such an odd
+mistake--thinking that Dell had turned into my door. Perhaps at the
+distance she had observed she confused the door either to the right or
+left with mine.
+
+There was no need for panic yet. Any one of a dozen things might have
+explained his temporary absence from his room in the dead of night. He
+might be in the room to my right--Fargo's room--in some conference with
+his friend. Yet there was no light under the door.
+
+I knocked loudly. Fargo called sharply from his bed.
+
+"Have you seen Major Dell?" I asked.
+
+"Dell? No! Good Lord, he hasn't disappeared, too?"
+
+"We can't find him." I heard Fargo spring from his bed, and I turned to
+the room to my left. Yet in an instant I remembered and halted on the
+threshold. This was Nealman's room, dark and chill with shadows. I
+scratched a match and lifted it high.
+
+But no one was here. My voice rang with a hollow sound back to me. Our
+shouts had aroused Nopp, and in a moment he came out in the hall to join
+us. I think Nopp was a steadying influence on us both. He walked, rather
+than ran, he was perfectly composed, wholly himself, and his voice when
+he spoke was low and even. Yet there was no tone or note of an attempt
+to belittle our alarm. He acted as I have seen strong men act in the
+presence of some great disaster--calmly, soberly, rather white-faced and
+silent, but unflinching and steadfast.
+
+There was no amazement in Nopp's face. Evidently he had expected just
+such a development.
+
+"Another gone, eh?" he said. "I wish these devils would stay in their
+rooms, where they belong. What's taking them out there, Killdare?"
+
+"How do I know? Maybe they just can't sleep--want to walk----"
+
+"They wouldn't want to walk in that part of the grounds, if they're
+human, unless they've got business there. But no matter. We've got to
+look around for him at least. I don't suppose it will do any good----"
+
+He spoke with an unmistakable fatalism. "You don't mean--that he's gone
+like the rest----"
+
+I heard our low breathing as I waited for his answer. "What's the use of
+fooling ourselves any more, Killdare?" he replied quietly. "We're up
+against something--God knows what. Of course he's gone--just like the
+rest. Where else could he be?"
+
+We turned once more into his room. Wilkson had reported rightly--his bed
+had not been slept in, and there was not the slightest sign of disorder.
+His coat--a well-made garment of some gray, cotton cloth hung on the
+back of his chair, and the butts of two cigars lay on his smoking stand.
+He was not in his bathroom, nor did we hear his voice from some
+adjoining room.
+
+And now all the other guests, all of whom slept on this same floor, were
+gathering about us, wakened by the sound of our voices. Marten came,
+swearing under his breath, and Van Hope's brow was beaded with
+perspiration that glistened in the dim light. But none of them knew
+where Major Dell was. Indeed none of them had seen him since he had
+gone to his room.
+
+There was a curious, dream-like quality about the little session that we
+had together at the door of Dell's room. It was all rather dim, obscure,
+the voices that we heard seemed to come from some place far off, and
+that ring of faces no longer looked clear-cut and sharp. I suppose the
+answer lay in the great preoccupation that was upon us all, a struggle
+for understanding that engulfed our minds.
+
+There were no excited, frenzied voices. The men spoke rather quietly and
+slowly, as if measuring their words, and Van Hope was smiling, faintly.
+It wasn't a mirthful smile, but rather a wan smile such as a man gives
+when some incredible disaster, long expected, has fallen upon him. None
+of us liked to see it. There was nothing to believe but that the mystery
+had gone home to him more fully than to any one else--and we all wished
+that he could be spared the tragic, vain hour of search that awaited us.
+Because none of us had the least hope, in our own hearts, that we would
+ever see Major Dell again. We had got past the point where we could
+deceive ourselves. The truth was all too self-evident. We would search
+through the grounds, as a matter of duty we would call and run back and
+forth. But the end was already sure.
+
+Indeed, there was no look of surprise on any one of those white faces.
+Rather they had a helpless, almost fatalistic expression, as men have
+when at last they are crushed to earth by the inevitable. I have heard a
+detachment of soldiers, seemingly trapped by death, speak in the same
+quiet way, and have seen the same baffled, resigned expression on their
+faces.
+
+I didn't try to keep track of who was there and who was absent. It was
+impossible to think of such things now. But bitter, blasting fear surged
+through me when I thought of Edith--wondering if she was safe in her
+room.
+
+There was a moment of stress, a sudden, momentary explosion of
+suppressed excitement, when Slatterly the sheriff joined us in the hall.
+We heard his running feet in the corridor, and we turned to watch him,
+his dressing-gown flopping about him. Evidently he had heard our words
+from his room in the upper corridor. Certain exclamations were on his
+lips--whether they were profane oaths I do not know.
+
+"What is it?" he demanded in an irritable, rasping voice. "Why are you
+all gathered here?"
+
+Silently we waited for Nopp to speak--Nopp who had become the strongest
+arm in the affair. "We're not having any late evening gossip," he
+answered. "Kastle Krags has its tail up again. We're here--to find out
+what has become of Major Dell."
+
+"Major Dell! Good God, don't tell me he's gone too."
+
+Instantly the sudden, deadly surge of wrath we had all felt toward the
+sheriff died in our breasts. That cry he made, the hopeless, defeated
+way in which he spoke, made him, in an instant, one of us--subject to
+the same fear and despair, a crushed and impotent human being like
+ourselves.
+
+"He's gone," Nopp told him quietly. "He's not in his room. He doesn't
+seem to be any place else."
+
+"Have you searched? I don't suppose there's any use of it, but we've got
+to search. Oh, why didn't I guard him--why did I ever take such a
+criminal risk!"
+
+None of us could forget his rugged, brown face in the wan electric
+light. Whether it was regret or fear that swept it we didn't know. It
+was ashen, almost expressionless, and his eyes were lifeless under his
+heavy brows. His hands hung, fingers slightly apart, at his side.
+
+"Wait just a minute before we begin an indiscriminate search," Nopp
+said. "Slatterly, we've got to face facts. Do you think--there's any
+place in these grounds that none of us _ought to go_?"
+
+We knew what he meant. He wanted to guard against further loss of life.
+
+"The thing seems to run according to rule," the sheriff replied, rather
+grimly. "Just one gone--every night. But keep together when you're down
+near the lagoon."
+
+There was not the least good in searching further through the house.
+Most of the household had gathered around us, by now, and no one had
+seen Major Dell. We walked the length of the corridor and down the
+stairs, and then we went out into the still darkness. The hour was
+evidently shortly after midnight--the tide was almost at its flood.
+
+Just a moment more we stood just below the great veranda, and no man
+knew the other's thoughts. The moon was rising--we could see its argent
+gleam through nebulous clouds to the East. Far away the gray shore
+stretched to the darkened sea, and the natural rock wall showed a faint,
+gray line. Then we headed out into the grounds.
+
+But there was no answer to the calls we made, and only such little
+people as moles and gophers, burrowers in the ground, stirred in the
+thickets as we crushed through. We hunted aimlessly, more to satisfy our
+own sense of duty than through any expectation of finding the missing
+man. The moon came out more vividly, but its light did not bring
+success. At last we collected, a silent, rather breathless group, in
+front of the house.
+
+"What now, Slatterly?" Nopp asked. "Is there anything more we can do?"
+
+"Nothing more." His old confidence was gone from his voice. "I wish I'd
+done something long ago, instead of being so sure. But this thing can't
+happen to-morrow night."
+
+"Slatterly, you're a brave man to say that _anything_ can't happen
+to-morrow night. I thought you'd learned your lesson----"
+
+"I have. Never fear for that. To-morrow night I'm going to watch beside
+that lagoon with a loaded gun--and I am going to see this thing
+through."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+The sheriff had finished his investigations by noon of the following
+day, and after lunch I was free to work upon the problem that I felt was
+the key to the whole mystery--the cryptogram beside Florey's body.
+Lately I had been thinking that in all probability to procure the script
+had been the direct motive of the murder; and the fact of its theft from
+my room seemed to bear me out.
+
+Why wasn't it reasonable to presume that in the last instant of Florey's
+life, just before the attack was made, he had attempted to conceal the
+script. He had thrown it from him; his death-cry had aroused the
+household so that the murderer had no time to seek and procure it. Then
+from a hiding place, or even from among a group of the guests, he had
+seen me pick it up.
+
+To work out that cryptogram, to read its hidden meaning was the first
+and the best thing I could do in the way to solve the mystery of Kastle
+Krags. Written originally on parchment, sixty or seventy years before,
+it doubtless referred and was in explanation of the secret of the old
+manor house--the legend of the treasure, supposedly hidden by Godfrey
+Jason in the long ago. I had just toyed with it before. Perhaps I had
+had little faith that it was of any real importance. But now, other
+avenues had failed, and I was resolved to know the truth if it was
+humanly possible to do so. I copied the script again, with great care:
+
+     aned
+     dqbo
+     aqcd
+     trkm
+     fipj
+     dqbo
+     seho
+     ohuy
+     wvyn
+     dljn
+     dtht
+
+Then I began to make a systematic analysis. I noticed first that the
+second and the sixth words were identical, indicating--considering the
+brevity of the entire message--that it must represent a word of most
+frequent use. Of course the articles "a" and "the" occur most often in
+any English writing, yet I found it hard to believe that "dqbo"
+represented either. In the first place, in a message of that length it
+is reasonable to assume that all articles and words not absolutely
+necessary to the meaning had been omitted.
+
+Weeks that seemed years before Nealman had told me that, after careful
+study, he had been convinced that there was some truth in the legend of
+buried treasure. Was it not within the bounds of reason to assume that
+this cryptic message revealed the hiding place of the treasure? Working
+on this assumption, I made up an imaginary description of some hiding
+place, just to see what words occurred with the greatest frequency. I
+found at once that the word that would be most likely to be used twice
+in a description of that kind would be some measurement--either feet,
+yards, meters, rods, or something of the kind. If I could convince
+myself that "dqbo" represented some English measurement I might find the
+key and system of the code.
+
+Either "feet," "yard" or "rods" were words of four letters--either one
+of which might be represented by "dqbo." Then I tested each one to see
+if I could establish a pattern.
+
+I tried first the old code-system of having each letter in the word
+represent some other letter a certain number of spaces backward or
+forward in the alphabet. Suppose a man wanted to disguise the word
+"cab." He might do so, very easily, by spelling it "dbc"--using, instead
+of the right letter, the letter immediately following it in the
+alphabet, "d" for "c," "b" for "a," etc. Testing for "feet" as a
+possible interpretation of "dqbo" I saw that "f" was the second
+letter in the alphabet beyond the letter "d"--first letter in the
+script-word--but I found that such a relation could not possibly hold
+with "e" and "q" respectively, the second letters. "Yard" or "rods"
+failed the same test. Nor by any juggling of this simple code, counting
+so many spaces backwards or forwards, could I make it come out true.
+
+Some time before I had decided that it was unlikely to the verge of
+impossibility that any message could be made up completely of four
+letter words. It seemed likely, at first, that letters had been cut
+from each word in order to make them of four letters. Working on this
+hypothesis I tested for "meters" but the word "dqbo" could not be made
+to conform.
+
+At that point it was necessary to begin on another tack. I smoked a
+while in silence, hoping that some idea, some little inspiration that
+so often furnished the key for such a mystery as this, would come to me.
+I had a dim thought that, since the words were all of four letters and
+could not be made intelligible by any shifting of the alphabet, that
+perhaps it had undergone some double transformation--changed first from
+words into some other symbol form, and then back into words. But I
+couldn't seem to get hold.
+
+If I could only see the key! Possibly it was extremely simple, just
+before my eyes if I could only grasp it. It wasn't reasonable, I
+thought, for a lone man to leave a hidden message without giving some
+key, however adroit, for the reader to translate it. Jason hadn't
+written that message for his own amusement. He had inscribed it to be
+read by some one who came after--perhaps by himself when old age had
+dulled his memory.
+
+Working from this point of view I set myself to remember what had been
+written on the parchment beside the column of figures. Perhaps the key
+had been there also; I had simply failed to observe it. At the bottom of
+the message had appeared the words "At F. T." And at first this seemed
+to offer the most interesting possibilities.
+
+Certainly the word and letters had some meaning. In the first place
+this, and the sentence above the script, indicated that the writer did
+his thinking in English--not in Spanish or Portuguese or any other
+language. But "F. T." did not convey any meaning to my mind. I simply
+couldn't catch it.
+
+I tried to make the letters "F" and "T" a starting point in the alphabet
+for rearranging the letters in the column of words, on the same theory
+that I had worked at first, but nothing came of it. And at that point my
+hopes and confidence, falling steadily for the past hour, was at its
+lowest ebb. I didn't see but that I would have to give up the venture
+after all.
+
+My mind slipped easily to the message in English above the
+column--"Sworn by the Book," or something after that nature. Taking
+these words simply as they seemed, an oath on the part of the writer
+that the ensuing message was true, I hadn't taken the trouble to copy
+them from the original parchment. Fortunately I remembered them,
+approximately at least. And I felt a little quickening of hope as I
+contemplated them.
+
+The more I looked at them the more they seemed to be "dragged in by the
+heels." I didn't think that one with knowledge of hidden treasure,
+conveying its hiding place to some one else, would have taken the
+trouble to declare the truth of his statement by oath. Nor was such
+a pious beginning, on the part of that iniquitous murderer and
+cut-throat, Jason, quite in character. He would have been more likely to
+have begun with a sentence of piratical profanity. He had some reason
+for bringing in the "Book"--and when I knew what it was, I believed I
+would know the key to the cryptogram.
+
+The "Book" was the Bible of course--a name still in wide use. And the
+whole volume of my blood seemed to spurt through the veins when I
+remembered what an important place the Bible had taken in the events of
+the past few days!
+
+Nealman had had a Bible, wide open, in his room. Edith had been seen to
+carry it to him through the corridor--and this business with it had been
+of such a character that he had ordered Edith's silence in regard to the
+errand. Whether or not Florey had possessed a copy I wasn't able to
+remember for certain.
+
+It must have been a grim old joke to Jason--to use the Holy Word to
+transmit the record of his iniquity! In an instant I was burrowing, not
+a little excited, into the bottom of my bag for a small copy of the
+Bible that I carried with me on every journey.
+
+Apart from religious reasons, there is no better traveling companion
+for a knowledge-loving man than King James' Bible. The font of all
+literature, the mighty well of inspiration, the record of the ages--it
+was beloved not only of the scientist and historian, but the literati
+and the esthete. Hardly a week had passed that I hadn't referred to it,
+in one capacity or another. And now I felt that I was on the right track
+at last.
+
+There is no book in such common usage, published with such fidelity as
+to the position of every word, so easily procured in any place or time,
+as the Holy Bible. It would be the perfect code-book. Certainly it could
+be used to the greatest advantage as the key to a cryptogram.
+
+But what had been the method of its use? In what way could these
+four-letter words, none of which were intelligible, be made through the
+agency of the Bible to present an intelligent meaning? Again I found
+myself relying on inductive reasoning. I worked backward, just as I had
+done before, trying to see some way to convey a secret meaning through
+the agency of this universally read book.
+
+All at once I saw the way. The Bible contained almost every word in the
+present English vocabulary. In all probability each one of the words in
+the column represented some English word to be found somewhere in the
+Bible, and the column of them, written out, would be the message in
+full.
+
+How to find that word was the only problem that remained. True, it
+looked formidable enough at first. Yet I saw in a moment that the
+four-letter words could not represent the words of the message
+themselves, but only their _position_ in the Bible.
+
+My mind was working clearly now, leaping from one conclusion to another;
+and reasoning deductively I tried to work out some method of secret
+writing whereby I could reveal to another person the position of a
+certain word I wanted him to know. Suppose, for instance, that Jason
+wished to use the word "feet" in his message. Looking through the Bible
+he found the word--say on page 86, third line, fourth word. It was
+conceivable that he might send the numbers "86-3-4" to some other
+person; and the latter, aware that the Bible acted as the key, looked
+up the place in the Book and learned what the word was.
+
+The number of pages vary, however, in Bibles of different size. It was
+natural that the location must be a constant in order that the recipient
+of the note could always find it. So I began again:
+
+Suppose Jason, looking through his Bible, found the word "feet" in the
+book of Genesis, the first chapter, the third verse, and the fourth word
+of the verse. If he should send the symbols "Gen. 1, 3, 4" to his
+friend, the man could easily look up the place and see what he meant.
+And in this case he wouldn't have to have any certain edition of the
+Bible. The fourth word of the third verse of the first chapter of
+Genesis is the same in all copies of King James' Bible over all the
+world.
+
+Now I was working on sure ground. I had no doubt but that "dqbo"
+represented a certain point in the Bible--the letter "d" probably
+representing the book, "q" the chapter, "b" the verse and "o" the word.
+Once more my attention was called, with particular vividness, to the
+fact that all the words in the column were of four letters, proving in
+my mind that this last contention was true.
+
+My heart was racing as I moved to the next step in working out the
+cryptogram. It was simply that of finding what method had been used to
+transform such a symbol as "Gen. 1, 3, 4" into such a sign as "dqbo." If
+instead of four-letter words I was working with sequences of numbers
+such as "1, 1, 3, 4" I would have felt that the problem was solved. "1,
+1, 3, 4" would have plainly meant the first book, the first chapter,
+the third verse, and the fourth word.
+
+To transform letters into numbers--that was all that remained. Again I
+went back to "dqbo" and took the simplest method of transformation. "D"
+was the fourth letter in the alphabet. "Q" was the seventeenth letter in
+the alphabet. "B" was the second letter in the alphabet. "O" was the
+fifteenth letter in the alphabet. I wrote down the numbers:
+
+     4-17-2-15
+
+And I felt sure that they meant the fourth book, the seventeenth
+chapter, the second verse and the fifteenth word in the Holy Bible.
+
+Shaken, so nervous I could hardly hold my hands still, I stopped a
+moment to rest. This was the crisis. I was either at the verge of
+absolute success or hopeless failure. If when I looked up the place I
+found some word that couldn't possibly be used in such a message I
+wouldn't have the spirit to seek further. And it would be a real blow to
+all my hopes.
+
+I opened the Bible. The fourth book proved to be "Numbers." I turned to
+the seventeenth chapter, the second verse. And there I read as follows:
+
+     Speak unto the children of Israel and take one of them a
+     _rod_ according to the house of their fathers.
+
+The fifteenth word was _rod_--used as a staff in this case but
+undoubtedly used as a term of measurement in the script.
+
+From then on my fingers flew through the pages of the Book. "Aned," the
+very first word in the column, represented--finding the alphabetical
+position of each letter--the numbers 1-14-5-4. It was a simple matter to
+look up the first book of the Bible, Genesis, the fourteenth chapter,
+the fifth verse, and the fourth word. The verse in this case began:
+
+     "And in the _fourteenth_ year came Chedorlaomer, and the
+     kings that were with him."
+
+The fourth word of the verse was _fourteenth_--and the first word of the
+finished script.
+
+It was easy to find the other words. I worked them all out in fifteen
+minutes. "Aqcd," the third in the column, proved to be the first,
+seventeenth, third, and fourth letters of the alphabet, respectively,
+and 1-17-3-4 meant first book, seventeenth chapter, third verse, fourth
+word, as plain as could be. The word proved to be "on." Swiftly I went
+down the list. And at last I had the whole column translated:
+
+     fourteen
+     rod
+     on
+     wall
+     three
+     rod
+     straight
+     right
+     fastened
+     white
+     rock
+
+Writing it out, I had:
+
+     Fourteen rod on wall three rod straight right fastened white
+     rock.
+
+In clearer language, it meant simply and unmistakably, that to find the
+missing object--unquestionably Jason's treasure--go fourteen rods out on
+the natural rock wall, turn straight right into the lagoon for three
+rods, and there I would find it--fastened to a white rock.
+
+The thing was done. I came to myself to find my fingers toying with the
+pencil, and my thoughts soaring far away. In spite of the grim record of
+death already made, the deadly precedent that had been set, in spite of
+all the dictates of ordinary intelligence, I knew what my future course
+would be. The lure of gold had hold of me. As soon as the opportunity
+offered, I was going to follow the thing through to its end, and see
+with my own eyes that which lay hidden in the depths of the lagoon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+
+Just before the dinner hour I met Slatterly on the lower floor, and we
+had a moment's talk together. "You've been in on most everything that's
+happened around here," he said. "You might as well be with us to-night.
+We're going to watch the lagoon."
+
+The truth was I had made other plans for this evening--plans that
+included Edith Nealman--so I made no immediate answer. The official
+noticed my hesitancy, and of course misunderstood.
+
+"Speak right up, if you don't want to do it," he said, not unkindly. The
+sheriff was a man of human sympathies, after all. "I wouldn't hold it
+against any man living if he didn't want to sit out there in the dark
+watching--after what's happened the last three nights. I don't know that
+I'd do it myself if it wasn't in line of duty."
+
+"I don't think I'd be afraid," I told him.
+
+"It isn't a question of being afraid. It's simply a matter of human
+make-up. To tell the truth, I'm afraid myself--and I'm not ashamed of
+it. More than once I've had to conquer fear in my work. A man who ain't
+afraid, one time or another, hasn't any imagination. Some men are cold
+as ice, I've had deputies that were--and they wouldn't mind this a bit.
+I know, Killdare, that you'd come in a pinch. Any man here, I think--any
+white man--would be down there with me to-night if something vital--some
+one's life or something--depended on it. But I don't want to take any
+one that it will be hard for, that--that is any one to whom it would be
+a real ordeal. I'm picking my bunch with some care."
+
+"Who is going?"
+
+"Weldon, Nopp, you and myself--if you want to come. If not, don't mind
+saying so."
+
+"I want to come!" We smiled at each other, in the hall. After all, no
+other decision could be made. The high plans I had made for an evening
+with Edith would have to be given over. In the first place the night
+might solve the mystery into which I had been drawn. In the second it
+was the kind of offer that most men, over the earth, find it impossible
+to refuse. Human beings, as a whole, are not particularly brave. They
+are still too close to the caves and the witch-doctors of the young
+world. They are inordinately, incredibly shy, also, and like little
+children, sometimes, in their dreads and superstitions. Yet through some
+blessing they have a high-born capacity to conquer the fear that
+emburdens them.
+
+No white man in the manor house would have refused Slatterly's offer.
+Mostly, when men see that they are up against a certain hard deal, some
+proposition that stirs the deep-buried, inherent instinct that is
+nothing more or less than a sense of duty--that deep-lying sense of
+obligation that makes the whole world beautiful and justifiable--they
+simply stand up and face it. No normal young man likes war. Yet they all
+go. And of course this work to-night promised excitement--and the love
+of excitement is a siren that has drawn many a good man to his doom.
+
+"Good," the sheriff told me simply, not in the least surprised. "What
+kind of a gun can you scare up?"
+
+"I can get a gun, all right. I've got a pistol of my own."
+
+Nopp came up then, and he and the sheriff exchanged significant glances.
+And the northern man suddenly turned to me, about to speak.
+
+Until that instant I hadn't observed the record that the events of the
+past three nights had written in his face. Nopp had nerves of steel;
+but the house and its mystery had got to him, just the same. The sunset
+rays slanted in over the veranda, poured through the big windows, and
+showed his face in startling detail. The inroads that had been made upon
+it struck me with a sudden sense of shock.
+
+The man looked older. The lines of his face seemed more deeply graven,
+the flesh-sacks were swollen under his eyes, he was some way shaken and
+haggard. Yet you didn't get the idea of impotence. The hands at his side
+had a man's grasp in them. Nopp was still able to handle most of the
+problems that confronted him.
+
+Slatterly, too, had not escaped unscathed. The danger and his own
+failure to solve the mystery had killed some of the man's conceit, and
+he was more tolerant and sympathetic. There was a peculiar, excited
+sparkle in his eyes, too.
+
+Slatterly turned to Nopp. "He says he's got a pistol."
+
+The second that ensued had an unmistakable quality of drama. Nopp turned
+to me, exhaling heavily. "Killdare, we've beat the devil around the
+stump all along--and it's time to stop," he said. "I don't like to talk
+like a crazy man, but we've got to look this infernal matter in the
+face. When you come out to-night come armed with the biggest gun you can
+find--a high-powered rifle."
+
+No man argued with another, at a time like this. "I don't know where I
+can get a rifle," I told him.
+
+"Every man in the house has got some kind or another. I'm going to be
+frank and tell you what I'm carrying--a big .405, the biggest
+quick-shooting arm I could get hold of. Whatever comes to-night--we've
+got to stop."
+
+We gathered again at the big mahogany table, dined quietly, and the four
+of us excused ourselves just before dessert. The twilight was already
+falling--like gray shadows of wings over land and sea--and we wanted to
+be at our post. We didn't desire that the peril of the lagoon should
+strike in our absence. And we left a more hopeful spirit among the other
+occupants of the manor house.
+
+They were all glad that armed men would guard the lagoon shore that
+night. I suppose it gave them some sense of security otherwise not
+known. The four of us procured our rifles, and walked, a grim company,
+down to the shore of the lagoon.
+
+"We want to guard as much of the shore line as we can, and still keep
+each other in sight," Slatterly said. "And there's no getting away from
+it that we want to be in easy rifle range of each other."
+
+He posted us at fifty-yard intervals along the craggy margin. I was
+placed near the approach of the rock wall, overlooking a wide stretch of
+the shore, Weldon's post was fifty yards above mine, the sheriff's next,
+and Nopp's most distant of all. Then we were left to watch the tides and
+the night and the stars probing through the darkening mantle of the sky.
+
+We had no definite orders. We were simply to watch, to fire at will in
+case of an emergency, to guard the occupants of the manor house against
+any danger that might emerge from the depths of the lagoon. The tide, at
+the lowest ebb at the hour of our arrival, began soon to flow again. The
+glassy surface was fretted by the beat and crash of oncoming waves
+against the rocky barrier. We saw the little rivulets splash through;
+the water's edge crept slowly up the craggy shore. The dusk deepened,
+and soon it was deep night.
+
+We were none too close together. I could barely make out the tall figure
+of Weldon, standing statuesque on a great, gray crag beside the lagoon.
+His figure was so dim that it was hard to believe in its reality, the
+gun at his shoulder was but a fine penciled line, and with the growing
+darkness, it was hard to make him out at all. Soon it took a certain
+measure of imagination to conceive of that darker spot in the mist of
+darkness as the form of a fellow man.
+
+The sense of isolation increased. We heard no sound from each other, but
+the night itself was full of little, hushed noises. From my camp fire
+beside Manatee Marsh I had often heard the same sounds, but they were
+more compelling now, they held the attention with unswerving constancy,
+and they seemed to penetrate further into the spirit. Also I found it
+harder to identify them--at least to believe steadfastly the
+identifications that I made.
+
+We hadn't heard a beginning of the sounds when we had listened from the
+verandas. They had been muffled there, dim and hushed, but here they
+seemed to speak just in your ear. Sea-birds called and shrieked, owls
+uttered their mournful complaints, brush cracked and rustled as little,
+eager-eyed furry things crept through. Once I started and the gun leaped
+upward in my arms as some great sea-fish, likely a tarpon, leaped and
+splashed just beyond the rock wall.
+
+"What is it, Killdare?" Weldon called. His voice was sharp and urgent.
+
+"Some fish jumped, that was all," I answered. And again the silence
+dropped down.
+
+The tide-waves burst with ever-increasing fury. The stars were ever
+brighter, and their companies ever larger, in the deep, violet spaces of
+the sky. The hours passed. The lights in the great colonial house behind
+us winked out, one by one.
+
+There was no consolation in glancing at my watch. It served to make the
+time pass more slowly. The hour drew to midnight, after a hundred years
+or so of waiting; the night had passed its apex and had begun its swift
+descent to dawn. And all at once the thickets rustled and stirred behind
+me.
+
+No man can be blamed for whipping about, startled in the last, little
+nerve, in such a moment as this. Some one was hastening down to the
+shore of the lagoon--some one that walked lightly, yet with eagerness. I
+could even hear the long, wet grass lashing against her ankles.
+
+"Who is it?" I asked quietly.
+
+"Edith," some one answered from the gloom.
+
+Many important things in life are forgotten, and small ones kept; and my
+memory will harbor always the sound of that girlish voice, so clear and
+full in the darkness. Though she spoke softly her whole self was
+reflected in the tone. It was sweet, tender, perhaps even a little
+startled and fearful. In a moment she was at my side.
+
+"What do you mean by coming here alone?" I demanded.
+
+"The phone rang--in the upper corridor," she told me almost
+breathlessly. "The negroes were afraid to answer it. I went--and it was
+a telegram for you. I thought I'd better bring it--it was only two
+hundred yards, and four men here. You're not angry, are you?"
+
+No man could be angry at such a time; and she handed me a written copy
+of the message she had received over the wire. I scratched a match, saw
+her pretty, sober face in its light and read:
+
+     Am sending picture of George Florey, brother of murdered
+     man. Watch him closely. Am writing.
+
+It wasn't an urgent message. The picture would have reached me, just the
+same, and I had every intention of watching closely the man I believed
+was the dead butler's brother. Yet I was glad enough she had seen fit
+to bring it to me. We would have our moment together, after all.
+
+What was said beside that craggy, mysterious margin, what words were all
+but obscured by the sound of the tide-waves breaking against the natural
+wall of rock, what oaths were given, and what breathless, incredible
+happiness came upon us as if from the far stars, has little part in the
+working out of the mystery of Kastle Krags. Certain moments passed,
+indescribably fleet, and certain age-old miracles were reënacted. Life
+doesn't yield many such moments. But then--not many are needed to pay
+for life.
+
+After a while we told each other good-night, and I scratched a match to
+look again into her face. Some way, I had expected the miraculous
+softening of every tender line and the unspeakable luster in her blue
+eyes that the flaring light revealed. They were merely part of the night
+and its magic, and the joy I had in the sight was incomparable with any
+other earthly thing. But what surprised me was a curious look of
+intentness and determination, almost a zealot's enthusiasm in her face,
+that the match-light showed and the darkness concealed again.
+
+She went away, as quietly as she had come. Whether Weldon had seen her I
+did not know. There was something else I didn't know, either, and the
+thought of it was a delight through all the long hours of my watch.
+Edith Nealman had worlds of common sense. I wondered how she had been
+able to convince herself that the message was of such importance that
+she needs must carry it through the darkness of the gardens to me at
+once.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+
+The tide reached its full, shortly after two o'clock, and then began to
+ebb. Almost at once the little waves of the lagoon smoothed out, they
+lapped no more against the craggy margin, and the water lay like a sheet
+of gray glass. I had seen the same transformation on several previous
+occasions, but to-night it seemed to get hold of me as never before.
+
+Seemingly it partook of a miraculous quality to-night--as if winds had
+been suddenly stilled by a magician's art. The water was of course
+flowing out between the crevices of the rock wall, yet there was no
+sense of motion. The water-line dropped slowly down.
+
+It is an unescapable fact that the whole atmosphere of the Ochakee
+country is one of death. The moss-draped forests seem without life, the
+rivers convey no sense of motion, the air is dead, and vegetation rots
+underfoot. To-night the lagoon was without any image or indication of
+life. The whole vista seemed like some dead, forgotten wasteland in a
+dream--a place where living things had never come and was forever
+incompatible with life.
+
+It was a mysterious hour. The half-crescent moon rose at last, at first
+a silver tinting of the skyline, a steadily growing wave of light and
+then the sharply outlined moon itself above the eastern forest. The dark
+shadows that were my companions took form, strengthened; again I could
+see their erect figures on the gray crags and the gleam of their rifles
+in their arms. The perspective widened, the rock wall seemed to extend,
+stretch ever further across the lagoon, and now the sky was graying in
+the East.
+
+A moment later I heard Weldon's voice, ringing full in the hush of the
+dying night, as he spoke Slatterly's name. The latter answered at once.
+
+"Yes. What is it?"
+
+"Let's go in. The night's over and nothing's happened. It's pretty near
+bright day already."
+
+It was true that the eastern sky had begun to be tinged with gray. I
+could see the lines of my hands and the finer mechanisms of the rifle.
+The hour, however, seemed later than it really was, simply because of
+the effulgence of the moon. The dread atmosphere of Kastle Krags had in
+a moment been wholly destroyed. Instead of a place of mystery and
+peril, it was simply an old-time manor-house fronting the sea, built
+between the forest and a calm lagoon.
+
+There didn't seem any use of watching further. If the night was not yet,
+in fact, completely over, the moon and the graying east gave the effect
+of morning. Perhaps the fact that the outgoing tide had stilled the
+lagoon had its effect too. The ominous sound of breaking waves was gone,
+and it gave a perfect image of quietude and peace.
+
+Slatterly waited an instant before he answered. "Wait a little more," he
+said in a resigned tone. "But you're right--it's almost morning."
+
+I don't think it was five minutes later that I saw Weldon leave his post
+and saunter over to the sheriff's side. I suppose, bored with his task,
+the time seemed much longer to him. True, the lagoon was gray, the
+shadows of the garden had lost their mystery, and there didn't seem any
+use of waiting. Indeed, I don't think any of us escaped a sense of inner
+embarrassment--something akin to ignominy and chagrin--that we should be
+standing beside that quiet water-body, with high-powered rifles in our
+hands. It made us feel secretly ridiculous.
+
+Nopp called over, cheerily, "Through for the night?"
+
+"Might as well," Slatterly answered. "It was a fool party anyway."
+
+Very glad that the watch was over, I left my own post, and we had a
+cigarette apiece beside the still lagoon. Then we went through the
+gardens to the house.
+
+"We've disrupted the regular schedule, anyway," Nopp said. "I think
+we've come to the end of our trouble, and nothing more to fear. Man, do
+you think to-day will clear the thing up?"
+
+"What chance is there to clear up such a mess in one day?" The sheriff
+spoke moodily.
+
+"Because you're going to have some real help--not a lot of bungling
+amateurs. You know who's coming?"
+
+"Lacone--Van Hope's detective."
+
+"Yes. He's a distinguished man--a real scientist in the study of crime.
+He may do wonders, even in one day."
+
+"I only hope he does! I don't care who clears it up--as long as it's
+cleared. Now to get a little sleep."
+
+Tired out, we went to our rooms. The cool of early morning had swept
+through the halls, and the first glimmer of dawn was at the windows. How
+white the moon was in the sky, how mysteriously gray the whole sweep of
+shore and sea! So tired I dreaded the work of undressing, I sat down a
+moment before the window that overlooked the lagoon.
+
+The moonlight and the dawn gave the appearance of a mist, a gray mist as
+is sometimes seen over water when the sky is overcast with heavy clouds.
+At that moment it was impossible to conceive of anything but grayness.
+The whole conception that the brain had, the only interpretation that
+the senses made was of this same, lifeless hue. If an artist had tried
+to paint the picture that was spread before my window he would have
+needed but one tube of paint.
+
+It was in some way vaguely startling. It went home to some dark
+knowledge within a man, and left him fearful and expectant. The shore
+and the sea were gray, the gardens were swept with grayness, the lagoon
+itself had lost its many colors and only the same neutral tint remained.
+The only way that the eye could distinguish shore from sea, and garden
+from shore, was the gradations of the same hue.
+
+Surely dawn was almost at hand. The moon looked less vivid in the sky.
+And nothing remained but to find what sleep I could.
+
+But at that instant my senses quickened. I could hardly call it a
+start--it was just a sudden wakening of mind and body. I wasn't the
+least sure.... Perhaps in a moment the old lull, the well-remembered
+sense of well-being and security would return. It had seemed to me that
+a swift shadow glided through the grayness at the shore of the lagoon.
+
+The window afforded a remarkably wide glimpse of that particular part of
+the estate. The rift in the trees permitted a view of scattered segments
+of the rock wall itself. And it wasn't to be that I could turn and leave
+them to the gray of morning. In that mysterious, eerie light I saw the
+whisking shadow again.
+
+It was not merely some little creeping thing from the forest--some
+living creature such as stirs about at the first ray of dawn. The shadow
+was much too large. I would have thought, at the first glance, that it
+was the shadow of a man. But at that instant the figure emerged into the
+open, and I knew the truth.
+
+The trim form on the shore of the lagoon was that of Edith Nealman. I
+could see her outline with entire plainness, dark against the gray. Some
+errand of stealth had taken her down to the shore of the lagoon the
+moment that it was left unguarded.
+
+In an instant she disappeared, and in the interval I found out how
+deeply and inexplicably startled I was. And then I saw her again,
+walking out on the natural rock bridge, and carrying some heavy object,
+that dragged on the rocks, in her arms.
+
+I could see her stooped figure, and the shadow of the thing that
+dragged. And there is no telling under Heaven the thoughts and the
+terrors that swept through me as to what that dragging thing might be.
+
+But in an instant I saw what it was. It was a rather long, heavy plank,
+certainly of wood. She was about two hundred feet out on the rock wall
+by now, and I saw that she was launching the plank to the right of the
+wall, in the water of the lagoon. Before I could wonder or exclaim she
+herself had slipped in with it, her arms pale white from the shoulders
+of her dark bathing suit, wading out and guiding the heavy plank beside
+her.
+
+No man who had read that mysterious script could doubt what her purpose
+was. She had gone fourteen rods out on the wall, and then she had turned
+to the right into the lagoon. Plainly she was searching for Jason's
+treasure.
+
+She, too, knew the key. In that same flash of time, I understood the
+look of intent I had seen on her face earlier that night. She had kept
+her resolve--even now she was herself trying to sound the mystery of her
+uncle's disappearance. I understood her own exultation when I had
+talked of my many scientific plans, and how I lacked means to carry them
+out. Even then she had likely been working on the cryptogram. It was
+wholly possible that either Nealman or herself had encountered a copy of
+the script in the old house, and they had worked on it together.
+
+But there had been some sort of a guard put over Jason's treasure! With
+what right had we been so smugly certain that the old legend was not
+true--that there was not still some evil, tentacled monster of the deep
+left to slay and drag to his cavern those that dared to penetrate the
+lagoon. Even now she was wading further and further from the rock wall.
+I could see just her head and the top of her shoulders above water, the
+heavy plank still guided beside her.
+
+Fear is an emotion that speeds like lightning through the avenues of the
+nerves. In the instant that these thoughts went home--thoughts that
+would have taken moments to narrate in speech but which whipped through
+the mind in the twinkling of an eye--I plumbed the utter depths of fear.
+There can be no other word. The gray expanse seemed the waters of death
+itself; the whole scene, in the gray of dawn, was eerie, savage,
+unutterably dreadful. And the girl that had come to be my own life was
+even now wholly within the power of any monstrous foe that should leave
+its cavern to attack her.
+
+Why had we been so sure! Why hadn't we guarded those deadly waters every
+hour, day and night. Every day teaches that many things that seemed
+incredible a day ago are true: how had we dared to be so arrogant in
+regard to the legend of the lagoon. Even when three men, one after
+another, had disappeared without trace we had refused to change our
+ancient habits of thought: we had still refused to believe. I knew now
+the fate of the missing men. They had gone in search of Jason's
+chest--and the treasure guard that dwelt in the lagoon had put them to
+death. And just before my eyes the girl I loved was following the path
+they made, making the same quest.
+
+And in that breathless, never-to-be-forgotten moment, I heard a
+resounding splash of water. Against the craggy, opposite shore the water
+flew far and white as some living thing that had been concealed in the
+far crags dived toward her through the still waters of the lagoon.
+
+The whole scene had seemingly occupied less than a second. Already,
+before I could breathe, I was leaping down the corridor towards the
+stairs. I called once for help--a door behind me opened. Then I was out
+in the gray dawn, racing toward the lagoon.
+
+There seemed no interlude of time between the instant that I saw that
+splashing water and that in which I had plunged full into the gray
+depths myself. In reality there was a space of several seconds--the gray
+light showed me that the drama of the lagoon had progressed immeasurably
+further. The girl was fifty or sixty feet from the rock wall now, just
+her head showing above water, her arms locked tight about the plank and
+facing her approaching foe. And something that swam swiftly made
+streaming ripples toward her.
+
+I swam with amazing ease and swiftness. The terror, innate love of life,
+were all forgotten in the hope that I might reach Edith's side in time.
+And now, by the gray light of dawn, I saw that her foe was upon her.
+
+They were struggling with a desperate frenzy, and for an instant the
+splashing water almost obscured them. The plank had been torn from her
+grasp, and by some circumstance had been sped hopelessly out of her
+reach. And now, the water clearing from my eyes, I could determine the
+identity of her assailant. No matter what further fate the lagoon had in
+store for her, this foe was human, at least. Terrible and drawn with
+passion as it was, I saw the face of Major Kenneth Dell, the man who had
+disappeared the preceding night.
+
+I yelled, trying to give hope. Already I was almost upon them; and Dell
+had released his hold of the girl. Whatever had been his purpose it had
+been forgotten in the face of some greater extremity. Their fight was no
+more with each other: rather they seemed at death grips with some
+resistless foe that tore at them from beneath the waves.
+
+I saw Dell's face. An unspeakable terror, that of one who in wickedness
+goes down to an awful death, was on his face. It was such a terror as
+men can know but once, for they never live to tell of it, and which
+blasts the heart of any one that beholds it. No artist, delving into the
+abnormal, could have portrayed that fear. It was a thing never to
+forget, but ever to see again in dreams.
+
+Edith was terrified too, but such a terror as Dell knew was impossible
+for her. The fear of death that curses a godless man is perhaps the most
+dreadful retributive force in this world or the next, and Dell knew it
+to the full. No one who had seen his face could doubt but that all the
+iniquity of a long life had been atoned for, in one little moment, in
+the scales of justice. But only a measure of it could oppress her. The
+only fear that her fine young soul could know was that born of the
+elemental love of life. And with what seemed to be a final effort she
+raised her head to call a warning to me.
+
+But even if I had heeded it, it would have come too late. I saw the
+heads of the man and woman in front of me go down as if drawn by
+quicksand. And there was no escape for me. The death that dwelt in the
+lagoon had already seized me in its resistless grasp.
+
+But the guard over Jason's treasure was not merely some monster
+implanted from the sea, a mortal thing that years could claim or
+muscular strength oppose. Rather it was a power that had dwelt there
+since the world's young days, ever claiming tribute, and which would
+continue on until the very sea itself was changed. The demon that had
+hold of me was merely that of rushing waters. They swept me forward and
+sucked me down with remorseless force.
+
+There was a sink-hole in the floor of the lagoon. No wonder the water
+that rushed in at high-tide had seemed to go so quietly away. I was
+being carried down a subterranean outlet, through some water passage
+under the rock wall, and into the open sea.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+
+The water surrounding the underground outlet was not of great depth--an
+inch or so over five feet--but the suction of the sink-hole was
+irresistible. Once caught in those sinking waters meant to go down with
+them; and a moth would have struggled to equal advantage. If fate had
+given me the choice of fighting to save myself it would not have changed
+the outcome in the least. The plank had floated too far away to seize.
+The water was deep enough that if, by a mighty wrench of muscles, I was
+able to seize with my hands some immovable rock on the lagoon floor my
+head would have been under water.
+
+Fate, however, didn't give me that fighting choice. Edith Nealman had
+already gone down, a single instant before. Loss of life itself couldn't
+possibly mean more. There was nothing open but to follow through.
+
+But while the trap itself was infallible, irresistible to human
+strength, there might be fighting aplenty in the darkness of the channel
+and beyond. The time hadn't come to give up. The slightest fighting
+chance was worth every ounce of mortal strength. And as the waters
+seized me I gave the most powerful swimming stroke I knew, a single,
+mighty wrench of the whole muscular system, in an attempt to get my lips
+above water for a last breath.
+
+Partly because I have always been a strong swimmer, but mostly by good
+fortune, I won that instant's reprieve. I had already exhaled; and in
+the instant that my lips were above the smooth surface of the lagoon I
+filled my lungs to their utmost capacity, breathing sharp and deep, with
+the cool, sweet, morning air. The force of my leap carried me over and
+down, the descending waters seized me as the sluice in a sink might
+seize an insect, and slowly, steadily, as if by a giant's hand, drew me
+into darkness.
+
+I had been drawn into the subterranean outlet of the lagoon, the
+passageway of the waters of the outgoing tide. Life itself depended on
+how long that under-water channel was. I only knew that I was headed
+under the rock wall and toward the open sea.
+
+At such times the mental mechanics function abnormally, if at all. I
+was not drowning yet. The thousand thoughts and memories and regrets
+that haunt the last moments of the lost did not come to me. The whole
+consciousness was focussed on two points: one of them a resolve to do
+what I could for Edith, and the other was fear.
+
+Besides the seeming certainty of death, it was unutterably terrible to
+be swept through this dark, mysterious channel under the sea. Perhaps
+the terror lay most in the darkness of the passage. It was a darkness
+simply inconceivable, beyond any that the imagination could conjure
+up--such absolute absence of light as shadow the unfathomable caverns
+on the ocean floor or fill the great, empty spaces between one
+constellation and another. In the darkest night there is always some
+fine, almost imperceptible degree of light. Here light was a thing
+forgotten and undreamed of.
+
+The waters did not move with particular swiftness. They flowed rather
+easily and quietly, like the contents of a great aqueduct. Perhaps it
+would have been better for the human spirit if they had moved with a
+rush and a roar, blunting the consciousness with their tumult, and
+hurling their victim to an instantaneous death. The death in that
+undersea channel was deliberate and unhurried, and the imagination had
+free play. Already we three were like departed souls, lost in the still,
+murky waters of Lethe--drifting, helpless, fearful as children in the
+darkness. It was such an experience that from sheer, elemental
+fear--fear that was implanted in the germ-plasm in darkness tragedies in
+the caves of long ago--may poison and dry up the life-sustaining fluids
+of the nerves, causing death before the first physical blow is struck.
+
+It was an old fear, this of darkened waters. Perhaps it was remembered
+from those infinite eons before the living organisms from which we
+sprang ever emerged from the gray spaces of the sea. And I knew it to
+the full.
+
+But I didn't float supinely down that Cimmerian stream. The race was
+certainly to the swift. Knowing that the only shadow of hope lay in
+reaching the end of the passage before the air in my lungs was
+exhausted, I swam down that stream with the fastest stroke I knew.
+Carried also by the waters, I must have traveled at a really astounding
+pace, at momentary risk of striking my head against the rock walls of
+the channel.
+
+An interminable moment later my arms swept about Edith's form. I felt
+her long tresses streaming in the flood, but her slender arms had
+already lost all power to seize and hold me. Had death already claimed
+her? Yet I could not give her the little store of life-giving air that
+still sustained me. Holding her in one arm and swimming with every
+ounce of strength I had, we sped together through that darkened channel.
+
+No swimmer knows the power and speed that is in him until a crisis such
+as this. No under-water swimmer can dream of what distances he is
+capable until death, or something more than death, is the stake for
+which he races. The passage seemed endless. Slowly the breath sped from
+my lungs. And the darkness was still unbroken when the last of it was
+gone.
+
+The trial was almost done. I could struggle on a few yards more, until
+the oxygen-enriched air in my blood had made its long wheel through my
+body.
+
+What happened thereafter was dim as a dream. There was a certain period
+of bluntness, almost insensibility; and then of tremendous stress and
+conflict that seemed interminable. It must have been that even through
+this phase I fought on, arms and legs thrashing in what was practically
+an involuntary effort to fight on to the open sea. The last images that
+drowning men know, that queer, vivid cinema of memories and regrets
+began to sweep through the disordered brain. There was nothing to do
+further. The trial was done. I gave one more convulsive wrench....
+
+And that final impulse carried me into a strange, gray place that the
+senses at first refused to credit. It was hard to believe, at first,
+that this was not merely the gray borderland of death. Yet in an instant
+I knew the truth. I was heading toward light: the subterranean blackness
+of the channel was fading, as the gloom of a tunnel fades as the train
+rushes into open air. And a second later I shot to the surface of the
+open sea.
+
+It was through no conscious effort of mine that I did not lose my life
+in the moment of deliverance from the channel. At such times the body
+struggles on unguided by the brain; instinct, long forgotten and
+neglected, comes into its own again. As I came up my lips opened, I took
+a great, sobbing breath.
+
+I must have submerged again. At least the blue water seemed to linger
+over my eyes for interminable seconds thereafter. But there were no
+walls of stone to imprison me now, and I again rose, and this time came
+up to stay. The life-giving air was already sweeping through me, borne
+on the corpuscles of the blood.
+
+In an instant I had found my stroke--paddling just enough to keep
+afloat. Edith still lay insensible in my arms. Only a glance was needed
+to see where I was. A gray line back of me stretched the rock wall, and
+beyond it the lagoon. I had been swept from the latter, through a
+submarine water passage under the wall and a hundred yards into the open
+sea. Dell, who had gone through the channel ahead of us, was nowhere to
+be seen.
+
+As soon as I had breath I shouted for help to the little file of men who
+were already streaming through the gardens toward the lagoon. They must
+come soon, if at all. Tired out, I couldn't hold on much longer. In the
+pauses between my shouts I gazed at the stark-white face of the girl in
+my arms. My senses were quickening now, and a darkness as unfathomable
+as that of the undersea passage itself swept over me at the thought that
+I had lost, after all--that the girl I had carried through was already
+past resuscitation.
+
+But the men on the shore had heard me now--I was aware of the splash of
+oars and the hum of the motor of Nealman's launch. Some one shouted
+hope--and already the dark outline of the motorboat came sweeping
+towards me. It was none too soon.... The dead weight in my arms was
+forcing me down, and my feeble strokes were no longer availing. But now
+strong arms had hold of me, dragging me and my burden into the boat.
+
+There are no memories whatever of the next hour. I must have lain
+unconscious on the sand of the shore while Nopp and his men fought the
+fight for Edith's life. At least I was there when at last, after
+lifetimes were done, a strong hand shook my shoulder. Van Hope and Nopp
+were beside me, and they were smiling.
+
+"A piece of news for you," Nopp told me, happily. "You put up a good
+fight--and you'll be glad to know that your girl will live."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+
+Though we were out of the water, we were not yet out of the woods. There
+were many explanations to be made and many guesses that took the place
+of explanations. No questions could be put to the butler, Florey, nor
+Nealman, host of Kastle Krags, nor to Major Kenneth Dell. All of these
+had been swept down the sink-hole and through the subterranean channel
+into the sea.
+
+Perhaps we would never have got anywhere, for a certainty, if it hadn't
+been for the letter and the photograph that William Noyes sent me from
+Vermont, and which arrived the day following our journey through the
+passage. Short though it was, it served to clear up many matters to our
+complete satisfaction. It was addressed to me:
+
+     I am sending photo of that scoundrel, George Florey, brother
+     of the dead man. I hope it helps you catch him. He always
+     hated his brother, and my late wife told me that as far back
+     as you want to go in her family you'll find one brother
+     hating another. I don't know where to tell you to look for
+     George. He and his brother both had spent most of their
+     lives looking for a chest of treasure that was hidden by
+     their grandfather down where you are--in Florida. They just
+     took this name of Florey the last generation. Before that it
+     was Hendrickson, my wife told me--and before that Heaven
+     knows what. Mostly they were a bad lot.
+
+After I had read it I showed it to Nopp; and he breathed deeply. But he
+made but one comment.
+
+"Human nature is a winner, isn't it, Killdare?" he observed. "Will we
+ever see the head and tail of it? Now let me see the picture."
+
+Neither Nopp nor Edith nor any one who looked at it could mistake the
+likeness presented in the photograph. It was not that of my suspect, Mr.
+Pescini. One glance established that fact. The well-bred, rather
+aristocratic face was none other than that of Major Kenneth Dell, he who
+had got himself invited to Kastle Krags, and who had died in the trap
+his grandfather had set nearly eighty years before.
+
+Edith and I went over the case together, and we managed to fill up the
+breaks in each other's story. We talked it over in the early evening,
+sitting in a secluded corner of the veranda.
+
+She had already mostly recovered from the experience of the day before.
+She was still weak and shaken, but seemingly all serious complications
+had been averted. And she resolutely refused to stay in bed.
+
+"It's been a tragic thing, all the way through," she began in the voice
+I loved. "It's over now--but Heaven knows it cost enough lives. All for
+a treasure that no one knows for sure is a reality.
+
+"I'm going over the case simply, Ned--and you tell me if I have it
+right. The letter shows that both George Florey and David Florey, the
+butler, were the grandsons of Hendrickson, who once owned this
+house--who of course was no one but the original Godfrey Jason. Jason
+too had hated his brother enough to kill him, and as the legend says, it
+was Jason who first buried the treasure in the lagoon.
+
+"He put it near, perhaps just beside a dangerous sink-hole through which
+the tidal waters swept under the wall to the open sea. And when he died
+he left two, and perhaps more, copies of a cryptogram to show where the
+chest was hidden.
+
+"As you say, Dave Florey, one of the two brothers of this generation of
+the Jason family, unquestionably got hold of one of the copies. He
+secured the position of butler at this house on purpose to hunt for and
+secure the chest. Meanwhile George Florey--we can call him Major Dell,
+the name he assumed, from now on--got track of the hiding-place of the
+treasure. The letters show that he had sought for it and traced it from
+Brazil to Washington, D. C.--at the latter place he possibly consulted
+old marine records. He evidently had considerable money, and was earning
+some in questionable ways, and through his acquaintance with Van Hope he
+got himself invited to this house.
+
+"Here he found his brother. It must have been a disagreeable surprise to
+him--the fact that you saw him so shaken and seemingly alarmed in the
+hall would indicate that it was. As the Jason brothers had done before
+them, these two men hated each other as only brothers can--jealously and
+terribly. And through some series of events that will never be known,
+they met that night beside the lagoon.
+
+"George Florey--rather, Major Dell--must have been a thoroughly
+wicked man. I guess he inherited all of his grandfather Jason's
+wickedness--otherwise he wouldn't have been able to play the part
+he did. To me it was a dramatic thing--this heritage of wickedness,
+generation after generation: this blood lust and hatred that was the
+curse of all his breed. It was Cain and Abel again--the same, old
+tragic story.
+
+"They met on the lagoon shore, beside the crags, and perhaps Major Dell
+made an attempt to wrest the copy of the cryptogram from his brother.
+It's even possible, but it doesn't seem likely, that it was the other
+way 'round. At least, they were working at cross purposes, both of them
+seemed just about to triumph--and hating each other like two serpents,
+they came to grips. And here Dell struck a fatal blow--likely with some
+terrible, hooked instrument that he had brought to grapple for the
+chest.
+
+"Florey cried out in his death agony and his fear, and Dell was obliged
+to flee without getting hold of the cryptogram. While the hunt was going
+on through the gardens, he came back to the body, likely searched the
+pockets of the victim, and for some reason that can never be exactly
+known, dragged the body into the lagoon.
+
+"Perhaps he thought the character of the wound would give him away.
+There's little doubt that he threw it there with the idea of destroying
+evidence--at least its presence some way interfered with his plans. And
+of course before the night was done it had drifted to the sink-hole and
+through the channel to the open sea.
+
+"Dell likely saw you pick up the script, and that accounts for his
+presence in your room that night. Meanwhile Nealman and I were working
+on a copy of it I had found in an old book. The book was the Bible, by
+the way, and it gave me the first key to the truth. Nealman offered to
+divide the treasure with me, if he was able to find it. That promise is
+on paper. It isn't necessary now, however--and you know why."
+
+I knew why--well enough. As his niece, Edith inherited all that Grover
+Nealman left, including this Floridan estate. It was true, however, that
+his debts just about wiped out all his other possessions.
+
+"As you know, a deal in the stock market practically ruined him," she
+went on. "The only way out he could see was the chest that both of us
+felt was hidden in the lagoon. He never took the monster legend
+seriously, but always before he had been willing to wait until he could
+procure some safe appliance to rescue the chest. At that time both of us
+knew almost exactly where it was. And when the crash came, the sudden
+need for money and his desperation sent him out in the darkness to
+procure it. He too was caught in the undersea channel.
+
+"Of course Major Dell was never even menaced by the sink-hole. Likely he
+had some knowledge of it. He vanished the third night, because first,
+he realized that Noyes' testimony would sooner or later convict him of
+his brother's murder, and second, because the disappearance of Florey
+and Nealman had set a good example for him. Some secret business took
+him into my uncle's room first, as you guessed. I have no doubt that he
+was hiding in the dense thickets on the other side of the lagoon all the
+time--waiting for his chance to procure the treasure and make his
+escape.
+
+"I don't know that you'll believe it, but by this time I had guessed the
+secret of the lagoon. I didn't know just how it worked, but I felt there
+was some kind of an underground outlet that would sweep away any one who
+tried to wade in the proximity of the treasure. Of course I didn't
+suspect Dell--I thought he had merely gone as Uncle Grover had gone,
+through the sink-hole to his death. When I made my attempt, I went
+prepared."
+
+"But how dared you attempt it?" I demanded.
+
+She laughed at my anger. "I wanted to know the truth!" she exclaimed. "I
+owed it to Uncle Grover--to find out what became of him. I needed the
+treasure chest, too--for his securities won't quite balance, he told me,
+the demands that will be made upon the estate. And finally--maybe there
+was another reason, too. Perhaps you know what it was."
+
+The narration could not go on at once. It was one of those moments that
+a man always remembers, and holds dear when most earthly treasures are
+as dust. She hadn't forgotten my own dreams--the plans I had made but
+which seemed so impossible of fulfillment.
+
+"But how did you dare take the risk?" I demanded.
+
+"There wasn't any risk--at least, I didn't think there was. I felt sure
+that a sink-hole in the bed of the lagoon was the explanation. The plank
+I dragged out there was plenty big enough to hold me up. You know a
+floating cake of soap doesn't go down the sluice as long as the bathtub
+is any way near full of water. The plank would have held me easily if
+Dell hadn't interfered and torn it from my hands.
+
+"Why did he interfere? Of course we can only guess at that. I think he
+was waiting for a chance to take the treasure himself--and he saw my
+intention. I suppose he had dreamed about his grandfather's gold until
+it was a veritable passion with him--a mania--and he was willing to risk
+death in the sink-hole sooner than let it go? Likely he meant to tear my
+hands from the plank but hang on to it himself. Of course it got away
+from us both. That's the whole story. Your own wonderful endurance and
+mastery of swimming saved me. Doesn't that seem to clear up everything?"
+
+"Almost everything. Yet I don't see why Dell waited--why he hadn't got
+the treasure out some time night before last--or yesterday----"
+
+"Of course he couldn't work in daylight. Most of the night after his
+disappearance the lagoon was guarded. Yet it isn't easy to see why he
+didn't make the attempt the night of his disappearance----"
+
+"I suppose he was waiting for a favorable time. He had to have certain
+equipment, I suppose--to keep from being carried down. Perhaps there are
+certain periods when the flow through the channel is less, and there
+isn't so much suction----"
+
+A sudden light in the girl's face arrested me and held me. Her eyes were
+sparkling like blue seas in the sunlight. "'At F. T.,'" she quoted.
+"Ned, Ned, what stupids we are! Don't you see----"
+
+"I can't say that I do. I saw 'At F. T.,' at the bottom of the script,
+but I don't know what it meant----"
+
+"'At flood tide'--that's what it meant! Just as a sailor would say it.
+He told on his own directions the way to safety. When the tide flows
+the water movement is probably in the other direction through the
+underground channel, and the lagoon is as safe as a lake; and it's only
+in the ebb-tide that the suction exists. And of course the ignorant
+treasure-seeker would make his search in the ebb-tide, when the surface
+of the lagoon is still."
+
+Exultant over this, a discovery that, if the treasure was a reality,
+assured its procurance, neither of us noticed the dignified, courteous
+approach of Pescini from the hallway. He was distinguished as ever, his
+dinner-jacket unruffled, his linen gleaming white in the dying light.
+
+"Have you seen Sheriff Slatterly anywhere?" he asked me. "I'm in a sort
+of quandary--I've got a letter on my hands and don't know what to do
+with it."
+
+"A letter?" I repeated. The skin was twitching on my back.
+
+"Yes. I hardly know whether to send it on--or whether he will want it
+for the investigations. It's one that Major Dell gave me a few days ago
+to mail, but which I dropped in my pocket and forgot."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+
+The guests refused to go back to their city homes until they had seen
+the contents of the chest that had brought such woe to Kastle Krags; and
+there was nothing to do but to make an immediate search. When daylight
+came again Edith announced that she had fully recovered from the
+adventure of two days before, and was ready to help me recover the
+chest.
+
+"I can't wait to see if it's really there," she confessed.
+
+We went in flow-tide, and we guided a boat over the place. But we
+weren't trusting entirely to our theory that the sink-hole was only
+dangerous when the tide was running out. A stout rope was attached to
+the prow of the boat, and I lashed it about my waist before I stepped
+off into the water.
+
+We had guessed right about the underground channel. At flood tide a
+swimmer could pass directly over it in safety. I located a great
+limestone boulder that I thought was undoubtedly the "white rock" of the
+script, but as the surface was rough and choppy from the tidal waves
+breaking against the rock wall, it was impossible to find the chest by
+power of vision alone. I found I had to dive again and again, groping
+with my hands.
+
+But in scarcely a moment my foot encountered an iron chain at the base
+of the rock. In a moment more the search was ended. A small, iron-bound
+chest, hardly of twelve inch dimensions, was fastened to the chain,
+which in turn was hooked securely in a crevice of the boulder.
+
+It was a rather wide-eyed, sober group that rowed back to the shore. In
+the first place it was almost impossible to believe that such a seeming
+legendary thing was actually in our hands, a thing of weight and
+substance and unquestioned reality.
+
+The chest had been made of some sort of very hard wood, chemically
+treated, and showed not the slightest sign of decay in the eighty years
+it had lain in the water. How many little crafts had passed over it!
+What a scarlet trail it had left since the _Arganil_ had borne it from
+Rio de Janeiro, so long ago. "But naked treasures breed murder!" Nealman
+had said--speaking truer than he knew.... "They get home to human
+imagination and human wickedness as nothing else can."
+
+The boat touched the shore. Nopp lifted the chest easily on the ground.
+"Don't be too hopeful," he advised Edith quietly. "If it's gold that's
+in it, you couldn't have much over a thousand. It only weighs nine or
+ten pounds, box and all."
+
+It was true. And the box itself, bound with iron, could easily weigh
+that much. Had we been hoaxed by an empty chest?
+
+Somehow or other, nervous and fumbling, we got the thing open. Some of
+the rods we broke, others we bent back. And at first we only stared in
+blank surprise.
+
+It did not look like gold--the contents of the chest. Nor was it a
+string of precious jewels. It seemed merely a bent, shapeless object of
+some dark-colored metal, and a few dull stones, some of which were as
+large as hickory nuts, loose in the bottom. Certain words were said as
+we looked down, certain questions asked--but all of them were dim and
+lost in a great, wondering preoccupation that dropped over me.
+
+Nopp reached a big hand, took one of the stones, and rubbed it on his
+trouser leg. Looking at it, he rubbed it again with added vigor. Then he
+stared at it in sudden, fascinated _wonder_.
+
+"Good Heavens!" he suddenly exclaimed in tremendous excitement. "Do you
+know what this is?"
+
+We turned to him, staring blankly. "What is it?" Edith asked. Her voice
+was quiet; only the bright sparkle in her eyes revealed how excited she
+really was.
+
+"It's an emerald. That's what it is. One of the finest in this country.
+It's worth a whole chest of gold. Killdare, the story was that it was a
+_Portuguese_ ship--bound out from Rio?"
+
+"Yes----"
+
+"And the chest was the property of some noble family, Portuguese princes
+at the time the court of Portugal was located in Rio de Janeiro?"
+
+"Something like that----"
+
+"The property of a noble family! Edith, it was unquestionably the
+property of the ruling house itself. Wait just a minute."
+
+He took the shapeless thing of metal, rubbed it until a little of the
+tarnish was gone, revealing yellow gold beneath, and slowly bent it in
+his hands. It took a circular shape. Then he showed us little sockets,
+set at various points, that had been the settings for the jewels. We saw
+the truth at once.
+
+"A crown!" Edith said.
+
+"Unquestionably the famous crown that the Portuguese king wore at his
+Brazilian court--one of the richest courts in history. The jewels came
+from Brazil, from Peruvian temples--Heaven knows where. And for Heaven's
+sake, Edith, send it away and get it changed into securities. It's
+death--that's all it is. It's the kind of thing that drives men insane."
+
+We took the yellow thing, and in a wonderful, elated mood, we set it on
+her own golden curls. But she removed it quickly. We were all instantly
+sobered as she put it into my hands.
+
+"It's bad luck to wear it," she said. "It makes me creep to think what
+wickedness it has caused--clear through the centuries. I'm an
+American--and being a queen has never appealed to me."
+
+Nopp smiled quietly, into the depths of the lagoon. "But you intend to
+be _somebody's_ queen, don't you, Edith?" he asked.
+
+And thus the matter of Kastle Krags came to a new beginning. Edith
+changed the jewels into securities, just as Nopp advised, and a tenth of
+them paid the obligations that were left after Nealman's estate was
+settled up. The rest provided an annual income that, while it would have
+been considered moderate by such great financiers as Marten and his
+fellows, seemed of kingly proportions to me. At least it provided for
+the maintenance of the old southern manor-house according to its best
+traditions.
+
+And when Edith and I go sailing away to strange lands beyond the sea,
+bent on scientific research and adventure, we often wonder what haughty
+princes and bearded pirates, lurking in the shadows of the deck are
+saying among themselves. Things have taken a great turn, they whisper
+together, when the jewels for which they lived and fought, did murder
+and died, have gone to sustain a rich man's secretary and a penniless
+schoolmaster! Perhaps lovely Portuguese princesses watch with contempt;
+and ear-ringed villains, scornful of such science as mine, swear evil
+oaths and wonder how the times have tamed!
+
+But perhaps they are glad that their watch of the lagoon is over! There
+is nothing to hold these restless spirits now, and you can hear them
+rustling no more in the forest, or feel their tragic presence in the
+gardens. Some way, the house is more cheerful, and the sea no longer
+conveys the image of desolation and mystery. When our young friends
+visit us, to play golf on our links and shoot and fish in the lakes and
+rivers, they invariably speak of its homely charm and cheer. We have,
+however, made certain improvements in the grounds.
+
+We have huge, black-lettered signs posted here and there along the
+lagoon, giving certain advice concerning swimming at ebb-tide.
+
+                         THE END.
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:
+
+Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; otherwise,
+every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words and
+intent.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Kastle Krags, by Absalom Martin
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+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Kastle Krags, A Story of Mystery, by Absalom Martin.
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Kastle Krags, by Absalom Martin
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Kastle Krags
+       A Story of Mystery
+
+Author: Absalom Martin
+
+Release Date: August 29, 2010 [EBook #33569]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KASTLE KRAGS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed
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+
+
+<h1>KASTLE KRAGS</h1>
+
+<h2>A STORY OF MYSTERY</h2>
+
+<h4>BY</h4>
+<h3>ABSALOM MARTIN</h3>
+
+<p class="smallgap">&#160;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 72px;">
+<img src="images/i001.jpg" width="72" height="100" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="smallgap">&#160;</p>
+
+<h4>NEW YORK</h4>
+<h2>DUFFIELD AND COMPANY</h2>
+<h4>1922</h4>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<p class="center">Copyright, 1921, 1922<br />
+<span class="smcap">By Duffield &amp; Company</span></p>
+
+<p class="smallgap">&#160;</p>
+
+<p class="center">Printed in U. S. A.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<h3>TABLE OF CONTENTS</h3>
+<div class="centered">
+<table border="0" width="40%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="1" summary="CONTENTS">
+
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#KASTLE_KRAGS">CHAPTER I</a></td>
+<td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a></td>
+<td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a></td>
+<td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a></td>
+<td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a></td>
+<td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a></td>
+<td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a></td>
+<td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a></td>
+<td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a></td>
+<td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a></td>
+<td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a></td>
+<td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</a></td>
+<td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</a></td>
+<td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p>
+<h1><a name="KASTLE_KRAGS" id="KASTLE_KRAGS"></a>KASTLE KRAGS</h1>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2>
+
+<p>Who could forget the Ochakee River, and the valley through which it
+flows! The river itself rises in one of those lost and nameless lakes in
+the Floridan central ridge, then is hidden at once in the live oak and
+cypress forests that creep inland from the coasts. But it can never be
+said truly to flow. Over the billiard-table flatness of that land it
+moves so slowly and silently that it gives the effect of a lake stirred
+by the wind. These dark waters, and the moss-draped woodlands through
+which they move, are the especial treasure-field and delight of the
+naturalist and scientist from the great universities of the North.</p>
+
+<p>It is a lost river; and it is still a common thing to see a brown,
+lifeless, floating log suddenly flash, strike, and galvanize into a
+diving alligator. The manatee, that grotesque, hair-lipped caricature of
+a sea-lion, still paddles in the lower waters; and the great gar, who
+could <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>remember, if he would, the days when the nightmare wings of the
+pterodactyls whipped and hummed over his native waters, makes deadly
+hunting-trips up and down the stream, sword-like jaws all set and ready;
+and all manner of smaller fry offer pleasing possibilities to the
+sportsmen. The water-fowl swarm in countless numbers: fleet-winged
+travelers such as ducks and geese, long-legged dignitaries of the crane
+and heron tribe, gay-colored birds that flash by and out of sight before
+the eye can identify them, and bitterns, like town-criers, booming the
+river news for miles up and down the shores. And of course the little
+perchers are past all counting in the arching trees of the river-bank.</p>
+
+<p>In the forests the fleet, under-sized Floridan deer is watchful and
+furtive because of the activities of that tawny killer, the &#8220;catamount&#8221;
+of the frontier; and the black bear sometimes grunts and soliloquizes
+and gobbles persimmons in the thickets. The lynx that mews in the
+twilight, the raccoon that creeps like a furtive shadow through the
+velvet darkness, the pink-nosed &#8217;possum that can only sleep when danger
+threatens, and such lesser folk as rabbit and squirrel, weasel and
+skunk, all have their part in the drama of the woods. Then there are the
+game-birds: wild turkey, pheasant, and that little red <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>quail, the Bob
+White known to Southern sportsmen.</p>
+
+<p>Yet the Ochakee country conveys no message of brightness and cheer. Some
+way, there are too many shadows. The river itself is a moving sea of
+shadows; and if the sun ever gets to them, it is just an unhappy glimpse
+through the trees in the long, still afternoons. The trees are mostly
+draped with Spanish moss that sways like dark tresses in the little
+winds that creep in from the gulf, and the trees creak and complain and
+murmur one to another throughout the night. The air is dank, lifeless,
+heavy with the odors of vegetation decaying underfoot. There is more
+death than life in the forest, and all travelers know it, and not one
+can tell why. It is easier to imagine death than life, the trail grows
+darker instead of brighter, a murky mystery dwells between the distant
+trunks.... Ordinarily such abundant wild-life relieves the somber,
+unhappy tone of the woods, but here it some way fails to do so. No
+woodsman has to be told how much more cheerful it makes him feel, how
+less lonely and depressed, to catch sight of a doe and fawn, feeding in
+the downs, or even a raccoon stealing down a creek-bank in the mystery
+of the moon; but here the wild things always seem to hide when you want
+them most; and if <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>they show themselves at all, it is just as a fleet
+shadow at the edge of the camp-fire. These are cautious, furtive things,
+fleet as shadows, hidden as the little flowers that blossom among the
+grass-stems; and such woodsfolk as do make their presence manifest do
+not add, especially, to the pleasure of one&#8217;s visit. These are two in
+particular&mdash;the water-moccasin that hangs like a growing thing in the
+wisteria, and the great, diamond-back rattlesnake whose bite is death.</p>
+
+<p>The river flows into the gulf about half-way down the peninsula, and
+here is the particular field of the geologist, rather than the
+naturalist. For miles along the shore the underlying limestone and
+coraline rocks crop up above the blue-green water, forming a natural
+sea-wall. Here, in certain districts, the thickets have been cleared
+away, wide areas planted to rice, and a few ancient colonial homes stand
+fronting the sea. Also the sportsman fishes for tarpon beyond the
+lagoons.</p>
+
+<p>A strange, unhappy land of mystery; a misty, enchanted place whose
+tragic beauty no artist can trace and whose disconsolate appeal no man
+can fathom! Forests are never cheerful, silent and steeped in shadow as
+they are, but these moss-grown copses beside the Ochakee, and crowding
+down to the very shores of the gulf, have an <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>actual weight of sadness,
+like a curse laid down when the world was just beginning. Yet Grover
+Nealman defied the disconsolate spirit of the land. He dared to disturb
+the cathedral silence of those mossy woods with the laughter of carefree
+guests, and to hold high revelry on the shores of that dismal sea.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2>
+
+<p>The allurement of a September day had brought me far down the trail,
+past the neck of the marsh, and far from my accustomed haunts. But I
+could never resist September weather, particularly when the winds are
+still, and the sun through the leaves dapples the trail like a fawn&#8217;s
+back, and the woods are so silent that the least rustle of a squirrel in
+the thicket cracks with a miniature explosion. And for all the gloom of
+the woods, and the tricky windings and cut-backs of that restless little
+serpent of a trail, I still knew approximately where I was. A natural
+sense of direction was seemingly implanted with less essential organs in
+my body at birth.</p>
+
+<p>The Ochakee River wound its lazy way to the sea somewhere to my right. A
+half mile further the little trail ended in a brown road over which a
+motor-car, in favorable seasons, might safely pass. The Nealman estate,
+known for forty miles up and down the shore, lay at the juncture of the
+trail and the road&mdash;but I hadn&#8217;t the least idea of pushing on that far.
+Neither fortune nor environment had fitted me to move <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>in such a circle
+as sometimes gathered on the wide verandas of Kastle Krags.</p>
+
+<p>I was lighting a pipe, ready to turn back, when the leaves rustled in
+the trail in front. It was just a whisper of sound, the faintest
+scratch-scratch of something approaching at a great distance, and only
+the fact that my senses had been trained to silences such as these
+enabled me to hear it at all. It is always a fascinating thing to stand
+silent on a jungle-trail, conjecturing what manner of creature is
+pushing toward you under the pendulous moss: perhaps a deer, more
+graceful than any dancer that ever cavorted before the footlights, or
+perhaps (stranger things have happened) that awkward, snuffling,
+benevolent old gentleman, the black bear. This was my life, so no wonder
+the match flared out in my hand. And then once more I started to turn
+back.</p>
+
+<p>I had got too near the Nealman home, after all. I suddenly recognized
+the subdued sound as that of a horse&#8217;s hoofs in the moss of the trail.
+Some one of the proud and wealthy occupants of the old manor house was
+simply enjoying a ride in the still woods. But it was high time he
+turned back! The marshes of the Ochakee were no place for tenderfeet;
+and this was not like riding in Central Park! Some of the quagmires <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>I
+had passed already to-day would make short work of horse and rider.</p>
+
+<p>My eye has always been sensitive to motion&mdash;in this regard not greatly
+dissimilar from the eyes of the wild creatures themselves&mdash;and I
+suddenly caught a flash of moving color through a little rift in the
+overhanging branches. The horseman that neared me on the trail was
+certainly gayly dressed! The flash I caught was <i>pink</i>&mdash;the pink that
+little girls fancy in ribbons&mdash;and a derisive grin crept to my lips
+before I could restrain it. There was no mistaking the fact that I was
+beginning to have the woodsman&#8217;s intolerance for city furs and frills!
+Right then I decided to wait.</p>
+
+<p>It might pay to see how this rider had got himself up! It might afford
+certain moments of amusement when the still mystery of the Floridan
+night dropped over me again. I drew to one side and stood still on the
+trail.</p>
+
+<p>The horse walked near. The rider wasn&#8217;t a man, after all. It was a girl
+in the simplest, yet the prettiest, riding-habit that eyes ever laid
+upon, and the prettiest girl that had ridden that trail since the woods
+were new.</p>
+
+<p>The intolerant grin at my lips died a natural death. She might be the
+proud and haughty daughter of wealth, such a type as our more <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>simple
+country-dwellers robe with tales of scandal, yet the picture that she
+made&mdash;astride that great, dark horse in the dappled sunlight of the
+trail&mdash;was one that was worth coming long miles to see. The dark, mossy
+woods were a perfect frame, the shadows seemed only to accentuate her
+own bright coloring.</p>
+
+<p>It wasn&#8217;t simply because I am a naturalist that I instantly noticed and
+stored away immutably in my memory every detail of that happy, pretty
+face. The girl had blue eyes. I&#8217;ve seen the same shade of blue in the
+sea, a dark blue and yet giving the impression of incredible brightness.
+Yet it was a warm brightness, not the steely, icy glitter of the sea.
+They were friendly, wholesome, straightforward eyes, lit with the joy of
+living; wide-open and girlish. The brows were fine and dark above them,
+and above these a clear, girlish forehead with never a studied line. Her
+hair was brown and shot with gold&mdash;indeed, in the sunlight, it looked
+like old, red gold, finely spun.</p>
+
+<p>She was tanned by the Florida sun, yet there was a bright color-spot in
+each cheek. I thought she had rather a wistful mouth, rather full lips,
+half-pouting in some girlish fancy. Of course she hadn&#8217;t observed me
+yet. She was riding easily, evidently thinking herself wholly alone.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p><p>Her form was slender and girlish, of medium height, yet her slender
+hands at the reins held her big horse in perfect control. The heels of
+her trim little shoes touched his side, and the animal leaped lightly
+over a fallen log. Then she saw me, and her expression changed.</p>
+
+<p>It was, however, still unstudied and friendly. The cold look of
+indifference I had expected and which is such a mark of ill-breeding
+among certain of her class, didn&#8217;t put in its appearance. I removed my
+hat, and she drew her horse up beside me.</p>
+
+<p>It hadn&#8217;t occurred to me she would actually stop and talk. It had been
+rather too much to hope for. And I knew I felt a curious little stir of
+delight all over me at the first sound of her friendly, gentle voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I suppose you are Mr. Killdare?&#8221; she said quietly.</p>
+
+<p>Every one knows how a man quickens at the sound of his own name. &#8220;Yes,
+ma&#8217;am,&#8221; I told her&mdash;in our own way of speaking. But I didn&#8217;t know what
+else to say.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I was riding over to see you&mdash;on business,&#8221; she went on. &#8220;For my
+uncle&mdash;Grover Nealman, of Kastle Krags. I&#8217;m his secretary.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The words made me stop and think. It was hard for me to explain, even to
+myself, just why <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>they thrilled me far under the skin, and why the
+little tingle of delight I had known at first gave way to a mighty surge
+of anticipation and pleasure. It seems to be true that the first thing
+we look for in a stranger is his similarity to us, and the second, his
+dissimilarity; and in these two factors alone rests our attitude towards
+him. It has been thus since the beginning of the world&mdash;if he is too
+dissimilar, our reaction is one of dislike, and I suppose, far enough
+down the scale of civilization, we would immediately try to kill him. If
+he has enough in common with ourselves we at once feel warm and
+friendly, and invite him to our tribal feasts.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps this was the way it was between myself and Edith Nealman. She
+wasn&#8217;t infinitely set apart from me&mdash;some one rich and experienced and
+free of all the problems that made up my life. Nealman&#8217;s niece meant
+something far different than Nealman&#8217;s daughter&mdash;if indeed the man had a
+daughter. She was his secretary, she said&mdash;a paid worker even as I was.
+She had come to see me on business&mdash;and no wonder I was anticipatory and
+elated as I hadn&#8217;t been for years!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m glad to know you, Miss&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; I began. For of course I didn&#8217;t know
+her name, then.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Miss Nealman,&#8221; she told me, easily. &#8220;Now <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>I&#8217;ll tell you what my uncle
+wants. He heard about you, from Mr. Todd.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I nodded. Mr. Todd had brought me out from the village and had helped me
+with some work I was doing for my university, in a northern state.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He was trying to get Mr. Todd to help him, but he was busy and couldn&#8217;t
+do it,&#8221; the girl went on. &#8220;But he said to get Ned Killdare&mdash;that you
+could do it as well as he could. He said no one knew the country
+immediately about here any better than you&mdash;that though you&#8217;d only been
+here a month or two you had been all over it, and that you knew the
+habits of the turkeys and quail, and the best fishing grounds, better
+than any one else in the country.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I nodded in assent. Of course I knew these things: on a zoological
+excursion for the university they were simply my business. But as yet I
+couldn&#8217;t guess how this information was to be of use to Grover Nealman.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now this is what my uncle wants,&#8221; the girl went on. &#8220;He&#8217;s going to have
+a big shoot and fish for some of his man friends&mdash;they are coming down
+in about two weeks. They&#8217;ll want to fish in the Ochakee River and in the
+lagoon, and hunt quail and turkey, and my uncle wants to know if&mdash;if he
+can possibly&mdash;hire you as guide.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p><p>I liked her for her hesitancy, the uncertainty with which she spoke. Her
+voice had nothing of that calm superiority that is so often heard in the
+offering of humble employment. She was plainly considering my
+dignity&mdash;as if anything this sweet-faced girl could say could possibly
+injure it!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All he wanted of you was to stay at Kastle Krags during the hunting
+party, and be able to show the men where to hunt and fish. You won&#8217;t
+have to act as&mdash;as anybody&#8217;s valet&mdash;and he says he&#8217;ll pay you real
+guide&#8217;s wages, ten dollars a day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When would he want me to begin?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Right away, if you could&mdash;to-morrow. The guests won&#8217;t be here for two
+weeks, but there are a lot of things to do first. You see, my uncle came
+here only a short time ago, and all the fishing-boats need overhauling,
+and everything put in ship-shape. Then he thought you&#8217;d want some extra
+time for looking around and locating the game and fish. The work would
+be for three weeks, in all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Three weeks! I did some fast figuring, and I found that twenty days, at
+ten dollars a day, meant two hundred dollars. Could I afford to refuse
+such an offer as this?</p>
+
+<p>It is true that I had no particular love for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>many of the city sportsmen
+that came to shoot turkey and to fish in the region of the Ochakee. The
+reason was simply that &#8220;sportsmen,&#8221; for them, was a misnomer: that they
+had no conception of sport from its beginnings to its end, and that they
+could only kill game like butchers. Then I didn&#8217;t know that I would care
+about being employed in such a capacity.</p>
+
+<p>Yet two or three tremendous considerations stared me in the face. In the
+first place, I was really in need of funds. I had not yet obtained any
+of the higher scholastic degrees that would entitle me to decent pay at
+the university&mdash;I was merely a post-graduate student, with the
+complimentary title of &#8220;instructor.&#8221; I had offered to spend my summer
+collecting specimens for the university museum at a wage that barely
+paid for my traveling expenses and supplies, wholly failing to consider
+where I would get sufficient funds to continue my studies the following
+year.</p>
+
+<p>Scarcity of money&mdash;no one can feel it worse than a young man inflamed
+with a passion for scientific research! There were a thousand things I
+wanted to do, a thousand journeys into unknown lands that haunted my
+dreams at night, but none of them were for the poor. The two hundred
+dollars Grover Nealman would pay me would not go far, yet I simply
+couldn&#8217;t afford to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>pass it by. Of course I could continue my work for
+my alma mater at the same time.</p>
+
+<p>Yet while I thought of these things, I knew that I was only lying to
+myself. They were subterfuges only, excuses to my own conscience. The
+instant she had opened her lips to speak I had known my answer.</p>
+
+<p>To refuse meant to go back to my lonely camp in the cypress. I hoped I
+wasn&#8217;t such a fool as that. To accept meant three weeks at Kastle
+Krags&mdash;and daily sight of this same lovely face that now held fast my
+eyes. Could there be any question which course I would choose?</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Go&mdash;I should say I will go,&#8221; I told her. &#8220;I&#8217;ll be there bright and
+early to-morrow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I thought she looked pleased, but doubtless I was mistaken.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2>
+
+<p>It didn&#8217;t take long to pack my few belongings. At nine o&#8217;clock the
+following morning I broke camp and walked down the long trail to Kastle
+Krags.</p>
+
+<p>No wonder the sportsmen liked to gather at this old manor house by the
+sea. It represented the best type of southern homes&mdash;low and rambling,
+old gardens and courts, wide verandas and stately pillars. It was an
+immense structure, yet perfectly framed by the shore and the lagoon and
+the glimpse of forest opposite, and it presented an entirely cheerful
+aspect as I emerged from the dark confinement of the timber.</p>
+
+<p>It was a surprising thing that a house could be cheerful in such
+surroundings: forest and gray shore and dark blue-green water. The house
+itself was gray in hue, the columns snowy white, the roof dark green and
+blending wonderfully with the emerald water. Flowers made a riot of
+color between the structure and the formal lawns.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p><p>But more interesting than the house itself was the peculiar physical
+formation of its setting. The structure had been erected overlooking a
+long inlet that was in reality nothing less than a shallow lagoon. A
+natural sea-wall stretched completely across the neck of the inlet,
+cutting off the lagoon from the open sea. There are many natural
+sea-walls along the Floridan coast, built mostly of limestone or
+coraline rock, but I had never seen one so perfect and unbroken.
+Stretching across the mouth of the lagoon it made a formidable barrier
+that not even the smallest boat could pass.</p>
+
+<p>It was a long wall of white crags and jagged rocks, and I thought it
+likely that it had suggested the name of the estate. It was plain,
+however, that the wall did not withstand the march of the tides. The
+tide was running in as I drew near, and the waves broke fiercely over
+and against the barrier, and little rivulets and streams of water were
+evidently pouring through its miniature crevices. The house was built
+two hundred yards from the shore of the lagoon, perhaps three hundred
+yards from the wall, and the green lawns went down half-way to it.
+Beyond this&mdash;except of course for the space occupied by the lagoon
+itself&mdash;stretched the gray, desolate sand.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p><p>Beyond the wall the inlet widened rapidly, and the rolling waves gave
+the impression of considerable depth. I had never seen a more favorable
+place for a sportsman&#8217;s home. Besides the deep-sea fishing beyond the
+rock wall, it was easy to believe that the lagoon itself was the home of
+countless schools of such hard-fighting game-fish as loved such craggy
+seas. The lagoon was fretful and rough from the flowing tide at that
+moment, offering no inducements to a boatman, but I surmised at once
+that it would be still as a lake in the hours that the tide ebbed. The
+shore was a favorable place for the swift-winged shorebirds that all
+sportsmen love&mdash;plover and curlew and their fellows. And the mossy,
+darkling forest, teeming with turkey and partridge, stretched just
+behind.</p>
+
+<p>Yet the whole effect was not only of beauty. I stood still, and tried to
+puzzle it out. The atmosphere talked of in great country houses is more
+often imagined than really discerned; but if such a thing exists, Kastle
+Krags was literally steeped in it. Like Macbeth&#8217;s, the castle has a
+pleasant seat&mdash;and yet it moved you, in queer ways, under the skin.</p>
+
+<p>I am not, unfortunately, a particularly sensitive man. Working from the
+ground up, I have been so busy preserving the keen edges of my <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>senses
+that I have quite neglected my sensibilities. I couldn&#8217;t put my finger
+on the source of the strange, mental image that the place invoked; and
+the thing irritated and disturbed me. The subject wasn&#8217;t worth a busy
+man&#8217;s time, yet I couldn&#8217;t leave it alone.</p>
+
+<p>The house was not different from a hundred houses scattered through the
+south. It was larger than most of the larger colonial homes, and
+constructed with greater artistry. If it had any atmosphere at all,
+other than comfort and beauty, it was of cheer. Yet I didn&#8217;t feel
+cheerful, and I didn&#8217;t know why. I felt even more sobered than when the
+moss of the cypress trees swept over my head. But soon I thought I saw
+the explanation.</p>
+
+<p>The image of desolation and eery bleakness had its source in the
+wide-stretching sands, the unforgettable sea beyond, and particularly
+the inlet, or lagoon, up above the natural dam of stone. The rocks that
+enclosed the lagoon would have been of real interest to a geologist&mdash;to
+me they were merely bleak and forbidding, craggy and gray and cold.
+Unquestionably they contained many caverns and crevices that would be
+worth exploring. And I was a little amazed at the fury with which the
+incoming waves beat against and over the rocky barrier. They came <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>with
+a veritable ferocity, and the sea beyond seemed hardly rough enough to
+justify them.</p>
+
+<p>Grover Nealman himself met me when I turned on to the level, gravel
+driveway. There was nothing about him in keeping with that desolate
+driveway. A familiar type, he looked the gentleman and sportsman that he
+was. Probably the man was forty-four or forty-five years old, but he was
+not the type that yields readily to middle-age. Nealman unquestionably
+still considered himself a young man, and he believed it heartily enough
+to convince his friends. Self-reliant, inured to power and influence,
+somewhat aristocratic, he could not yield himself to the admission of
+the march of the years. He was of medium height, rather thickly built,
+with round face, thick nose, and rather sensual lips; but his eyes,
+behind his tortoise-shell glasses, were friendly and spirited; and his
+hand-clasp was democratic and firm. By virtue of his own pride of race
+and class he was a good sportsman: likely a crack shot and an expert
+fisherman. Probably a man that drank moderately, was still youthful
+enough to enjoy a boyish celebration, a man who lived well, who had
+traveled widely and read good books, and who could carry out the
+traditions of a distinguished family&mdash;this was Grover Nealman, master of
+Kastle Krags.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p><p>I didn&#8217;t suppose for a moment that Nealman had made his own fortune.
+There were no fighting lines in his face, nor cold steel of conflict in
+his eyes. There was one deep, perpendicular line between his eyes, but
+it was born of worry, not battle. The man was moderately shrewd,
+probably able to take care of his investments, yet he could never have
+been a builder, a captain of industry. He dressed like a man born to
+wealth, well-fitting white flannels whose English tailoring afforded
+free room for arm and shoulder movements; a silk shirt and soft white
+collar, panama hat and buckskin shoes.</p>
+
+<p>He was not a southerner. The first words he uttered proved that fact.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So you are Mr. Killdare,&#8221; he said easily. He didn&#8217;t say it &#8220;Killdaih,&#8221;
+as he would had he been a native of the place. &#8220;Come with me into my
+study. I can tell you there what I&#8217;ve got lined up. I&#8217;m mighty glad
+you&#8217;ve come.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>We walked through the great, massive mahogany door, and he paused to
+introduce me to a middle-aged man that stood in the doorway. &#8220;Florey,&#8221;
+he said, kindly and easily, &#8220;I want you to meet Mr. Killdare.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His tone alone would have identified the man&#8217;s station, even if the dark
+garb hadn&#8217;t told <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>the story plainly. Florey was unquestionably Nealman&#8217;s
+butler. Nor could anyone have mistaken his walk of life, in any street
+of any English-speaking city. He was the kind of butler one sees upon
+the stage but rarely in a home, the kind one associates with old,
+stately English homes but which one rarely finds in fact&mdash;almost too
+good a butler to be true. He was little and subdued and gray, gray of
+hair and face and hands, and his soft voice, his irreproachable attitude
+of respect and deference seemed born in him by twenty generations of
+butlers. He said he was glad to know me, and his bony, soft-skinned hand
+took mine.</p>
+
+<p>I&#8217;m afraid I stared at Florey. I had lived too long in the forest: the
+staring habit, so disconcerting to tenderfeet on their first
+acquaintance with the mountain people, was surely upon me. I think that
+the school of the forest teaches, first of all, to look long and sharply
+while you have a chance. The naturalist who follows the trail of wild
+game, even the sportsman knows this same fact&mdash;for the wild creatures
+are incredibly furtive and give one only a second&#8217;s glimpse. I
+instinctively tried to learn all I could of the gray old servant in the
+instant that I shook his hand.</p>
+
+<p>He was the butler, now and forever, and I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>wondered if, beneath that
+gray skin, he were really human at all. Did he know human passion, human
+ambition and desires: sheltered in his master&#8217;s house, was he set apart
+from the lusts and the madnesses, the calms and the storms, the triumphs
+and the defeats that made up the lives of other men? Yet his gray,
+rather dim old eyes told me nothing. There were no fires, visible to me,
+glowing in their depths. A human clam&mdash;better still, a gray mole that
+lives out his life in darkness.</p>
+
+<p>From him we passed up the stairs and to a big, cool study that
+apparently joined his bedroom. There were desks and chairs and a letter
+file. Edith Nealman was writing at the typewriter.</p>
+
+<p>If I had ever supposed that the girl had taken the position of her
+uncle&#8217;s secretary merely as a girlish whim, or in some emergency until a
+permanent secretary could be secured, I was swiftly disillusioned. There
+was nothing of the amateur in the way her supple fingers flew over the
+keys. She had evidently had training in a business college; and her
+attitude towards Nealman was simply that of a secretary towards her
+employer. She leaned back as if waiting for orders.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You can go, if you like, Edith,&#8221; Nealman <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>told her. &#8220;I&#8217;m going to talk
+awhile with Killdare, here, and you wouldn&#8217;t be able to work anyway.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She got up; and she threw me a smile of welcome and friendliness as she
+walked out the study door.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+
+<p>Nealman had me take a chair, then seated himself before the window from
+which he could overlook the lagoon. &#8220;I always like to sit where I can
+watch it,&#8221; he told me&mdash;rather earnestly, I thought. &#8220;I can&#8217;t see much of
+it&mdash;just a glimpse&mdash;but that&#8217;s worth while. The room I&#8217;ve designated for
+your use has even a better view. You can&#8217;t imagine, Killdare, until
+you&#8217;ve lived with it, how really marvelous it is&mdash;how many colors play
+in the lagoon itself, and in the waves as they break over the
+<span style="white-space: nowrap;">Bridge&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The Bridge&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s the name we&#8217;ve given to the natural rock wall that cuts off the
+lagoon&mdash;rather, the inlet&mdash;from the open sea,&#8221; he explained.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s one of the most interesting natural formations I&#8217;ve ever seen,&#8221; I
+told him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is, isn&#8217;t it?&#8221; He spoke with genuine enthusiasm. &#8220;And don&#8217;t the
+crags take peculiar shapes around it? You see it makes a veritable
+salt-water lake out of all this end of the inlet. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>But Killdare&mdash;if you
+can overlook the dreariness and the desolation of it all, it certainly
+is beautiful&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I nodded. &#8220;With a creepy kind of beauty,&#8221; I told him. &#8220;I wish some great
+artist could come here and paint it. But it would take a great one&mdash;to
+get the atmosphere. I&#8217;ve never seen a more wonderful place for a
+distinguished home.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was rather remarkable how pleased he was by the words&mdash;particularly
+coming from a humble employee. Evidently Kastle Krags was close to his
+heart. His face glowed and his eye kindled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m wild about it myself,&#8221; he confessed. &#8220;My friends want to know why I
+bought such a place&mdash;miles from a habitation&mdash;and guy me for a hermit,
+and all that. Once they see the place, and its devilish fascination gets
+hold of &#8217;em, they won&#8217;t want to leave.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>From thence the talk led to business, and he questioned me in regard to
+the game and fish of the region. I assured him that his friends would
+have sport in plenty, that I knew where to lead them to turkey and
+partridge, and that no better fishing could be found in the whole south
+than in the Ochakee River. He seemed satisfied with my knowledge of the
+country; and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>told me a little of his own plans. Just as Edith Nealman
+had told me, he was planning a week&#8217;s fish and hunt for a half dozen of
+his man friends, beginning a fortnight from then. They were coming a
+long way&mdash;so he wanted to give them sport of the best. The servant
+problem had been easily solved&mdash;he had recruited from the negro section
+of the nearest city&mdash;but until he had talked with my friend, Mr. Todd,
+he had been at a loss as to where he could procure a suitable guide.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d like to have a guide for each man, if I could,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;but of
+course they are not to be found. Besides, only a small part of the party
+will want to go out at once. Most of them will be content to hang around
+here, drinking my brandies and fishing in the lagoon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How is fishing in the lagoon?&#8221; I asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The best. Sometimes we even take tarpon. All kinds of rock fish&mdash;and
+they fight like fiends. The rocks are just full of little crevices and
+caves, and I suppose the fish live in &#8217;em. These same crevices are the
+source of one of the most interesting of the many legends connected with
+this house.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It&#8217;s a dull man that doesn&#8217;t love legends, and I felt my interest
+stirring. &#8220;There are some tales here, eh?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Tales! Man, that&#8217;s one of the reasons I bought the place.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Nealman needed no further urging. Evidently the old stories that almost
+invariably accumulate about such an ancient and famous manor-house as
+this, had the greatest fascination for him; and he was glad of the
+chance to narrate them to any listener. He lighted a cigarette: then
+turned to me with glistening eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course I don&#8217;t believe them,&#8221; he began. &#8220;Don&#8217;t get that in your head
+for an instant. All these old houses have some such yarns. But they
+surely do lend a flavor to the place&mdash;and I wouldn&#8217;t have them disproved
+for thousands of dollars. And one of them&mdash;the one I just referred
+to&mdash;surely is a corker.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He straightened in his chair, and spoke more earnestly. &#8220;Killdare,
+you&#8217;re not troubled with a too-active imagination?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll take a chance on it,&#8221; I told him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve seen a few men, in my time, that I wouldn&#8217;t tell such a yarn to
+for love nor money&mdash;especially when they are doomed to stay around here
+for a few weeks. You won&#8217;t believe it, but some men are so nervous, so
+naturally credulous, that they&#8217;d actually have some unpleasant dreams
+about it. But I consider it one of the finest attractions of the place.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;The yarn&#8217;s very simple. About 1840, a schooner, sailing under the
+Portuguese flag, sailed from Rio de Janeiro. Her name was the <i>Arganil</i>,
+she had a mixed cargo, and she was bound for New Orleans. These are
+facts, Killdare. You can ascertain them any time from the marine
+records. But we can&#8217;t go much further.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Among the crew were two brothers, Jason by name. Legend says that they
+were Englishmen, but what Englishmen were doing on a Portuguese ship I
+can&#8217;t tell you. The name, however, might easily be South-European&mdash;it
+appears, you remember, in Greek mythology. Now this point also has some
+indications of truth. There was certainly one Jason, at least, shipped
+as boatswain&mdash;the position of the other is considerably in doubt.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now we&#8217;ve got to get down to a matter of legend, yet with some
+substance of truth. The story goes that there was a treasure chest on
+the ship, the property of some immensely rich Brasilian, and that it
+contained certain treasures that had been the property of a Portuguese
+prince at the time that the court of Portugal was located in Rio de
+Janeiro. This was from 1808 to 1821&mdash;breaking up in a revolution just a
+hundred years ago. This is history, as you <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>know. Just what was the
+nature of the treasure no one seems to have any idea. It was a rather
+small chest, so they say, bound with iron, and not particularly
+heavy&mdash;but it was guarded with armed men, day and night. Of course the
+prevailing belief is that it contained simply gold&mdash;the same, yellow,
+deadly stuff that built the Armada and made early American history. It
+might have been in the form of cups and vessels, beautiful things that
+had been stolen from early heathen temples&mdash;again it might have been
+jewels. No estimation of its value was ever made, as far as I
+know&mdash;except that, like all unfound-treasures, it was &#8216;incalculable.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You can believe as much of this as you like. Gold, however, is heavy
+stuff&mdash;no one can carry much over twenty thousand dollars worth. If the
+chest wasn&#8217;t really very heavy, and really was of such incalculable
+value, it had to contain something more than gold.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This part of the story is pretty convincing. I&#8217;ve investigated, and the
+legends contain such a wealth of detail concerning the appearance of the
+chest, how it was guarded, and so on, and the various accounts dovetail
+so perfectly one with another, that I am personally convinced that the
+treasure was a reality&mdash;at least that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>such a chest existed on the old
+ship. When you get into the contents of the chest, however, you find
+only a maze of conflicting rumors. To me they tend to make the story as
+a whole even more interesting&mdash;and I&#8217;ll confess I&#8217;d love to know what
+was in that chest.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, the <i>Arganil</i> broke to pieces off the west coast of Florida, not
+more than twenty miles from here. That fact can not be doubted. There
+are accounts of the wreck on official record. And legend has it that
+through Heaven knows what wickedness and bloodshed and cunning, the two
+Jason brothers not only managed to get off in the stoutest of the ship&#8217;s
+boats, but that they carried the treasure with them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If there were any other members of the crew in the boat with them they
+were unquestionably murdered. Nothing was ever heard of them again. The
+two brothers are said to have landed somewhere close to this lagoon.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But naked treasure breeds murder! It is a strange thing, Killdare, but
+the naked, yellow metal, as well as glittering jewels, gets home to
+human wickedness as nothing else in the world can. If that chest had
+been full of valuable securities, even paper currency, it wouldn&#8217;t have
+left such a red trail from Rio to Florida. Gold and jewels waken a fever
+of possession out of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>all proportion to their actual value. When they
+landed on the shore one of the Jasons neatly murdered the other and made
+off with the chest.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The same old yarn&mdash;Cain and Abel, Romulus and Remus. Killdare, did you
+know that fratricide is shockingly common? There are three kinds of
+brothers, and the Jasons were simply one of the three kinds. Sometimes
+you find brothers that love each other beyond belief, with a
+self-sacrificing devotion that is beautiful to see. Then you find the
+great mass of brothers&mdash;liking each other fairly well, loyal in a family
+scrap, fair pals but much closer to other pals that aren&#8217;t their
+brothers. Then you come to this third class, a puzzle to psychologists
+the world over! Brothers that hate each other like poison snakes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why is it, Killdare? Jealousy? A survival from the beast? These were
+the kind of brothers that go through life bitter and hating and at
+swords&#8217; points. And all too often they get to the killing stage.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You find it in the beast-world, too,&#8221; I commented. &#8220;Look at the case of
+the wolves and the dogs. They are blood-brothers, drop for drop&mdash;and
+they hate each other with a fervor that is simply blood-curdling.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;True enough. I remember hearing about it. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>Well, one of the Jasons&mdash;the
+one whose cunning conceived of the whole wickedness to start
+with&mdash;killed the other, disposed of his body, and then through some
+unknown series of events, concealed the treasure.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He went away awhile, the old wives say&mdash;taking a small portion of the
+treasure with him. At this point the name of Jason is lost,
+irremediably, in the mist of the past. But it is true that some two
+years later a seafaring man, one who had worn earrings and who cursed
+wickedly as he talked, came back and bought a great colonial home where
+the treasure was supposed to have been concealed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This part of the story can not be doubted. The county books contain
+records of the sale, and it&#8217;s written, plain as day, on the abstract.
+The man gave his name as Hendrickson.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Legend has it that this Hendrickson was no one but Godfrey Jason, that
+he had sold and turned into cash a small part of the treasure,
+temporarily evaded his pursuers, and had bought the big manor house with
+the idea of living in luxury the rest of his life. Incidentally, he was
+accompanied by a Cuban wife.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It seemed, however, that like most evil-doers, he got little good out
+of his treasure. He paid only a small amount down on the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>estate, and
+after a year or two let it go back to the original owners. He went away,
+but it doesn&#8217;t seem likely he took the treasure with him. At least he
+died wretchedly in poverty some months later, and had spent no large
+amount of money in between. The report of his death can be found in the
+records of the city of Tampa, in this state.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now all this is unquestionably a mixture of truth and fact.
+Unquestionably there is a vein of truth in it; and I don&#8217;t see but that
+most of it is fairly credible. But the rest of the yarn is simply
+laughable.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I tell it only because it goes with the rest&mdash;not that I believe one
+word of it myself. After you hear what it is you&#8217;ll wonder I ever took
+the trouble to tell you that I disbelieved it. It&#8217;s just the sort of
+thing imaginative old niggers make up to tell their children. And of
+course&mdash;the niggers on the place believe every word of it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They say that this Jason&mdash;or Hendrickson&mdash;put a guard over his
+treasure. He was a deep-sea fisherman at one time, when he wasn&#8217;t a
+seaman, with considerable acquaintance with the various man-eating
+monsters of the deep. It is known that Hendrickson did some queer
+exploring and fishing along the rocky shores beyond <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>the estate. What
+did the villainous old pirate do but catch some big octopus&mdash;or some
+other such terrible ocean creature&mdash;and transplanted him to the lagoon
+where he was said to have concealed the treasure.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s all there is to it. The beast is supposed to be there yet,
+growing bigger and fiercer and more terrible year by year. An octopus is
+supposed to live indefinitely, you know. Once in awhile, the story goes,
+it creeps up on the rocky shore of the lagoon and grabs off a colored
+man. When any one searches around for the chest he&#8217;s apt to meet up with
+Mr. Monster! Sure proof of his existence, the niggers say, is that Mas&#8217;r
+Somebody or other, the son of one of the subsequent owners of the
+estate, also mysteriously disappeared and has never been heard of since.
+When the blacks lose one of their own number they seem to regard it as a
+mere matter of course&mdash;but when &#8216;one of de white folks&#8217; is taken, it&#8217;s
+another matter! And of course, even to this day, you can&#8217;t get a colored
+man to go within two hundred yards of the lagoon at night, and they hate
+to approach it even in the daylight.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The lagoon where the chest is supposed to be hidden is the one just
+outside my window, cut off from the sea by the natural rock wall you
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>just saw. The big crags and rocks and crevices are supposed to conceal
+his ferociousness the sea-monster, growing bigger and hungrier and
+fiercer every day. The house that Jason&mdash;or Hendrickson&mdash;bought,
+neglected, and let return to the owners is the one you&#8217;re sitting in,
+right now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2>
+
+<p>After Nealman and I had each smoked a cigarette, I thought of a little
+plan that might increase his guest&#8217;s interest in the week&#8217;s shoot and
+hunt. He had been right when he said that even incredible legends,
+believed by no one, still add flavor to the country manor. I didn&#8217;t see
+why we shouldn&#8217;t turn them into account.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve got an idea,&#8221; I told him, &#8220;and it all depends whether or not
+you&#8217;ve already sent the invitations to your guests.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, I haven&#8217;t&mdash;just haven&#8217;t got around to it,&#8221; he answered. &#8220;All I was
+going to do was to write to about nine or ten of my men friends. I don&#8217;t
+suppose all of them can come.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good. I thought it might be interesting if we worked that legend into
+the invitation&mdash;just to add a little spice to the fishing and hunting.
+It might serve to waken a little extra interest in your party. Of
+course&mdash;it includes poking fun at the ferocious Jason and his treasure.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;ll have a lot more fun poked at them before we&#8217;re done. As I told
+you&mdash;only the colored people take them seriously at all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p><p>I took out my fountain pen, found a scrap of paper, and drew something
+like this:</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 355px;">
+<img src="images/i040.jpg" width="355" height="500" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>As my only drawing experience consisted in portraying specimens, it had
+no artistic pretensions whatever.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p><p>He seemed pleased, adopted the plan in an instant, then began to write
+down the names of his guests so that I could prepare an invitation for
+each. Most of them, I observed, lived in great cities to the North, New
+York and Boston particularly, and one or two of the men were more or
+less nationally known. The first half dozen names came easy. Then he
+paused, frowning.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wish I knew what to do about this bird,&#8221; he muttered, as much to
+himself as to me. &#8220;Killdare, I don&#8217;t suppose you&#8217;ve ever heard of
+him&mdash;Major Kenneth Dell?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I shook my head. &#8220;Not that I remember.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I haven&#8217;t either&mdash;yet I suppose he&#8217;s a good sportsman. In the
+last few weeks he&#8217;s got close to my best friend, Bill Van Hope, and Bill
+asked me to ask him down for this shoot. Says he&#8217;s a distinguished man,
+the best of fellows, and is simply wild to try Floridan game. Oh, I&#8217;ll
+put him down. If Bill recommends him he must be the goods.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He completed the list in a moment, then his duties calling him
+elsewhere, he left me in the study to prepare the invitations. And the
+hour turned out fortunately for me, after all. Thinking that the room
+was empty, Edith Nealman came back to her desk.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p><p>All the gold in Jason&#8217;s chest could not have bought a more lovely
+picture than she made, standing framed in the doorway. She was dressed
+in a spotless cotton middy-suit, and the red scarf at her throat brought
+out to perfection the light in her eyes and the high color in her
+cheeks. Then she came in and inspected the invitations.</p>
+
+<p>There was no occasion for me to leave at once. We talked a while, on
+everything under the sun, and every minute something that was like
+delight kept growing within me. She&#8217;d been up against the world, this
+girl that chattered so gayly in the big, easy office-chair. She had
+known poverty, a veritable struggle for existence; yet they hadn&#8217;t
+hardened her in the least. No one I had ever met had possessed a
+sweeter, truer outlook, an unfeigned friendliness and comradeship for
+every decent thing that lived. Maybe you&#8217;d call it a childish
+simplicity, but I didn&#8217;t stop to consider what it was. I only knew that
+she was the prettiest and the sweetest girl I&#8217;d ever seen, and I was
+going to spend every moment possible in her presence.</p>
+
+<p>Oh, but I loved to hear her laugh! I kept my brain busy thinking up
+things to say to her, that might waken that rippling sound of silver
+bells! I liked to see her eyes grow serious, and her lips half-pout as
+some delightful, fanciful <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>thought played hide-and-seek in her mind. She
+had imagination, this niece of Grover Nealman. Perhaps, after all, it
+was the secret of her charm. I didn&#8217;t doubt for a moment but that she
+read romantic novels by the score, but I, for one, wouldn&#8217;t hold the
+fact against her.</p>
+
+<p>We talked over the legend of Jason&#8217;s chest; and I was a little surprised
+at her devoted interest in it. Evidently the savage tale had gone
+straight home to her imagination. Whether she put the least credence in
+it I couldn&#8217;t tell.</p>
+
+<p>It came about, in the twilight hour, that we walked together down to the
+craggy shore of the lagoon. Then we stood and watched the light dying on
+the blue-green water.</p>
+
+<p>Once more the tide was rolling in. The waves beat with a startling fury
+over and against the rock wall, and in the half-light the white stones
+looked like the foam-covered fangs of a mighty sea-monster, raging at
+our intrusion. The water swept through the little crevices in the wall,
+and the cool spray, refreshing after the tropic day, swept against our
+faces.</p>
+
+<p>The gray sand stretched down to the desolate sea. A plover uttered his
+disconsolate, wailing cry far out to sea. Some dark heron or bittern
+rose croaking from beside the lagoon, then flapped awkwardly away. I
+felt the girl&#8217;s hand on my arm as she drew closer to my side.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p><p>A worthy place&mdash;this manor house of Nealman. Vague thoughts, not quite
+in keeping with the ordered dimensions of life, had hold of my mind.
+Presently the girl&#8217;s grip tightened, and she pointed toward the lagoon.</p>
+
+<p>I saw her face before I followed her gesture. I didn&#8217;t get the idea that
+she was frightened. Rather she was smiling, quietly, and her eyes
+glistened.</p>
+
+<p>Seventy yards out, and perhaps fifteen yards back from the Bridge, great
+bubbles were bursting upward through the blue-green troubled waters.
+Some mysterious action of the currents, stirred by the tides, was the
+unquestioned cause; yet both of us were stirred by the same fancy. It
+was as if some great, air-breathing sea-monster was exhaling beneath the
+waves.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+
+<p>The next two weeks sped by as if with one rise and fall of the tides. I
+spent the time in locating the various fields of game: the tall
+holly-trees where the wild turkeys roosted, the sloughs where the bass
+were gamest, and marked down the cover of the partridge. In the meantime
+I collected specimens for the university.</p>
+
+<p>It came about that I didn&#8217;t always go out alone. The best time of all to
+study wild-life is in late twilight and the first hours of dawn&mdash;and at
+such times Edith was unemployed. Many the still, late evenings when we
+stood together on the shore and watched the curlews in their strange,
+aerial minuet that no naturalist has even been able to explain; many the
+dewey morning that we watched the first sun&#8217;s rays probe through the
+mossy forest. She had an instinctive love for the outdoors, and her
+agile young body had seemingly fibers of steel. At least she could
+follow me wherever I wanted to go.</p>
+
+<p>Once we came upon the Floridan deer, feeding in a natural woods-meadow,
+and once a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>gigantic manatee, the most rare of large American mammals,
+flopped in the mud of the Ochakee River. We knew that incredible
+confusion and bustle made by the wild turkeys when they flew to the
+tree-tops to roost; and she learned to whistle the partridge out from
+their thickets.</p>
+
+<p>Of course we developed a fine companionship. I learned of her early
+life, a struggle against poverty that had been about to overwhelm her
+when her uncle had come to her aid; and presently I was telling her all
+of my own dreams and ambitions. She was wholly sympathetic with my aim
+to continue my university work for a higher degree; then to spend my
+life in scientific research. I described some of the expeditions that I
+had in mind but which seemed so impossible of fulfillment&mdash;the
+exploration of the great &#8220;back country&#8221; of Borneo, a journey across that
+mysterious island, Sumatra, the penetration of certain unknown realms of
+Tibet.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But they take thousands of dollars&mdash;and I haven&#8217;t got &#8217;em,&#8221; I told her
+quietly.</p>
+
+<p>She looked out to sea a long time. &#8220;I wish I could find Jason&#8217;s treasure
+for you,&#8221; she answered at last.</p>
+
+<p>I was used to Edith&#8217;s humor, and I looked up expecting to see the
+familiar laughter in her eyes. But the luster in those deep, blue orbs
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>was not that of mirth. Fancies as beautiful as she was herself were
+sweeping her away....</p>
+
+<p>Most of the guests arrived on the same train at the little town of
+Ochakee, and motored over to Kastle Krags. A half dozen in all had
+accepted Nealman&#8217;s invitation. I saw them when they got out of their
+cars.</p>
+
+<p>Of course I straightened their names out later. At the time I only
+studied their faces&mdash;just as I&#8217;d study a new specimen, found in the
+forest. And when Edith and I compared notes afterward we found that our
+first impression was the same&mdash;that all six were strikingly similar in
+type.</p>
+
+<p>They might just as well have been brothers, chips off the same block.
+When Nealman stood among them it seemed as if he might change names with
+any one of them, and hardly any one could tell the difference. There was
+nothing distinguishing about their clothes&mdash;all were well-dressed,
+either in white or tweeds; their skins had that healthy firmness and
+good color that is seen so often in men that are free from financial
+worry; their hair was cut alike; their linen was similarly immaculate;
+their accent was practically the same. Finally they were about the same
+age&mdash;none of them very young, none further than the first phases of
+middle-age.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p><p>Lemuel Marten was of course the most distinguished man in the party.
+Born rich, he had pushed his father&#8217;s enterprises into many lands and
+across distant seas, and his name was known, more or less, to all
+financiers in the nation. His face was perhaps firmer than the rest&mdash;his
+voice was more commanding and insistent. He was, perhaps, fifty years of
+age, stoutly built, with crinkling black hair and vivid, gray eyes. From
+time to time he stroked nervously a trim, perfectly kept iron-gray
+mustache.</p>
+
+<p>Hal Fargo had been a polo-player in his day. Certain litheness and
+suppleness of motion still lingered in his body. His face was darkly
+brown, and white teeth gleamed pleasantly when he spoke. A pronounced
+bald spot was the only clew of advancing years. He was of medium height,
+slender, evidently a man of great personal magnetism and charm.</p>
+
+<p>Joe Nopp was quite opposite, physically&mdash;rather portly, perhaps less
+dignified than most of his friends. I put down Nopp as a dead shot, and
+later I found I had guessed right. For all his plump, florid cheeks and
+his thick, white hands, he had an eye true as a surveyor&#8217;s instrument,
+nerves cold and strong as a steel chain. He was a man to be relied upon
+in a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>crisis. And both Edith and I liked him better than any of the
+others.</p>
+
+<p>Lucius Pescini was an aristocrat of the accepted type&mdash;slender, tall,
+unmistakably distinguished. His hair was such a dark shade of brown that
+it invariably passed as black, he had eyes no less dark, sparkling under
+dark brows, and his small mustache and perfectly trimmed beard was in
+vivid contrast to a rather pale skin.</p>
+
+<p>Of Major Kenneth Dell I had never heard. He had been an officer in the
+late war, and now he was Bill Van Hope&#8217;s friend, although not yet
+acquainted with Nealman. The two men met cordially, and Van Hope stood
+above them, the tallest man in the company by far, beaming friendship
+upon them both. Dell was of medium size, sturdily built, garbed with
+exceptionally good taste in imported flannels. He also had gray, vivid
+eyes, under rather fine brows, gray hair perfectly cut, a slow smile and
+quiet ways. Solely because he was a man of endless patience I expected
+him to distinguish himself with rod and reel.</p>
+
+<p>Bill Van Hope, Nealman&#8217;s friend of whom I had heard so much, was not
+only tall, but broad and powerful. He had kind eyes and a happy
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>smile&mdash;altogether as good a type of millionaire-sportsman as any one
+would care to know. Nealman introduced him to me, and his handshake was
+firm and cordial.</p>
+
+<p>Nealman took them all into the great manor house: I went with Nealman&#8217;s
+chauffeur to see about the handling of their luggage. This was at
+half-past four of a sunlit day in September. I didn&#8217;t see any of the
+guests again until just before the dinner hour, when a matter of a
+broken fly-tip had brought me into the manor house. Thereupon occurred
+one of a series of incidents that made my stay at Kastle Krags the most
+momentous three weeks of my life.</p>
+
+<p>It was only a little thing&mdash;this experience in Nealman&#8217;s study. But
+coming events cast their shadows before&mdash;and certainly it was a shadow,
+dim and inscrutable though it was, of what the night held in store. I
+had passed Florey the butler, gray and sphynx-like in the hallway, spoke
+to him as ever, and turned through the library door. And my first
+impression was that some other guest had arrived in my absence.</p>
+
+<p>A man was standing, smoking, by the window. I supposed at once that he
+was an absolute stranger. There was not a single familiar image, not the
+least impulse to my memory. I started to speak, and beg his pardon, and
+inquire for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>Nealman. But the words didn&#8217;t come out. I was suddenly and
+inexplicably startled into silence.</p>
+
+<p>It is the rare man who can analyze his own mental processes. Of all the
+sensations that throng the human mind there is none so lawless, so
+sporadic in its comings and departure, so utterly illogical as fear&mdash;and
+great surprise is only a sister of fear. I can&#8217;t explain why I was
+startled. There was no reason whatever for being so. I must go
+further&mdash;I was not only startled, but shaken too. It has come about that
+through the exigencies of the hunting trail I have been obliged to face
+a charging jaguar&mdash;in a jungle of Western Mexico&mdash;yet with nerves
+holding true. My nerves didn&#8217;t hold true now&mdash;and I couldn&#8217;t tell why.
+They jumped unnecessarily and quivered under the skin.</p>
+
+<p>I did know the man beside the window after all. He was Major Kenneth
+Dell that I had observed particularly closely&mdash;due to having heard of
+him before&mdash;when he had first dismounted from the car. The thing that
+startled me was that in the hour and a half or so since I had seen him
+his appearance had undergone an amazing change.</p>
+
+<p>It took several long seconds to win back some measure of common sense.
+Then I knew that, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>through some trick of nerves, I had merely attached a
+thousand times too much importance to a wholly trivial incident. In all
+probability the change in Dell&#8217;s appearance was simply an effect of
+light and shadow, wrought by the window in front of which he stood.</p>
+
+<p>But for the instant his face simply had not seemed his own. Its color
+had been gone&mdash;indeed it had seemed absolutely bloodless. His eyes had
+been vivid holes in his white face, his features were drawn out of all
+semblance to his own, the facial lines were graven deep. His lips looked
+loose, as with one whose muscle-control is breaking.</p>
+
+<p>But my impression had only an instant&#8217;s life. Either the man drew
+himself together at my stare, or my own vision got back to normal. He
+was himself again&mdash;the same, suave, genial sportsman I had seen dismount
+from the car. He answered my inquiry, and I turned through the library
+door.</p>
+
+<p>If I had seen true, there could be but one explanation: that Major Dell
+had undergone some violent nervous shock since he had entered the door
+of the manor house of Kastle Krags.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+
+<p>After the dinner hour Nealman came for me, in the room just off the hall
+from his own that he had designated for my use. I&#8217;d never seen him in
+quite so gay a humor. His eyes sparkled; happiness rippled in his voice.
+His tone was more companionable too, lacking that faint but unmistakable
+air of patronage it had always previously held. He had never forgotten,
+until now, that he was the employer, I the employee. Now his accent and
+manner was one of equality, and he addressed me much as he had addressed
+his wealthy guests.</p>
+
+<p>He had been drinking; but he was not in the least intoxicated. Perhaps
+he had been stimulated, very slightly. He wore a dinner coat with white
+trousers.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Killdare, I want you to come downstairs,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Some of my friends
+want to talk to you about shootin&#8217; and fishin&#8217;. They&#8217;re keen to know
+what their prospects are.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d like to,&#8221; I answered. &#8220;But I&#8217;ll have to come as I am. I haven&#8217;t a
+dinner coat&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Of course come as you are.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His arm touched mine, and he headed me down the hallway to the stairs.
+Then we walked side by side down the big, wide stairway to the big
+living-room.</p>
+
+<p>Already I heard the sound of the guests&#8217; laughter. As I went further the
+hall seemed simply ringing with it. There could be no further doubt of
+the success of Nealman&#8217;s party. Evidently his distinguished guests had
+thrown all dignity to the winds, entering full into the spirit of play.</p>
+
+<p>The glimpse of the big living-room only verified this first impression.
+The guests were evidently in that wonderful mood of merriment that is
+the delight and ambition of all hosts, but which is so rarely obtained.
+Most men know the doubtful temper of a mob. Few had failed to observe
+that the same psychology extends to the simplest social gatherings. How
+often stiffness and formality haunt the drawing-room or dining-table,
+where only merriment should rule! How many times the social spirit
+wholly fails to manifest itself. To-night, evidently, conditions were
+just right, and hilarity ruled at Kastle Krags.</p>
+
+<p>As I came in Joe Nopp&mdash;the portly man with the clear, gray eyes&mdash;was
+telling some sort of an anecdote, and his listeners were simply shouting
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>with laughter. Major Dell and Bill Van Hope were shooting craps on the
+floor, ten cents a throw, carrying on a ridiculous conversation with the
+dice. A big phonograph was shouting a negro song from the corner.</p>
+
+<p>There was a slight lull, however, when Nealman and I came in. Van Hope
+spoke to me first&mdash;he was the only one of the guests I had met&mdash;and the
+others turned toward me with the good manners of their kind. In a moment
+Nealman had introduced me to Joe Nopp&#8217;s listeners and, an instant later,
+to Major Dell.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Killdare is down here doing some work in zoology for his
+university,&#8221; Nealman explained, &#8220;and he&#8217;s agreed to show you chaps where
+to find game and fish. He knows this country from A to Izzard.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I held the center of the floor, for a while, as I answered their
+questions; and I can say truly I had never met, on the whole, a
+better-bred and more friendly company of men. They wanted to know all
+about the game in the region, what flies or lures the bass were taking,
+as to the prevalence of diamond-backs, and if the tarpon were striking
+beyond the natural rock wall. In their eagerness they were like boys.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll talk better with a shot of something <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>good,&#8221; Nealman told me at
+last, producing a quart bottle. &#8220;Have a little Cuban cheer.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The bottle contained old Scotch, and its appearance put an end to all
+serious discussion. From thence on the mood of the gathering was ever
+lighter, ever happier; and I merely sat and looked on.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The question <i>ain&#8217;t</i>,&#8221; Hal Fargo said of me with considerable emphasis,
+&#8220;whether he knows where the turkeys are, but whether or not he knows his
+college song!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I pretended ignorance, but soon Van Hope and Nealman were singing &#8220;A
+Cow&#8217;s Best Friend&#8221; at the top of their voices, while Nopp tried to drown
+them out with &#8220;Fill &#8217;em up for Williams.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Even now it could not be said that any of the group were intoxicated.
+Fargo was certainly the nearest; his cheeks were flushed and his speech
+had that reckless accent that goes so often with the first stages of
+drunkenness. The distinguished Pescini was only animated and fanciful,
+Van Hope and Marten perhaps slightly stimulated. For all the charm of
+their conversation I couldn&#8217;t see that Nopp or Major Dell were receiving
+the slightest exhilaration from their drinks.</p>
+
+<p>But the spirit of revelry was ever higher. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>These men were on a holiday,
+they had left their business cares a thousand miles to the north, mostly
+they were tried companions. None of us was aware of the passing of time.
+I saw at once that my presence was not objectionable to the party, so I
+lingered long after the purpose for which I had been brought among them
+had been fulfilled&mdash;purely for the sake of entertainment. I had never
+seen a frolic of millionaires before, and needless to say I enjoyed
+every moment of it.</p>
+
+<p>In the later hours of night the revellers ranged further over the house.
+Joe Nopp was in the billiard room exhibiting fancy shots and pretending
+to receive the plaudits of a great multitude; Pescini and Van Hope were
+in conversation on the veranda, and Fargo was wholly absent and
+unaccounted for. I had missed Marten, the financier, for a moment; but
+his reappearance was the signal for a fresh rush to the living-room.</p>
+
+<p>The whole party met him with a yell. In the few moments of his absence
+he had wrought a startling change in his appearance. Over his shoulders
+he had thrown a gayly colored Indian blanket, completely hiding his trim
+dinner coat. He had tied a red cloth over his head and waxed the points
+of his iron-gray mustache <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>until they stood stiff and erect, giving an
+appearance of mock ferocity to his face. A silver key-ring and his own
+gold signet dangled from his ears, tied on with invisible black thread.
+And to cap the climax he carried a long, wicked-looking carving-knife
+between his teeth.</p>
+
+<p>Of course he was Godfrey Jason himself&mdash;the same character I had
+portrayed in the invitations. Fargo made him do a Spanish dance to the
+clang of an invisible tambourine.</p>
+
+<p>Some of the gathering scattered out again, after his dramatic
+appearance, drifting off on various enterprises and as the hour neared
+midnight only four of us were left in the drawing-room. Marten stood in
+the center, still in his ridiculous costume. Van Hope, Nealman, Pescini
+and myself were grouped about him. And it might have been that in the
+song that followed Pescini too slipped away. I know that I didn&#8217;t see
+him immediately thereafter.</p>
+
+<p>With a little urging Marten was induced to sing Samuel Hall&mdash;a stirring
+old ballad that quite fitted his costume. He had a pleasant baritone, he
+sung the song with indescribable spirit and enthusiasm, and it was
+decidedly worth hearing. Indeed it was the very peak of the evening&mdash;a
+moment that to the assembled guests <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>must have almost paid them for the
+long journey.</p>
+
+<div class="centerbox bbox"><p>&#8220;<i>For I shot a man in bed, man in bed&mdash;</i><br />
+<i>For I shot a man in bed, and I left him there for dead</i>,<br />
+<i>With a bullet through his head&mdash;</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;"><i>Damn your eyes!</i>&#8221;</span></p></div>
+
+<p>But the song halted abruptly. Whether he was at the middle of the verse,
+a pause after a stanza, or even in the middle of a chord I do not know.
+On this point no one will ever have exact knowledge. Marten stopped
+singing because something screamed, shrilly and horribly, out toward the
+lagoon.</p>
+
+<p>The picture that followed is like a photograph, printed indelibly on my
+mind. Marten paused, his lips half open, a strange, blank look of
+amazement on his face. Nealman stared at me like a witless man, but I
+saw by his look that he was groping for an explanation. Van Hope stood
+peculiarly braced, his heavy hands open, beads of perspiration on his
+temples. Whether Pescini was still with us I do not know. I tried to
+remember later, but without ever coming to a conclusion. He had been
+standing behind me, at first, so I couldn&#8217;t have <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>seen him anyway. I
+believed, however, without knowing why, that he walked into the hall at
+the beginning of the song.</p>
+
+<p>The sound we had heard, so sharp and clear out of the night, so
+penetrating above the mock-ferocious words of the song, was utterly
+beyond the ken of all of us. It was a living voice; beyond that no
+definite analysis could be made. Sounds do not imprint themselves so
+deeply upon the memory as do visual images, yet the remembrance of it,
+in all its overtones and gradations, is still inordinately vivid; and I
+have no doubt but that such is the case with every man that heard it.</p>
+
+<p>It was a high, rather sharp, full-lunged utterance, not in the least
+subdued. It had the unrestrained, unguarded tone of an instinctive
+utterance, rather than a conscious one&mdash;a cry that leaped to the lips in
+some great extremity or crisis. Yet it went further. Every man of us
+that heard it felt instinctively that its tone was of fear and agony
+unimagined, beyond the pale of our ordered lives.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My God, what&#8217;s that?&#8221; Van Hope asked. Van Hope was the type of man that
+yields quickly to his impulses.</p>
+
+<p>None of us answered him for a moment. Then Nealman turned, rather
+slowly. &#8220;It <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>sounded like the devil, didn&#8217;t it?&#8221; he said. &#8220;But it likely
+wasn&#8217;t anything. I&#8217;ve heard some devilish cries in the couple of weeks
+I&#8217;ve been here&mdash;bitterns and owls and things like that. Might have been
+a panther in the woods.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Marten smiled slowly, rather contemptuously. &#8220;You&#8217;ll have to do better
+than that, Nealman. That wasn&#8217;t a panther. Also&mdash;it wasn&#8217;t an owl. We&#8217;d
+better investigate.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes&mdash;I think we had better. But you don&#8217;t know what hellish sounds some
+of these swamp-creatures can make. We&#8217;ll all be laughing in a minute.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His tone was rather ragged, for all his reassuring words, and we knew he
+was as shaken as the rest of us. A door opened into the hall&mdash;evidently
+some of the other guests were already seeking the explanation of that
+fearful sound.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to all of us that hardly an instant had elapsed since the
+sound. Indeed it still rang in our ears. All that had been said had
+scarcely taken a breath. We rushed out, seemingly at once, into the
+velvet darkness. The moon was incredibly vivid in the sky.</p>
+
+<p>We passed into a rose-garden, under great, arching trees, and now we
+could see the silver <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>glint of the moon on the lagoon. The tide was
+going out and the waters lay like glass.</p>
+
+<p>Through the rifts in the trees we could see further&mdash;the stretching
+sands, gray in the moonlight, the blue-black mysterious seas beyond.
+What forms the crags took, in that eerie light! There was little of
+reality left about them.</p>
+
+<p>We heard some one pushing through the shrubbery ahead of us, and he
+stopped for us to come up. I recognized the dark beard and mustache of
+Pescini. &#8220;What was it?&#8221; he asked. Excitement had brought out a
+deep-buried accent, native to some South European land. &#8220;Was it further
+on?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I think so,&#8221; Nealman answered. &#8220;Down by the lagoon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He joined us, and we pushed on, but we spread out as we neared the shore
+of the lagoon. Some one&#8217;s shadow whipped by me, and I turned to find
+Major Dell.</p>
+
+<p>The man was severely shaken. &#8220;My God, wasn&#8217;t that awful!&#8221; he exclaimed.
+&#8220;Who is it&mdash;you, Killdare?&#8221; He stared into my face, and his own looked
+white and masque-like in the moonlight. Then all of us began to search,
+up and down the shore of the lagoon.</p>
+
+<p>In the moonlight our shadows leaped, met one another, blended and raced
+away; and our <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>voices rang strangely as we called back and forth. But
+the search was not long. Van Hope suddenly exclaimed sharply&mdash;an audible
+inhalation of breath, rather than an oath&mdash;and we saw him bending over,
+only his head and shoulders revealed in the moonlight. He stood just
+beside the craggy margin of the lagoon.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is it?&#8221; some one asked him, out of the gloom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come here and see,&#8221; Van Hope replied&mdash;rather quietly, I thought. In a
+moment we had formed a little circle.</p>
+
+<p>A dead man lay at our feet, mostly obscured in the shadow of the crags
+of the lagoon. We simply stood in silence, looking down. We knew that he
+was dead just as surely as we knew that we ourselves were living men. It
+was not that the light was good; that there was scarcely any light at
+all. We knew it, I suppose, from the huddled position of his form.</p>
+
+<p>Joe Nopp scratched a match. He held it perfectly steadily. The first
+thing it showed to me was a gray face and gray hair, and a stain that
+was not gray, but rather ominously dark, on the torn, white front of the
+man&#8217;s evening shirt. Nealman peered closely.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s my butler, Florey,&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+
+<p>There was nothing in particular to say or do. We simply stood looking
+down, that huddled body from which life had been struck as if by a
+meteor, in the center. From time to time we looked up from it to stare
+out over the ensilvered waters of the lagoon.</p>
+
+<p>We all shared this same inclination&mdash;to look away into the misty
+distance, past the lagoon, past the gray shore, into the sea so
+mysterious and still. The tide was running out now, so there was no
+tumult of breaking waves on the Bridge. At intervals, and at a great
+distance, we could hear the high-pitched shriek of plover.</p>
+
+<p>Of course the mood lasted just an instant. It was as if we had all been
+stricken silent and lifeless, unable to speak, unable to act, with only
+the power left to look and to wonder and to dream. I suppose the finding
+of that huddled body, under those conditions, was a severe nervous shock
+to us all. Joe Nopp, he of the true eye and the steady nerve, was the
+first to get back on an every-day footing with life.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a fiendish crime,&#8221; he said in the stillness. He spoke rather
+slowly, without particular emphasis. &#8220;Of all the people to murder&mdash;that
+gray, inoffensive little butler of yours! Nealman, let&#8217;s get busy. Maybe
+we can catch the devil yet.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Nealman came to himself with a start. &#8220;Sure, Joe. Tell us what to do. We
+need a directing head at a time like this.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Nealman had dropped his accent. He spoke tersely, more like a man in the
+street than the aristocrat he had come to believe himself to be.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The first thing is to get word into town&mdash;Ochakee, you call it. Get
+hold of the constable, or any other authority, and tell him to notify
+the sheriff.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ochakee&#8217;s the county seat&mdash;we can reach the sheriff himself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good. Tell him to take steps to guard all roads for suspicious
+characters. Get out posses, if they would help. Get the coroner and all
+the official help we can get out here.&#8221; He turned to me, with a
+whip-like, emphatic movement. &#8220;Killdare, you might help us here. You
+likely know the roads. Tell us what to do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve said what to do,&#8221; I told him. &#8220;There&#8217;s not enough white men in
+this part of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>the country to make a posse&mdash;and a posse couldn&#8217;t find any
+one that wanted to hide in the cypress swamps. The thing to do&mdash;is to
+cut off the murderer&#8217;s escape and starve him out. Nealman, isn&#8217;t yours
+the only <span style="white-space: nowrap;">road&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As far as I know&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The marshes are almost impassible to the left, and on the other side is
+the river. If we can keep him from getting as far as <span style="white-space: nowrap;">Nixon&#8217;s&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who&#8217;s Nixon&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Next planter up the road, five miles up. Get a phone to him right away.
+Young Nixon will watch all night and stop any one who tries to pass. The
+sheriff can put a man there to-morrow. Let&#8217;s find a phone.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Hal Fargo, seemingly as cold as a blade, started to bend over the body
+for further examination of the wound, but two of the men caught his arm.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t touch him, Hal,&#8221; Major Dell advised, quietly. &#8220;The less we track
+up the spot and muss things up the better. The detective&#8217;ll have a
+better chance for thumb prints, and things like that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re right, Dell,&#8221; the man agreed. &#8220;And now let&#8217;s get to a phone.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good.&#8221; It was Joe Nopp&#8217;s cool, self-reliant <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>voice again. &#8220;In the
+meantime, have any of you got a gun?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lemuel Marten alone responded&mdash;he carried a little automatic pistol in
+the pocket of his dinner coat. &#8220;Here,&#8221; he said. He drew the thing out,
+and it made blue fire in the moonlight in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then, Marten, you head a hunt through these grounds. The murderer might
+still be hiding in the shrubbery. Stop every one&mdash;shoot &#8217;em if they
+don&#8217;t stop. Now Nealman, Van Hope, Killdare&mdash;where&#8217;s the phone?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Nopp, Nealman, and myself started for the house; Fargo, Major Dell, and
+Pescini and Van Hope followed Marten into the more shadowed parts of the
+gardens and lawns. Before ever we reached the house we heard their
+excited shouts but we paused only an instant. &#8220;They can handle him if
+they&#8217;ve got him,&#8221; Nopp said. &#8220;We&#8217;d better go and do our work.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>We divided in the hall. Nopp and I went to the phone, Nealman and Van
+Hope, at Nopp&#8217;s suggestion, to round up all the servants. &#8220;Keep &#8217;em in
+one room, and watch &#8217;em,&#8221; Nopp advised. &#8220;We&#8217;ll like enough find the
+murderer among them&mdash;some domestic jealousy, or something like that.
+Don&#8217;t give any of &#8217;em a chance to get away or to destroy evidence.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p><p>I telephoned to Nixon&#8217;s first. The sleepy, country Central rang long and
+often, and at last a drowsy voice answered the ring.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This Charley Nixon?&#8221; I asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221; He awakened vividly at the sound of his own name.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is Ned Killdare&mdash;I met you on the way out. I&#8217;m at
+Nealman&#8217;s&mdash;Kastle Krags. A man has been murdered here, just a few
+minutes ago! I want you to watch the road with your dogs&mdash;that strip
+between the river and marsh, and not let any one go through from this
+way. Can you handle it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Charley Nixon had borne arms in France, his father had ridden with the
+Clansmen of long ago, and his answer was clear and unhesitating over the
+wire. &#8220;Any one who tries to get by me will be S. O. L.,&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<p>A moment later I reached the coroner at Ochakee. He promised he could
+start for the scene at once, in his car, bringing the sheriff or his
+deputy, and that he would take all the precautions he could to cut off
+the murderer&#8217;s escape. Then Nopp and I returned to the living-room.</p>
+
+<p>It was an unforgettable picture&mdash;that scene in the big living-room where
+Nealman&#8217;s guests had been so merry a few minutes before. A bottle <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>of
+whiskey still stood on the table in the center, half-filled glasses, in
+which the ice had not yet melted, stood beside it and on the
+window-sills and smoking stands. Little, unwavering filaments of blue
+smoke streamed up from half-burned cigarettes. In the places of the
+revelers stood a group of sobbing, terrified negroes.</p>
+
+<p>We were not native southerners, accustomed to seeing the black people in
+their paroxysms of fear, and the sight went straight home to all of us.
+These were the &#8220;cotton field niggers&#8221; of which old-time planters speak,
+slaves to the blackest superstitions that ever cursed the tribes of the
+Congo, and the night&#8217;s crime had gone hard with them. Their faces were
+gray, rather than black, the whites of their eyes were plainly visible,
+and they made a confused babble of sound. The women, particularly, were
+sobbing and praying alternately; most of the men were either stuttering
+or apoplectic with sheer terror. Some of them cowered, shrieking, as we
+opened the door.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Shut up that noise,&#8221; Nopp demanded. A dead silence followed his words.
+&#8220;No one is going to hurt you as long as you stay in here and shut up.
+Where&#8217;s the boss.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>One of them pointed, rather feebly, to the next room. And I took the
+instant&#8217;s interval <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>to reach the side of some one that sat, alone and
+silent, in a big chair in the chimney-corner.</p>
+
+<p>It was Edith Nealman, and she had been rounded up with the rest of the
+house employees. Her bare feet were in slippers, and she wore a long
+dressing-gown over her night-dress. Her hair hung in two golden braids
+over her shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>I was glad to see that the terror of the blacks had not passed, in the
+least degree, to her. Of course she was pale and shaken, her eyes were
+wide, but her voice when she spoke was subdued and calm, and there was
+not the slightest trace of hysteria about her. &#8220;It&#8217;s a dreadful thing,
+isn&#8217;t it?&#8221; she said. &#8220;Poor little Florey&mdash;who&#8217;d want to murder him!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nobody knows&mdash;but we&#8217;re going to get him, anyway,&#8221; I promised rashly.
+And what transpired thereafter did not come out in the inquest.</p>
+
+<p>It was only a little thing, but it meant teeming worlds to me. One of
+her hands groped out to mine, and I pressed it in reassurance.</p>
+
+<p>Besides the native southern blacks that acted as gardeners and
+chambermaids and table hands about the place, Nealman had rounded up his
+mulatto chauffeur. Mrs. Gentry, his white housekeeper, sat a little to
+one side of the group of negroes.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p><p>In a moment Nealman and Van Hope rejoined us, and we turned once more
+through the still hall that had been Florey&#8217;s particular domain. An
+instant later we were out on the moonlit driveway.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wonder if those birds will have sense enough to stay away from the
+body,&#8221; Nopp said gruffly. &#8220;It would be easy to mess up and destroy every
+bit of <span style="white-space: nowrap;">evidence&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Major Dell warned them,&#8221; I said. &#8220;I think they&#8217;ll remember.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nevertheless, I think we&#8217;d better post a guard over it.&#8221; He paused,
+eyeing an approaching figure. It was Marten, and he was almost out of
+breath.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Any luck?&#8221; Nealman asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nothing.&#8221; Marten paused, fighting for breath. &#8220;Something stirred over
+in the thicket&mdash;we chased it down and tried to round it up. I guess it
+wasn&#8217;t anything&mdash;certainly if it had been a man we&#8217;d scared it out. Have
+you a dog?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Haven&#8217;t shipped my dogs down here yet, but coons and such things come
+out of the woods every once in a while. Where are your <span style="white-space: nowrap;">men&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;ll round up here in a minute. We&#8217;ve been beating through the
+grounds.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p><p>In a moment Major Dell and Fargo approached us from opposite sides of
+the garden, and once more we headed down toward the lagoon. A voice
+called after us, and Pescini caught up.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No trace of anything?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not a trace,&#8221; some one replied.</p>
+
+<p>We walked with ever-decreasing pace, a rather uncertain group, down
+toward the crags of the shore. All of us, I think, were busy with our
+own thoughts. All of us paused, at last, forty yards from the scene of
+the tragedy.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s really nothing further we can do,&#8221; Nopp said. &#8220;If the murderer
+is among the servants we&#8217;ve got him&mdash;you found &#8217;em all, didn&#8217;t you,
+Nealman?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All of &#8217;em. No suspicious circumstances.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good. If he is some outsider, we&#8217;ll round him up. I rather think the
+former&mdash;it&#8217;s too early to make a guess. But I think we&#8217;d better appoint
+a guard over the body&mdash;to keep any curious persons from coming near and
+tramping out footprints, and so on. There&#8217;s apt to be a crowd of the
+curious here to-morrow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>All of us nodded. Lemuel Marten whispered an oath.</p>
+
+<p>Nopp turned to him. &#8220;Would you mind taking that post to-night, Marten?&#8221;
+he asked. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>Because he already knew the man&#8217;s answer, he turned to us.
+&#8220;Lem&#8217;s the best man for the post,&#8221; he explained. &#8220;You chaps know we&#8217;ll
+all have to give an account of our actions to-night. It&#8217;s customary at
+such times. And you know that Lem was busy singing his pirate song when
+the thing occurred.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s an unnecessary point, Joe,&#8221; Marten answered. &#8220;None of us will be
+in the least suspected. This poor chap&mdash;that none of us knew. However,
+I&#8217;ll gladly enough act as guard.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve still got your gun?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I made Pescini carry it. He&#8217;s a shot.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Pescini handed him back the weapon, and Marten walked on across the lawn
+to his post. The rest of us waited an instant in the road, talking
+quietly to one another, and two or three of the men were getting out
+their cigarettes. It was our first breathing-spell. Then we started
+slowly back toward the house.</p>
+
+<p>But we halted at the sound of Marten&#8217;s voice. &#8220;Wait a minute, will you?&#8221;
+he called.</p>
+
+<p>It is hard to explain why we all stopped in our tracks. Van Hope, whom I
+had never suspected of nerves, let his cigarette fall to the ground, a
+red streak. The voice out of the gloom was wholly quiet, subdued,
+perfectly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>calm, seemingly nothing to waken alarm or even especial
+interest. Perhaps what held us and startled us was the realization of an
+effort of will behind those commonplace, unruffled tones.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is it, Lem?&#8221; Nopp asked.</p>
+
+<p>There was an instant&#8217;s interval of unfathomable silence. &#8220;I wish you&#8217;d
+come here,&#8221; Marten replied. &#8220;I&#8217;m a little balled up&mdash;as to where I am.
+These trees and shrubs are so near alike. I can&#8217;t exactly find&mdash;the
+place.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Nopp did get there, but he didn&#8217;t go alone. All of us turned,
+half-running. And for a vague, bewildered, half-remembered moment we
+searched frantically up and down the craggy shore of the lagoon.</p>
+
+<p>Then in the moonlight I saw Nopp and Nealman come together, and Nopp
+seized the other&#8217;s arms.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My God, Grover!&#8221; he said hoarsely. &#8220;The body has disappeared!&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+
+<p>There was no further possibility of a mistake. Marten&#8217;s inability to
+find the body could not be further attributed to a mere confusion as to
+its correct location. In the few minutes we had been phoning and while
+the remainder of the guests had been searching for the murderer, the
+body of the murdered man had vanished from the shore of the lagoon. Nor
+had any mysterious over-sweeping of the water carried it away. We found,
+easily enough, the place where it had lain, and we knew it by the
+crushed vegetation and an ominous stain on the earth.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment we all stood speechless, almost motionless, gazing down on
+the place where the body had been. The guest&#8217;s faces all looked oddly
+white in the moonlight. Then I heard Nealman and Nopp talking in a
+subdued voice at my side.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You see what it means,&#8221; Nealman said. &#8220;The murderer came back to the
+body&mdash;that&#8217;s the only explanation! That means he&#8217;s still on <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>the
+grounds&mdash;perhaps within a few hundred yards.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But what did he do with the thing? I wish I did know what it meant. It
+makes no sense. But there&#8217;s nothing we can <span style="white-space: nowrap;">do&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>His words blurred in my consciousness, and I suddenly ceased to hear
+him. The reason was simply that my own thoughts were now too busy to
+admit external impressions. If there was one thing needed in this affair
+it was careful investigation and research&mdash;the very key and basis of my
+own life&#8217;s work. I was a scientist&mdash;at least I had gone a distance into
+scientific work&mdash;and scientific methods were needed now. Why shouldn&#8217;t I
+direct the same method that made me a successful naturalist into the
+unraveling of this mystery?</p>
+
+<p>Science has explored the lightless mysteries of the deep, has measured
+the stars and traced the comets through the heavens: there was no cause
+to believe it couldn&#8217;t conquer now. I was of a branch of science that
+mainly studied externals, my methods were simply accurate observation,
+tireless investigation, and logical deduction&mdash;the methods of all
+naturalists the world over; and they were just what was needed here.</p>
+
+<p>Presently I forgot the shaken men about me <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>and began really to observe.
+First, I tried to fix in my mind the exact way the body had lain. It had
+been curiously huddled, lying rather on the right side&mdash;and the torn,
+stained shirt-front had been plainly visible. Its location was not far
+above high-tide mark, at the edge of the lawns&mdash;and because the craggy
+margin of the lagoon was rather precipitous at that place, not more than
+twenty feet from the water&#8217;s edge at low tide.</p>
+
+<p>It was impossible even to hazard a guess what kind of a weapon had
+inflicted the death wound. But it had not been a clean, stabbing wound
+to the heart. The wound itself must have been a long gash downward along
+the breast, for the shirt and waistcoat had been curiously ripped and
+torn. And possibly the weapon might be found in the grass where the body
+had lain.</p>
+
+<p>I quietly moved back and forth among the group of men, searching for the
+gleam of moonlight upon a knife blade. It didn&#8217;t reveal itself, however,
+and there seemed no course but to wait for daylight. But as I was about
+to give up the search my eye caught the glimpse of something white,
+half-hidden in the grass in the direction of the house.</p>
+
+<p>I quietly picked it up, saw that it was a folded piece of heavy paper or
+parchment, and slipped <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>it into my pocket. Then I rejoined the little
+crowd of guests.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good Lord, what can we do...?&#8221; Pescini was saying excitedly. &#8220;The lake
+can&#8217;t be dragged until to-morrow. There&#8217;s no use to post guards around
+this big house&mdash;the thickets are so heavy that any one could steal
+through almost any place. We&#8217;ve got the road guarded&mdash;and the officers
+won&#8217;t come till to-morrow. It&#8217;s true that a couple of us could stand
+guard <span style="white-space: nowrap;">here&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t see what good it would do,&#8221; Nopp replied. &#8220;The murderer would
+have no cause to come back again. I suggest we go to the house and get
+what rest we can. We may have to make some posses in the morning.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In the privacy of my own room I took from my pocket the paper I had
+found. It proved to be of heavy parchment, whitened by time; and I felt
+at once I was running on a true scent.</p>
+
+<p>There could be little doubt as to the age of the document. The ink was
+fading, the handwriting itself was in the style of long ago. The fact
+that the script was scratchy and uncertain, indicated that a man of
+meager education had written it. It was, however, perfectly legible. I
+judged that the date of the missive was at least ten or twenty years
+prior to the civil war.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p><p>Across the top of the page were written the words, referring evidently
+to the script beneath, &#8220;Sworn by the Book.&#8221; At the very bottom was the
+cryptic phrase &#8220;int F. T.&#8221; And the following, mysterious column lay
+between:</p>
+
+<div class="centerbox2 bbox"><p>aned<br />
+dqbo<br />
+aqcd<br />
+trkm<br />
+fipj<br />
+dqbo<br />
+scno<br />
+ohuy<br />
+wvyn<br />
+dljn<br />
+dtht</p></div>
+
+<p>Of course no kind of an explanation presented itself at first. I took it
+to a mirror, tried to read it backward, then sat down to give it a
+careful analysis.</p>
+
+<p>I copied the column carefully, then tried to rearrange the letters to
+make sense. But no such simple treatment was availing. The fourth,
+ninth, tenth, and last words, for instance, were made up entirely of
+consonants, and no word of any language, known to me, entirely omits
+vowels. Four of the remaining seven words contained but one vowel.</p>
+
+<p>But I was in no mood to go further to-night. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>The events of the past few
+hours had been a mighty strain on the entire nervous system, and my mind
+could not cope with the problem. I spread the original parchment on the
+little table in the center of the room, then quickly undressed, turned
+out my lights, and went to bed.</p>
+
+<p>Sleep came at once, heavy and dreamless. I barely remember the welcome
+chill that the pre-dawn hours brought to the room. But it wasn&#8217;t written
+that there should be many hours of refreshing sleep for me that night.</p>
+
+<p>In hardly a moment, it seemed to me, I came to myself with a start.
+Wakefulness shot through me as if by an electric shock. It was that
+fast-flying hour just before dawn: the cool caress of the wind against
+my face and the pale-blue quality of the darkness on the window-pane
+told that fact with entire plainness. It had been wakened by a hushed
+sound from across the room.</p>
+
+<p>It was useless to try to tell myself that the sound was a dream only, an
+imagined voice that had no basis in reality. For all that it was
+subdued, the sound was entirely sharp and clear, impossible to mistake.
+And instantly I knew its source.</p>
+
+<p>Some one had opened my door. There was no other possible explanation.
+Nor had it been <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>merely the harmless mistake of one of the guests,
+confusing my room with his own. I heard the door open, but I did not
+hear it close. Nor did I hear departing steps along the corridor.</p>
+
+<p>My nightly visitor had come in stealth, and there was nothing to believe
+but at that instant he was waiting in the darkness on the other side of
+the room.</p>
+
+<p>It isn&#8217;t easy to decide what to do at a time like this. I was perfectly
+willing to simulate slumber if by so doing I could increase my own
+safety. Florey&#8217;s affair was still fresh in my mind. A cruel and
+cold-blooded murder had been committed at Kastle Krags earlier this same
+night: this tip-toeing visitor in my room was in all likelihood a
+desperate man, willing to repeat his crime if his own safety demanded
+it. My possessions were few: it was better to let them go than take such
+a risk.</p>
+
+<p>Yet a wiser, saner self told me that this was no business of thievery.
+The thing went deeper, further than I could see or guess. I lay
+listening: from time to time I could hear the boards settle beneath his
+feet. Evidently he was groping about the darkened room, in search of
+something.... Then a faint jar told me that his hand was on the iron
+railing of my bed.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p><p>It wasn&#8217;t a reassuring thought that he had been groping about the room
+solely to find my bed. My muscles set for a desperate leap in case I
+felt him groping nearer.... There was a long, ominous instant of
+silence. Then a little triangle of light danced out over my table-top.</p>
+
+<p>It was a ray from a flashlight, and it came and went so soon that there
+was no chance to make accurate observation. I did, however, see just the
+edge of his hand as he reached for something on the flat surface of the
+table. It was a white, strong hand&mdash;long, sensitive fingers&mdash;evidently
+the hand of a well-bred, middle-aged man.</p>
+
+<p>The light flashed out. Steps sounded softly on the floor. Then my door
+closed with a slight shock.</p>
+
+<p>There is no use trying to justify my inactivity during his presence in
+the room. At such times a man is guided by instinct&mdash;and my instinct had
+been to lie still and let him do his work. The action might condemn me
+in some eyes, but I felt no shame for it. And as soon as the door closed
+I sprang to the floor.</p>
+
+<p>Groping, I found the light, and the white beams flooded the room.
+Presently I opened the door and gazed down the gloomy hall.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p><p>It was still as a tomb. There were a dozen doors along it, and any one
+of them might have closed behind the intruder. It was the hall of a
+well-ordered country manor, rather commonplace in the subdued light of a
+single globe that burned over the stairway. The opportunity to overtake
+the intruder was irredeemably past.</p>
+
+<p>It wasn&#8217;t hard to tell what had been taken. The sheet of parchment, on
+which was written the mysterious cryptogram, was gone from the table.
+The only satisfaction I had was that the thief had failed to see and
+procure the copy of the document I had made just before retiring.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2>
+
+<p>The sheriff and the coroner arrived from Ochakee in a roadster soon
+after dawn. All of us felt relieved at their coming: they represented
+the best and most intelligent type of southern citizenry. Sheriff
+Slatterly was scarcely older than I was, and had been given his office
+for meritorious services in the late war. He was a broad-shouldered
+large-headed man, with keen, good-natured eyes, a firm mouth, and rather
+prominent chin. We scraped up an acquaintance at once on the strength of
+our Legion buttons.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m glad theya&#8217;s a suvice man heah,&#8221; he confessed to me. &#8220;It&#8217;s sho&#8217; a
+mess of a case&mdash;and my deputy is busy. I&#8217;ve neveh wo&#8217;ked among these
+millionaih Yankee spo&#8217;ts befo&#8217;, but I suppose they ah all right. Now
+tell me what you think of it all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t think,&#8221; I confessed. &#8220;It doesn&#8217;t make good sense.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He asked me questions in the vernacular of the South, and I answered
+them the best I could. Then he introduced me to the coroner.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Weldon was a man of about forty years, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>intelligent, forceful, not
+in the least the mournful type so often seen among undertakers. He was
+rather careless in speech, but I did not ascribe it to lack of
+education. He had rather a Semitic countenance, and a very deep, manly
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course the first thing is to drag the lagoon,&#8221; he said. &#8220;We&#8217;ve got
+to have a body before we can hold anything but a semblance of an
+inquest&mdash;and of course thet&#8217;s where the body is. It couldn&#8217;t be
+nowhere&#8217;s else.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>All of us agreed with him. There was simply nothing else to do. The body
+had lain but thirty feet from the water&#8217;s edge: it was conceivable that
+for some mysterious reason the murderer had seen fit to return and drag
+his dead into the water. The idea of him carrying it in any other
+direction was incredible.</p>
+
+<p>While we waited for drag hooks to be sent out from town the sheriff made
+a minute examination of the scene of the crime. He searched the ground
+for clews; and it seemed to me the little puzzled line between his brows
+deepened with every moment of the search. He stood up at last, breathing
+hard.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The murderer made a clean get away, that&#8217;s certain,&#8221; he observed. &#8220;It
+isn&#8217;t often a man can commit a crime like this and not leave a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>few
+trails. I can&#8217;t find a trace or a button. And if he left any tracks they
+are mixed up with those you gentlemen made last night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He went carefully over the rocks between the place where the body had
+lain and the water; but there was little for him here. Once or twice he
+paused, studying the rocks with a careful scrutiny, but he did not tell
+us what he found.</p>
+
+<p>About ten the drag-hooks came, and I helped Nealman bring his duckboat
+from the marshy end of the lagoon. Then the sheriff, the coroner and
+myself began the slow, tiresome work of dragging.</p>
+
+<p>Of course we began along the shore, close to the scene of the crime. We
+worked from the natural wall and back to a point a hundred yards beyond
+the starting-place. Then we turned back, just the width of the drag
+hooks beyond. We reached the Bridge again without result.</p>
+
+<p>As the moments passed the coroner&#8217;s annoyance increased. Noon came and
+passed&mdash;already we had dragged carefully a spot a full hundred square
+yards in extent. The tide flowed again, beat against the Bridge and
+fretted the water, making our work increasingly difficult. And at last
+the sheriff rested, cursing softly, on his oars.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Well, Weldon?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>The coroner&#8217;s eyes looked rather bright as he turned to answer him. I
+got the impression that for all his outer complacency he was secretly
+excited. &#8220;Nothing, Slatterly,&#8221; he said. &#8220;What do you think yourself?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I think we&#8217;re face to face with the worst deal, the biggest mystery
+that&#8217;s come our way in years. In the first place, there isn&#8217;t any use of
+looking and dragging any more.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But man, the body&#8217;s got to be here somewhere.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Got, nothing! We&#8217;ve got to begin again, and not take anything for
+granted. This is still water, except for these waves the tide makes,
+breaking over the rocks&mdash;and you know a body doesn&#8217;t move much in still
+water, especially the first night. For that matter the place was still
+as a slough, they say, while the tide was going out&mdash;most of the night.
+We&#8217;ve looked for a hundred yards about the spot. It&#8217;s not there. And the
+murderer couldn&#8217;t swim with it clear across the lagoon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He might, a strong swimmer.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But what&#8217;s the sense of it? Besides, a dead body ain&#8217;t easy to manage.
+The thing to do is to search Florey&#8217;s rooms for any evidence, then to
+get all the niggers and the white folks as well <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>and have an unofficial
+inquest. Then we might see where we&#8217;re at.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good.&#8221; The coroner turned to me. &#8220;Is there any use of hunting up Mr.
+Nealman to show us Florey&#8217;s room?&#8221; he asked. &#8220;Can&#8217;t you take us up
+there?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I was glad enough of the chance to be on hand for that search, so I
+didn&#8217;t hesitate to answer. &#8220;You are the law. You can go where you
+like&mdash;wherever you think best.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>We went together up the stairs to Florey&#8217;s room. There was not the least
+sign that tragedy had overtaken its occupant. It was scrupulously kept:
+David Florey must have been the neatest of men. The search, however, was
+largely unavailing.</p>
+
+<p>In a little desk at one corner we found a number of papers and letters.
+Some of them pertained to household matters, there was a note from some
+friend in Charleston, a folder issued by a steamship plying out of
+Tampa, and a letter from Mrs. Noyes, of New Hampshire, who seemed to be
+the dead man&#8217;s sister. At least the salutation was &#8220;Dear Brother Dave,&#8221;
+and the letter itself dealt with the fortunes of common relatives. Then
+there were a few short letters from one who signed himself &#8220;George.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was nothing of particular interest. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>Mostly they were
+notifications of arrivals and departures in various cities, and they
+seemed to concern various business ventures. &#8220;I&#8217;ve got a good lead,&#8221; one
+of them said, &#8220;but it may turn out like the rest.&#8221; &#8220;Things are
+brightening up,&#8221; another went. &#8220;I believe I see a rift in the clouds.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;George&#8221; was unquestionably a traveler. One of the notes had been
+written from Washington, D. C., one from Tampa, the third from some
+obscure port in Brazil. They were written in a rather bold, rugged, but
+not unattractive hand.</p>
+
+<p>The only document that gave any kind of a key to the mystery was a
+half-finished letter that protruded beneath the blotter pad on his desk.
+It was addressed &#8220;My dear Sister,&#8221; and was undoubtedly in answer to the
+&#8220;Mrs. Noyes&#8221; letter. The sheriff read it aloud:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>My dear Sister:</p>
+
+<p>I got the place here and like it very much. Mr. Nealman is a
+fine man to work for. I get on with my work very well. The
+house is located on a lagoon, cut off from the open sea by a
+natural rock wall&mdash;a very lovely place.</p>
+
+<p>But you will be sorry to hear that my old malady, g&mdash;&mdash;, is
+troubling me again. I don&#8217;t think I will ever be rid of it.
+It <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>is certainly the Florey burden, going through all our
+family. I can&#8217;t hardly sleep, and don&#8217;t know that I&#8217;ll ever
+get rid of it, short of death. I&#8217;m deeply discouraged, yet I <span style="white-space: nowrap;">know&mdash;&mdash;</span></p></div>
+
+<p>At that point the letter ended. The sheriff&#8217;s voice died away so slowly
+and tonelessly that it gave almost the effect of a start. Then he laid
+the letter on the desk and smoothed it out with his hands.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Weldon?&#8221; he asked jerkily. &#8220;Do you s&#8217;pose we&#8217;ve got off on the wrong
+foot, altogether?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What d&#8217;ye mean?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you suppose that poor devil did himself in? At least we&#8217;ve got a
+motive for suicide, and a good one&mdash;and there&#8217;s none whatever for
+murder. You know what old Bampus used to say&mdash;find the motive first.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course you mean the disease he writes of. Why didn&#8217;t he spell it
+out.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He was likely just given to abbreviations. Lots of men are. The word
+might have been a long one, and hard to spell.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Most invalids, I&#8217;ve noticed, rejoice in the long names of their
+diseases!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not a bad remark, from an undertaker. I suppose you mean they get your
+hopes all <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>aroused by their diseases when they ain&#8217;t got &#8217;em, you old
+buzzard. But seriously, Weldon. He writes here that his old malady has
+come back on him, some disease that runs through his family&mdash;that he&#8217;s
+discouraged, that he doesn&#8217;t think he&#8217;ll ever be rid of it. You know
+that ill-health is the greatest cause for suicide&mdash;that more men blow
+out their own brains because they are incurably sick than for any other
+reason. He says he can&#8217;t sleep. And what leads to suicide faster than
+that!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All true enough. But it don&#8217;t hold water. Where&#8217;s the knife? What
+became of the body? Suicides don&#8217;t eat the knife that killed them, lay
+dead, and then crawl away. You&#8217;ll have to do better.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He might not have been quite dead. Even doctors have been deceived
+before now, and crawled into the water to end his own misery. You can
+bet I&#8217;m going to keep the matter in mind.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And it was a curious thing that this little handful of letters also set
+me off on a new tack. A possibility so bizarre and so terrible that it
+seemed almost beyond the pale of credibility flashed to my mind. I
+watched my chance, and slipped one of the &#8220;George&#8221; letters into my
+pocket.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p><p>The idea I had was vague, not overly convincing, and it left a great
+part of the mystery still unsolved&mdash;but yet it was a clew. I waited
+impatiently until the search was concluded. Then I sought the telephone.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later a telegraphic message was clicking over the wires to
+Mrs. Noyes, in New Hampshire, notifying her of her brother&#8217;s murder and
+disappearance, and asking a certain question. There was nothing to do
+but wait patiently for the answer.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+
+<p>In midafternoon the coroner called all the occupants of the manor house
+together in the big living-room. He had us draw chairs to make a half
+circle about him, and the sheriff took a chair at his side. He began at
+once upon a patient, systematic questioning of every one present.</p>
+
+<p>None of us could read the thoughts behind his rather swarthy face. His
+coal-black eyes were alike unfathomable: whether he believed that the
+murderer was then sitting in our circle we could not guess. &#8220;Of course
+this is not an official inquest,&#8221; he told us. &#8220;The real inquest can&#8217;t be
+held until there is a body to hold it over. I&#8217;m doing this in
+co-operation with the sheriff. And of course I needn&#8217;t tell you that all
+of you are held here, with orders not to leave the immediate grounds,
+until a formal inquest can be held.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But what if you never find the body?&#8221; Marten asked. &#8220;Some of us&mdash;can&#8217;t
+stay forever.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The law takes heed of no man&#8217;s business,&#8221; the coroner answered,
+somewhat sternly. &#8220;However, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>I&#8217;ll have counsel from the state in a few
+days, and then we can tell what to do. The district attorney will be
+here just as soon as his work will permit.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He called Nealman first. Except for a strange and startling deepening of
+the worry-line between his brows I would have thought that he was wholly
+unshaken. Weldon asked his name, place of birth, thirdly his occupation.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t hardly say&mdash;I&#8217;m interested in finance,&#8221; Nealman said in reply
+to the third question.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And how long have you occupied this house?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Less than a month. I bought it last winter, but it has been under the
+charge of&mdash;of a caretaker until that time.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who was the caretaker?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Nealman&#8217;s voice fell a note. &#8220;Florey&mdash;the man murdered last night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah.&#8221; The coroner paused an instant, as if deep in thought. &#8220;And how did
+he happen to come into your employ?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He was employed at this house by its previous owner, just a few days or
+weeks before I purchased it. He asked for work here when I came to take
+possession. He was an experienced butler, he said.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Then that&#8217;s all you know about the dead man?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Absolutely all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;His full name?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I made out his check to David Florey. I assumed he was an Englishman.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You didn&#8217;t know that, for sure?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No.&#8221; Nealman hesitated, as if secretly startled. &#8220;I really didn&#8217;t know
+it, when I come to think about it. I always assumed that he was.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He was a good servant?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Excellent. I can go further. The best, most conscientious butler I ever
+had.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Did you ever get the idea he had any enemies?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No. He seemed the most peaceable of men.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;None of the other servants were jealous of him?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;On the contrary, they seemed to like him very much.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He stayed close to his work?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He scarcely ever went to town. Once or twice he asked me for permission
+to go with my chauffeur&mdash;for a hair cut, and so on.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What did you observe about his health? Did it seem to be good?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It seemed so. Very good.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p><p>The coroner&#8217;s interest quickened. &#8220;You weren&#8217;t aware, then, that he had
+an incurable malady?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No. And I don&#8217;t think he had. At least I never saw the least sign of
+it. None of the other servants ever mentioned it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Did he look like a man in good health?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He was rather gray&mdash;from his indoor life, I suppose. But he never
+looked sick to me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You think he was murdered, then?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good Heavens, I don&#8217;t see how we can think anything else!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You can ascribe no reason for his murder.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Absolutely none.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You can&#8217;t, eh.&#8221; The coroner paused, several seconds. &#8220;To come back to
+yourself. You were here less than a month. May I ask what was your idea
+in buying this manor house?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I hardly understand&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What did you get it for, a home?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t hardly say a home. I got it more for a winter shooting and
+fishing lodge. My home is on the Hudson. I&#8217;m very fond of fishing and
+shooting. I loved the place on sight.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I take it, then, that you are a man of large financial means&mdash;able to
+indulge your whims <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>even to the extent of buying a shooting and fishing
+lodge such as this?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Nealman stiffened slightly. &#8220;I don&#8217;t see how that point can possibly
+have any bearing on this case.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The merest detail of the lives of any one of the actors involved often
+throws light upon a crime.&#8221; The coroner spoke slowly, seemingly choosing
+his words with care.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am not a man of great wealth, if that&#8217;s what you want to know,&#8221;
+Nealman answered at last. &#8220;I feel&mdash;I felt able at the time to buy this
+house.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No great financial disaster has overtaken you since, I judge?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Nealman&#8217;s voice dropped a tone, and he spoke with a curious hesitancy.
+&#8220;No. I shouldn&#8217;t say that there had.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The coroner halted, gazing absently at the carpet, and then began on a
+new tack. &#8220;This butler of yours&mdash;I suppose you paid him a good wage?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It would be considered so, among the men of his occupation.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you know if he had any large amount of money saved, or if he carried
+any large amount on his person?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Not that I know of. He was very non-committal about his affairs.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He was a good butler,&#8221; the coroner commented.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes. Excellent. If you mean, did he carry enough money on his person to
+invite robbery, I should say that I don&#8217;t think he did. Of course I
+don&#8217;t know for certain. However, I know that he had banking connections
+in Ochakee.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What of your other employees. Do you know anything about them?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They all came recommended. I know nothing further except, of course, in
+regard to my housekeeper and chauffeur.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your chauffeur is a colored man?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes. He has been with me for four years. A man of good character and
+habits.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you know where he was at the time of the murder?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I do not.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your housekeeper&mdash;she has been in your employ a long time, also?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;About two years.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Was she well known to the murdered man?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Her acquaintance began with him at the same time as my own&mdash;less than a
+month ago.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How old is this lady?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;She sits in the circle. You can ask her if you like. I have never put
+the question to her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Every one smiled at this sally. The housekeeper, a buxom woman of fifty
+years, flushed and giggled alternately.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where were your other servants at the time of the murder?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I suppose most of them were in bed. Sam, the negro boy, was in the
+kitchen, helping me to serve my guests.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then David Florey was not on duty that night?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t watch Mr. Florey closely, Mr. Weldon. He was the kind of
+servant that didn&#8217;t seem to require watching. He helped me serve some
+cold drinks immediately after dinner. I didn&#8217;t see him again.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t know at what hour he ventured out into the lawns?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I do not. I was under the impression that he was in the pantry or hall
+for several hours after dinner. I can not say definitely.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And now will you describe the crime&mdash;that is, what you yourself heard
+and saw?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Beginning where?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;At the beginning. Where you were, who was with you, and all you can
+tell me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I was in this room. I don&#8217;t know the exact <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>time&mdash;it must have been
+close to midnight. My guests were here with me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All of them?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Nealman paused, seemingly considerably disturbed. &#8220;I can&#8217;t say that all
+of them were in my immediate sight,&#8221; he replied at last. &#8220;My guests were
+free of the house&mdash;some of them were at the billiard tables, others in
+the library, and so on. I can say definitely that Mr. Marten, Mr. Van
+Hope, and Mr. Killdare were in the room. Mr. Pescini was with us until
+just before we heard the sound.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How long before?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t say for certain. It didn&#8217;t seem to me more than a minute or
+two.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t know where the others were?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not exactly. I had left Mr. Fargo in the billiard room a moment before.
+Major Dell and Mr. Nopp had been talking on the veranda.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;None of these men indicated any previous acquaintance with the butler?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;None whatever. They were all northern men, from my own part of the
+country.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All of them were your friends?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221; His face changed expression, ever so little. &#8220;Yes, of course.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You four men were in the lounging-room&mdash;and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>you heard a certain sound.
+Will you describe the sound?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It was a scream&mdash;I can&#8217;t describe it any further.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Rather a long-drawn scream, or just a sharp utterance?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I would say it was rather long&mdash;and very loud.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You knew at once it was the scream of a man?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I thought at first it might be some wild thing&mdash;perhaps a panther or a
+lynx&mdash;even a water bird.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yet it must have been a very distressing sound, was it not? Would you
+say it was a cry of agony or of fear?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Both. Yes&mdash;I would say it was a cry of both fear and agony.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then what did you do? Tell exactly what happened.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We went out to investigate. My other guests ran out the same time.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You didn&#8217;t see them run out?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, but I met most of them outside. At such times one doesn&#8217;t observe
+closely. We ran down to the shore of the lagoon, at the place we&#8217;ve
+indicated to you, and there we found <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>David Florey, lying dead. There
+was no one near, and no weapons were lying beside him&mdash;at least I didn&#8217;t
+see any. He was lying on his side, and his vest and shirt were torn and
+wet with blood. Some of us went at once to telephone&mdash;Mr. Killdare, Mr.
+Van Hope, Mr. Nopp and myself. The others began to beat through the
+garden in search of the murderer.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No one stayed with the body?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re perfectly certain Mr. Florey was dead, Mr. Nealman.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t dream of anything else at the time, Mr. Weldon. He lay
+huddled, his face drawn, and certainly there was a terrible wound in his
+breast.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;These men that hunted through the gardens and lawns. Were they armed?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Marten had a pistol. The others were unarmed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They stayed close together?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t think they did. I can&#8217;t say for sure.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then what happened?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We telephoned, met the searching party, and all of us went back to the
+body. It was gone.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No action or word of any of your guests wakened your suspicions?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;None whatever.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You suspect no one?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No one. I am absolutely in the dark.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Remember, as the occupant of the house, you are in a better position to
+give us a right steer than any one else. I want you to think hard. You
+observed, at no time, any suspicious circumstances?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;None whatever.&#8221; Nealman&#8217;s voice was firm.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What weapon, would you say, inflicted the wound?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know. It wasn&#8217;t a pistol, of course. We didn&#8217;t hear a shot. We
+didn&#8217;t examine the wound carefully, but I would say it was some metal
+instrument, not overly sharp. It might have been a dull knife.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Would a knife likely have torn the shirt and vest as you describe?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It doesn&#8217;t seem likely, unless the murderer gave a furious, downward
+stroke.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The coroner paused again, and the room was utterly silent. &#8220;You have
+never heard any story, any legend&mdash;any set of facts connected with this
+house and its occupants that might explain the murder?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Nealman waited a long time before he answered. &#8220;None that are the least
+credible.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve got something on your mind, Nealman. Credible or not, I want to
+hear it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t bring myself to repeat such a silly story. All old houses have
+various legends. This particular legend is not worth hearing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sorry, Mr. Nealman, but I must be the judge of that. You have the
+same as admitted that the story has occurred to your mind. What was it,
+please?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Nealman&#8217;s voice lowered perceptibly, and he answered with evident
+difficulty. &#8220;A silly thing about a buried treasure&mdash;and a sea-monster&mdash;a
+giant octopus or something like that&mdash;that had been set to guard it&mdash;in
+the lagoon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>As we waited we heard the faint scream of the plover on the shore and
+the lapping waves of the tide. Most of the white men were smiling
+grimly&mdash;the negroes were gray as ashes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You will admit that the tragedy of last night, the nature of the wound
+and the disappearance of the body, brought the legend forcibly to your
+memory?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I couldn&#8217;t help but remember it,&#8221; Nealman answered. &#8220;But it&#8217;s inane and
+silly&mdash;just the same.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+
+<p>Nealman was of course the most important witness. Further testimony was
+really only in corroboration of his. The coroner called on Marten next.</p>
+
+<p>This man spoke bluntly, answering all questions in a vigorous, rather
+masterful voice. Financier, he said simply, in answer to the question as
+to his occupation.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You were with Mr. Nealman when you heard Florey&#8217;s scream?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who else was there?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Van Hope and Mr. Killdare.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you know the exact location of any other of the guests at the time
+of the murder?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, not exactly. They were all in rooms adjoining the living-room.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re sure of that?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Practically sure. They came in and out every few minutes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Did you have any previous acquaintance with the dead man?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;None whatever.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In reply to the coroner&#8217;s questions, he testified as to the finding of
+the body, the nature of the scream we had heard and gave a similar
+report as to the appearance of the wound. He had observed no suspicious
+actions on the part of any one.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You led the search, I believe, through the gardens?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You were the one man that was armed. May I ask how you happened to have
+a pistol in the pocket of dinner clothes?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I was held up, once,&#8221; Marten replied straightforwardly. &#8220;Several years
+ago. I&#8217;ve carried a pistol ever since.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The coroner nodded. &#8220;Did your party stay together in searching the
+gardens, or did they scatter out?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We scattered out. We couldn&#8217;t have hoped to find any one if we had
+stayed together. We called back and forth, however.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You kept track of one another all the time?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t say that. The gardens and grounds are large and full of
+shrubbery.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The search lasted&mdash;how long?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Only a few minutes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p><p>The coroner dismissed him at this point, calling on Mr. Van Hope. The
+latter told of his long acquaintance with Nealman, and verified in every
+detail the story that his friend had told.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And where were you, Mr. Dell, when the scream was heard?&#8221; the coroner
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In the library,&#8221; was the reply. Major Dell spoke evenly, but his keen,
+flushed face showed that he was taking the most keen and lively interest
+in the proceedings.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why weren&#8217;t you with the others in the party?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We were all running all over the house. I was trying to find Mr.
+Nealman&#8217;s copy of Jordan&#8217;s work on fish. Fargo and I had got into an
+argument about black bass.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Fargo was not with you at the time?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I was alone. I had left Mr. Fargo at the billiard table.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Weldon&#8217;s voice changed in tone. &#8220;And how did the argument come out, may
+I ask.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Major Dell smiled dryly. &#8220;It isn&#8217;t concluded yet,&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<p>The coroner paused, then took a new tack. &#8220;You heard the sound
+distinctly?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Distinctly, but probably not so clearly as Mr. Nealman heard it. The
+library is back of the lounging-room.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Then what did you do?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I ran outside. I joined Nealman and some of the other guests on the
+grounds, and went down with them to investigate.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You took part in the hunt through the grounds?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes. I beat back and forth with the rest.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And saw or heard nothing suspicious?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Something moved in the shrubbery, but we couldn&#8217;t locate it. Nealman
+thought afterward it was a raccoon or some other small animal.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You knew Mr. Florey?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I had never set eyes upon him before.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve had long acquaintance with Mr. Nealman, however?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Major Dell hesitated, just an instant. &#8220;No. I had never met Mr. Nealman
+until last night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The coroner&#8217;s interest quickened. &#8220;You didn&#8217;t? How did you happen to be
+included among his guests?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I was a great friend of his friend, Mr. Van Hope. I was invited through
+his kindness. He wanted me to have a taste of shooting and fishing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is your occupation, Mr. Dell?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am interested in finance, in a modest way.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You saw, heard or knew of nothing connected <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>with this murder that you
+haven&#8217;t testified.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No.&#8221; Dell paused, considering. &#8220;Nothing, I&#8217;m sure.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I say &#8216;murder.&#8217; Testimony has gone to show that Florey was dead, not
+just severely wounded, when you and the others reached his side. Mr.
+Dell, do you think there is any possibility that life remained in his
+body when you saw him beside the inlet?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Dell spoke clearly. &#8220;None whatever,&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You speak very sure.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am sure. I&#8217;ve seen too many dead men ever to make a mistake. The
+position of the body, the features&mdash;everything told it as plain as day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The coroner leaned forward. His eyes gleamed. &#8220;And where and how did you
+happen to see all these dead men, may I ask?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was an instant&#8217;s second of strain throughout the room. All of us,
+I think, were siding with Major Dell&mdash;from the sheer instinctive
+distrust of constituted authority that seems to be implanted in our
+bodies at birth. Dell looked down, and his face was gray.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In the Argonne,&#8221; he said, quietly. The room was deathly still.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p><p>Fargo, called immediately after, testified as to his argument with Dell
+as to the nature of black bass. Dell had left him, he said, to go into
+the library.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You were alone in the billiard room when you heard the cry?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes. But I ran outdoors and joined the others.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Van Hope testified as to his acquaintance with Major Dell, saying that
+they had known each other for several months, and that Dell belonged to
+one of his clubs. He verified Nealman&#8217;s story perfectly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And what is your occupation, Mr. Pescini?&#8221; the coroner asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am in the publishing business, in New York.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You have a long acquaintance with Mr. Nealman?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Something over four years.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where were you when you heard David Florey scream?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;On the veranda.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Alone?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, alone. I had been with Mr. Van Hope and Nealman a few moments
+before. I was rather hot, and I went out on the veranda for a breath of
+air. I rushed out toward the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>sound, and Nealman and his party caught up
+with me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He testified that he had taken part in the search, and was utterly
+baffled as to the solution of the mystery.</p>
+
+<p>Nopp was in the music room, he said, looking for a certain record that
+he wished his friends to hear. He had been in the billiard room a few
+seconds before. He had heard the cry but faintly, and had not been
+especially alarmed. The shouts of the other guests, he said, rather than
+the scream of the dying man, had caused him to rush out and join in the
+investigation. He had known Nealman a long time, was an architect by
+profession, and had been one of those to partake in the hunt through the
+gardens.</p>
+
+<p>Last of all the white men, he called on me. I told of my relations with
+Nealman, the work I had been hired to do and, my own reactions to the
+fearful scream in the darkness. I had been with Marten, Van Hope and
+Nealman and had sent through the calls to Ochakee.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You saw or heard nothing beyond that which these other gentlemen have
+testified?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nothing at all,&#8221; I answered.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You have made no subsequent discoveries?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Just for a moment I was silent, conjecturing <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>what my answer should be.
+Was I to tell of the cryptogram I had found beside the body, and its
+theft during the night?</p>
+
+<p>I couldn&#8217;t see how the least good would come of it. Indeed, if last
+night&#8217;s intruder was in the room, listening to my testimony, he would be
+very glad to know if I had discovered the theft. I had resolved to work
+out the case in my own way, employing the methods of a naturalist, and
+these agents of the law were not my allies.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nothing has come to my observation,&#8221; I told him simply.</p>
+
+<p>If he had pressed the matter he might have got the admission out of me;
+but fortunately he turned to other subjects.</p>
+
+<p>There was quite a little stir of interest throughout the circle when he
+began to question Edith. None of us will forget the picture of that
+golden head, graced by the sunlight slanting through the leaded panes of
+the window, the flushed, lovely face, the frank eyes and the girlish
+figure, lost in the big chair. She was in such contrast to the rest of
+us. Except for the housekeeper, buxom and fifty, she was the only white
+woman present; and she could have been the daughter of any one of the
+gray men in the circle.</p>
+
+<p>She had gone to her room about ten, she <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>said, and had read for perhaps
+an hour. Her room was just over the front hall. About eleven she went to
+bed, and the coroner&#8217;s questions brought out the interesting fact that
+seemingly she had been the last of the household&mdash;unless the murderer
+himself was to be included thus&mdash;to have seen Florey alive. Her bed
+stood just beside the front window, and just before she had retired she
+had seen him walking out toward the lagoon.</p>
+
+<p>The whole circle, tired of the dull testimony of the past hour, leaned
+forward in rapt attention. &#8220;He was alone?&#8221; the coroner asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes. I think I heard the door close behind him&mdash;I&#8217;m not sure. Then I
+saw his form in the moonlight on the front lawn.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You recognized him at once?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not at once. I thought perhaps it was one of the guests. But in a
+bright patch of moonlight I saw him plain.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where did he go?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He turned down the driveway toward the lagoon. I didn&#8217;t see him again.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>At the sound of the piercing scream she got up and put on a
+dressing-gown, but she did not come down at once. She was afraid, she
+said&mdash;she didn&#8217;t know what to do. She had no knowledge as to the
+activities and the positions of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>other members of the household at
+the time of the crime.</p>
+
+<p>She had come to work as her uncle&#8217;s secretary but a few weeks before;
+and she verified perfectly Nealman&#8217;s testimony in regard to the dead
+servant. If he had had enemies in the household she had not been aware
+of it, she knew of no chronic malady, and she did not think that he
+carried any large amount of money on his person. The scream had seemed
+to her to be one of unfathomable fear.</p>
+
+<p>The housekeeper, Mrs. Gentry, was the last of the white people to be
+called upon; and her testimony threw no new light upon the problem. She
+was in bed and asleep, and the shouts of the men without had wakened
+her.</p>
+
+<p>The coroner called on the negroes in turn, and I was a little amazed at
+the ease with which he wrung their testimony out of them. He knew these
+dark people: no northern man could have hoped to have been so
+successful. Sometimes he shouted at them as if in fury, sometimes he
+wheedled or jested with them.</p>
+
+<p>Not one of them but could prove an alibi. They were all in their own
+quarters, they said, at the moment of the tragedy. Because this was the
+South and they were black, they did not know Florey, a white man, very
+well. And they had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>all been frightened nearly out of their wits by the
+events of the night.</p>
+
+<p>One by one he questioned them, but the inquest ended just as it
+began&mdash;with the affair of Florey&#8217;s murder as great a mystery as ever. At
+the end of the fatiguing afternoon we were face to face with the
+baffling fact that only four men had proven satisfactory alibis&mdash;Lemuel
+Marten, Van Hope, Nealman and myself&mdash;and that any one of the dozen or
+more men and women in that great, rambling house might have done the
+deed.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+
+<p>Two telegrams had come for Mr. Nealman during the inquest; but the negro
+messenger who had brought them had been too frightened by the august
+session in the living-room to disturb him. It came about that Nealman
+didn&#8217;t get them until he and Van Hope left the room together.</p>
+
+<p>The yellow envelopes were lying on a little table in the hall, and
+Nealman started, perceptibly, at the sight of them. Except for that
+nervous reflex through his body I wouldn&#8217;t have given the messages a
+second thought. Nealman picked them up, and still carrying on a
+fragmentary conversation with his friend, tore out the messages.</p>
+
+<p>He did not merely tear off the edges. In his eagerness his clawing
+fingers ripped the envelopes wide open, endangering the messages
+themselves within. He opened one of them, and his eye leaped over the
+script.</p>
+
+<p>He took one curious, short breath, then opened the second message, more
+carefully now. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>Then he crowded both of them into his outer coat pocket.</p>
+
+<p>At that point his conversation with Van Hope took a curious trend. He
+still seemed to be trying to talk in his usual casual voice; yet a
+preoccupation so deep, so engrossing was upon him that his friend&#8217;s
+words must have seemed to reach him from another sphere. It was a brave
+effort; but his disjointed sentences, his blurred perceptions, told the
+truth only too plainly.</p>
+
+<p>Nealman had received disastrous news. His lips were smiling, but his
+eyes were filled with some alien light. What that light was neither Van
+Hope nor I could tell. It might have been frenzy. Quite likely it was
+fear.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bad news, old man?&#8221; Van Hope blurted out at last, impulsively. They
+were old friends&mdash;he was risking the charge of ill-bred curiosity to
+offer sympathy to the other.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not very good, old man. I&#8217;ll see you later about it. If you&#8217;ll excuse
+me I&#8217;ll go to my room&mdash;and answer &#8217;em.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He turned up the stairs&mdash;Van Hope walked out onto the verandas. I waited
+for Edith, and in a moment we were walking under the magnolias,
+listening to the twilight boomings of a bittern on the lagoon.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;And what do you think of it?&#8221; I asked her.</p>
+
+<p>No human memory could forget her lustrous eyes, solemn and yet lighted
+by the beauty of her thoughts, as she gazed out over the waters,
+troubled by the flowing tide.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t make anything out of it,&#8221; she told me at last. &#8220;It doesn&#8217;t seem
+to make good sense. Yet there have been hundreds of more baffling
+mysteries, and they all were cleared up at last. Cleared up
+intelligently, too, if you know what I mean.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You mean&mdash;with credible motives and actions behind them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, and <i>human</i> actions. I&#8217;m thinking about&mdash;you know what. Human
+agents were the only agents in this crime. In the end it will prove out
+that way.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then you aren&#8217;t at all superstitious about&mdash;this.&#8221; I indicated that
+eery, desolate lagoon with its craggy margin, stretching away like a
+ghost-lake in the gray light. As always the tidal waves were bursting
+with ferocious, lunging onslaughts on the natural rock wall, and the
+foam gleamed incredibly white against the dark water.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not in the least,&#8221; she answered me. &#8220;I don&#8217;t like the place when the
+tide&#8217;s rolling in&mdash;it&#8217;s too rough and too fierce&mdash;but it&#8217;s lovely in
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>the ebb-tide! Did you ever see anything so still as it is then&mdash;the
+water&#8217;s edge creeping inward, and such a wonderful blue-green? No, I&#8217;m
+not superstitious about it at all. I&#8217;m going swimming, one of these
+nights, when the tide&#8217;s going out. I&#8217;d cross it to-night in an
+emergency.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re a strong swimmer, then.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can swim well enough&mdash;nothing to boast of though. Ned&#8221;&mdash;for we had
+got to the first name stage, long since&mdash;&#8220;this whole matter will be
+cleared up in a few days more. Such things always do come out right. I
+wouldn&#8217;t be surprised if that poor man&#8217;s body should be found any day,
+dragged into some thicket. The rocks are full of caves&mdash;perhaps the drag
+hooks simply failed to find it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And your uncle&mdash;he feels the way you do?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course. If you are talking about that silly legend&mdash;it gives him
+only the keenest delight as a big story to tell his friends. He has no
+more superstitious fear about this lagoon than I have.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Have you talked to him since the inquest?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You know I haven&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He got two telegrams to-day. They seemed to go mighty hard with him. I
+was wondering&mdash;whether you ought to go to him now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A little line came between her straight brows. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>&#8220;I can&#8217;t imagine what
+they could be&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; she said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The loss of some friend? Financial loss, perhaps&mdash;&mdash;?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know. The latter, if anything. For I do know he&#8217;s been buying
+certain stocks&mdash;awfully heavy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Playing the stock market, eh&mdash;&mdash;?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t think I should have told you that. But I know you won&#8217;t say
+anything about it. Oh, I do hope he hasn&#8217;t had any real <span style="white-space: nowrap;">misfortune&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>Our talk veered to other subjects, and for a while we stood and watched
+the twilight descending over the lagoon. The crags were never so
+mysterious. They seemed to take weird shapes in the half-light, and the
+water sucked and lapped about their stony feet.</p>
+
+<p>In a little while her hand stole into mine. It rested softly, and
+neither of us felt the need of words. The twilight deepened into that
+pale darkness of the early Floridan night.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How I&#8217;d like to help him, if he&#8217;s in trouble,&#8221; she said at last, almost
+whispering. &#8220;And how I&#8217;d like to help you&mdash;do all the things you want to
+do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m glad&mdash;that you care about it,&#8221; I told <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>her, not daring to look down
+into that sober, wistful face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I <i>do</i> care about it,&#8221; she declared. She bent, until her lips were
+close to my ear. &#8220;And I believe I see the way.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+
+<p>Nealman did not come down to dinner. He sent his apologies to the
+guests, pleading a headache, and through some mayhap of circumstance the
+coroner took his place at the head of the great, red-mahogany table.
+There was a grim symbolism in the thing. No one mentioned it, not one of
+those aristocratic sportsmen were calloused enough to jest about it, but
+we all felt it in the secret places of our souls.</p>
+
+<p>The session at Kastle Krags was no longer one of revelry. I could fancy
+the wit, the repartee, the gaiety and laughter that had reigned over the
+board the evening previous; but Nealman&#8217;s guests were a sober group
+to-night. At the unspoken dictates of good taste no man talked of last
+night&#8217;s tragedy. Rather the men talked quietly to one another or else
+sat in silence. A burly negro, rigged out in a dinner coat of ancient
+vintage, helped with the serving in Florey&#8217;s place.</p>
+
+<p>After dinner I halted the sheriff in the hall, and we had a single
+moment of conversation. &#8220;Slatterly,&#8221; I said, &#8220;I want you to give me some
+authority.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;You do, eh?&#8221; He paused, studying my face. &#8220;What do you want to do?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I want your permission&mdash;to go about this house and grounds where and
+when I want to&mdash;and no complications in case I am caught at it. Maybe
+even go into some of the private rooms and effects of the guests. I want
+to follow up some ideas that I have in mind.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And when do you want to do it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Any time the opportunity offers. I&#8217;m not going to do anything
+indiscreet. I won&#8217;t get in your way. But I&#8217;m deeply interested in this
+thing, I&#8217;ve had scientific training, and I want to see if I can&#8217;t do
+some good.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His eyes swept once from my shoes to my head. &#8220;From amateur detectives,
+as a rule&mdash;Good Lord deliver us,&#8221; he said with quiet good humor. &#8220;But
+Killdare&mdash;I don&#8217;t see why you shouldn&#8217;t. Two heads are better than
+one&mdash;and I don&#8217;t seem to be getting anywhere. Really, the more
+intelligent help we can get&mdash;from people we can co-operate with, of
+course&mdash;the better.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m free, then, to go ahead?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course with reasonable limits. But ask my advice before you make any
+accusations&mdash;or do anything rash.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>By previous arrangement Mrs. Gentry, the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>housekeeper, was waiting for
+me on the upper floor. There could be no better chance to search the
+guests&#8217; rooms. All of the men were on the lower floor, smoking their
+after-dinner cigars and talking in little groups in the lounging-room
+and the veranda. Of course Nealman was in his room, but even had he been
+absent, a decent sense of restraint would have kept me from his
+threshold. And of course Marten and Van Hope had established perfect
+alibis at the inquest.</p>
+
+<p>We entered Fargo&#8217;s room first. It was cluttered with his bags, his guns
+and rods, but the thing I was seeking did not reveal itself. I looked in
+the inner pockets of his coat, in the drawers of his desk, even in the
+waste-paper basket without result. Such personal documents as Fargo had
+with him were evidently on his person at that moment.</p>
+
+<p>Nopp&#8217;s room was next, but I was less than twenty seconds across his
+threshold. He had been writing a letter, it lay open on his desk, and I
+needed to glance but once at the script. If my theory was right Nopp
+could be permanently dropped from the list of suspects of Florey&#8217;s
+murder.</p>
+
+<p>But the next room yielded a clew of seemingly inestimable importance.
+After the drawers <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>had been opened and searched, and the desk examined
+with minute care, I searched the inner pocket of a white linen coat that
+the occupant of the room had worn at the time of his arrival. In it I
+found a letter, addressed to some New York firm, sealed, stamped, and
+ready to send.</p>
+
+<p>How familiar was the bold, free hand in which the address was written!
+Not a little excited, I compared it with the script of the &#8220;George&#8221;
+letter I had taken from Florey&#8217;s room. As far as my inexperienced eye
+could tell the handwriting was identical.</p>
+
+<p>The room was that of Lucius Pescini. If I had not been mistaken in the
+handwriting, I had proven a previous relationship and acquaintance,
+extending practically over the whole lifetime of both men, between the
+distinguished, bearded man that came as Nealman&#8217;s guest and the gray
+butler who had died on the lagoon shore the previous night.</p>
+
+<p>I put the letter back in the man&#8217;s coat-pocket; then joined Mrs. Gentry
+in the hall. She went to her own room. I turned down the broad stairs to
+the hall. And the question before me now was whether to report my
+discovery to the officials of the law.</p>
+
+<p>I had started down the stairs with the intention <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>of telling them all I
+knew. By the time I had reached the hall I had begun to have serious
+doubts as to the wisdom of such a course. After all I had learned
+nothing conclusive. Handwriting evidence is at best uncertain; even
+experts have made mistakes in comparing signatures. In this regard it
+was quite different from finger-prints&mdash;those tell-tale stains that
+never lie. True, the handwriting looked identical to the naked eye, but
+a microscope might prove it entirely dissimilar. Was I to cast suspicion
+on a distinguished man on such fragile and uncertain grounds?</p>
+
+<p>Pescini had been in the lounging-room only a few minutes before the
+crime was committed. It seemed doubtful that he would have had time to
+cover the distance between the house and the lagoon, strike Florey low,
+and get back to the place where we met him in the short time of his
+absence.</p>
+
+<p>Besides, I wanted to work alone. I couldn&#8217;t bring myself to share my
+discoveries with Slatterly and Weldon.</p>
+
+<p>The hall below was deserted and half in darkness. I met Marten and Nopp
+on the way to their rooms: passing into the library I found Hal Fargo
+seated under a reading-lamp, deep in &#8220;Floridan fauna.&#8221; Major Dell was
+smoking <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>quietly on the veranda, gazing out over the moonlit lawns. Van
+Hope and Pescini himself were seated at the far end of the
+lounging-room, evidently in earnest conversation.</p>
+
+<p>I sat down across the room where from time to time I could glance up and
+observe the bearded face of my suspect. How animated he was, how
+effective the gestures of his firm, strong hands. Was that the hand I
+had seen in the flashlight over my table the preceding night? He had
+rather thin, esthetic lips, half concealed by his mustache. Yet it
+wasn&#8217;t a cruel or degenerate face.</p>
+
+<p>But soon I forgot about Pescini to marvel at the growing, oppressive
+heat of the night. The chill that usually drops over the West coast in
+the first hours of darkness, did not manifest itself to-night. It was
+the kind of heat that brings a flush to the face and a ghastly crawling
+to the brain, swelling the neck glands until the linen collar chokes
+like strangling fingers, and heightens the temper clear to the
+explosion-point. Van Hope and Pescini tore at their collars, seemingly
+at first unaware as to the source of their discomfort.</p>
+
+<p>In reality the heat wave had overspread us rather swiftly, and what was
+its source and by what shiftings of the air currents it had been sent
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>to harry us was mostly beyond the wit of man to tell. The temperature
+must have been close to a hundred in that big, coolly furnished room,
+and the veranda outside seemed to offer no relief. The dim warmth from
+the electric lights above, added to the sweltering heat of the air, was
+wholly perceptible on the heated brain, and seemed to stretch the
+over-taut nerves to the breaking-point.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Isn&#8217;t this the devil?&#8221; Van Hope exclaimed as I came out. &#8220;It wasn&#8217;t
+half so hot at sunset. For Heaven&#8217;s sake let&#8217;s have a drink.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Whiskey&#8217;d only make us hotter, would it not?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The English don&#8217;t think so&mdash;but they&#8217;re full of weird ideas. Have that
+big coon bring us some lemonade then&mdash;iced tea&mdash;anything. This is the
+kind of night that sets men crazy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Men who have spent July in India, when the humidity is on the land,
+could appreciate such heat, but it passed ordinary understanding. It
+harassed the brain and fevered the blood, and warned us all of lawless
+demons that lived just under our skins. A man wouldn&#8217;t be responsible,
+to-night. The devil inside of him, recognizing a familiar temperature,
+escaped his bonds and stood ready to take any advantage of openings.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p><p>It was a curious thing that there was no perceptible wind over the
+lagoon. Perhaps the reason was that we invariably associate wind with
+coolness, rather than any sort of a hushed movement of the air&mdash;and the
+impulse that brushed up on the veranda to us was as warm as a child&#8217;s
+breath on the face. There was simply no whisper of sound on shore or sea
+or forest. The curlews were stilled, the wild creatures were likely
+lying motionless, trying to escape the heat, the little rustlings and
+murmurings of stirring vegetation was gone from the gardens. But that
+first silence, remarkable enough, seemed to deepen as we waited.</p>
+
+<p>There is a point, in temperature, that seems the utter limit of cold.
+Mushers along certain trails in the North had known that point&mdash;when
+there seems simply no heat left in the bitter, crackling, biting air.
+The temperature, at such times, registers forty&mdash;fifty&mdash;sixty below. Yet
+the scientist, in his laboratory, with his liquid hydrogen vaporizing in
+a vacuum, can show that this temperature is not the beginning of the
+fearful scale of cold. To-night it was the same way with the silence.
+There simply seemed no sound left. But as we waited the silence grew and
+swelled until the brain ceased to believe the senses and the image of
+reality was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>gone. It gave you the impression of being fast asleep and
+in a dream that might easily turn to death.</p>
+
+<p>The mind kept dwelling on death. It was a great deal more plausible than
+life. The image of life was gone from that bleak manor house by the
+sea&mdash;the sea was dead, the air, all the elements by which men view their
+lives. The forest, lost in its silence, its most whispered voices
+stilled, was a dead forest, incomprehensible as living.</p>
+
+<p>I went upstairs soon after. I thought it might be cooler there.
+Sometimes, if you go a few feet off the ground, you find it
+cooler&mdash;quite in opposition to the fact that hot air rises. There was no
+appreciable difference, however; but here, at least, I could take off my
+outer clothes. Then I got into a dressing-gown and slippers and waited,
+with a breathlessness and impatience not quite healthy and normal, for
+the late night sea breeze to spring up.</p>
+
+<p>Seemingly it had been delayed. The hour was past eleven, the sweltering
+heat still remained. There was no way under Heaven to pass the time. One
+couldn&#8217;t read, for the reason that the mental effort of following the
+lines of type was incomprehensibly fatiguing. I had neither the energy
+nor the interest to work upon <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>the cryptogram&mdash;that baffling column of
+four-lettered words. Yet the brain was inordinately active. Ungoverned
+thought swept through it in ordered trains, in sudden, lunging waves,
+and in swirling eddies. Yet the thoughts were not clean-cut, wholly
+true&mdash;they overlapped with the bizarre and elfin impulses of the fancy,
+and the fine edge of discrimination between reality and dreams was some
+way dulled. It wasn&#8217;t easy to hold the brain in perfect bondage.</p>
+
+<p>To that fact alone I try to ascribe the curious flood of thoughts that
+swept me in those midnight hours. Except for the heat, perhaps in a
+measure for the silence, I wouldn&#8217;t have known them at all. I got to
+thinking about last night&#8217;s crime, and I couldn&#8217;t get it out of mind.
+The conceptions I had formed of it, the theories and decisions, seemed
+less and less convincing as I sat overlooking those shadowed, silent
+grounds. So much depends on the point of view. Ordinarily, our will
+gives us strength to believe wholly what we want to believe and nothing
+else. But the powers of the will were unstable to-night, the whole seat
+of being was shaken, and my fine theories in regard to Pescini seemed to
+lack the stuff of truth. I suppose every man present provided some
+satisfactory theory to fit the facts, for no other reason than <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>that we
+didn&#8217;t want to change our conception of Things as They Are. Such a
+course was essential to our own self-comfort and security. But my
+Pescini theory seemed far-fetched. In that silence and that heat,
+anything could be true at Kastle Krags!</p>
+
+<p>From this point my mind led logically to the most disquieting and
+fearful thing of all. What was to prevent last night&#8217;s crime from
+recurring?</p>
+
+<p>It isn&#8217;t hard to see the basis for such a thought. Some way, in these
+last, stifling, almost maddening hours, it had become difficult to rely
+implicitly on our rational interpretation of things. Certain things are
+credible to the every-day man in the every-day mood&mdash;things such as
+aeronautics and wireless, that to a savage mind would seem a thousand
+times more incredible than mere witchcraft and magic&mdash;and certain things
+simply can not and will not be believed. Society itself, our laws, our
+customs, our basic attitude towards life depends on a fine balance of
+what is credible and what is not, an imperious disbelief in any
+manifestation out of the common run of things. It is altogether good for
+society when this can be so. Men can not rise up from savagery until it
+is so. As long as black magic and witchcraft haunt the souls of men,
+there is nothing to trust, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>nothing to hold to or build towards, nothing
+permanent or infallible on which to rely, and hope can not escape from
+fear, and there is no promise that to-day&#8217;s work will stand till
+to-morrow. Men are far happier when they may master their own beliefs.
+There is nothing so destructive to happiness, so favorable to the
+dominion of Fear, as an indiscriminate credulity. Those African
+explorers who have seen the curse of fear in the Congo tribes need not
+be told this fact.</p>
+
+<p>But to-night this fine scorn of the supernatural and the bizarre was
+some way gone from my being. It wasn&#8217;t so easy to reject them now. Those
+hide-and-seek, half-glimpsed, eerie phantasies that are hidden deep in
+every man&#8217;s subconscious mind were in the ascendancy to-night. They had
+been implanted in the germ-plasm a thousand thousand generations gone,
+they were a dim and mystic heritage from the childhood days of the race,
+the fear and the dreads and horrors of those dark forests of countless
+thousands of years ago, and they still lie like a shadow over the
+fear-cursed minds of some of the more savage peoples. Civilization has
+mostly got away from them, it has strengthened itself steadily against
+them, building with the high aim of wholly escaping from them, yet no
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>man in this childlike world is wholly unknown to them. The blind,
+ghastly fear of the darkness, of the unknown, of the whispering voice or
+the rustling of garments of one who returns from beyond the void is an
+experience few human beings can deny.</p>
+
+<p>The cold logic with which I looked on life was in some way shaken and
+uncertain. The fanciful side of myself crept in and influenced all my
+thought-processes. It was no longer possible to accept, with implicit
+faith, that last night&#8217;s crime was merely the expression of ordinary,
+familiar moods and human passions, that it would all work out according
+to the accepted scheme of things. Indeed the crime seemed no longer
+<i>human</i> at all. Rather it seemed just some deadly outgrowth of these
+weird sands beside the mysterious lagoon.</p>
+
+<p>The crime had seemed a thing of human origin before, to be judged by
+human standards, but now it had become associated, in my mind, with
+inanimate sand and water. It was as if we had beheld the sinister
+expression of some inherent quality in the place itself rather than the
+men who had gathered there. It was hard to believe, now, that Florey had
+been a mere actor in some human drama that in the end had led to murder.
+He had been little and gray and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>obscure, seemingly apart from human
+drama as the mountains are apart from the sea, and it was easier to
+believe that he had been merely the unsuspecting victim of some outer
+peril that none of us knew. Slain, with a ragged, downward cut through
+the breast&mdash;and his body dragged into the lagoon!</p>
+
+<p>What was to prevent the same thing from happening again? Before the week
+was done other of the occupants of that house might find themselves
+walking in the gardens at night, down by the craggy shore of the lagoon!
+Nealman, others of the servants, any one of the guests&mdash;Edith
+herself&mdash;wouldn&#8217;t circumstance, sooner or later, take them into the
+shadow of that curse? Who could tell but that the whole thing might be
+re&euml;nacted before this dreadful, sweltering night was done!</p>
+
+<p>The occupants of the house wouldn&#8217;t be able to sleep to-night. Some of
+them would go walking in the gardens, rambling further down the
+beguiling garden paths that would take them at last to that craggy
+margin of the inlet. Some of them might want a cool glimpse of the
+lagoon itself. Would we hear that sharp, agonized, fearful scream again
+streaming through the windows, gripping the heart and freezing <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>the
+blood in the veins? Any hour&mdash;any moment&mdash;such a thing might occur.</p>
+
+<p>But at that point I managed a barren and mirthless laugh. I was letting
+childlike fancies carry me away&mdash;and I had simply tried to laugh them to
+scorn. Surely I need not yield to such a mood as this, to let the
+sweltering heat and the silence change me into a superstitious savage.
+The thing to do was to move away from the window and direct my thought
+in other channels. Yet I knew, as I argued with myself, that I was
+curiously breathless and inwardly shaken. But these were nothing in
+comparison with the fact that I was some way <i>expectant</i>, too, with a
+dreadful expectancy beyond the power of naming.</p>
+
+<p>Then my laugh was cut short. And I don&#8217;t know what half-strangled
+utterance, what gagging expression of horror or regret or fulfilled
+dread took its place on my lips as a distinct scream for help, agonized
+and fearful, came suddenly, ripped through the darkness from the
+direction of the lagoon.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2>
+
+<p>The most outstanding thing about that sound was its amazing loudness. It
+was hard to believe that a human voice could develop such penetration
+and volume. It had an explosive quality, bursting upon the eardrums with
+no warning whatsoever, and the man who had cried out had evidently given
+the full power of his lungs. It was probably true that the moist, hot
+atmosphere, hanging almost without motion, was a perfect medium for
+transmitting sound. Besides, my windows were open, facing the lagoon.</p>
+
+<p>I heard the sound die away. The silence dropped down again to find me
+standing wholly motionless before the window, one hand resting on the
+sill, seemingly with all power of action gone. It was a shattering blow
+to spirit and hope that there was no further sound from that deathly
+still lagoon. Further calls would indicate that the outcome of the
+affair was still in doubt, that there was still use to hope and
+struggle. But there was a sense of dreadful <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>finality in that unbroken
+silence. The drama that had raged on that craggy shore was already
+closed and done.</p>
+
+<p>The sound had not been only a cry for help. It had been charged full of
+the knowledge of impending death.</p>
+
+<p>Motion came back to my body; and I sprang to the door. The interlude of
+inactivity couldn&#8217;t have been more than a second in duration. That
+still, upper corridor was coming to life. Some one flashed on a light at
+the end of the hall, and the door of the room just opposite mine flew
+open. Van Hope, also in dressing-gown and slippers, stood on the
+threshold.</p>
+
+<p>He saw me, and pushed through into the hall. His face had an almost
+incredible pallor in the soft light. In a moment his strong hand had
+seized my arm.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good God, I didn&#8217;t dream that, did I?&#8221; he cried. &#8220;I was dozing&mdash;you
+heard it, didn&#8217;t you&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course I heard&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Some one screamed for help! I heard the word plain. Good Lord, it&#8217;s
+last night&#8217;s work done over&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>What he said thereafter I didn&#8217;t hear. I was running down the hall
+toward the stairway, and at the head of the stairs I almost collided
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>with Major Dell, just emerging from his room. He had evidently gone to
+bed, and he had just had time to jerk on his trousers over his pajamas
+and slip on a pair of romeos. The light was brighter here, and I got a
+clear picture of his face.</p>
+
+<p>It is a curious thing what details imprint themselves ineffaceably on
+the memory in a moment of crisis. Perhaps&mdash;as in the world of
+beasts&mdash;all the senses are incalculably sharpened, the thought processes
+are clean-cut and infallible, and images have a clarity unequalled at
+any other time. I got the idea that Dell had been terribly moved by that
+scream in the darkness. His emotion had seemingly been so violent that
+it gave the impression of no emotion. His face looked blank as a sheet
+of white paper.</p>
+
+<p>I rushed by him, and I heard him and Van Hope descending the stairs just
+behind me. The hall was still lighted, but long shadows lay across the
+broad veranda. Fargo, his book still in his hand, stood just outside the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What was it, Killdare?&#8221; he asked me. &#8220;I couldn&#8217;t tell from where it
+was&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The lagoon!&#8221; I answered. In the instant Van Hope and Dell caught up
+with me, and the four of us raced down the driveway.</p>
+
+<p>Instinctively we went first to the place on the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>shore where Florey had
+been slain the night before. The action was a clear indication of what
+was in our minds&mdash;that this matter was in some way darkly related to the
+crime of the night before. But the sand was bare, and the grass
+unshadowed in the moonlight.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment we stood, aghast and shaken, gazing out over the lagoon. It
+was still as glass. The tide was running out, and not a wave stirred in
+all its darkened expanse. We saw the image of the moon far out, scarcely
+wavering, and the long, bright trail that it made across the water to
+our eyes. The night was still stifling hot, and the lagoon conveyed an
+image of coolness.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t stand here!&#8221; Fargo cried. &#8220;We&#8217;ve got to make a search. Some poor
+devil is likely lying somewhere in these gardens&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The house was lighted now, and in an uproar, and some of the other
+guests were racing down the driveway to us. In this regard it might have
+been last night&#8217;s tragedy re&euml;nacted. There was, however, one significant
+change.</p>
+
+<p>The iron self-control, the coolness, the perfect discipline of mind and
+muscle that had marked the finding of the dead body on the shore the
+preceding night was no longer entirely manifest. These northern men,
+cold as flint <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>ordinarily, were no longer wholly self-mastered. One
+glance at their faces, loose and pale in the moonlight, and the first
+sound of their voices told this fact only too plainly. It was not,
+however, that they were completely broken. Their training and their
+manhood was too good for that.</p>
+
+<p>We didn&#8217;t stop to answer their queries. We began to search through the
+gardens, examining every shadow, peering into every covert. We tried to
+direct each other according to our several ideas as to the source of the
+sound. We all agreed, however, that the sound had seemed to come from
+the immediate vicinity of the natural rock wall that formed the lagoon.</p>
+
+<p>The next few moments were not very coherent. We called back and forth,
+encountered one another in the shadows, knew moments of apprehension
+when the brush walls cut us off from our fellows, but we found nothing
+that might have explained that desperate cry of a few moments before. At
+last some one called out commandingly from the shores of the lagoon.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come here, every one,&#8221; he said. The voice rose above our confused
+utterances, and all of us, recognizing a leader, hurried to him. Pescini
+was standing beside the craggy shore, a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>strange and imposing figure in
+the wealth of moonlight, at the edge of that tranquil water.</p>
+
+<p>Pescini, after all, was showing himself one of the most self-mastered
+men among us. Any one could read the fact in his voice. How white his
+skin looked in the moonlight, how raven-black his mustache and beard! He
+was still in the garb he had worn at dinner, immaculate and unruffled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;re not getting anywhere,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Is every one here?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here!&#8221; It was Joe Nopp&#8217;s voice, and he immediately joined us. We waited
+an instant, seeing if any further searchers were yet to come in. But the
+thickets were as hushed as the lagoon itself.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let&#8217;s take another tack,&#8221; Pescini said. &#8220;There&#8217;s nothing in these
+gardens. If there is we&#8217;ll find it in an organized search. Remember&mdash;our
+search got us nowhere last night. Let&#8217;s count up, and see if we&#8217;re all
+all right.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>We waited for him to continue. All of us breathed deeply and hard.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then let&#8217;s go up to the house to do it,&#8221; Nopp suggested. &#8220;We know we&#8217;re
+not all here now&mdash;there&#8217;s no use getting alarmed before we&#8217;re sure. Go
+up to the living-room.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His voice was oddly penetrative, wakening a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>whole flood of unwelcome
+thoughts.... We were not all here, he said&mdash;seemingly not even all the
+white occupants of Kastle Krags had obeyed the common instinct to answer
+and investigate that cry! Yet it all might come to nothing, after all. A
+close tabulation might account for every one&mdash;and that the remainder of
+our party had merely not yet wakened. Stranger things have happened. We
+told ourselves, in silent ways, that we had heard of men sleeping
+through more fearful sounds than that! I agreed with Nopp that the thing
+to do was to go to the living-room, make a careful count, and then see
+where we stood.</p>
+
+<p>In a moment we had started back. We were not afraid we had left some of
+our party still searching through the gardens. No man cared to be alone
+out there to-night, and all of us kept close track of our fellows. Edith
+was standing just before the veranda, on the driveway, as we came up.
+The coroner, who had taken time fully to dress, met us half-way down the
+lawns.</p>
+
+<p>We walked almost in silence; and quietly, rather grimly, Joe Nopp
+flashed on all the lights of the big living-room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Go ahead, Slatterly,&#8221; he said to the sheriff, &#8220;See that we&#8217;re all
+here.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Let Killdare do it. I don&#8217;t know you all, you know&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>So I made the count, just as sometimes we did after raids over No Man&#8217;s
+Land. The sheriff and the constable were both present, Mrs. Gentry, the
+housekeeper, was standing, pale but remarkably self-possessed, at the
+inner door of the room. Of course I couldn&#8217;t count up the blacks. Most
+of them were evidently hiding in their rooms. And every one of the six
+guests answered his name.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s just one more name to give,&#8221; Nopp said at last.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But there&#8217;s no use naming it,&#8221; some one answered in a queer, flat
+voice. &#8220;He&#8217;s not here.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Nopp turned, and bounded like a deer up the stairs. All of us knew what
+he had gone to do: to see if the missing man was in his room. And there
+was nothing for us but to wait for his report.</p>
+
+<p>But in a moment we heard his step on the stairs. He sprang down among
+us, and evidently his fine self-mastery was breaking within him. His
+fine eyes held vivid points of light.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My God, he&#8217;s gone,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Not a sign of him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It can&#8217;t be true,&#8221; Pescini answered.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;It is. His bed is rumpled&mdash;but not thrown back or slept in.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Von Hope, the missing man&#8217;s closest friend, suddenly gasped aloud. &#8220;But
+I won&#8217;t believe it&mdash;not until we make a search!&#8221; he cried. &#8220;It can&#8217;t be
+true.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Believe it or not. Search through the grounds or call through the
+house. Nealman&#8217;s gone just as Florey&#8217;s body went last night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+
+<p>We searched through the house, grimly and purposefully; but Nealman, the
+genial host of Kastle Krags, was neither revealed to our eyes or gave
+answer to our calls. It was no longer possible to doubt but that it was
+his voice that had uttered that fearful cry for help.</p>
+
+<p>While the coroner, whose special province is death, led the guests in a
+detailed search through the grounds, Sheriff Slatterly and I examined
+the missing man&#8217;s room. And here I was to learn the contents of those
+mysterious telegrams that had reached Nealman after the inquest of the
+preceding day.</p>
+
+<p>They were lying on his desk, one of them torn in two as if in a fit of
+anger, the other rumpled from a hundred readings. I read aloud to the
+sheriff:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>BLAIR COMBINE FORCING I. S. AND H. TO BOTTOM. MOVE QUICK IF
+YOU CAN.</p></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p><p>The second read:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>I. S. AND H. DOWN TO 28. ALL YOUR INDUSTRIALS SMASHED WIDE
+OPEN. FLETCHER NEALMAN GOES DOWN IN SMASH.</p></div>
+
+<p>The sheriff halted in his search and took the messages from my hand.
+&#8220;I&#8217;m not much up on the stock market,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Do you know what these
+<span style="white-space: nowrap;">mean&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not exactly. I know that I. S. and H. stock has taken a fearful
+drop&mdash;if he had bought heavily on margin his whole fortune might have
+been wiped out. Blair is a prominent speculator on the exchange.
+Industrials refer, of course, to industrial stocks. Fletcher Nealman was
+Mr. Nealman&#8217;s uncle, supposed to be a man of great <span style="white-space: nowrap;">wealth&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then you think&mdash;Nealman was ruined financially?&#8221; He paused, seemingly
+studying his hands. &#8220;I wonder if it could be true.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You mean of course&mdash;the same thing that you guessed about Florey.
+Suicide?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes. I&#8217;ll admit there&#8217;s plenty against it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If suicide&mdash;why did he cry for help?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Many a man cries for help after he&#8217;s started to do himself in. The
+darkness scares &#8217;em, when it&#8217;s too late to turn back. That wouldn&#8217;t
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>puzzle me at all. Killdare, do you know the importance of example?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know that what one man does, another&#8217;s likely to do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not saying that Nealman killed himself, but listen how much there
+is to say for such a theory. You&#8217;re right&mdash;what one man does, another&#8217;s
+likely to do. A curious thing about suicides, Weldon tells me, is that
+they usually come in droves. One man sets an example for another. Say
+you&#8217;re worrying to death about something, sick perhaps, or financially
+ruined, and you hear of some fellow&mdash;some chap you know, perhaps, a man
+you respect almost as much as you respect yourself&mdash;suddenly getting out
+of all his difficulties all nice and quiet&mdash;with one little click to the
+head? Isn&#8217;t it likely you&#8217;d begin thinking about the same thing for
+yourself? Call it mob psychology&mdash;I only know it happens in fact.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m more confident than ever that Florey did himself in, on account of
+his sickness. Here was Nealman, worried to death over money matters,
+holding a lot of options on a falling market. It&#8217;s true that we didn&#8217;t
+find Florey&#8217;s knife, but who can say but maybe Nealman himself threw it
+into the lagoon, and dragged the body afterward, so that no one would
+guess it was suicide. He liked Florey&mdash;he didn&#8217;t want any one to know
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>he had done himself in. Maybe he was thinking already about doing the
+same thing to himself, and in such a case he&#8217;d been glad enough to have
+some one hide the evidence of suicide. To-day he gets word of a final
+smash, and he stays all day in his room, brooding about it. To-night
+comes this heat&mdash;enough to drive a man crazy. Maybe he just called out
+to make us think it was murder. Proud men don&#8217;t usually want the world
+to know that they&#8217;ve killed themselves.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then there&#8217;s one other thing&mdash;more important still. What&#8217;s that book,
+open, on the table?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I glanced at its leathern cover. &#8220;The Bible,&#8221; I told him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The Holy Book. And how often do you find a worldly man like this
+Nealman getting out the Bible and reading it? Doesn&#8217;t it show that he
+was planning something mighty serious&mdash;that he wanted to give his soul
+every chance before he took the last step? It&#8217;s a common thing for
+suicides to read the Bible the last thing. And what are these?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He showed me a rumpled sheet of paper, procured from the waste-basket,
+on which had been written a number of unrelated figures.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t say,&#8221; I told him. &#8220;Probably he was doing some figuring about
+his losses.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Looks to me like he was out of his head<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>&mdash;was just writin&#8217; any old
+figures down. But maybe you&#8217;re right.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was true that the bed had not been slept in. Nealman had lain down on
+it, however, and disarranged the spread. Many cigarette and cigar stubs
+filled the smoking stand, and a half-filled whiskey-and-soda glass stood
+on the window sill.</p>
+
+<p>No other clews were revealed, so we went down to the study. The guests
+of Kastle Krags had not gone back to their beds. They sat in a little
+white-faced group beside the window, talking quietly. Marten beckoned
+the sheriff to his side.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What have you found out, Slatterly?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>He spoke like a man used to having his questions answered. There was a
+note of impatience in his voice, too, perhaps of distrust. Slatterly
+straightened.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nothing definite. Nealman has unquestionably vanished. His bed hasn&#8217;t
+been slept in, but is ruffled. Undoubtedly it was his voice we heard. I
+think I&#8217;ll be able to give you something definite in a little while.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d like something definite now, if you could possibly give it. That&#8217;s
+two men that have disappeared in two nights&mdash;and we seem to be no nearer
+an explanation than we were at first. This <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>isn&#8217;t a business that can be
+delayed, Mr. Slatterly.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you must know&mdash;I think both men committed suicide.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You do!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It certainly is the most reasonable theory, in spite of all there is
+against it.&#8221; Then he told of Nealman&#8217;s financial disaster, of the Bible
+open on his desk, and all the other points he had to back his theory.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And I suppose Florey swallowed his knife, and threw his own body into
+the lagoon!&#8221; Fargo commented grimly.</p>
+
+<p>Slatterly turned to him, his eyes hard and bright. &#8220;We&#8217;ll have your
+jokes to-morrow,&#8221; he reproved him sternly. &#8220;Of course some one else did
+that. I&#8217;ve got a theory&mdash;not yet proven&mdash;to explain it, but I can&#8217;t give
+it out yet.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How do you account for Florey&#8217;s body not being found in the lagoon?&#8221;
+Marten asked quietly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t account for it. We might have missed it&mdash;I don&#8217;t see how we
+could, but we might have done so. I&#8217;m going to have men dragging the
+lagoon all day, over and over again&mdash;until we find <i>both</i> bodies.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are convinced that Nealman, too, lies dead in the lagoon?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Where else could he be? Did you hear that cry a few hours ago?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good Heavens! Could I ever forget it? My old friend&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Was it faked? Could any man have faked a cry like that?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Heavens, no! It had the fear and the agony of death right in it. There
+can&#8217;t be any hope of that, Slatterly.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff gazed about the little circle of white faces. No one
+dissented. That cry was real, and there had been tragic need and
+extremity behind it: we knew that fact if we knew that we lived.
+Evidently the sheriff had completely given over the theory that he had
+suggested, half-heartedly, to me&mdash;that Nealman might have cried out to
+hide the fact of his own suicide.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No man could have cried out like that to deceive, and then disappear.
+No, Mr. Marten, the man that gave that cry is dead, in all probability
+in the lagoon, and there seems no doubt but that Nealman was the man.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yet you think he was a suicide.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A suicide often cries out for help when it is too late to back out. But
+of course&mdash;I can&#8217;t say for sure.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re mistaken in that, Slatterly.&#8221; Van Hope drew himself together
+with a perceptible <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>effort. &#8220;I&#8217;ve known this man for years&mdash;and in the
+end, you&#8217;ll see it isn&#8217;t suicide. He wasn&#8217;t the type that commits
+suicide. He&#8217;s young, he&#8217;d be getting himself together to meet that Blair
+gang that ruined him and chase &#8217;em into their holes. The suicide theory
+is far-fetched, at best.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It may be,&#8221; the sheriff agreed. &#8220;I only wish there could be some light
+thrown on this affair&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There will be, Slatterly.&#8221; Marten&#8217;s voice dropped almost to a monotone.
+&#8220;This is too big a deal for one man&mdash;or two men either. We&#8217;ve been
+talking, and we&#8217;ve decided to send for some one to help you out.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You have, eh?&#8221; Slatterly stiffened. &#8220;If I need help I can send through
+my own channels&mdash;get some state or national <span style="white-space: nowrap;">detectives&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s all right. Get &#8217;em if you want to. The more the better. But you
+haven&#8217;t got any help yet&mdash;even the district attorney has failed to come
+and won&#8217;t come for at least a day or two more. We&#8217;ve got a private
+detective in mind&mdash;one of the biggest in America. His name&#8217;s
+Lacone&mdash;you&#8217;ve heard of him. It won&#8217;t be an official matter at all. Van
+Hope is hiring him&mdash;a wholly private enterprise. I know you&#8217;ll all be
+glad to have his co-operation.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If it&#8217;s a private venture, I have nothing further <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>to say,&#8221; Slatterly
+told him stiffly. &#8220;When do you expect him?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s operating in the Middle West. He can&#8217;t possibly make it until day
+after to-morrow&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Twenty-four hours, eh?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s after midnight now. Probably not for forty-eight hours.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By that time, I hope to have the matter solved.&#8221; Then his business took
+him elsewhere, and he strode away.</p>
+
+<p>There was one thing more I could do. It was an obligation, and yet,
+because it was in the way of service, it was a happiness too. I climbed
+the broad stairs and stopped at last before Edith&#8217;s door.</p>
+
+<p>She called softly in answer to my knock. And in a moment she had opened
+the door.</p>
+
+<p>She was fully dressed, waiting ready for any call that might be made
+upon her. And the picture that she made, framed in the doorway, went
+straight to my heart.</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes were still lustrous with tears, and the high girlish color and
+the light of happiness was gone from her face. It was wistful, like that
+of a grief-stricken child. Her voice was changed too, in spite of all
+her struggle to make it sound <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>the same. And at first I stood helpless,
+not knowing what to say or do.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I came&mdash;just to see if I could be of any aid&mdash;in any way.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t think you can,&#8221; she answered. &#8220;It&#8217;s so good of you, though, to
+remember&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s no one to notify&mdash;no telegrams to send&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t think so, yet. We&#8217;re not sure yet. Ned, is there any chance for
+him to be alive&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not any.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Her hand touched my arm. &#8220;You haven&#8217;t any idea how he died?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No. It&#8217;s absolutely baffling. But try not to think about it. Everything
+will come out right for you, in the end.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I hadn&#8217;t meant to say just that&mdash;to recall her to the uncertainty of her
+own future now that her uncle, financially ruined, had disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not thinking&mdash;about what will happen to me.&#8221; She suddenly
+straightened, and her eyes kindled. &#8220;About the other&mdash;Ned, I&#8217;m not going
+to try to keep from thinking about it. I&#8217;m going to think about it all I
+can, until I see it through. Only thought, and keen, true thought, can
+help us now. I&#8217;ve had to do a lot of thinking in my life, overcoming
+difficulties. And there&#8217;s no one really vitally interested but me&mdash;I was
+the closest <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>relative, except for his uncle, that Nealman had. I&#8217;m going
+to find out the mystery of that lagoon! Perhaps, in finding it, I can
+solve a lot of other problems too&mdash;perhaps the one you just mentioned.
+Uncle Grover was kind to me, he gave me his protection and shelter&mdash;and
+I&#8217;m going to know what killed him!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I found myself staring into her blazing, determined eyes. She meant what
+she said. The fire of a zealot was in her face. &#8220;Good Heavens, Edith!
+That isn&#8217;t work for a woman&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s work for anybody, with a clear enough brain to see the truth, and
+courage to prove it out&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In some mysterious way her hands had got into mine. We were standing
+face to face in the shadowed hall. &#8220;But promise me&mdash;you won&#8217;t go into
+danger!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I promise&mdash;that I&#8217;ll take every precaution&mdash;to preserve myself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
+
+<p>As soon as daylight came the coroner held another inquest. Again the
+occupants of the great manor house, black and white, were gathered in
+the living-room, and the coroner called on each person in turn. Possible
+suspects had been numerous in the case of Florey&#8217;s death: in regard to
+this second mystery they seemingly included almost every one in the
+house.</p>
+
+<p>I was able to state positively that Major Dell and Van Hope were in
+their own rooms at the time, or such a short time afterward as to
+preclude them from any possible connection with the crime. I had seen
+the latter on his threshold: both of us had encountered Major Dell as he
+emerged from his room, his trousers slipped on over his pajamas. The
+court had to take each man&#8217;s word in every other instance.</p>
+
+<p>The coroner questioned Fargo particularly closely. I had testified that
+we had met him, at the lower hallway, fully dressed, and evidently <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>the
+official attributed sinister importance to the fact. Fargo stood tightly
+by his guns, however, testifying that he sat in the same chair in the
+library from shortly after the dinner hour until he had heard the
+scream.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What was the nature of the scream, Mr. Fargo?&#8221; the coroner asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It was very high and loud&mdash;I would say a very frantic scream.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You would say it was a cry of agony? Like some one mortally wounded?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wouldn&#8217;t hardly think so.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And why not?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t think a wounded man could have uttered that scream. It was too
+loud and strong&mdash;given by a man whose strength was still largely
+unimpaired.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The coroner leaned nearer. &#8220;How further would you describe it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It was a distinct cry for help,&#8221; Fargo answered. &#8220;The word he said was
+&#8216;Help&#8217;&mdash;I heard it distinctly. But it wasn&#8217;t a cry of any one mortally
+injured. If anything, it was a cry of&mdash;fear.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where did it come from?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;From the lagoon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The coroner&#8217;s eyes snapped. &#8220;If you knew it was from the lagoon why did
+you ask Mr. Killdare, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>when he encountered you last night, where it was
+from.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Fargo stiffened, meeting his gaze. &#8220;I wasn&#8217;t sure last night, Mr.
+Weldon,&#8221; he answered. &#8220;I knew it was somewhere in that direction. When
+Mr. Killdare said it was from the lagoon I instantly knew he was right.
+I can&#8217;t say just how I knew. All the testimony I&#8217;ve heard to-day proves
+the same thing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No one wants you to tell what other people have testified, Mr. Fargo,&#8221;
+the coroner reproved him. &#8220;We want to know what you saw with your own
+eyes and heard with your own ears and what you thought at the time, not
+now. To go further. You think that the cry was uttered by a man whose
+strength was unimpaired. A strong, full-lunged cry. Moreover, it was
+given in deadly fear. Does that suggest anything in your mind?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t see what you are getting at.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You say it was a long, full-voiced cry. Or did you say it was long?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t think I said so. It was rather long-drawn, though. It&#8217;s
+impossible to give a full-lunged cry without having it give the effect
+of being long-drawn.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You would say it lasted&mdash;how long?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A second, I should say. Certainly not more. Just about a second.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;A second is a long time, isn&#8217;t it, Mr. Fargo, when a man stands at the
+brink of death. Often the tables can be turned in as long a time as a
+second. Many times a second has given a man time to save his life&mdash;to
+prepare a defense&mdash;even to flee. Does it seem to you unusual that a man
+would give that much energy and time to cry for help when he was still
+uninjured, and still had a second of life.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not at all&mdash;under certain circumstances.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What circumstances?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It would depend on the nature of the force. A man might see&mdash;that while
+he still had strength left to fight, he wouldn&#8217;t have the least chance
+to win.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Exactly. Yet if a man had time to call out that way, he&#8217;d at least have
+time to run. A man can take a big jump in a second, Fargo.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Fargo&#8217;s voice fell. &#8220;Perhaps he couldn&#8217;t run.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah!&#8221; The coroner paused. &#8220;Because he was in the grasp of his
+assailant?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yet he still had his strength left. Nealman was a man among men, wasn&#8217;t
+he, Fargo?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Indeed he was!&#8221; Fargo&#8217;s eyes snapped. &#8220;I&#8217;d like to see any one deny
+it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He wasn&#8217;t a coward then. He&#8217;d fight as long as he had a chance, instead
+of giving all his energies <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>to yelling for help&mdash;help that could not
+reach him short of many seconds. In other words, Nealman knew that he
+didn&#8217;t have the least kind of a fighting chance. He was in the grasp of
+his assailant so he couldn&#8217;t run. And his assailant was strong&mdash;and
+powerful enough&mdash;that there was no use to fight him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was curious how his voice rang in that silent room. Fargo had leaned
+back in his chair, as if the words struck him like physical blows. A
+negro janitor at one side inhaled with a sharp, distinct sound.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It might have been more than one man,&#8221; Fargo suggested uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you believe it was?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know. It&#8217;s wholly a blank to me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Have you any theory where the body is?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I suppose&mdash;in the lagoon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Would you say that cry was given while he was in the water?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I hardly think so. I&#8217;m slightly known as a swimmer, Mr. Weldon&mdash;was
+once, anyway, and I know something about the water. A drowning man can&#8217;t
+call that loud. Mr. Nealman was a corking good swimmer himself&mdash;nothing
+fancy at all, but fairly well able to take care of himself. When he
+disappeared the tide was running out&mdash;the lagoon on this side of the
+rock wall was still <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>as glass. If Mr. Nealman, through some accident or
+other, fell in that lagoon he&#8217;d swim out&mdash;unless he was held in. At
+least he&#8217;d try to swim out. And by the time he found out he couldn&#8217;t
+make the shore, he&#8217;d be so tired he couldn&#8217;t cry out like he did last
+night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I see your point. I don&#8217;t know that it would always work out.
+Occasionally a man&mdash;simply loses his nerve.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not Nealman&mdash;in still water, most of which isn&#8217;t over five feet deep.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Unless he was held in,&#8217; you say. What do you think held him in?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Fargo&#8217;s hands gripped his chair-arms. &#8220;Mr. Weldon, I don&#8217;t know what you
+want me to say,&#8221; he answered clearly. &#8220;I feel the same way about this
+mystery that I felt about the other&mdash;that human enemies did him to
+death. I don&#8217;t think anything held him in. I think he was dead before
+ever he was thrown into the water. I think two or three men&mdash;perhaps
+only one&mdash;surrounded him&mdash;probably pointed a gun at him. He yelled for
+help, and they killed him&mdash;probably with a knife or black-jack. That&#8217;s
+the whole story.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The coroner dismissed him, then slowly gazed about the circle. For the
+first time I began to realize that these mysteries of Kastle Krags were
+pricking under his skin. He looked baffled, irritated, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>his temper was
+lost, as gone as the missing men themselves.</p>
+
+<p>Ever his attitude was more belligerent, pugnacious. His lips were set in
+a fighting line, his eyes scowled, and evidently he intended to wring
+the testimony from his witnesses by third degree methods. Suddenly he
+whirled to Pescini.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How did you happen to be fully dressed at the time of Nealman&#8217;s
+disappearance last night?&#8221; he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>Pescini met his gaze coolly and easily. Perhaps little points of light
+glittered in his eyes, but his pale face was singularly impassive. &#8220;I
+hadn&#8217;t gone to bed,&#8221; he answered simply.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How did that happen? Do you usually wait till long after midnight to go
+to bed?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not always. I have no set hour. Last night I was reading.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Some book that was in your room?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A book I had carried with me. &#8216;The diary of a Peruvian Princess&#8217; was
+the title. An old book&mdash;but exceedingly interesting.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He spoke gravely, yet it was good to hear him. &#8220;I&#8217;ll make a note of it,&#8221;
+the coroner said, falling into his mood. But at once he got back to
+business. &#8220;You didn&#8217;t remove your coat?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No. I got so interested that I forgot to make any move towards bed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p><p>The coroner paused, then took another tack. &#8220;You&#8217;ve known Nealman for a
+long time, have you not, Pescini?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Something over four years, I should judge.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You knew him in a business way?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;More in a social way. We had few business dealings.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah!&#8221; The coroner seemed to be studying the pattern of the rugs. &#8220;The
+inquiry of the other day showed you and he from the same city. I suppose
+you moved largely in the same circle. Belonged to the same clubs, and
+all that? Mr. Pescini, was Nealman a frequent visitor to your house?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The witness seemed to stiffen. The coroner leaned forward in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He came quite often,&#8221; the former replied quietly. &#8220;He was a rather
+frequent dinner guest. He and I liked to talk over various subjects.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You will pardon me, Mr. Pescini, if I have to venture into personal
+subjects&mdash;subjects that will be unpleasant for you to discuss. This
+inquiry, however, takes the place of a formal inquest. Two men have
+disappeared. It is the duty of the state, whose representative I am, to
+spare no man&#8217;s sensibilities in finding out the truth. We&#8217;ve got to get
+down to cases. You understand that, I suppose.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Perfectly.&#8221; Pescini leaned back, folding his hands. &#8220;Perfectly,&#8221; he
+said again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I believe you recently filed and won a suit for divorce against your
+wife, Marie Pescini. Isn&#8217;t this true?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The witness nodded. None of us heard him speak.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;May I ask what was your grounds, stated in your complaint?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t see that it makes any difference. The grounds were the only
+ones by which divorce can be granted in the State of New York.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Infidelity, I believe?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes. Infidelity.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You named certain co-respondents?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I ask you this. Was there any man whom you regarded as one of those
+that had helped to break up your home that, for any reason in the world,
+you did not name in your complaint?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There was not. You are absolutely off on the wrong track.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The coroner dismissed him pre-emptorily, then turned to Edith Nealman.
+He asked her the usual questions, with considerable care and in rather
+surprising detail&mdash;how long she had worked as Nealman&#8217;s secretary,
+whether he had any enemies; he sounded her as to the missing <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>man&#8217;s
+habits, his finances, his most intimate life.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When did you last see Mr. Nealman?&#8221; he asked quickly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Just before yesterday&#8217;s inquest&mdash;when he went to his room.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He didn&#8217;t call you for any work?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You didn&#8217;t see him in the corridor&mdash;in his room&mdash;in the study adjoining
+his room&mdash;or anywhere else?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No.&#8221; Edith&#8217;s face was stark white, and her voice was very low. Not one
+of us could ever forget how she looked&mdash;that slim, girlish figure in the
+big chair, the frightened eyes, the pale, sober face. The coroner
+smiled, a little, grim smile that touched some unpleasant part of me,
+then abruptly turned to Mrs. Gentry, the housekeeper.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll have to ask you to give publicly, Mrs. Gentry, the testimony you
+gave me before this inquest.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t tell you that to speak out in court,&#8221; the woman replied,
+angrily. &#8220;There wasn&#8217;t nothin&#8217; to it, anyway. I&#8217;m sorry I told <span style="white-space: nowrap;">you&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s for me to decide&mdash;whether there was anything to it. It won&#8217;t
+injure any one who is innocent, Mrs. Gentry. What happened, about
+ten-thirty or eleven o&#8217;clock.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The woman answered as if under compulsion&mdash;in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>the helpless voice of one
+who, in a long life&#8217;s bitter struggle, has learned the existence of many
+masters. Mrs. Gentry had learned to yield. To her this trivial court was
+a resistless power, many of which existed in her world.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I was at the end of the corridor on the second floor&mdash;tendin&#8217; to a
+little work. Then I saw Miss Edith come stealin&#8217; out of her room.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You say she was &#8216;stealing.&#8217; Describe how she came. Did she give the
+impression of trying to go&mdash;unseen?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes. I don&#8217;t think she wanted any one to see her. She went on tip-toe.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Did she carry anything in her hands?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes. She had a black book, not big and not little either. She had it
+under her arm. She crept along the hall, and a door opened to let her
+in.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What door was it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The door of Mr. Nealman&#8217;s suite&mdash;a little hall, with one door leading
+into his chamber&mdash;the other to his study.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nealman opened the door for her, then?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes. I saw his sleeve as he closed it behind her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The coroner&#8217;s face grew stern, and he turned once more to Edith. To all
+outward appearance she hadn&#8217;t heard the testimony. She leaned easily <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>in
+her big chair, and her palm rested under her chin. Her eyes were shadowy
+and far-away.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How can you account for that, Miss Nealman?&#8221; Weldon asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s nothing I can say about it,&#8221; was her quiet answer.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You admit it&#8217;s true, then?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t make Mrs. Gentry out a liar.&#8221; It seemed to me that a dim smile
+played at her lips; but it was a thing even closely watching eyes might
+easily mistake. &#8220;It&#8217;s perfectly true.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then why, Miss Nealman, did you tell us a few minutes ago you hadn&#8217;t
+seen Mr. Nealman since afternoon? That was a lie, was it not? I didn&#8217;t
+ask you to take formal oath when you gave me your testimony. I presumed
+you&#8217;d stay by the truth. Why did you tell us what you did?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t see any use in trying to explain. I didn&#8217;t tell you&mdash;because
+Mr. Nealman asked me not to.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A little shiver of expectancy passed over the court. &#8220;What do you mean?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Just that&mdash;he asked me to tell no one about my visit to the little
+study adjoining his room. The whole thing was simply this&mdash;there&#8217;s
+certainly no good in withholding it any more. About eleven he rang for
+me. There is a bell, you know, that connects that study with my <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>room. I
+answered it as I&#8217;ve always done. He asked me if I had a Bible&mdash;and I
+told him I did. He asked me to get it for him, as quietly as possible.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I got it&mdash;quietly as possible&mdash;just as he said. There was nothing very
+peculiar about it&mdash;he often wants some book out of the library. I gave
+him the book and he dismissed me, first asking me to tell no one, under
+any conditions, that he had asked for it. I didn&#8217;t know why he asked it,
+but he is my employer, and I complied with his request. Mrs. Gentry saw
+me as I was coming down the hall with the Bible under my arm. I didn&#8217;t
+tell you about it because he asked me not to.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It was your Bible, then, that we found in his room?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Nealman was given to reading the Bible at various times?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;On the contrary I don&#8217;t think he ever read it. He didn&#8217;t have a copy.
+He was not, outwardly, according to the usual manifestations, a highly
+religious man.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yet you say he was intrinsically religious? At least, that he had
+religious instincts?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He had very fine instincts. He had a great deal of natural religion.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;You often brought him books, you say. Yet you must have thought it
+peculiar&mdash;that he would ask for the Bible&mdash;in the dead of night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221; Her voice dropped a tone. &#8220;Of course it was peculiar.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then why didn&#8217;t you notify some one about it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Because he told me not to.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The coroner seemed baffled&mdash;but only for an instant. &#8220;Did it occur to
+you that he was perhaps trying to get some religious consolation&mdash;just
+before he took some important or tragic step? Did the thought
+of&mdash;suicide ever occur to you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No. It didn&#8217;t occur to me. My uncle didn&#8217;t commit suicide.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You have only your beliefs as to that?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, but they are enough. I know him too well. I&#8217;m sure he didn&#8217;t
+commit suicide.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How did he appear when you talked to him&mdash;excited, frenzied? Did he
+seem changed at all?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I think he was somewhat excited. His eyes were very bright. I wouldn&#8217;t
+call him desperate, however. He was dressed in the flannels he had worn
+when he went to his room. Of course he looked dreadfully worn and
+tired&mdash;he had been through a great deal that day. As you know he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>had
+just heard about his frightful losses on the stock exchange, wiping out
+his entire fortune and even leaving some few debts.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You went away quietly&mdash;at once? Leaving him to read the Bible?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Very soon. We talked a few minutes, perhaps.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Then the coroner began upon a series of questions that were abhorrent to
+every man in the room. There was nothing to do, however, but to listen
+to them in silence. The man was within his rights.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You say that Nealman was your uncle?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>The girl&#8217;s eyes fastened on his, and narrowed as we watched her. &#8220;Of
+course. My father&#8217;s brother.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A blood relative, eh?&#8221; The coroner spoke more slowly, carefully. &#8220;I
+suppose you could prove that point to the satisfaction of a court.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;With a little time. I&#8217;d have to go back to the records of my own old
+home. What are you getting at?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What was your father&#8217;s name, may I ask?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Henry H. Nealman.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Older or younger than Grover Nealman?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nearly ten years older, or thereabouts.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where was Mr. Nealman born?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;In Rensselaer, New York. His father was named Henry H. Nealman, also.
+He was a rug manufacturer. There was also one sister that died many
+years ago&mdash;Grace Nealman. Are you satisfied that I am really his niece,
+Mr. Weldon?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Perfectly.&#8221; The coroner nodded, slowly. &#8220;Perfectly satisfied.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He dismissed her, but it came about that I failed to hear the testimony
+given immediately thereafter. One of Slatterly&#8217;s men that had been sent
+for to help him drag the lake brought me in a telegram.</p>
+
+<p>It was the belated answer to the wire I had sent to Mrs. Noyes, of New
+Hampshire the previous day, and signed by the woman&#8217;s husband. It read
+as follows:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>MY WIFE DIED LAST MONTH LEAVING ME TO MOURN. THE LETTERS
+WERE UNQUESTIONABLY FROM GEORGE FLOREY DAVID&#8217;S BROTHER. THEY
+HAVE BEEN BITTER ENEMIES SINCE YOUTH OVER SOME SECRET
+BUSINESS. FIND GEORGE FLOREY AND YOU WILL FIND THE MURDERER.
+I HAVEN&#8217;T EVER SEEN HIM AND SO FAR HAVE BEEN UNABLE TO FIND
+PHOTO. IF ONE TURNS UP I WILL SEND IT ON.</p>
+
+<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 1.5em;">WILLIAM NOYES.</span></p></div>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+
+<p>Grover Nealman had disappeared, and no search could bring him back to
+Kastle Krags. The hope that we all had, that some way, some how he would
+reappear&mdash;destroying in a moment that strange, ghastly tradition that
+these last two nights had established&mdash;died in our souls as the daylight
+hours sped by. Even if we could have found him dead it would have been
+some relief. In that case we could ascribe his death to something we
+could understand&mdash;a sudden sickness, a murderer&#8217;s blow, perhaps even his
+own hand at his throat, all of which were within our bourne of human
+experience. But it was vaguely hard for us to have two men go, on
+successive nights, and have no knowledge whence or how they had gone.</p>
+
+<p>Of course no man hinted at this hardship. It was simply the sort of
+thing that could not be discussed by intelligent men. Yet we were human,
+only a few little generations from the tribal fire and the
+witch-doctors, and it got under our skins.</p>
+
+<p>Grover Nealman&#8217;s body was not lying in some unoccupied part of the
+house, nor did we find him <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>in the gardens. Telephone messages were
+sent, but Nealman had not been seen. And after six hours of patient
+search, under that Floridan sun, it was no longer easy to believe that
+he lay at the bottom of the lagoon.</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff&#8217;s men dragged tirelessly, widening out their field of search
+until it covered most of the lagoon, but they found neither Nealman nor
+Florey. Some of the work was done in the flow-tide, when the waves
+breaking on the rocky barrier made the lagoon itself choppy and rough.
+They came in tired and discouraged, ready to give up.</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime Van Hope had heard from Lacone&mdash;but his message was not
+very encouraging either. It would likely be forty hours, he said, before
+he could arrive at Kastle Krags. Of course Van Hope and his friends
+agreed that there was nothing to do but wait for him.</p>
+
+<p>The sun reached high noon and then began his long, downward drift to the
+West. The shadows slowly lengthened almost imperceptibly at first, but
+with gradually increasing speed. The heat of the day climbed, reached
+its zenith; the diamond-back slept heavily in the shade, a deadly
+slumber that was evil to look upon; and the water-moccasin hung
+lifelessly in his thickets&mdash;and then, so slowly as to pass belief, the
+little winds from the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>West sprang up, bringing relief. It would soon be
+night at Kastle Krags. The afternoon was almost gone.</p>
+
+<p>Not one of those northern men mentioned the fact. They were
+Anglo-Saxons, and that meant there were certain iron-clad restraints on
+their speech. Because of this inherent reserve they had to bottle up
+their thoughts, harbor them in silence, with the risk of a violent nerve
+explosion in the end. Insanity is not common among the Latin peoples.
+They find easy expression in words for all the thoughts that plague
+them, thus escaping that strain and tension that works such havoc on the
+nervous system. Slatterly and Weldon, native Floridans, had learned a
+certain sociability and ease of expression under that tropical sun,
+impossible to these cold, northern men; and consequently the day passed
+easier for them. Likely they talked over freely the mystery of Kastle
+Krags, relieved themselves of their secret dreads, and awaited the
+falling of the night with healthy, unburdened minds. They were naturally
+more superstitious than the Northerners. They had listened to Congo
+myths in the arms of colored mammies in infancy. But superstition, while
+a retarding force to civilization, is sometimes a mighty consolation to
+the spirit. The tribes of Darkest Africa, seeing many things that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>in
+their barbarism they can not understand, find it wiser to turn to
+superstition than to go mad. Thus they escape that bitter,
+nerve-wracking struggle of trying to adjust some inexplicable mystery
+with their every-day laws of matter and space and time. They likely find
+it happier to believe in witchcraft than to fight hopelessly with fear
+in silence.</p>
+
+<p>A little freedom, a little easy expression of secret thoughts might have
+redeemed those long, silent hours just before nightfall. But no man told
+another what he was really thinking, and every man had to win his battle
+for himself. The result was inevitable: a growing tension and suspense
+in the very air.</p>
+
+<p>It was a strange atmosphere that gathered over Kastle Krags in those
+early evening hours. Some way it gave no image of reality. It was
+vaguely hard to talk&mdash;the mind moved along certain channels and could
+not be turned aside. We couldn&#8217;t disregard the fact that the night was
+falling. The hours of darkness were even now upon us. And no man could
+keep from thinking of their possibilities.</p>
+
+<p>I noticed a certain irritability on the part of all the guests. Their
+nerves were on edge, their tempers&mdash;almost forgotten in their years of
+social intercourse&mdash;excitable and uncertain. They <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>were all
+pre-occupied, busy with their own thoughts&mdash;and a man started when
+another spoke to him.</p>
+
+<p>It couldn&#8217;t be truly said that they had been conquered by fear. These
+were self-reliant, masterful men, trained from the ground up to be
+strong in the face of danger. Yet the mystery of Kastle Krags was
+getting to them. They couldn&#8217;t forget that for two nights running some
+power that dwelt on that eerie shore had claimed one of the occupants of
+the manor house&mdash;and that a third night was even now encroaching over
+the forest. Any legend however strange concerning the old house could
+not wake laughter now. It was true that from time to time one of the
+guests laughed at another&#8217;s sallies, but always the sound rang
+shockingly loud over the verandas and was some way disquieting to every
+one that heard it. Nor did we hear any happy, carefree laughter such as
+had filled the halls that first night. Rather these were nervous,
+excited sounds, conveying no image of mirth, and jarring unpleasantly on
+us all.</p>
+
+<p>The hot spell of the previous night was fortunately broken, yet some of
+us chose to sit on the verandas. Through rifts in the trees we could
+watch the darkness creeping over the sea and the lagoon. There was no
+pleasure here&mdash;but it was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>some way better than staying in our rooms and
+letting the night creep upon us unawares. It seemed better to face it
+and watch it, staring away into it with rather bright, wide-open
+eyes....</p>
+
+<p>The trees blurred on the lawns. The trunks faded until they seemed like
+the trunks of ghost-trees, haunting that ancient shore. It was no longer
+possible to distinguish twig from twig where the branches overlapped.</p>
+
+<p>The green grass became a strange, dusky blue; the gray sand of the shore
+whitened; the blue-green waters turned to ink except for their
+silver-white caps of foam. Watching closely, our eyes gradually adjusted
+themselves to the fading light, conveying the impression that the
+twilight was of unusual length. Perhaps we didn&#8217;t quite know when the
+twilight ended and the night began.</p>
+
+<p>The usual twilight sounds reached us with particular vividness from the
+lagoon and the forest and the shore. We heard the plover, as ever; and
+deeper voices&mdash;doubtless those of passing sea-birds, mingled with
+theirs. But the sounds came intermittently, sharp and penetrating out of
+the darkness and the silence, and they always startled us a little.
+Sometimes the thickets rustled in the gardens&mdash;little, hushed noises
+none of us pretended to hear. A frog croaked, and the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>hushed little
+wind creaked the tree-limbs together. Once some wild creature&mdash;possibly
+a wildcat, but more likely a great owl&mdash;filled the night with his weird,
+long-drawn cry. We all turned, and Van Hope, sitting near by, smiled
+wanly in the gloom.</p>
+
+<p>Darkness had already swept the verandas, and Van Hope&#8217;s was the only
+face I could see. The others were already blurred, and even their forms
+were mere dark blotches of shadow. A vague count showed that there was
+six of us here&mdash;and I was suddenly rather startled by the thought that I
+didn&#8217;t know just who they were. The group had changed from time to time
+throughout the evening, some of the men had gone and others had taken
+their chairs, and now the darkness concealed their identities. It
+shouldn&#8217;t have made any difference, yet I found myself dwelling, with a
+strange persistency, on the subject.</p>
+
+<p>The reason got down to the simple fact that, in this house of mystery, a
+man instinctively wanted to keep track of all his fellows. He wanted to
+know where they were and what they were doing. He found himself worrying
+when one of them was gone. I suppose it was the instinct of
+protection&mdash;a feeling that a man&#8217;s absence might any moment result in a
+shrill scream of fear or death in the darkness. Van Hope sat <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>to my
+left, a little further to the right was Weldon, the coroner. There were
+three chairs further to the right, but which of the five remaining
+guests occupied them I did not know.</p>
+
+<p>Three white men&mdash;two of the guests and the sheriff&mdash;were unaccounted
+for. My better intelligence told me that they were either in the
+living-room or the library, perhaps in their own rooms, yet it was
+impossible to forget that these men were of the white race, largely free
+from the superstition that kept the blacks safely from the perilous
+shores of the lagoon. Any one of a dozen reasons might send them walking
+down through the gardens to those gray crags from which they might never
+return.</p>
+
+<p>I found myself wondering about Edith, too. She had excused herself and
+had gone to her room, ostensibly to bed, but I couldn&#8217;t forget our
+conversation of the previous night and her resolve to fathom the mystery
+of her uncle&#8217;s disappearance. Would she remain in the security of her
+room, or must I guard her, too?</p>
+
+<p>How slow the time passed! The darkness deepened over land and sea. The
+moon had not yet risen&mdash;indeed it would not appear until after midnight.
+The great, white Floridan stars, however, had pushed through the dark
+blue canopy of the night, and their light lay softly over the gardens.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>The guests talked in muffled tones, their excited laughter ringing out
+at ever longer intervals. The coals of their cigars glowed like
+fireflies in the gloom.</p>
+
+<p>By ten o&#8217;clock two of the six chairs were vacant. Two of the guests had
+tramped away heavily to their rooms, not passing so near that I could
+make sure of their identity. Soon after this a very deep and curious
+silence fell over the veranda.</p>
+
+<p>The two men to my right, Weldon the coroner and one of the guests, were
+smoking quietly, evidently in a lull in their conversation. I didn&#8217;t
+particularly notice them. Their silence was some way natural and easy,
+nothing to startle the heart or arrest the breath. If they had been
+talking, however, perhaps the moment would have never got hold of me as
+it did. The silence seemed to deepen with an actual sense of motion,
+like something growing, and a sensation as inexplicable as it was
+unpleasant slowly swept over me.</p>
+
+<p>It was a creepy, haunting feeling that had its origin somewhere beyond
+the five senses. Outwardly there was nothing to startle me, unless it
+was that curious, deepening silence. The darkness, the shore, the
+starlit gardens were just the same. Nor was it a perceptible, abrupt
+start. It <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>came slowly, growing, creeping through me. I had no
+inclination to make any perceptible motion, or to show that anything was
+different than it was before. I turned slowly to Van Hope, sitting to my
+left.</p>
+
+<p>Instinctively I knew that here was the source of my alarm. It was
+something that my subconscious self had picked up from him. He was
+sitting motionless in his chair, his hand that held his cigar half
+raised to his lips, staring away into the distant gardens.</p>
+
+<p>There is something bad for the spirit in the sight of an entirely
+motionless figure. The reason is simply that it is out of accord with
+nature&mdash;that the very soul of things, from the tree on the hill to the
+stars in the sky, is motion never ending. A figure suddenly changed to
+stone focuses the attention much more surely than any sudden sound or
+movement. Perhaps it has its origin in the deep-hidden instincts,
+harking back to those long ago times when the sudden arresting of all
+motion on the part of the companion indicated the presence of some great
+danger and an attempt to escape its gaze. Even to-day it indicates a
+thought so compelling that the half-unconscious physical functions are
+suspended: a fear or a sensation so violent that life seems to die in
+the body.</p>
+
+<p>Van Hope couldn&#8217;t get his cigar to his lips. He <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>held it between his
+fingers, a few inches in front. He was watching so intently that his
+face looked absolutely blank. A little shiver that was some way related
+to fear passed over me, and I had all the sensations of being violently
+startled. Then Van Hope suddenly got to his feet with a short, low
+exclamation.</p>
+
+<p>Our nerves on edge, instantly all three of us were beside him&mdash;Weldon,
+myself, and Joe Nopp. All of us tried to follow his gaze into the gloom.
+&#8220;What is it?&#8221; Weldon asked.</p>
+
+<p>Van Hope, seemingly scarcely aware of us before, instantly rallied his
+faculties and turned to us. In a single instant he had wrenched back
+complete self-control&mdash;an indication of self-mastery such as I had
+rarely seen surpassed. He smiled a little, in the gloom, and dropped his
+hand to his side.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I suppose it was nothing,&#8221; he answered. &#8220;I guess I&#8217;m jumpy. Maybe half
+asleep. But I saw some one&mdash;walking through the gardens down by the
+lagoon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Van Hope spoke rather lightly, in a wholly commonplace voice. He had not
+been, however, half asleep. The frozen face I had seen was of complete
+wakefulness.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A man, you say&mdash;down by the lagoon?&#8221; Weldon asked.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Yes. Of course there&#8217;s always a chance for a mistake. Probably it
+wouldn&#8217;t be anything anyway&mdash;just one of the men getting a little air.
+Watch a minute&mdash;maybe you&#8217;ll see him again.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>We watched in silence, and listened to one another&#8217;s breathing. But the
+faint shadows, in that starlit vista, were unwavering.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It wasn&#8217;t likely anything&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; Van Hope said apologetically. &#8220;I was
+thinking, though, that any stranger ought to be <span style="white-space: nowrap;">investigated&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He had, too,&#8221; Weldon agreed. &#8220;Not just any stranger. Any one who goes
+walking down there in the darkness ought to be questioned&mdash;whether he&#8217;s
+one of us or not. But are you sure you saw anything?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not sure at all. I thought I did, though. I thought I saw him step,
+distinctly, through a rift in the trees. Excuse me for bothering you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>None of us felt any embarrassment on Van Hope&#8217;s account, or any
+superciliousness if he had been unnecessarily alarmed. It was wholly
+natural, this third night of three, to wonder and be stirred by any
+moving thing in the darkened gardens.</p>
+
+<p>But we waited and watched in vain. There were no cries from the shore of
+the lagoon. The silence remained unbroken, and after awhile the thought
+turned to other channels.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p><p>Van Hope rose at last, hurled his cigar stub to the lawns and for a
+breath stood watching its glowing end pale and die. The disappearance of
+his old friend had gone hard with him. You could see it in the stoop of
+his shoulders. He looked several years older.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nothing to do now&mdash;but go to bed,&#8221; he commented quietly. &#8220;Maybe we can
+get some sleep to-night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The third night&#8217;s the charm,&#8221; Nopp answered grimly. &#8220;How do we know but
+that before this night is over we&#8217;ll be gathered out here again.&#8221; He
+paused, and we tried to smile at him in the darkness. Nopp was speaking
+with a certain grim humor, yet whatever his intentions, none of us got
+the idea that he was jesting. &#8220;It&#8217;s worked two nights&mdash;why not three.
+I&#8217;d believe anything could happen at this goblin <span style="white-space: nowrap;">house&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>We listened to him with relief. It was some way good for our spirits to
+have one of us speak out what we had all been thinking and had strained
+so hard to hide. Nor did we think less of him for his frankness. We knew
+at first, and we knew now, that Nopp&#8217;s nerve was as good or better than
+any man in the gathering, and he had never showed it better than in
+speaking frankly now.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bunk, Nopp,&#8221; Van Hope answered. &#8220;You&#8217;re <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>mixing coincidence up with
+atmosphere. It was a strange and a devilish thing that those two crimes
+should have happened two nights running, but it will work out perfectly
+plausible&mdash;mark my words. And coincidences don&#8217;t happen three times in a
+row.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Nopp lifted his face to the starlit skies. &#8220;My boy,&#8221; he said, rather
+superciliously, &#8220;<i>anything</i> could happen at Kastle Krags.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
+
+<p>After I went to my room I worked for an hour on the cryptogram, found
+beside Florey&#8217;s body. The mysterious column of four-letter words,
+however, did not respond to any methods of translation that I knew. For
+another hour thereafter I lay awake in my bed beside the window.</p>
+
+<p>It was one of the few spots in the house that offered a fairly clear
+glimpse of the lagoon. The trees opened, like curtains: I could see the
+water darkly blue in the starlight, and the faint, gray line, like a
+crayon mark, that was the natural rock wall. The tide was coming in now:
+I could see the white manes of the sea-horses as they charged over the
+barrier. The whole surface of the lagoon was fretted by them.</p>
+
+<p>Had Nopp spoken true&mdash;could there be a recurrence of last night&#8217;s
+tragedy? Could any situation arise in human affairs that would result in
+three murders, one after another, all under practically the same and the
+most mysterious conditions? It was possible, by a long stretch of the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>imagination, to conceive of two such crimes occurring on successive
+nights&mdash;the murderer striking again, through some unknown movement of
+events, to hide his first crime&mdash;but coincidences do not happen thrice!
+If indeed these disappearances could be wholly attributed to human
+activities, human designs and human passions, there was no need of lying
+awake and expectant this third night. Surely no super-criminal had
+declared remorseless war against <i>all</i> of the occupants of that house.
+Certainly we could sleep in peace to-night!</p>
+
+<p>But I couldn&#8217;t get away from the same thought that haunted me
+before&mdash;that these crimes lay somehow without the bourne of human event
+and circumstance, that they were some way native to this strange, old
+manor-house beside the sea. It wasn&#8217;t easy to lose one&#8217;s self in sleep.
+I felt no shame at my own uneasiness. It was true that the crimes had
+both occurred, evidently, on the shore of or near the lagoon, but could
+the curse that lay upon the old estate extend its baleful influence into
+the house itself? Anything could happen at Kastle Krags, Nopp had said,
+and it became increasingly difficult to disbelieve him.</p>
+
+<p>Since the intrusion of two nights before I had slept with a chair
+blocked firmly against my door, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>knowing that no one could enter from
+the corridor, at least without waking me. My own pistol lay just under
+my mattress where the hand could reach it in an instant. Both these
+things were an immense consolation now. I would not be so helpless in
+case of another midnight visitor.</p>
+
+<p>Yet I had no after-image of terror in thinking upon the intruder of two
+nights before. Strangely, that hand reaching in the flashlight was the
+one redeeming feature of this affair of Kastle Krags. That hand was
+flesh and blood, and thus the whole mystery seemed of flesh and blood
+too. If this incident did not confine the mystery to the realm of human
+affairs, at least it showed that there were human motives and human
+agents playing their parts in it.</p>
+
+<p>Was that intruder Pescini? The hand could easily have been his&mdash;firm,
+strong, aristocratic, sensitive and white. After all, there was quite a
+case to be made against Pescini. &#8220;Find George Florey and you&#8217;ll find the
+murderer,&#8221; William Noyes had written. And the whole business of proving
+that Pescini was George Florey was simply that of proving his
+handwriting and that of the &#8220;George&#8221; notes we had found in the butler&#8217;s
+room were the same.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They have been bitter enemies since youth.&#8221; Rich, proud, distinguished,
+had this bearded man <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>carried a life-long hatred for the humble servitor
+of Kastle Krags? What boyhood rivalry, what malice, what blinding,
+bitter jealousy had wakened such a hatred as this? Yet who can trace the
+slightest action from its origin to its consummation; much less such a
+complex human drama as this. No man can see truly into the human heart.
+It seemed fairly credible that this gray servant might hate, with that
+bitter hatred born of jealousy, his richer, more distinguished
+brother&mdash;yet human relations, in their fullness, are beyond the ken of
+the wisest men. It would be easy to prove or disprove whether or not
+Pescini and Florey were brothers: the &#8220;George&#8221; letters were secure in
+the hands of the State, and a copy of Pescini&#8217;s handwriting could be
+procured with ease. Besides their lives and origins would likely be easy
+to trace.</p>
+
+<p>Florey&#8217;s letter to his sister was further proof of Pescini&#8217;s guilt. I
+made an entirely different interpretation of it than that of the
+officials. I did not think that he was referring to any physical
+disease. I believed, at the first hearing, and I believed still that he
+had written in veiled language of the persecutions of his brother:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>&#8220;My old malady, G&mdash;&mdash; is troubling me again,&#8221; Florey had
+written. &#8220;I don&#8217;t think I will ever be rid of it. It is
+certainly the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>Florey burden&mdash;going through all our family.
+I can&#8217;t hardly sleep and don&#8217;t know how I&#8217;ll ever get rid of
+it. I&#8217;m deeply discouraged, yet I know....&#8221;</p></div>
+
+<p>I did not share the sheriff&#8217;s view that &#8220;G&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; referred to some
+long-named malady that, either for the sake of abbreviation or because
+he could not spell it, he had neglected to write out in full. I felt
+sure it meant &#8220;George&#8221; and nothing else. &#8220;The Florey burden&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;&mdash;what
+was more reasonable than that his family had been cursed by feuds
+within. I hadn&#8217;t forgotten my talk with Nealman. He had spoken of the
+hatred sometimes borne by one brother for another; and had named the
+Jason family, main characters in the treasure legend of the old manor
+house, as a case in point. But Florey had got rid of his burden at last.
+He had got rid of it by death.</p>
+
+<p>Could I make myself believe that Pescini had lured his brother to the
+shore, killed him, seized an opportunity to hurl his body into the
+lagoon, from which, by the thousandth chance, our drag-hooks had failed
+to find it; and the following night, to conceal his guilt, had struck
+down his host? Perhaps the former was true, and that the crime, coming
+just previous to his own financial failure, had suggested suicide to
+Nealman&#8217;s mind. No one had track of Pescini the night of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>crime. For
+that matter, unlike Van Hope, Major Dell, and several others, he was not
+undressed and in his room when Nealman had disappeared. And the coroner
+had suggested a motive for murder in the matter of Pescini&#8217;s suit for
+divorce.</p>
+
+<p>It wasn&#8217;t easy to believe that such an obviously distinguished and
+cultured man could stoop to murder. There is such a thing,
+criminologists say, as a criminal face; but Pescini had not the least
+semblance of it. Criminologists admit, however, in the same breath that
+they are constantly amazed at the varied types that are brought before
+them, charged with the most heinous crimes. Pescini looked kind,
+self-mastered, not given to outlaw impulses. Yet who could say for sure.</p>
+
+<p>I was already falling to sleep.... It was hard to keep the sequence of
+thought; absurd fancies swept between. Ever my hold on wakefulness was
+less. It was pleasant to believe that the mystery would soon be
+unraveled, all with a commonplace explanation.... At first I gave no
+heed to a rapid footfall in the corridor.</p>
+
+<p>Yet in an instant I was wide awake. In the silent hall the footfall was
+perfectly distinct, carrying through the walls of my room, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>echoing
+somewhere in the wall behind me. In any quiet home, in any land, it
+would have been impossible to disregard those footsteps. There was a
+distinct tone of urgency behind them that simply could not be denied. In
+this dark house of mystery the senses rallied, quickened, and seemed to
+lie waiting to contend with any emergency.</p>
+
+<p>The steps were not only hurried and urgent. They were
+<i>frenzied</i>&mdash;although they were not running footsteps. At the same time
+they gave the image of some one trying to hurry, some one trying to
+conquer himself, and yet not move too loudly. It was as if he was some
+way fearful to waken the poignant silence of that shadowed corridor.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He is coming to my door,&#8221; I told myself. It was wholly likely that I
+spoke the words aloud; at least, I believed them as unwaveringly as if
+the man outside had thus announced his intentions. No man can ever tell
+how such knowledge comes to him. Perhaps it is coincidence&mdash;that he
+expects such a summons on a hundred different occasions before it ever
+comes to him in reality. Yet many things already proven true are a
+thousand times harder to believe than telepathy&mdash;the transmission of
+messages according to no known laws of matter and space.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p><p>The tread itself was peculiar. It had an odd, shuffling quality that was
+hard to analyze. Then some one rapped excitedly on my door.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is it?&#8221; I asked.</p>
+
+<p>I was already out of bed, groping for my light switch.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s me&mdash;Wilkson,&#8221; was the reply. &#8220;Boss, will ye open de do&#8217;?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I knew Nealman&#8217;s colored janitor&mdash;a middle-aged servant of an
+old-fashioned, almost departed glory&mdash;but for an instant I found it
+almost incredible that this was his voice. The tones were blurred,
+lifeless, spoken as if from drawn lips. There was only one thing to
+believe, and I fought it off as long as I could: that the man outside my
+door was simply stricken and almost dead with fear.</p>
+
+<p>It wasn&#8217;t easy to open the door to hear what he had to tell. A scream in
+the night is one thing; a chattering fellow man, just on the other side
+of a pine door, is quite another. But I took away the chair and turned
+the knob.</p>
+
+<p>The man&#8217;s face was almost as hard to recognize as his voice. It was
+Wilkson, beyond possibility of doubt, but he was no longer the tranquil,
+genial serving-man. His face had the strangest gray hue pen ever tried
+to describe. I could see the whites of his eyes, his lips were <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>rounded,
+he was almost unconscious from sheer terror.</p>
+
+<p>At that moment I began to strive hard to remember certain truths&mdash;one of
+them being that little things, laughed away by an Anglo-Saxon, have been
+known to instill the most unfathomable depths of fear into an unlettered
+southern negro. What seemed terrible to him might be only laughable to
+me. I thought of these things in order to brace myself for what he had
+to tell.</p>
+
+<p>At that moment I knew the inroads that the events of the last two nights
+had made upon me&mdash;likely upon every man and woman in the house. I could
+have met that gray face much more bravely the night previous, and would
+have likely been largely unmoved by it two nights before. But mystery,
+the lack of sleep, the terrible possibilities to which both crimes had
+pointed, had over-stretched the nerves and taken the pith from the
+thews. The sight of that terrified face sent a sharp chill of fear
+through every avenue of my nerves. I felt its icy touch in my veins.
+Kastle Krags was getting to me&mdash;denial of that fact was impossible even
+to myself.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Iscuse me, Boss,&#8221; he said humbly, pathetically, if I had ever known
+what pathos was. In his terror he wanted to propitiate the whole <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>world,
+and was begging my indulgence of his intrusion. &#8220;Boss, is Majo&#8217; Del in
+yo&#8217; room?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No.&#8221; I didn&#8217;t reprove him for failing to notice that my light was out.
+&#8220;Where is he?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Boss, he am gone. He&#8217;s gone just like them other two am gone.&#8221; His
+voice died and a low moan escaped his lips. &#8220;Boss, who&#8217;ll they be takin&#8217;
+nex&#8217;? Gawd, who&#8217;ll they be takin&#8217; <span style="white-space: nowrap;">nex&#8217;&mdash;&mdash;?&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>I seized his arm, trying to steady him. &#8220;Listen, Wilkson,&#8221; I commanded.
+&#8220;How do you know he&#8217;s <span style="white-space: nowrap;">gone&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Telephone message come for him, Boss. Telegram, from Ochakee. And he
+ain&#8217;t here to get it. He&#8217;s gone&mdash;just like dem oder two men has gone
+befo&#8217; him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2>
+
+<p>It wasn&#8217;t easy to steady Wilkson so that he could tell an intelligent
+story. His own dark superstitions had hold of him, and his shambling
+search through the darkened corridors had stretched his nerves to the
+absolute breaking-point. It was evident at once that there was nothing
+to do but let him take his time and get the story out the best he could.
+After all, immediate action had never helped matters in this affair of
+Kastle Krags. There had been a grim finality about everything that had
+occurred. Those who were gone had not been brought back by prompt
+search.</p>
+
+<p>He did not respond to any of the ruses so often used to get a colored
+man to talk&mdash;scorn or incredulity or sternness. He was aware of nothing
+but his own terror, and the image in those fear-widened eyes no man
+could guess.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You say a telegram came for him, Wilkson?&#8221; I asked gently. &#8220;Some one
+phoned it in?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;De phone bell rung, jus&#8217; off de su&#8217;vant&#8217;s rooms,&#8221; he explained. &#8220;It was
+a message fo&#8217; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>Majo&#8217; Dell. &#8216;Get him up to get dis telegram,&#8217; some white
+gen&#8217;lman said, so I done went to get him up. He ain&#8217;t in his room. Bed
+not been slept in. I called and no one answered. Den I ask Mrs.
+Gentry&mdash;she saw him go down the hall hour ago, all dressed, and seen him
+turn in yo&#8217; <span style="white-space: nowrap;">room&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s not here. He hasn&#8217;t been here.&#8221; I slipped on a dressing-gown and
+slippers, then stood a moment with Wilkson in the darkened hall. It was
+curious that the housekeeper should have made such an odd
+mistake&mdash;thinking that Dell had turned into my door. Perhaps at the
+distance she had observed she confused the door either to the right or
+left with mine.</p>
+
+<p>There was no need for panic yet. Any one of a dozen things might have
+explained his temporary absence from his room in the dead of night. He
+might be in the room to my right&mdash;Fargo&#8217;s room&mdash;in some conference with
+his friend. Yet there was no light under the door.</p>
+
+<p>I knocked loudly. Fargo called sharply from his bed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Have you seen Major Dell?&#8221; I asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dell? No! Good Lord, he hasn&#8217;t disappeared, too?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We can&#8217;t find him.&#8221; I heard Fargo spring from his bed, and I turned to
+the room to my <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>left. Yet in an instant I remembered and halted on the
+threshold. This was Nealman&#8217;s room, dark and chill with shadows. I
+scratched a match and lifted it high.</p>
+
+<p>But no one was here. My voice rang with a hollow sound back to me. Our
+shouts had aroused Nopp, and in a moment he came out in the hall to join
+us. I think Nopp was a steadying influence on us both. He walked, rather
+than ran, he was perfectly composed, wholly himself, and his voice when
+he spoke was low and even. Yet there was no tone or note of an attempt
+to belittle our alarm. He acted as I have seen strong men act in the
+presence of some great disaster&mdash;calmly, soberly, rather white-faced and
+silent, but unflinching and steadfast.</p>
+
+<p>There was no amazement in Nopp&#8217;s face. Evidently he had expected just
+such a development.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Another gone, eh?&#8221; he said. &#8220;I wish these devils would stay in their
+rooms, where they belong. What&#8217;s taking them out there, Killdare?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How do I know? Maybe they just can&#8217;t sleep&mdash;want to walk&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They wouldn&#8217;t want to walk in that part of the grounds, if they&#8217;re
+human, unless they&#8217;ve <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>got business there. But no matter. We&#8217;ve got to
+look around for him at least. I don&#8217;t suppose it will do any <span style="white-space: nowrap;">good&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>He spoke with an unmistakable fatalism. &#8220;You don&#8217;t mean&mdash;that he&#8217;s gone
+like the rest&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I heard our low breathing as I waited for his answer. &#8220;What&#8217;s the use of
+fooling ourselves any more, Killdare?&#8221; he replied quietly. &#8220;We&#8217;re up
+against something&mdash;God knows what. Of course he&#8217;s gone&mdash;just like the
+rest. Where else could he be?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>We turned once more into his room. Wilkson had reported rightly&mdash;his bed
+had not been slept in, and there was not the slightest sign of disorder.
+His coat&mdash;a well-made garment of some gray, cotton cloth hung on the
+back of his chair, and the butts of two cigars lay on his smoking stand.
+He was not in his bathroom, nor did we hear his voice from some
+adjoining room.</p>
+
+<p>And now all the other guests, all of whom slept on this same floor, were
+gathering about us, wakened by the sound of our voices. Marten came,
+swearing under his breath, and Van Hope&#8217;s brow was beaded with
+perspiration that glistened in the dim light. But none of them knew
+where Major Dell was. Indeed none of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>them had seen him since he had
+gone to his room.</p>
+
+<p>There was a curious, dream-like quality about the little session that we
+had together at the door of Dell&#8217;s room. It was all rather dim, obscure,
+the voices that we heard seemed to come from some place far off, and
+that ring of faces no longer looked clear-cut and sharp. I suppose the
+answer lay in the great preoccupation that was upon us all, a struggle
+for understanding that engulfed our minds.</p>
+
+<p>There were no excited, frenzied voices. The men spoke rather quietly and
+slowly, as if measuring their words, and Van Hope was smiling, faintly.
+It wasn&#8217;t a mirthful smile, but rather a wan smile such as a man gives
+when some incredible disaster, long expected, has fallen upon him. None
+of us liked to see it. There was nothing to believe but that the mystery
+had gone home to him more fully than to any one else&mdash;and we all wished
+that he could be spared the tragic, vain hour of search that awaited us.
+Because none of us had the least hope, in our own hearts, that we would
+ever see Major Dell again. We had got past the point where we could
+deceive ourselves. The truth was all too self-evident. We would search
+through the grounds, as a matter <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>of duty we would call and run back and
+forth. But the end was already sure.</p>
+
+<p>Indeed, there was no look of surprise on any one of those white faces.
+Rather they had a helpless, almost fatalistic expression, as men have
+when at last they are crushed to earth by the inevitable. I have heard a
+detachment of soldiers, seemingly trapped by death, speak in the same
+quiet way, and have seen the same baffled, resigned expression on their
+faces.</p>
+
+<p>I didn&#8217;t try to keep track of who was there and who was absent. It was
+impossible to think of such things now. But bitter, blasting fear surged
+through me when I thought of Edith&mdash;wondering if she was safe in her
+room.</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment of stress, a sudden, momentary explosion of
+suppressed excitement, when Slatterly the sheriff joined us in the hall.
+We heard his running feet in the corridor, and we turned to watch him,
+his dressing-gown flopping about him. Evidently he had heard our words
+from his room in the upper corridor. Certain exclamations were on his
+lips&mdash;whether they were profane oaths I do not know.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is it?&#8221; he demanded in an irritable, rasping voice. &#8220;Why are you
+all gathered here?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Silently we waited for Nopp to speak&mdash;Nopp <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>who had become the strongest
+arm in the affair. &#8220;We&#8217;re not having any late evening gossip,&#8221; he
+answered. &#8220;Kastle Krags has its tail up again. We&#8217;re here&mdash;to find out
+what has become of Major Dell.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Major Dell! Good God, don&#8217;t tell me he&#8217;s gone too.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Instantly the sudden, deadly surge of wrath we had all felt toward the
+sheriff died in our breasts. That cry he made, the hopeless, defeated
+way in which he spoke, made him, in an instant, one of us&mdash;subject to
+the same fear and despair, a crushed and impotent human being like
+ourselves.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s gone,&#8221; Nopp told him quietly. &#8220;He&#8217;s not in his room. He doesn&#8217;t
+seem to be any place else.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Have you searched? I don&#8217;t suppose there&#8217;s any use of it, but we&#8217;ve got
+to search. Oh, why didn&#8217;t I guard him&mdash;why did I ever take such a
+criminal risk!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>None of us could forget his rugged, brown face in the wan electric
+light. Whether it was regret or fear that swept it we didn&#8217;t know. It
+was ashen, almost expressionless, and his eyes were lifeless under his
+heavy brows. His hands hung, fingers slightly apart, at his side.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wait just a minute before we begin an <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>indiscriminate search,&#8221; Nopp
+said. &#8220;Slatterly, we&#8217;ve got to face facts. Do you think&mdash;there&#8217;s any
+place in these grounds that none of us <i>ought to go</i>?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>We knew what he meant. He wanted to guard against further loss of life.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The thing seems to run according to rule,&#8221; the sheriff replied, rather
+grimly. &#8220;Just one gone&mdash;every night. But keep together when you&#8217;re down
+near the lagoon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was not the least good in searching further through the house.
+Most of the household had gathered around us, by now, and no one had
+seen Major Dell. We walked the length of the corridor and down the
+stairs, and then we went out into the still darkness. The hour was
+evidently shortly after midnight&mdash;the tide was almost at its flood.</p>
+
+<p>Just a moment more we stood just below the great veranda, and no man
+knew the other&#8217;s thoughts. The moon was rising&mdash;we could see its argent
+gleam through nebulous clouds to the East. Far away the gray shore
+stretched to the darkened sea, and the natural rock wall showed a faint,
+gray line. Then we headed out into the grounds.</p>
+
+<p>But there was no answer to the calls we made, and only such little
+people as moles and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>gophers, burrowers in the ground, stirred in the
+thickets as we crushed through. We hunted aimlessly, more to satisfy our
+own sense of duty than through any expectation of finding the missing
+man. The moon came out more vividly, but its light did not bring
+success. At last we collected, a silent, rather breathless group, in
+front of the house.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What now, Slatterly?&#8221; Nopp asked. &#8220;Is there anything more we can do?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nothing more.&#8221; His old confidence was gone from his voice. &#8220;I wish I&#8217;d
+done something long ago, instead of being so sure. But this thing can&#8217;t
+happen to-morrow night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Slatterly, you&#8217;re a brave man to say that <i>anything</i> can&#8217;t happen
+to-morrow night. I thought you&#8217;d learned your <span style="white-space: nowrap;">lesson&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have. Never fear for that. To-morrow night I&#8217;m going to watch beside
+that lagoon with a loaded gun&mdash;and I am going to see this thing
+through.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2>
+
+<p>The sheriff had finished his investigations by noon of the following
+day, and after lunch I was free to work upon the problem that I felt was
+the key to the whole mystery&mdash;the cryptogram beside Florey&#8217;s body.
+Lately I had been thinking that in all probability to procure the script
+had been the direct motive of the murder; and the fact of its theft from
+my room seemed to bear me out.</p>
+
+<p>Why wasn&#8217;t it reasonable to presume that in the last instant of Florey&#8217;s
+life, just before the attack was made, he had attempted to conceal the
+script. He had thrown it from him; his death-cry had aroused the
+household so that the murderer had no time to seek and procure it. Then
+from a hiding place, or even from among a group of the guests, he had
+seen me pick it up.</p>
+
+<p>To work out that cryptogram, to read its hidden meaning was the first
+and the best thing I could do in the way to solve the mystery of Kastle
+Krags. Written originally on parchment, sixty or seventy years before,
+it doubtless referred and was in explanation of the secret of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>the old
+manor house&mdash;the legend of the treasure, supposedly hidden by Godfrey
+Jason in the long ago. I had just toyed with it before. Perhaps I had
+had little faith that it was of any real importance. But now, other
+avenues had failed, and I was resolved to know the truth if it was
+humanly possible to do so. I copied the script again, with great care:</p>
+
+<div class="centerbox2 bbox"><p>aned<br />
+dqbo<br />
+aqcd<br />
+trkm<br />
+fipj<br />
+dqbo<br />
+seho<br />
+ohuy<br />
+wvyn<br />
+dljn<br />
+dtht</p></div>
+
+<p>Then I began to make a systematic analysis. I noticed first that the
+second and the sixth words were identical, indicating&mdash;considering the
+brevity of the entire message&mdash;that it must represent a word of most
+frequent use. Of course the articles &#8220;a&#8221; and &#8220;the&#8221; occur most often in
+any English writing, yet I found it hard to believe that &#8220;dqbo&#8221;
+represented either. In the first place, in a message of that length <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>it
+is reasonable to assume that all articles and words not absolutely
+necessary to the meaning had been omitted.</p>
+
+<p>Weeks that seemed years before Nealman had told me that, after careful
+study, he had been convinced that there was some truth in the legend of
+buried treasure. Was it not within the bounds of reason to assume that
+this cryptic message revealed the hiding place of the treasure? Working
+on this assumption, I made up an imaginary description of some hiding
+place, just to see what words occurred with the greatest frequency. I
+found at once that the word that would be most likely to be used twice
+in a description of that kind would be some measurement&mdash;either feet,
+yards, meters, rods, or something of the kind. If I could convince
+myself that &#8220;dqbo&#8221; represented some English measurement I might find the
+key and system of the code.</p>
+
+<p>Either &#8220;feet,&#8221; &#8220;yard&#8221; or &#8220;rods&#8221; were words of four letters&mdash;either one
+of which might be represented by &#8220;dqbo.&#8221; Then I tested each one to see
+if I could establish a pattern.</p>
+
+<p>I tried first the old code-system of having each letter in the word
+represent some other letter a certain number of spaces backward or
+forward in the alphabet. Suppose a man wanted <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>to disguise the word
+&#8220;cab.&#8221; He might do so, very easily, by spelling it &#8220;dbc&#8221;&mdash;using, instead
+of the right letter, the letter immediately following it in the
+alphabet, &#8220;d&#8221; for &#8220;c,&#8221; &#8220;b&#8221; for &#8220;a,&#8221; etc. Testing for &#8220;feet&#8221; as a
+possible interpretation of &#8220;dqbo&#8221; I saw that &#8220;f&#8221; was the second letter
+in the alphabet beyond the letter &#8220;d&#8221;&mdash;first letter in the
+script-word&mdash;but I found that such a relation could not possibly hold
+with &#8220;e&#8221; and &#8220;q&#8221; respectively, the second letters. &#8220;Yard&#8221; or &#8220;rods&#8221;
+failed the same test. Nor by any juggling of this simple code, counting
+so many spaces backwards or forwards, could I make it come out true.</p>
+
+<p>Some time before I had decided that it was unlikely to the verge of
+impossibility that any message could be made up completely of four
+letter words. It seemed likely, at first, that letters had been cut from
+each word in order to make them of four letters. Working on this
+hypothesis I tested for &#8220;meters&#8221; but the word &#8220;dqbo&#8221; could not be made
+to conform.</p>
+
+<p>At that point it was necessary to begin on another tack. I smoked a
+while in silence, hoping that some idea, some little inspiration that so
+often furnished the key for such a mystery as this, would come to me. I
+had a dim thought that, since the words were all of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>four letters and
+could not be made intelligible by any shifting of the alphabet, that
+perhaps it had undergone some double transformation&mdash;changed first from
+words into some other symbol form, and then back into words. But I
+couldn&#8217;t seem to get hold.</p>
+
+<p>If I could only see the key! Possibly it was extremely simple, just
+before my eyes if I could only grasp it. It wasn&#8217;t reasonable, I
+thought, for a lone man to leave a hidden message without giving some
+key, however adroit, for the reader to translate it. Jason hadn&#8217;t
+written that message for his own amusement. He had inscribed it to be
+read by some one who came after&mdash;perhaps by himself when old age had
+dulled his memory.</p>
+
+<p>Working from this point of view I set myself to remember what had been
+written on the parchment beside the column of figures. Perhaps the key
+had been there also; I had simply failed to observe it. At the bottom of
+the message had appeared the words &#8220;At F. T.&#8221; And at first this seemed
+to offer the most interesting possibilities.</p>
+
+<p>Certainly the word and letters had some meaning. In the first place
+this, and the sentence above the script, indicated that the writer did
+his thinking in English&mdash;not in Spanish or <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>Portuguese or any other
+language. But &#8220;F. T.&#8221; did not convey any meaning to my mind. I simply
+couldn&#8217;t catch it.</p>
+
+<p>I tried to make the letters &#8220;F&#8221; and &#8220;T&#8221; a starting point in the alphabet
+for rearranging the letters in the column of words, on the same theory
+that I had worked at first, but nothing came of it. And at that point my
+hopes and confidence, falling steadily for the past hour, was at its
+lowest ebb. I didn&#8217;t see but that I would have to give up the venture
+after all.</p>
+
+<p>My mind slipped easily to the message in English above the
+column&mdash;&#8220;Sworn by the Book,&#8221; or something after that nature. Taking
+these words simply as they seemed, an oath on the part of the writer
+that the ensuing message was true, I hadn&#8217;t taken the trouble to copy
+them from the original parchment. Fortunately I remembered them,
+approximately at least. And I felt a little quickening of hope as I
+contemplated them.</p>
+
+<p>The more I looked at them the more they seemed to be &#8220;dragged in by the
+heels.&#8221; I didn&#8217;t think that one with knowledge of hidden treasure,
+conveying its hiding place to some one else, would have taken the
+trouble to declare the truth of his statement by oath. Nor was such a
+pious beginning, on the part of that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>iniquitous murderer and
+cut-throat, Jason, quite in character. He would have been more likely to
+have begun with a sentence of piratical profanity. He had some reason
+for bringing in the &#8220;Book&#8221;&mdash;and when I knew what it was, I believed I
+would know the key to the cryptogram.</p>
+
+<p>The &#8220;Book&#8221; was the Bible of course&mdash;a name still in wide use. And the
+whole volume of my blood seemed to spurt through the veins when I
+remembered what an important place the Bible had taken in the events of
+the past few days!</p>
+
+<p>Nealman had had a Bible, wide open, in his room. Edith had been seen to
+carry it to him through the corridor&mdash;and this business with it had been
+of such a character that he had ordered Edith&#8217;s silence in regard to the
+errand. Whether or not Florey had possessed a copy I wasn&#8217;t able to
+remember for certain.</p>
+
+<p>It must have been a grim old joke to Jason&mdash;to use the Holy Word to
+transmit the record of his iniquity! In an instant I was burrowing, not
+a little excited, into the bottom of my bag for a small copy of the
+Bible that I carried with me on every journey.</p>
+
+<p>Apart from religious reasons, there is no better traveling companion for
+a knowledge-loving man than King James&#8217; Bible. The font of all
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>literature, the mighty well of inspiration, the record of the ages&mdash;it
+was beloved not only of the scientist and historian, but the literati
+and the esthete. Hardly a week had passed that I hadn&#8217;t referred to it,
+in one capacity or another. And now I felt that I was on the right track
+at last.</p>
+
+<p>There is no book in such common usage, published with such fidelity as
+to the position of every word, so easily procured in any place or time,
+as the Holy Bible. It would be the perfect code-book. Certainly it could
+be used to the greatest advantage as the key to a cryptogram.</p>
+
+<p>But what had been the method of its use? In what way could these
+four-letter words, none of which were intelligible, be made through the
+agency of the Bible to present an intelligent meaning? Again I found
+myself relying on inductive reasoning. I worked backward, just as I had
+done before, trying to see some way to convey a secret meaning through
+the agency of this universally read book.</p>
+
+<p>All at once I saw the way. The Bible contained almost every word in the
+present English vocabulary. In all probability each one of the words in
+the column represented some English word to be found somewhere in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>the
+Bible, and the column of them, written out, would be the message in
+full.</p>
+
+<p>How to find that word was the only problem that remained. True, it
+looked formidable enough at first. Yet I saw in a moment that the
+four-letter words could not represent the words of the message
+themselves, but only their <i>position</i> in the Bible.</p>
+
+<p>My mind was working clearly now, leaping from one conclusion to another;
+and reasoning deductively I tried to work out some method of secret
+writing whereby I could reveal to another person the position of a
+certain word I wanted him to know. Suppose, for instance, that Jason
+wished to use the word &#8220;feet&#8221; in his message. Looking through the Bible
+he found the word&mdash;say on page 86, third line, fourth word. It was
+conceivable that he might send the numbers &#8220;86-3-4&#8221; to some other
+person; and the latter, aware that the Bible acted as the key, looked up
+the place in the Book and learned what the word was.</p>
+
+<p>The number of pages vary, however, in Bibles of different size. It was
+natural that the location must be a constant in order that the recipient
+of the note could always find it. So I began again:</p>
+
+<p>Suppose Jason, looking through his Bible, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>found the word &#8220;feet&#8221; in the
+book of Genesis, the first chapter, the third verse, and the fourth word
+of the verse. If he should send the symbols &#8220;Gen. 1, 3, 4&#8221; to his
+friend, the man could easily look up the place and see what he meant.
+And in this case he wouldn&#8217;t have to have any certain edition of the
+Bible. The fourth word of the third verse of the first chapter of
+Genesis is the same in all copies of King James&#8217; Bible over all the
+world.</p>
+
+<p>Now I was working on sure ground. I had no doubt but that &#8220;dqbo&#8221;
+represented a certain point in the Bible&mdash;the letter &#8220;d&#8221; probably
+representing the book, &#8220;q&#8221; the chapter, &#8220;b&#8221; the verse and &#8220;o&#8221; the word.
+Once more my attention was called, with particular vividness, to the
+fact that all the words in the column were of four letters, proving in
+my mind that this last contention was true.</p>
+
+<p>My heart was racing as I moved to the next step in working out the
+cryptogram. It was simply that of finding what method had been used to
+transform such a symbol as &#8220;Gen. 1, 3, 4&#8221; into such a sign as &#8220;dqbo.&#8221; If
+instead of four-letter words I was working with sequences of numbers
+such as &#8220;1, 1, 3, 4&#8221; I would have felt that the problem was solved. &#8220;1,
+1, 3, 4&#8221; would have plainly meant the first book, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span>the first chapter,
+the third verse, and the fourth word.</p>
+
+<p>To transform letters into numbers&mdash;that was all that remained. Again I
+went back to &#8220;dqbo&#8221; and took the simplest method of transformation. &#8220;D&#8221;
+was the fourth letter in the alphabet. &#8220;Q&#8221; was the seventeenth letter in
+the alphabet. &#8220;B&#8221; was the second letter in the alphabet. &#8220;O&#8221; was the
+fifteenth letter in the alphabet. I wrote down the numbers:</p>
+
+<p class="center">4-17-2-15</p>
+
+<p>And I felt sure that they meant the fourth book, the seventeenth
+chapter, the second verse and the fifteenth word in the Holy Bible.</p>
+
+<p>Shaken, so nervous I could hardly hold my hands still, I stopped a
+moment to rest. This was the crisis. I was either at the verge of
+absolute success or hopeless failure. If when I looked up the place I
+found some word that couldn&#8217;t possibly be used in such a message I
+wouldn&#8217;t have the spirit to seek further. And it would be a real blow to
+all my hopes.</p>
+
+<p>I opened the Bible. The fourth book proved to be &#8220;Numbers.&#8221; I turned to
+the seventeenth chapter, the second verse. And there I read as follows:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p><div class="blockquot"><p>Speak unto the children of Israel and take one of them a
+<i>rod</i> according to the house of their fathers.</p></div>
+
+<p>The fifteenth word was <i>rod</i>&mdash;used as a staff in this case but
+undoubtedly used as a term of measurement in the script.</p>
+
+<p>From then on my fingers flew through the pages of the Book. &#8220;Aned,&#8221; the
+very first word in the column, represented&mdash;finding the alphabetical
+position of each letter&mdash;the numbers 1-14-5-4. It was a simple matter to
+look up the first book of the Bible, Genesis, the fourteenth chapter,
+the fifth verse, and the fourth word. The verse in this case began:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>&#8220;And in the <i>fourteenth</i> year came Chedorlaomer, and the
+kings that were with him.&#8221;</p></div>
+
+<p>The fourth word of the verse was <i>fourteenth</i>&mdash;and the first word of the
+finished script.</p>
+
+<p>It was easy to find the other words. I worked them all out in fifteen
+minutes. &#8220;Aqcd,&#8221; the third in the column, proved to be the first,
+seventeenth, third, and fourth letters of the alphabet, respectively,
+and 1-17-3-4 meant first book, seventeenth chapter, third verse, fourth
+word, as plain as could be. The word proved <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>to be &#8220;on.&#8221; Swiftly I went
+down the list. And at last I had the whole column translated:</p>
+
+<div class="centerbox2 bbox"><p>fourteen<br />
+rod<br />
+on<br />
+wall<br />
+three<br />
+rod<br />
+straight<br />
+right<br />
+fastened<br />
+white<br />
+rock</p></div>
+
+<p>Writing it out, I had:</p>
+
+<p class="center">Fourteen rod on wall three rod straight right fastened white
+rock.</p>
+
+<p>In clearer language, it meant simply and unmistakably, that to find the
+missing object&mdash;unquestionably Jason&#8217;s treasure&mdash;go fourteen rods out on
+the natural rock wall, turn straight right into the lagoon for three
+rods, and there I would find it&mdash;fastened to a white rock.</p>
+
+<p>The thing was done. I came to myself to find my fingers toying with the
+pencil, and my thoughts soaring far away. In spite of the grim record of
+death already made, the deadly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>precedent that had been set, in spite of
+all the dictates of ordinary intelligence, I knew what my future course
+would be. The lure of gold had hold of me. As soon as the opportunity
+offered, I was going to follow the thing through to its end, and see
+with my own eyes that which lay hidden in the depths of the lagoon.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2>
+
+<p>Just before the dinner hour I met Slatterly on the lower floor, and we
+had a moment&#8217;s talk together. &#8220;You&#8217;ve been in on most everything that&#8217;s
+happened around here,&#8221; he said. &#8220;You might as well be with us to-night.
+We&#8217;re going to watch the lagoon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The truth was I had made other plans for this evening&mdash;plans that
+included Edith Nealman&mdash;so I made no immediate answer. The official
+noticed my hesitancy, and of course misunderstood.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Speak right up, if you don&#8217;t want to do it,&#8221; he said, not unkindly. The
+sheriff was a man of human sympathies, after all. &#8220;I wouldn&#8217;t hold it
+against any man living if he didn&#8217;t want to sit out there in the dark
+watching&mdash;after what&#8217;s happened the last three nights. I don&#8217;t know that
+I&#8217;d do it myself if it wasn&#8217;t in line of duty.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t think I&#8217;d be afraid,&#8221; I told him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It isn&#8217;t a question of being afraid. It&#8217;s simply a matter of human
+make-up. To tell <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>the truth, I&#8217;m afraid myself&mdash;and I&#8217;m not ashamed of
+it. More than once I&#8217;ve had to conquer fear in my work. A man who ain&#8217;t
+afraid, one time or another, hasn&#8217;t any imagination. Some men are cold
+as ice, I&#8217;ve had deputies that were&mdash;and they wouldn&#8217;t mind this a bit.
+I know, Killdare, that you&#8217;d come in a pinch. Any man here, I think&mdash;any
+white man&mdash;would be down there with me to-night if something vital&mdash;some
+one&#8217;s life or something&mdash;depended on it. But I don&#8217;t want to take any
+one that it will be hard for, that&mdash;that is any one to whom it would be
+a real ordeal. I&#8217;m picking my bunch with some care.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who is going?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Weldon, Nopp, you and myself&mdash;if you want to come. If not, don&#8217;t mind
+saying so.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I want to come!&#8221; We smiled at each other, in the hall. After all, no
+other decision could be made. The high plans I had made for an evening
+with Edith would have to be given over. In the first place the night
+might solve the mystery into which I had been drawn. In the second it
+was the kind of offer that most men, over the earth, find it impossible
+to refuse. Human beings, as a whole, are not particularly brave. They
+are still too close to the caves and the witch-doctors of the young
+world. They are <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>inordinately, incredibly shy, also, and like little
+children, sometimes, in their dreads and superstitions. Yet through some
+blessing they have a high-born capacity to conquer the fear that
+emburdens them.</p>
+
+<p>No white man in the manor house would have refused Slatterly&#8217;s offer.
+Mostly, when men see that they are up against a certain hard deal, some
+proposition that stirs the deep-buried, inherent instinct that is
+nothing more or less than a sense of duty&mdash;that deep-lying sense of
+obligation that makes the whole world beautiful and justifiable&mdash;they
+simply stand up and face it. No normal young man likes war. Yet they all
+go. And of course this work to-night promised excitement&mdash;and the love
+of excitement is a siren that has drawn many a good man to his doom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good,&#8221; the sheriff told me simply, not in the least surprised. &#8220;What
+kind of a gun can you scare up?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can get a gun, all right. I&#8217;ve got a pistol of my own.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Nopp came up then, and he and the sheriff exchanged significant glances.
+And the northern man suddenly turned to me, about to speak.</p>
+
+<p>Until that instant I hadn&#8217;t observed the record that the events of the
+past three nights had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>written in his face. Nopp had nerves of steel;
+but the house and its mystery had got to him, just the same. The sunset
+rays slanted in over the veranda, poured through the big windows, and
+showed his face in startling detail. The inroads that had been made upon
+it struck me with a sudden sense of shock.</p>
+
+<p>The man looked older. The lines of his face seemed more deeply graven,
+the flesh-sacks were swollen under his eyes, he was some way shaken and
+haggard. Yet you didn&#8217;t get the idea of impotence. The hands at his side
+had a man&#8217;s grasp in them. Nopp was still able to handle most of the
+problems that confronted him.</p>
+
+<p>Slatterly, too, had not escaped unscathed. The danger and his own
+failure to solve the mystery had killed some of the man&#8217;s conceit, and
+he was more tolerant and sympathetic. There was a peculiar, excited
+sparkle in his eyes, too.</p>
+
+<p>Slatterly turned to Nopp. &#8220;He says he&#8217;s got a pistol.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The second that ensued had an unmistakable quality of drama. Nopp turned
+to me, exhaling heavily. &#8220;Killdare, we&#8217;ve beat the devil around the
+stump all along&mdash;and it&#8217;s time to stop,&#8221; he said. &#8220;I don&#8217;t like to talk
+like a crazy man, but <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>we&#8217;ve got to look this infernal matter in the
+face. When you come out to-night come armed with the biggest gun you can
+find&mdash;a high-powered rifle.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>No man argued with another, at a time like this. &#8220;I don&#8217;t know where I
+can get a rifle,&#8221; I told him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Every man in the house has got some kind or another. I&#8217;m going to be
+frank and tell you what I&#8217;m carrying&mdash;a big .405, the biggest
+quick-shooting arm I could get hold of. Whatever comes to-night&mdash;we&#8217;ve
+got to stop.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>We gathered again at the big mahogany table, dined quietly, and the four
+of us excused ourselves just before dessert. The twilight was already
+falling&mdash;like gray shadows of wings over land and sea&mdash;and we wanted to
+be at our post. We didn&#8217;t desire that the peril of the lagoon should
+strike in our absence. And we left a more hopeful spirit among the other
+occupants of the manor house.</p>
+
+<p>They were all glad that armed men would guard the lagoon shore that
+night. I suppose it gave them some sense of security otherwise not
+known. The four of us procured our rifles, and walked, a grim company,
+down to the shore of the lagoon.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We want to guard as much of the shore line as we can, and still keep
+each other in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>sight,&#8221; Slatterly said. &#8220;And there&#8217;s no getting away from
+it that we want to be in easy rifle range of each other.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He posted us at fifty-yard intervals along the craggy margin. I was
+placed near the approach of the rock wall, overlooking a wide stretch of
+the shore, Weldon&#8217;s post was fifty yards above mine, the sheriff&#8217;s next,
+and Nopp&#8217;s most distant of all. Then we were left to watch the tides and
+the night and the stars probing through the darkening mantle of the sky.</p>
+
+<p>We had no definite orders. We were simply to watch, to fire at will in
+case of an emergency, to guard the occupants of the manor house against
+any danger that might emerge from the depths of the lagoon. The tide, at
+the lowest ebb at the hour of our arrival, began soon to flow again. The
+glassy surface was fretted by the beat and crash of oncoming waves
+against the rocky barrier. We saw the little rivulets splash through;
+the water&#8217;s edge crept slowly up the craggy shore. The dusk deepened,
+and soon it was deep night.</p>
+
+<p>We were none too close together. I could barely make out the tall figure
+of Weldon, standing statuesque on a great, gray crag beside the lagoon.
+His figure was so dim that it was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>hard to believe in its reality, the
+gun at his shoulder was but a fine penciled line, and with the growing
+darkness, it was hard to make him out at all. Soon it took a certain
+measure of imagination to conceive of that darker spot in the mist of
+darkness as the form of a fellow man.</p>
+
+<p>The sense of isolation increased. We heard no sound from each other, but
+the night itself was full of little, hushed noises. From my camp fire
+beside Manatee Marsh I had often heard the same sounds, but they were
+more compelling now, they held the attention with unswerving constancy,
+and they seemed to penetrate further into the spirit. Also I found it
+harder to identify them&mdash;at least to believe steadfastly the
+identifications that I made.</p>
+
+<p>We hadn&#8217;t heard a beginning of the sounds when we had listened from the
+verandas. They had been muffled there, dim and hushed, but here they
+seemed to speak just in your ear. Sea-birds called and shrieked, owls
+uttered their mournful complaints, brush cracked and rustled as little,
+eager-eyed furry things crept through. Once I started and the gun leaped
+upward in my arms as some great sea-fish, likely a tarpon, leaped and
+splashed just beyond the rock wall.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;What is it, Killdare?&#8221; Weldon called. His voice was sharp and urgent.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Some fish jumped, that was all,&#8221; I answered. And again the silence
+dropped down.</p>
+
+<p>The tide-waves burst with ever-increasing fury. The stars were ever
+brighter, and their companies ever larger, in the deep, violet spaces of
+the sky. The hours passed. The lights in the great colonial house behind
+us winked out, one by one.</p>
+
+<p>There was no consolation in glancing at my watch. It served to make the
+time pass more slowly. The hour drew to midnight, after a hundred years
+or so of waiting; the night had passed its apex and had begun its swift
+descent to dawn. And all at once the thickets rustled and stirred behind
+me.</p>
+
+<p>No man can be blamed for whipping about, startled in the last, little
+nerve, in such a moment as this. Some one was hastening down to the
+shore of the lagoon&mdash;some one that walked lightly, yet with eagerness. I
+could even hear the long, wet grass lashing against her ankles.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who is it?&#8221; I asked quietly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Edith,&#8221; some one answered from the gloom.</p>
+
+<p>Many important things in life are forgotten, and small ones kept; and my
+memory will harbor <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>always the sound of that girlish voice, so clear and
+full in the darkness. Though she spoke softly her whole self was
+reflected in the tone. It was sweet, tender, perhaps even a little
+startled and fearful. In a moment she was at my side.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean by coming here alone?&#8221; I demanded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The phone rang&mdash;in the upper corridor,&#8221; she told me almost
+breathlessly. &#8220;The negroes were afraid to answer it. I went&mdash;and it was
+a telegram for you. I thought I&#8217;d better bring it&mdash;it was only two
+hundred yards, and four men here. You&#8217;re not angry, are you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>No man could be angry at such a time; and she handed me a written copy
+of the message she had received over the wire. I scratched a match, saw
+her pretty, sober face in its light and read:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>Am sending picture of George Florey, brother of murdered
+man. Watch him closely. Am writing.</p></div>
+
+<p>It wasn&#8217;t an urgent message. The picture would have reached me, just the
+same, and I had every intention of watching closely the man I believed
+was the dead butler&#8217;s brother. Yet <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>I was glad enough she had seen fit
+to bring it to me. We would have our moment together, after all.</p>
+
+<p>What was said beside that craggy, mysterious margin, what words were all
+but obscured by the sound of the tide-waves breaking against the natural
+wall of rock, what oaths were given, and what breathless, incredible
+happiness came upon us as if from the far stars, has little part in the
+working out of the mystery of Kastle Krags. Certain moments passed,
+indescribably fleet, and certain age-old miracles were re&euml;nacted. Life
+doesn&#8217;t yield many such moments. But then&mdash;not many are needed to pay
+for life.</p>
+
+<p>After a while we told each other good-night, and I scratched a match to
+look again into her face. Some way, I had expected the miraculous
+softening of every tender line and the unspeakable luster in her blue
+eyes that the flaring light revealed. They were merely part of the night
+and its magic, and the joy I had in the sight was incomparable with any
+other earthly thing. But what surprised me was a curious look of
+intentness and determination, almost a zealot&#8217;s enthusiasm in her face,
+that the match-light showed and the darkness concealed again.</p>
+
+<p>She went away, as quietly as she had come. Whether Weldon had seen her I
+did not know. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>There was something else I didn&#8217;t know, either, and the
+thought of it was a delight through all the long hours of my watch.
+Edith Nealman had worlds of common sense. I wondered how she had been
+able to convince herself that the message was of such importance that
+she needs must carry it through the darkness of the gardens to me at
+once.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2>
+
+<p>The tide reached its full, shortly after two o&#8217;clock, and then began to
+ebb. Almost at once the little waves of the lagoon smoothed out, they
+lapped no more against the craggy margin, and the water lay like a sheet
+of gray glass. I had seen the same transformation on several previous
+occasions, but to-night it seemed to get hold of me as never before.</p>
+
+<p>Seemingly it partook of a miraculous quality to-night&mdash;as if winds had
+been suddenly stilled by a magician&#8217;s art. The water was of course
+flowing out between the crevices of the rock wall, yet there was no
+sense of motion. The water-line dropped slowly down.</p>
+
+<p>It is an unescapable fact that the whole atmosphere of the Ochakee
+country is one of death. The moss-draped forests seem without life, the
+rivers convey no sense of motion, the air is dead, and vegetation rots
+underfoot. To-night the lagoon was without any image or indication of
+life. The whole vista seemed like some dead, forgotten wasteland in a
+dream&mdash;a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>place where living things had never come and was forever
+incompatible with life.</p>
+
+<p>It was a mysterious hour. The half-crescent moon rose at last, at first
+a silver tinting of the skyline, a steadily growing wave of light and
+then the sharply outlined moon itself above the eastern forest. The dark
+shadows that were my companions took form, strengthened; again I could
+see their erect figures on the gray crags and the gleam of their rifles
+in their arms. The perspective widened, the rock wall seemed to extend,
+stretch ever further across the lagoon, and now the sky was graying in
+the East.</p>
+
+<p>A moment later I heard Weldon&#8217;s voice, ringing full in the hush of the
+dying night, as he spoke Slatterly&#8217;s name. The latter answered at once.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes. What is it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let&#8217;s go in. The night&#8217;s over and nothing&#8217;s happened. It&#8217;s pretty near
+bright day already.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was true that the eastern sky had begun to be tinged with gray. I
+could see the lines of my hands and the finer mechanisms of the rifle.
+The hour, however, seemed later than it really was, simply because of
+the effulgence of the moon. The dread atmosphere of Kastle Krags had in
+a moment been wholly destroyed. Instead <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>of a place of mystery and
+peril, it was simply an old-time manor-house fronting the sea, built
+between the forest and a calm lagoon.</p>
+
+<p>There didn&#8217;t seem any use of watching further. If the night was not yet,
+in fact, completely over, the moon and the graying east gave the effect
+of morning. Perhaps the fact that the outgoing tide had stilled the
+lagoon had its effect too. The ominous sound of breaking waves was gone,
+and it gave a perfect image of quietude and peace.</p>
+
+<p>Slatterly waited an instant before he answered. &#8220;Wait a little more,&#8221; he
+said in a resigned tone. &#8220;But you&#8217;re right&mdash;it&#8217;s almost morning.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I don&#8217;t think it was five minutes later that I saw Weldon leave his post
+and saunter over to the sheriff&#8217;s side. I suppose, bored with his task,
+the time seemed much longer to him. True, the lagoon was gray, the
+shadows of the garden had lost their mystery, and there didn&#8217;t seem any
+use of waiting. Indeed, I don&#8217;t think any of us escaped a sense of inner
+embarrassment&mdash;something akin to ignominy and chagrin&mdash;that we should be
+standing beside that quiet water-body, with high-powered rifles in our
+hands. It made us feel secretly ridiculous.</p>
+
+<p>Nopp called over, cheerily, &#8220;Through for the night?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Might as well,&#8221; Slatterly answered. &#8220;It was a fool party anyway.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Very glad that the watch was over, I left my own post, and we had a
+cigarette apiece beside the still lagoon. Then we went through the
+gardens to the house.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ve disrupted the regular schedule, anyway,&#8221; Nopp said. &#8220;I think
+we&#8217;ve come to the end of our trouble, and nothing more to fear. Man, do
+you think to-day will clear the thing up?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What chance is there to clear up such a mess in one day?&#8221; The sheriff
+spoke moodily.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Because you&#8217;re going to have some real help&mdash;not a lot of bungling
+amateurs. You know who&#8217;s coming?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Lacone&mdash;Van Hope&#8217;s detective.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes. He&#8217;s a distinguished man&mdash;a real scientist in the study of crime.
+He may do wonders, even in one day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I only hope he does! I don&#8217;t care who clears it up&mdash;as long as it&#8217;s
+cleared. Now to get a little sleep.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tired out, we went to our rooms. The cool of early morning had swept
+through the halls, and the first glimmer of dawn was at the windows. How
+white the moon was in the sky, how mysteriously gray the whole sweep of
+shore and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>sea! So tired I dreaded the work of undressing, I sat down a
+moment before the window that overlooked the lagoon.</p>
+
+<p>The moonlight and the dawn gave the appearance of a mist, a gray mist as
+is sometimes seen over water when the sky is overcast with heavy clouds.
+At that moment it was impossible to conceive of anything but grayness.
+The whole conception that the brain had, the only interpretation that
+the senses made was of this same, lifeless hue. If an artist had tried
+to paint the picture that was spread before my window he would have
+needed but one tube of paint.</p>
+
+<p>It was in some way vaguely startling. It went home to some dark
+knowledge within a man, and left him fearful and expectant. The shore
+and the sea were gray, the gardens were swept with grayness, the lagoon
+itself had lost its many colors and only the same neutral tint remained.
+The only way that the eye could distinguish shore from sea, and garden
+from shore, was the gradations of the same hue.</p>
+
+<p>Surely dawn was almost at hand. The moon looked less vivid in the sky.
+And nothing remained but to find what sleep I could.</p>
+
+<p>But at that instant my senses quickened. I could hardly call it a
+start&mdash;it was just a sudden wakening of mind and body. I wasn&#8217;t the
+least <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>sure.... Perhaps in a moment the old lull, the well-remembered
+sense of well-being and security would return. It had seemed to me that
+a swift shadow glided through the grayness at the shore of the lagoon.</p>
+
+<p>The window afforded a remarkably wide glimpse of that particular part of
+the estate. The rift in the trees permitted a view of scattered segments
+of the rock wall itself. And it wasn&#8217;t to be that I could turn and leave
+them to the gray of morning. In that mysterious, eerie light I saw the
+whisking shadow again.</p>
+
+<p>It was not merely some little creeping thing from the forest&mdash;some
+living creature such as stirs about at the first ray of dawn. The shadow
+was much too large. I would have thought, at the first glance, that it
+was the shadow of a man. But at that instant the figure emerged into the
+open, and I knew the truth.</p>
+
+<p>The trim form on the shore of the lagoon was that of Edith Nealman. I
+could see her outline with entire plainness, dark against the gray. Some
+errand of stealth had taken her down to the shore of the lagoon the
+moment that it was left unguarded.</p>
+
+<p>In an instant she disappeared, and in the interval I found out how
+deeply and inexplicably startled I was. And then I saw her again,
+walking <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>out on the natural rock bridge, and carrying some heavy object,
+that dragged on the rocks, in her arms.</p>
+
+<p>I could see her stooped figure, and the shadow of the thing that
+dragged. And there is no telling under Heaven the thoughts and the
+terrors that swept through me as to what that dragging thing might be.</p>
+
+<p>But in an instant I saw what it was. It was a rather long, heavy plank,
+certainly of wood. She was about two hundred feet out on the rock wall
+by now, and I saw that she was launching the plank to the right of the
+wall, in the water of the lagoon. Before I could wonder or exclaim she
+herself had slipped in with it, her arms pale white from the shoulders
+of her dark bathing suit, wading out and guiding the heavy plank beside
+her.</p>
+
+<p>No man who had read that mysterious script could doubt what her purpose
+was. She had gone fourteen rods out on the wall, and then she had turned
+to the right into the lagoon. Plainly she was searching for Jason&#8217;s
+treasure.</p>
+
+<p>She, too, knew the key. In that same flash of time, I understood the
+look of intent I had seen on her face earlier that night. She had kept
+her resolve&mdash;even now she was herself trying to sound the mystery of her
+uncle&#8217;s disappearance. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>I understood her own exultation when I had
+talked of my many scientific plans, and how I lacked means to carry them
+out. Even then she had likely been working on the cryptogram. It was
+wholly possible that either Nealman or herself had encountered a copy of
+the script in the old house, and they had worked on it together.</p>
+
+<p>But there had been some sort of a guard put over Jason&#8217;s treasure! With
+what right had we been so smugly certain that the old legend was not
+true&mdash;that there was not still some evil, tentacled monster of the deep
+left to slay and drag to his cavern those that dared to penetrate the
+lagoon. Even now she was wading further and further from the rock wall.
+I could see just her head and the top of her shoulders above water, the
+heavy plank still guided beside her.</p>
+
+<p>Fear is an emotion that speeds like lightning through the avenues of the
+nerves. In the instant that these thoughts went home&mdash;thoughts that
+would have taken moments to narrate in speech but which whipped through
+the mind in the twinkling of an eye&mdash;I plumbed the utter depths of fear.
+There can be no other word. The gray expanse seemed the waters of death
+itself; the whole scene, in the gray of dawn, was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>eerie, savage,
+unutterably dreadful. And the girl that had come to be my own life was
+even now wholly within the power of any monstrous foe that should leave
+its cavern to attack her.</p>
+
+<p>Why had we been so sure! Why hadn&#8217;t we guarded those deadly waters every
+hour, day and night. Every day teaches that many things that seemed
+incredible a day ago are true: how had we dared to be so arrogant in
+regard to the legend of the lagoon. Even when three men, one after
+another, had disappeared without trace we had refused to change our
+ancient habits of thought: we had still refused to believe. I knew now
+the fate of the missing men. They had gone in search of Jason&#8217;s
+chest&mdash;and the treasure guard that dwelt in the lagoon had put them to
+death. And just before my eyes the girl I loved was following the path
+they made, making the same quest.</p>
+
+<p>And in that breathless, never-to-be-forgotten moment, I heard a
+resounding splash of water. Against the craggy, opposite shore the water
+flew far and white as some living thing that had been concealed in the
+far crags dived toward her through the still waters of the lagoon.</p>
+
+<p>The whole scene had seemingly occupied less than a second. Already,
+before I could breathe, I was leaping down the corridor towards the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>stairs. I called once for help&mdash;a door behind me opened. Then I was out
+in the gray dawn, racing toward the lagoon.</p>
+
+<p>There seemed no interlude of time between the instant that I saw that
+splashing water and that in which I had plunged full into the gray
+depths myself. In reality there was a space of several seconds&mdash;the gray
+light showed me that the drama of the lagoon had progressed immeasurably
+further. The girl was fifty or sixty feet from the rock wall now, just
+her head showing above water, her arms locked tight about the plank and
+facing her approaching foe. And something that swam swiftly made
+streaming ripples toward her.</p>
+
+<p>I swam with amazing ease and swiftness. The terror, innate love of life,
+were all forgotten in the hope that I might reach Edith&#8217;s side in time.
+And now, by the gray light of dawn, I saw that her foe was upon her.</p>
+
+<p>They were struggling with a desperate frenzy, and for an instant the
+splashing water almost obscured them. The plank had been torn from her
+grasp, and by some circumstance had been sped hopelessly out of her
+reach. And now, the water clearing from my eyes, I could determine the
+identity of her assailant. No matter what further fate the lagoon had in
+store for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>her, this foe was human, at least. Terrible and drawn with
+passion as it was, I saw the face of Major Kenneth Dell, the man who had
+disappeared the preceding night.</p>
+
+<p>I yelled, trying to give hope. Already I was almost upon them; and Dell
+had released his hold of the girl. Whatever had been his purpose it had
+been forgotten in the face of some greater extremity. Their fight was no
+more with each other: rather they seemed at death grips with some
+resistless foe that tore at them from beneath the waves.</p>
+
+<p>I saw Dell&#8217;s face. An unspeakable terror, that of one who in wickedness
+goes down to an awful death, was on his face. It was such a terror as
+men can know but once, for they never live to tell of it, and which
+blasts the heart of any one that beholds it. No artist, delving into the
+abnormal, could have portrayed that fear. It was a thing never to
+forget, but ever to see again in dreams.</p>
+
+<p>Edith was terrified too, but such a terror as Dell knew was impossible
+for her. The fear of death that curses a godless man is perhaps the most
+dreadful retributive force in this world or the next, and Dell knew it
+to the full. No one who had seen his face could doubt but that all the
+iniquity of a long life had been atoned for, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>in one little moment, in
+the scales of justice. But only a measure of it could oppress her. The
+only fear that her fine young soul could know was that born of the
+elemental love of life. And with what seemed to be a final effort she
+raised her head to call a warning to me.</p>
+
+<p>But even if I had heeded it, it would have come too late. I saw the
+heads of the man and woman in front of me go down as if drawn by
+quicksand. And there was no escape for me. The death that dwelt in the
+lagoon had already seized me in its resistless grasp.</p>
+
+<p>But the guard over Jason&#8217;s treasure was not merely some monster
+implanted from the sea, a mortal thing that years could claim or
+muscular strength oppose. Rather it was a power that had dwelt there
+since the world&#8217;s young days, ever claiming tribute, and which would
+continue on until the very sea itself was changed. The demon that had
+hold of me was merely that of rushing waters. They swept me forward and
+sucked me down with remorseless force.</p>
+
+<p>There was a sink-hole in the floor of the lagoon. No wonder the water
+that rushed in at high-tide had seemed to go so quietly away. I was
+being carried down a subterranean outlet, through some water passage
+under the rock wall, and into the open sea.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2>
+
+<p>The water surrounding the underground outlet was not of great depth&mdash;an
+inch or so over five feet&mdash;but the suction of the sink-hole was
+irresistible. Once caught in those sinking waters meant to go down with
+them; and a moth would have struggled to equal advantage. If fate had
+given me the choice of fighting to save myself it would not have changed
+the outcome in the least. The plank had floated too far away to seize.
+The water was deep enough that if, by a mighty wrench of muscles, I was
+able to seize with my hands some immovable rock on the lagoon floor my
+head would have been under water.</p>
+
+<p>Fate, however, didn&#8217;t give me that fighting choice. Edith Nealman had
+already gone down, a single instant before. Loss of life itself couldn&#8217;t
+possibly mean more. There was nothing open but to follow through.</p>
+
+<p>But while the trap itself was infallible, irresistible to human
+strength, there might be fighting aplenty in the darkness of the channel
+and beyond. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>The time hadn&#8217;t come to give up. The slightest fighting
+chance was worth every ounce of mortal strength. And as the waters
+seized me I gave the most powerful swimming stroke I knew, a single,
+mighty wrench of the whole muscular system, in an attempt to get my lips
+above water for a last breath.</p>
+
+<p>Partly because I have always been a strong swimmer, but mostly by good
+fortune, I won that instant&#8217;s reprieve. I had already exhaled; and in
+the instant that my lips were above the smooth surface of the lagoon I
+filled my lungs to their utmost capacity, breathing sharp and deep, with
+the cool, sweet, morning air. The force of my leap carried me over and
+down, the descending waters seized me as the sluice in a sink might
+seize an insect, and slowly, steadily, as if by a giant&#8217;s hand, drew me
+into darkness.</p>
+
+<p>I had been drawn into the subterranean outlet of the lagoon, the
+passageway of the waters of the outgoing tide. Life itself depended on
+how long that under-water channel was. I only knew that I was headed
+under the rock wall and toward the open sea.</p>
+
+<p>At such times the mental mechanics function abnormally, if at all. I was
+not drowning yet. The thousand thoughts and memories and regrets that
+haunt the last moments of the lost did not <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span>come to me. The whole
+consciousness was focussed on two points: one of them a resolve to do
+what I could for Edith, and the other was fear.</p>
+
+<p>Besides the seeming certainty of death, it was unutterably terrible to
+be swept through this dark, mysterious channel under the sea. Perhaps
+the terror lay most in the darkness of the passage. It was a darkness
+simply inconceivable, beyond any that the imagination could conjure
+up&mdash;such absolute absence of light as shadow the unfathomable caverns on
+the ocean floor or fill the great, empty spaces between one
+constellation and another. In the darkest night there is always some
+fine, almost imperceptible degree of light. Here light was a thing
+forgotten and undreamed of.</p>
+
+<p>The waters did not move with particular swiftness. They flowed rather
+easily and quietly, like the contents of a great aqueduct. Perhaps it
+would have been better for the human spirit if they had moved with a
+rush and a roar, blunting the consciousness with their tumult, and
+hurling their victim to an instantaneous death. The death in that
+undersea channel was deliberate and unhurried, and the imagination had
+free play. Already we three were like departed souls, lost in the still,
+murky waters of Lethe&mdash;drifting, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>helpless, fearful as children in the
+darkness. It was such an experience that from sheer, elemental
+fear&mdash;fear that was implanted in the germ-plasm in darkness tragedies in
+the caves of long ago&mdash;may poison and dry up the life-sustaining fluids
+of the nerves, causing death before the first physical blow is struck.</p>
+
+<p>It was an old fear, this of darkened waters. Perhaps it was remembered
+from those infinite eons before the living organisms from which we
+sprang ever emerged from the gray spaces of the sea. And I knew it to
+the full.</p>
+
+<p>But I didn&#8217;t float supinely down that Cimmerian stream. The race was
+certainly to the swift. Knowing that the only shadow of hope lay in
+reaching the end of the passage before the air in my lungs was
+exhausted, I swam down that stream with the fastest stroke I knew.
+Carried also by the waters, I must have traveled at a really astounding
+pace, at momentary risk of striking my head against the rock walls of
+the channel.</p>
+
+<p>An interminable moment later my arms swept about Edith&#8217;s form. I felt
+her long tresses streaming in the flood, but her slender arms had
+already lost all power to seize and hold me. Had death already claimed
+her? Yet I could not give her the little store of life-giving air that
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>still sustained me. Holding her in one arm and swimming with every
+ounce of strength I had, we sped together through that darkened channel.</p>
+
+<p>No swimmer knows the power and speed that is in him until a crisis such
+as this. No under-water swimmer can dream of what distances he is
+capable until death, or something more than death, is the stake for
+which he races. The passage seemed endless. Slowly the breath sped from
+my lungs. And the darkness was still unbroken when the last of it was
+gone.</p>
+
+<p>The trial was almost done. I could struggle on a few yards more, until
+the oxygen-enriched air in my blood had made its long wheel through my
+body.</p>
+
+<p>What happened thereafter was dim as a dream. There was a certain period
+of bluntness, almost insensibility; and then of tremendous stress and
+conflict that seemed interminable. It must have been that even through
+this phase I fought on, arms and legs thrashing in what was practically
+an involuntary effort to fight on to the open sea. The last images that
+drowning men know, that queer, vivid cinema of memories and regrets
+began to sweep through the disordered brain. There was nothing to do
+further. The trial was done. I gave one more convulsive wrench....</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p><p>And that final impulse carried me into a strange, gray place that the
+senses at first refused to credit. It was hard to believe, at first,
+that this was not merely the gray borderland of death. Yet in an instant
+I knew the truth. I was heading toward light: the subterranean blackness
+of the channel was fading, as the gloom of a tunnel fades as the train
+rushes into open air. And a second later I shot to the surface of the
+open sea.</p>
+
+<p>It was through no conscious effort of mine that I did not lose my life
+in the moment of deliverance from the channel. At such times the body
+struggles on unguided by the brain; instinct, long forgotten and
+neglected, comes into its own again. As I came up my lips opened, I took
+a great, sobbing breath.</p>
+
+<p>I must have submerged again. At least the blue water seemed to linger
+over my eyes for interminable seconds thereafter. But there were no
+walls of stone to imprison me now, and I again rose, and this time came
+up to stay. The life-giving air was already sweeping through me, borne
+on the corpuscles of the blood.</p>
+
+<p>In an instant I had found my stroke&mdash;paddling just enough to keep
+afloat. Edith still lay insensible in my arms. Only a glance was needed
+to see where I was. A gray line back of me <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>stretched the rock wall, and
+beyond it the lagoon. I had been swept from the latter, through a
+submarine water passage under the wall and a hundred yards into the open
+sea. Dell, who had gone through the channel ahead of us, was nowhere to
+be seen.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as I had breath I shouted for help to the little file of men who
+were already streaming through the gardens toward the lagoon. They must
+come soon, if at all. Tired out, I couldn&#8217;t hold on much longer. In the
+pauses between my shouts I gazed at the stark-white face of the girl in
+my arms. My senses were quickening now, and a darkness as unfathomable
+as that of the undersea passage itself swept over me at the thought that
+I had lost, after all&mdash;that the girl I had carried through was already
+past resuscitation.</p>
+
+<p>But the men on the shore had heard me now&mdash;I was aware of the splash of
+oars and the hum of the motor of Nealman&#8217;s launch. Some one shouted
+hope&mdash;and already the dark outline of the motorboat came sweeping
+towards me. It was none too soon.... The dead weight in my arms was
+forcing me down, and my feeble strokes were no longer availing. But now
+strong arms had hold of me, dragging me and my burden into the boat.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p><p>There are no memories whatever of the next hour. I must have lain
+unconscious on the sand of the shore while Nopp and his men fought the
+fight for Edith&#8217;s life. At least I was there when at last, after
+lifetimes were done, a strong hand shook my shoulder. Van Hope and Nopp
+were beside me, and they were smiling.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A piece of news for you,&#8221; Nopp told me, happily. &#8220;You put up a good
+fight&mdash;and you&#8217;ll be glad to know that your girl will live.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2>
+
+<p>Though we were out of the water, we were not yet out of the woods. There
+were many explanations to be made and many guesses that took the place
+of explanations. No questions could be put to the butler, Florey, nor
+Nealman, host of Kastle Krags, nor to Major Kenneth Dell. All of these
+had been swept down the sink-hole and through the subterranean channel
+into the sea.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps we would never have got anywhere, for a certainty, if it hadn&#8217;t
+been for the letter and the photograph that William Noyes sent me from
+Vermont, and which arrived the day following our journey through the
+passage. Short though it was, it served to clear up many matters to our
+complete satisfaction. It was addressed to me:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>I am sending photo of that scoundrel, George Florey, brother
+of the dead man. I hope it helps you catch him. He always
+hated his brother, and my late wife told me that as far back
+as you want to go in her family you&#8217;ll find one brother
+hating another. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>I don&#8217;t know where to tell you to look for
+George. He and his brother both had spent most of their
+lives looking for a chest of treasure that was hidden by
+their grandfather down where you are&mdash;in Florida. They just
+took this name of Florey the last generation. Before that it
+was Hendrickson, my wife told me&mdash;and before that Heaven
+knows what. Mostly they were a bad lot.</p></div>
+
+<p>After I had read it I showed it to Nopp; and he breathed deeply. But he
+made but one comment.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Human nature is a winner, isn&#8217;t it, Killdare?&#8221; he observed. &#8220;Will we
+ever see the head and tail of it? Now let me see the picture.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Neither Nopp nor Edith nor any one who looked at it could mistake the
+likeness presented in the photograph. It was not that of my suspect, Mr.
+Pescini. One glance established that fact. The well-bred, rather
+aristocratic face was none other than that of Major Kenneth Dell, he who
+had got himself invited to Kastle Krags, and who had died in the trap
+his grandfather had set nearly eighty years before.</p>
+
+<p>Edith and I went over the case together, and we managed to fill up the
+breaks in each other&#8217;s story. We talked it over in the early evening,
+sitting in a secluded corner of the veranda.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p><p>She had already mostly recovered from the experience of the day before.
+She was still weak and shaken, but seemingly all serious complications
+had been averted. And she resolutely refused to stay in bed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s been a tragic thing, all the way through,&#8221; she began in the voice
+I loved. &#8220;It&#8217;s over now&mdash;but Heaven knows it cost enough lives. All for
+a treasure that no one knows for sure is a reality.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m going over the case simply, Ned&mdash;and you tell me if I have it
+right. The letter shows that both George Florey and David Florey, the
+butler, were the grandsons of Hendrickson, who once owned this
+house&mdash;who of course was no one but the original Godfrey Jason. Jason
+too had hated his brother enough to kill him, and as the legend says, it
+was Jason who first buried the treasure in the lagoon.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He put it near, perhaps just beside a dangerous sink-hole through which
+the tidal waters swept under the wall to the open sea. And when he died
+he left two, and perhaps more, copies of a cryptogram to show where the
+chest was hidden.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As you say, Dave Florey, one of the two brothers of this generation of
+the Jason family, unquestionably got hold of one of the copies. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>He
+secured the position of butler at this house on purpose to hunt for and
+secure the chest. Meanwhile George Florey&mdash;we can call him Major Dell,
+the name he assumed, from now on&mdash;got track of the hiding-place of the
+treasure. The letters show that he had sought for it and traced it from
+Brazil to Washington, D. C.&mdash;at the latter place he possibly consulted
+old marine records. He evidently had considerable money, and was earning
+some in questionable ways, and through his acquaintance with Van Hope he
+got himself invited to this house.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here he found his brother. It must have been a disagreeable surprise to
+him&mdash;the fact that you saw him so shaken and seemingly alarmed in the
+hall would indicate that it was. As the Jason brothers had done before
+them, these two men hated each other as only brothers can&mdash;jealously and
+terribly. And through some series of events that will never be known,
+they met that night beside the lagoon.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;George Florey&mdash;rather, Major Dell&mdash;must have been a thoroughly wicked
+man. I guess he inherited all of his grandfather Jason&#8217;s
+wickedness&mdash;otherwise he wouldn&#8217;t have been able to play the part he
+did. To me it was a dramatic thing&mdash;this heritage of wickedness,
+generation after generation: this blood lust and hatred that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>was the
+curse of all his breed. It was Cain and Abel again&mdash;the same, old tragic
+story.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They met on the lagoon shore, beside the crags, and perhaps Major Dell
+made an attempt to wrest the copy of the cryptogram from his brother.
+It&#8217;s even possible, but it doesn&#8217;t seem likely, that it was the other
+way &#8217;round. At least, they were working at cross purposes, both of them
+seemed just about to triumph&mdash;and hating each other like two serpents,
+they came to grips. And here Dell struck a fatal blow&mdash;likely with some
+terrible, hooked instrument that he had brought to grapple for the
+chest.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Florey cried out in his death agony and his fear, and Dell was obliged
+to flee without getting hold of the cryptogram. While the hunt was going
+on through the gardens, he came back to the body, likely searched the
+pockets of the victim, and for some reason that can never be exactly
+known, dragged the body into the lagoon.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps he thought the character of the wound would give him away.
+There&#8217;s little doubt that he threw it there with the idea of destroying
+evidence&mdash;at least its presence some way interfered with his plans. And
+of course before the night was done it had drifted to the sink-hole and
+through the channel to the open sea.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Dell likely saw you pick up the script, and that accounts for his
+presence in your room that night. Meanwhile Nealman and I were working
+on a copy of it I had found in an old book. The book was the Bible, by
+the way, and it gave me the first key to the truth. Nealman offered to
+divide the treasure with me, if he was able to find it. That promise is
+on paper. It isn&#8217;t necessary now, however&mdash;and you know why.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I knew why&mdash;well enough. As his niece, Edith inherited all that Grover
+Nealman left, including this Floridan estate. It was true, however, that
+his debts just about wiped out all his other possessions.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As you know, a deal in the stock market practically ruined him,&#8221; she
+went on. &#8220;The only way out he could see was the chest that both of us
+felt was hidden in the lagoon. He never took the monster legend
+seriously, but always before he had been willing to wait until he could
+procure some safe appliance to rescue the chest. At that time both of us
+knew almost exactly where it was. And when the crash came, the sudden
+need for money and his desperation sent him out in the darkness to
+procure it. He too was caught in the undersea channel.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course Major Dell was never even menaced by the sink-hole. Likely he
+had some knowledge of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>it. He vanished the third night, because first,
+he realized that Noyes&#8217; testimony would sooner or later convict him of
+his brother&#8217;s murder, and second, because the disappearance of Florey
+and Nealman had set a good example for him. Some secret business took
+him into my uncle&#8217;s room first, as you guessed. I have no doubt that he
+was hiding in the dense thickets on the other side of the lagoon all the
+time&mdash;waiting for his chance to procure the treasure and make his
+escape.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know that you&#8217;ll believe it, but by this time I had guessed the
+secret of the lagoon. I didn&#8217;t know just how it worked, but I felt there
+was some kind of an underground outlet that would sweep away any one who
+tried to wade in the proximity of the treasure. Of course I didn&#8217;t
+suspect Dell&mdash;I thought he had merely gone as Uncle Grover had gone,
+through the sink-hole to his death. When I made my attempt, I went
+prepared.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But how dared you attempt it?&#8221; I demanded.</p>
+
+<p>She laughed at my anger. &#8220;I wanted to know the truth!&#8221; she exclaimed. &#8220;I
+owed it to Uncle Grover&mdash;to find out what became of him. I needed the
+treasure chest, too&mdash;for his securities won&#8217;t quite balance, he told me,
+the demands that will be made upon the estate. And finally&mdash;maybe <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>there
+was another reason, too. Perhaps you know what it was.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The narration could not go on at once. It was one of those moments that
+a man always remembers, and holds dear when most earthly treasures are
+as dust. She hadn&#8217;t forgotten my own dreams&mdash;the plans I had made but
+which seemed so impossible of fulfillment.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But how did you dare take the risk?&#8221; I demanded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There wasn&#8217;t any risk&mdash;at least, I didn&#8217;t think there was. I felt sure
+that a sink-hole in the bed of the lagoon was the explanation. The plank
+I dragged out there was plenty big enough to hold me up. You know a
+floating cake of soap doesn&#8217;t go down the sluice as long as the bathtub
+is any way near full of water. The plank would have held me easily if
+Dell hadn&#8217;t interfered and torn it from my hands.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why did he interfere? Of course we can only guess at that. I think he
+was waiting for a chance to take the treasure himself&mdash;and he saw my
+intention. I suppose he had dreamed about his grandfather&#8217;s gold until
+it was a veritable passion with him&mdash;a mania&mdash;and he was willing to risk
+death in the sink-hole sooner than let it go? Likely he meant to tear my
+hands from the plank but hang on to it himself. Of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>course it got away
+from us both. That&#8217;s the whole story. Your own wonderful endurance and
+mastery of swimming saved me. Doesn&#8217;t that seem to clear up everything?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Almost everything. Yet I don&#8217;t see why Dell waited&mdash;why he hadn&#8217;t got
+the treasure out some time night before last&mdash;or <span style="white-space: nowrap;">yesterday&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course he couldn&#8217;t work in daylight. Most of the night after his
+disappearance the lagoon was guarded. Yet it isn&#8217;t easy to see why he
+didn&#8217;t make the attempt the night of his <span style="white-space: nowrap;">disappearance&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I suppose he was waiting for a favorable time. He had to have certain
+equipment, I suppose&mdash;to keep from being carried down. Perhaps there are
+certain periods when the flow through the channel is less, and there
+isn&#8217;t so much <span style="white-space: nowrap;">suction&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>A sudden light in the girl&#8217;s face arrested me and held me. Her eyes were
+sparkling like blue seas in the sunlight. &#8220;&#8216;At F. T.,&#8217;&#8221; she quoted.
+&#8220;Ned, Ned, what stupids we are! Don&#8217;t you <span style="white-space: nowrap;">see&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t say that I do. I saw &#8216;At F. T.,&#8217; at the bottom of the script,
+but I don&#8217;t know what it <span style="white-space: nowrap;">meant&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;At flood tide&#8217;&mdash;that&#8217;s what it meant! Just as a sailor would say it.
+He told on his own <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>directions the way to safety. When the tide flows
+the water movement is probably in the other direction through the
+underground channel, and the lagoon is as safe as a lake; and it&#8217;s only
+in the ebb-tide that the suction exists. And of course the ignorant
+treasure-seeker would make his search in the ebb-tide, when the surface
+of the lagoon is still.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Exultant over this, a discovery that, if the treasure was a reality,
+assured its procurance, neither of us noticed the dignified, courteous
+approach of Pescini from the hallway. He was distinguished as ever, his
+dinner-jacket unruffled, his linen gleaming white in the dying light.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Have you seen Sheriff Slatterly anywhere?&#8221; he asked me. &#8220;I&#8217;m in a sort
+of quandary&mdash;I&#8217;ve got a letter on my hands and don&#8217;t know what to do
+with it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A letter?&#8221; I repeated. The skin was twitching on my back.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes. I hardly know whether to send it on&mdash;or whether he will want it
+for the investigations. It&#8217;s one that Major Dell gave me a few days ago
+to mail, but which I dropped in my pocket and forgot.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2>
+
+<p>The guests refused to go back to their city homes until they had seen
+the contents of the chest that had brought such woe to Kastle Krags; and
+there was nothing to do but to make an immediate search. When daylight
+came again Edith announced that she had fully recovered from the
+adventure of two days before, and was ready to help me recover the
+chest.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t wait to see if it&#8217;s really there,&#8221; she confessed.</p>
+
+<p>We went in flow-tide, and we guided a boat over the place. But we
+weren&#8217;t trusting entirely to our theory that the sink-hole was only
+dangerous when the tide was running out. A stout rope was attached to
+the prow of the boat, and I lashed it about my waist before I stepped
+off into the water.</p>
+
+<p>We had guessed right about the underground channel. At flood tide a
+swimmer could pass directly over it in safety. I located a great
+limestone boulder that I thought was undoubtedly the &#8220;white rock&#8221; of the
+script, but as the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>surface was rough and choppy from the tidal waves
+breaking against the rock wall, it was impossible to find the chest by
+power of vision alone. I found I had to dive again and again, groping
+with my hands.</p>
+
+<p>But in scarcely a moment my foot encountered an iron chain at the base
+of the rock. In a moment more the search was ended. A small, iron-bound
+chest, hardly of twelve inch dimensions, was fastened to the chain,
+which in turn was hooked securely in a crevice of the boulder.</p>
+
+<p>It was a rather wide-eyed, sober group that rowed back to the shore. In
+the first place it was almost impossible to believe that such a seeming
+legendary thing was actually in our hands, a thing of weight and
+substance and unquestioned reality.</p>
+
+<p>The chest had been made of some sort of very hard wood, chemically
+treated, and showed not the slightest sign of decay in the eighty years
+it had lain in the water. How many little crafts had passed over it!
+What a scarlet trail it had left since the <i>Arganil</i> had borne it from
+Rio de Janeiro, so long ago. &#8220;But naked treasures breed murder!&#8221; Nealman
+had said&mdash;speaking truer than he knew.... &#8220;They get home to human
+imagination and human wickedness as nothing else can.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p><p>The boat touched the shore. Nopp lifted the chest easily on the ground.
+&#8220;Don&#8217;t be too hopeful,&#8221; he advised Edith quietly. &#8220;If it&#8217;s gold that&#8217;s
+in it, you couldn&#8217;t have much over a thousand. It only weighs nine or
+ten pounds, box and all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was true. And the box itself, bound with iron, could easily weigh
+that much. Had we been hoaxed by an empty chest?</p>
+
+<p>Somehow or other, nervous and fumbling, we got the thing open. Some of
+the rods we broke, others we bent back. And at first we only stared in
+blank surprise.</p>
+
+<p>It did not look like gold&mdash;the contents of the chest. Nor was it a
+string of precious jewels. It seemed merely a bent, shapeless object of
+some dark-colored metal, and a few dull stones, some of which were as
+large as hickory nuts, loose in the bottom. Certain words were said as
+we looked down, certain questions asked&mdash;but all of them were dim and
+lost in a great, wondering preoccupation that dropped over me.</p>
+
+<p>Nopp reached a big hand, took one of the stones, and rubbed it on his
+trouser leg. Looking at it, he rubbed it again with added vigor. Then he
+stared at it in sudden, fascinated <i>wonder</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good Heavens!&#8221; he suddenly exclaimed in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>tremendous excitement. &#8220;Do you
+know what this is?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>We turned to him, staring blankly. &#8220;What is it?&#8221; Edith asked. Her voice
+was quiet; only the bright sparkle in her eyes revealed how excited she
+really was.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s an emerald. That&#8217;s what it is. One of the finest in this country.
+It&#8217;s worth a whole chest of gold. Killdare, the story was that it was a
+<i>Portuguese</i> ship&mdash;bound out from Rio?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And the chest was the property of some noble family, Portuguese princes
+at the time the court of Portugal was located in Rio de Janeiro?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Something like that&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The property of a noble family! Edith, it was unquestionably the
+property of the ruling house itself. Wait just a minute.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He took the shapeless thing of metal, rubbed it until a little of the
+tarnish was gone, revealing yellow gold beneath, and slowly bent it in
+his hands. It took a circular shape. Then he showed us little sockets,
+set at various points, that had been the settings for the jewels. We saw
+the truth at once.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A crown!&#8221; Edith said.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Unquestionably the famous crown that the Portuguese king wore at his
+Brazilian court&mdash;one of the richest courts in history. The jewels came
+from Brazil, from Peruvian temples&mdash;Heaven knows where. And for Heaven&#8217;s
+sake, Edith, send it away and get it changed into securities. It&#8217;s
+death&mdash;that&#8217;s all it is. It&#8217;s the kind of thing that drives men insane.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>We took the yellow thing, and in a wonderful, elated mood, we set it on
+her own golden curls. But she removed it quickly. We were all instantly
+sobered as she put it into my hands.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s bad luck to wear it,&#8221; she said. &#8220;It makes me creep to think what
+wickedness it has caused&mdash;clear through the centuries. I&#8217;m an
+American&mdash;and being a queen has never appealed to me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Nopp smiled quietly, into the depths of the lagoon. &#8220;But you intend to
+be <i>somebody&#8217;s</i> queen, don&#8217;t you, Edith?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>And thus the matter of Kastle Krags came to a new beginning. Edith
+changed the jewels into securities, just as Nopp advised, and a tenth of
+them paid the obligations that were left after Nealman&#8217;s estate was
+settled up. The rest provided an annual income that, while it would have
+been considered moderate by such great <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>financiers as Marten and his
+fellows, seemed of kingly proportions to me. At least it provided for
+the maintenance of the old southern manor-house according to its best
+traditions.</p>
+
+<p>And when Edith and I go sailing away to strange lands beyond the sea,
+bent on scientific research and adventure, we often wonder what haughty
+princes and bearded pirates, lurking in the shadows of the deck are
+saying among themselves. Things have taken a great turn, they whisper
+together, when the jewels for which they lived and fought, did murder
+and died, have gone to sustain a rich man&#8217;s secretary and a penniless
+schoolmaster! Perhaps lovely Portuguese princesses watch with contempt;
+and ear-ringed villains, scornful of such science as mine, swear evil
+oaths and wonder how the times have tamed!</p>
+
+<p>But perhaps they are glad that their watch of the lagoon is over! There
+is nothing to hold these restless spirits now, and you can hear them
+rustling no more in the forest, or feel their tragic presence in the
+gardens. Some way, the house is more cheerful, and the sea no longer
+conveys the image of desolation and mystery. When our young friends
+visit us, to play golf on our links and shoot and fish in the lakes and
+rivers, they invariably speak of its homely charm <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>and cheer. We have,
+however, made certain improvements in the grounds.</p>
+
+<p>We have huge, black-lettered signs posted here and there along the
+lagoon, giving certain advice concerning swimming at ebb-tide.</p>
+
+<h3>THE END.</h3>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+<h3><span class="smcap">Transcriber&#8217;s Notes:</span></h3>
+
+<p>1. Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters&#8217; errors; otherwise,
+every effort has been made to remain true to the author&#8217;s words and
+intent.</p>
+
+<p>2. The original of this book did not have a Table of Contents; one has been
+added for the reader&#8217;s convenience.</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Kastle Krags, by Absalom Martin
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Kastle Krags, by Absalom Martin
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Kastle Krags
+       A Story of Mystery
+
+Author: Absalom Martin
+
+Release Date: August 29, 2010 [EBook #33569]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KASTLE KRAGS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ KASTLE KRAGS
+
+ A STORY OF MYSTERY
+
+ BY
+ ABSALOM MARTIN
+
+ NEW YORK
+ DUFFIELD AND COMPANY
+ 1922
+
+
+
+
+ Copyright, 1921, 1922
+ BY DUFFIELD & COMPANY
+
+ Printed in U. S. A.
+
+
+
+
+KASTLE KRAGS
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+Who could forget the Ochakee River, and the valley through which it
+flows! The river itself rises in one of those lost and nameless lakes in
+the Floridan central ridge, then is hidden at once in the live oak and
+cypress forests that creep inland from the coasts. But it can never be
+said truly to flow. Over the billiard-table flatness of that land it
+moves so slowly and silently that it gives the effect of a lake stirred
+by the wind. These dark waters, and the moss-draped woodlands through
+which they move, are the especial treasure-field and delight of the
+naturalist and scientist from the great universities of the North.
+
+It is a lost river; and it is still a common thing to see a brown,
+lifeless, floating log suddenly flash, strike, and galvanize into a
+diving alligator. The manatee, that grotesque, hair-lipped caricature of
+a sea-lion, still paddles in the lower waters; and the great gar, who
+could remember, if he would, the days when the nightmare wings of the
+pterodactyls whipped and hummed over his native waters, makes deadly
+hunting-trips up and down the stream, sword-like jaws all set and ready;
+and all manner of smaller fry offer pleasing possibilities to the
+sportsmen. The water-fowl swarm in countless numbers: fleet-winged
+travelers such as ducks and geese, long-legged dignitaries of the crane
+and heron tribe, gay-colored birds that flash by and out of sight before
+the eye can identify them, and bitterns, like town-criers, booming the
+river news for miles up and down the shores. And of course the little
+perchers are past all counting in the arching trees of the river-bank.
+
+In the forests the fleet, under-sized Floridan deer is watchful and
+furtive because of the activities of that tawny killer, the "catamount"
+of the frontier; and the black bear sometimes grunts and soliloquizes
+and gobbles persimmons in the thickets. The lynx that mews in the
+twilight, the raccoon that creeps like a furtive shadow through the
+velvet darkness, the pink-nosed 'possum that can only sleep when danger
+threatens, and such lesser folk as rabbit and squirrel, weasel and
+skunk, all have their part in the drama of the woods. Then there are the
+game-birds: wild turkey, pheasant, and that little red quail, the Bob
+White known to Southern sportsmen.
+
+Yet the Ochakee country conveys no message of brightness and cheer. Some
+way, there are too many shadows. The river itself is a moving sea of
+shadows; and if the sun ever gets to them, it is just an unhappy glimpse
+through the trees in the long, still afternoons. The trees are mostly
+draped with Spanish moss that sways like dark tresses in the little
+winds that creep in from the gulf, and the trees creak and complain and
+murmur one to another throughout the night. The air is dank, lifeless,
+heavy with the odors of vegetation decaying underfoot. There is more
+death than life in the forest, and all travelers know it, and not one
+can tell why. It is easier to imagine death than life, the trail grows
+darker instead of brighter, a murky mystery dwells between the distant
+trunks.... Ordinarily such abundant wild-life relieves the somber,
+unhappy tone of the woods, but here it some way fails to do so. No
+woodsman has to be told how much more cheerful it makes him feel, how
+less lonely and depressed, to catch sight of a doe and fawn, feeding in
+the downs, or even a raccoon stealing down a creek-bank in the mystery
+of the moon; but here the wild things always seem to hide when you want
+them most; and if they show themselves at all, it is just as a fleet
+shadow at the edge of the camp-fire. These are cautious, furtive things,
+fleet as shadows, hidden as the little flowers that blossom among the
+grass-stems; and such woodsfolk as do make their presence manifest do
+not add, especially, to the pleasure of one's visit. These are two in
+particular--the water-moccasin that hangs like a growing thing in the
+wisteria, and the great, diamond-back rattlesnake whose bite is death.
+
+The river flows into the gulf about half-way down the peninsula, and
+here is the particular field of the geologist, rather than the
+naturalist. For miles along the shore the underlying limestone and
+coraline rocks crop up above the blue-green water, forming a natural
+sea-wall. Here, in certain districts, the thickets have been cleared
+away, wide areas planted to rice, and a few ancient colonial homes stand
+fronting the sea. Also the sportsman fishes for tarpon beyond the
+lagoons.
+
+A strange, unhappy land of mystery; a misty, enchanted place whose
+tragic beauty no artist can trace and whose disconsolate appeal no man
+can fathom! Forests are never cheerful, silent and steeped in shadow as
+they are, but these moss-grown copses beside the Ochakee, and crowding
+down to the very shores of the gulf, have an actual weight of sadness,
+like a curse laid down when the world was just beginning. Yet Grover
+Nealman defied the disconsolate spirit of the land. He dared to disturb
+the cathedral silence of those mossy woods with the laughter of carefree
+guests, and to hold high revelry on the shores of that dismal sea.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+The allurement of a September day had brought me far down the trail,
+past the neck of the marsh, and far from my accustomed haunts. But I
+could never resist September weather, particularly when the winds are
+still, and the sun through the leaves dapples the trail like a fawn's
+back, and the woods are so silent that the least rustle of a squirrel in
+the thicket cracks with a miniature explosion. And for all the gloom of
+the woods, and the tricky windings and cut-backs of that restless little
+serpent of a trail, I still knew approximately where I was. A natural
+sense of direction was seemingly implanted with less essential organs in
+my body at birth.
+
+The Ochakee River wound its lazy way to the sea somewhere to my right. A
+half mile further the little trail ended in a brown road over which a
+motor-car, in favorable seasons, might safely pass. The Nealman estate,
+known for forty miles up and down the shore, lay at the juncture of the
+trail and the road--but I hadn't the least idea of pushing on that far.
+Neither fortune nor environment had fitted me to move in such a circle
+as sometimes gathered on the wide verandas of Kastle Krags.
+
+I was lighting a pipe, ready to turn back, when the leaves rustled in
+the trail in front. It was just a whisper of sound, the faintest
+scratch-scratch of something approaching at a great distance, and only
+the fact that my senses had been trained to silences such as these
+enabled me to hear it at all. It is always a fascinating thing to stand
+silent on a jungle-trail, conjecturing what manner of creature is
+pushing toward you under the pendulous moss: perhaps a deer, more
+graceful than any dancer that ever cavorted before the footlights, or
+perhaps (stranger things have happened) that awkward, snuffling,
+benevolent old gentleman, the black bear. This was my life, so no wonder
+the match flared out in my hand. And then once more I started to turn
+back.
+
+I had got too near the Nealman home, after all. I suddenly recognized
+the subdued sound as that of a horse's hoofs in the moss of the trail.
+Some one of the proud and wealthy occupants of the old manor house was
+simply enjoying a ride in the still woods. But it was high time he
+turned back! The marshes of the Ochakee were no place for tenderfeet;
+and this was not like riding in Central Park! Some of the quagmires I
+had passed already to-day would make short work of horse and rider.
+
+My eye has always been sensitive to motion--in this regard not greatly
+dissimilar from the eyes of the wild creatures themselves--and I
+suddenly caught a flash of moving color through a little rift in the
+overhanging branches. The horseman that neared me on the trail was
+certainly gayly dressed! The flash I caught was _pink_--the pink that
+little girls fancy in ribbons--and a derisive grin crept to my lips
+before I could restrain it. There was no mistaking the fact that I was
+beginning to have the woodsman's intolerance for city furs and frills!
+Right then I decided to wait.
+
+It might pay to see how this rider had got himself up! It might afford
+certain moments of amusement when the still mystery of the Floridan
+night dropped over me again. I drew to one side and stood still on the
+trail.
+
+The horse walked near. The rider wasn't a man, after all. It was a girl
+in the simplest, yet the prettiest, riding-habit that eyes ever laid
+upon, and the prettiest girl that had ridden that trail since the woods
+were new.
+
+The intolerant grin at my lips died a natural death. She might be the
+proud and haughty daughter of wealth, such a type as our more simple
+country-dwellers robe with tales of scandal, yet the picture that she
+made--astride that great, dark horse in the dappled sunlight of the
+trail--was one that was worth coming long miles to see. The dark, mossy
+woods were a perfect frame, the shadows seemed only to accentuate her
+own bright coloring.
+
+It wasn't simply because I am a naturalist that I instantly noticed and
+stored away immutably in my memory every detail of that happy, pretty
+face. The girl had blue eyes. I've seen the same shade of blue in the
+sea, a dark blue and yet giving the impression of incredible brightness.
+Yet it was a warm brightness, not the steely, icy glitter of the sea.
+They were friendly, wholesome, straightforward eyes, lit with the joy of
+living; wide-open and girlish. The brows were fine and dark above them,
+and above these a clear, girlish forehead with never a studied line. Her
+hair was brown and shot with gold--indeed, in the sunlight, it looked
+like old, red gold, finely spun.
+
+She was tanned by the Florida sun, yet there was a bright color-spot in
+each cheek. I thought she had rather a wistful mouth, rather full lips,
+half-pouting in some girlish fancy. Of course she hadn't observed me
+yet. She was riding easily, evidently thinking herself wholly alone.
+
+Her form was slender and girlish, of medium height, yet her slender
+hands at the reins held her big horse in perfect control. The heels of
+her trim little shoes touched his side, and the animal leaped lightly
+over a fallen log. Then she saw me, and her expression changed.
+
+It was, however, still unstudied and friendly. The cold look of
+indifference I had expected and which is such a mark of ill-breeding
+among certain of her class, didn't put in its appearance. I removed my
+hat, and she drew her horse up beside me.
+
+It hadn't occurred to me she would actually stop and talk. It had been
+rather too much to hope for. And I knew I felt a curious little stir of
+delight all over me at the first sound of her friendly, gentle voice.
+
+"I suppose you are Mr. Killdare?" she said quietly.
+
+Every one knows how a man quickens at the sound of his own name. "Yes,
+ma'am," I told her--in our own way of speaking. But I didn't know what
+else to say.
+
+"I was riding over to see you--on business," she went on. "For my
+uncle--Grover Nealman, of Kastle Krags. I'm his secretary."
+
+The words made me stop and think. It was hard for me to explain, even to
+myself, just why they thrilled me far under the skin, and why the
+little tingle of delight I had known at first gave way to a mighty surge
+of anticipation and pleasure. It seems to be true that the first thing
+we look for in a stranger is his similarity to us, and the second, his
+dissimilarity; and in these two factors alone rests our attitude towards
+him. It has been thus since the beginning of the world--if he is too
+dissimilar, our reaction is one of dislike, and I suppose, far enough
+down the scale of civilization, we would immediately try to kill him. If
+he has enough in common with ourselves we at once feel warm and
+friendly, and invite him to our tribal feasts.
+
+Perhaps this was the way it was between myself and Edith Nealman. She
+wasn't infinitely set apart from me--some one rich and experienced and
+free of all the problems that made up my life. Nealman's niece meant
+something far different than Nealman's daughter--if indeed the man had a
+daughter. She was his secretary, she said--a paid worker even as I was.
+She had come to see me on business--and no wonder I was anticipatory and
+elated as I hadn't been for years!
+
+"I'm glad to know you, Miss----" I began. For of course I didn't know
+her name, then.
+
+"Miss Nealman," she told me, easily. "Now I'll tell you what my uncle
+wants. He heard about you, from Mr. Todd."
+
+I nodded. Mr. Todd had brought me out from the village and had helped me
+with some work I was doing for my university, in a northern state.
+
+"He was trying to get Mr. Todd to help him, but he was busy and couldn't
+do it," the girl went on. "But he said to get Ned Killdare--that you
+could do it as well as he could. He said no one knew the country
+immediately about here any better than you--that though you'd only been
+here a month or two you had been all over it, and that you knew the
+habits of the turkeys and quail, and the best fishing grounds, better
+than any one else in the country."
+
+I nodded in assent. Of course I knew these things: on a zoological
+excursion for the university they were simply my business. But as yet I
+couldn't guess how this information was to be of use to Grover Nealman.
+
+"Now this is what my uncle wants," the girl went on. "He's going to have
+a big shoot and fish for some of his man friends--they are coming down
+in about two weeks. They'll want to fish in the Ochakee River and in the
+lagoon, and hunt quail and turkey, and my uncle wants to know if--if he
+can possibly--hire you as guide."
+
+I liked her for her hesitancy, the uncertainty with which she spoke.
+Her voice had nothing of that calm superiority that is so often heard
+in the offering of humble employment. She was plainly considering my
+dignity--as if anything this sweet-faced girl could say could possibly
+injure it!
+
+"All he wanted of you was to stay at Kastle Krags during the hunting
+party, and be able to show the men where to hunt and fish. You won't
+have to act as--as anybody's valet--and he says he'll pay you real
+guide's wages, ten dollars a day."
+
+"When would he want me to begin?"
+
+"Right away, if you could--to-morrow. The guests won't be here for two
+weeks, but there are a lot of things to do first. You see, my uncle came
+here only a short time ago, and all the fishing-boats need overhauling,
+and everything put in ship-shape. Then he thought you'd want some extra
+time for looking around and locating the game and fish. The work would
+be for three weeks, in all."
+
+Three weeks! I did some fast figuring, and I found that twenty days, at
+ten dollars a day, meant two hundred dollars. Could I afford to refuse
+such an offer as this?
+
+It is true that I had no particular love for many of the city sportsmen
+that came to shoot turkey and to fish in the region of the Ochakee. The
+reason was simply that "sportsmen," for them, was a misnomer: that they
+had no conception of sport from its beginnings to its end, and that they
+could only kill game like butchers. Then I didn't know that I would care
+about being employed in such a capacity.
+
+Yet two or three tremendous considerations stared me in the face. In the
+first place, I was really in need of funds. I had not yet obtained any
+of the higher scholastic degrees that would entitle me to decent pay at
+the university--I was merely a post-graduate student, with the
+complimentary title of "instructor." I had offered to spend my summer
+collecting specimens for the university museum at a wage that barely
+paid for my traveling expenses and supplies, wholly failing to consider
+where I would get sufficient funds to continue my studies the following
+year.
+
+Scarcity of money--no one can feel it worse than a young man inflamed
+with a passion for scientific research! There were a thousand things I
+wanted to do, a thousand journeys into unknown lands that haunted my
+dreams at night, but none of them were for the poor. The two hundred
+dollars Grover Nealman would pay me would not go far, yet I simply
+couldn't afford to pass it by. Of course I could continue my work for
+my alma mater at the same time.
+
+Yet while I thought of these things, I knew that I was only lying to
+myself. They were subterfuges only, excuses to my own conscience. The
+instant she had opened her lips to speak I had known my answer.
+
+To refuse meant to go back to my lonely camp in the cypress. I hoped I
+wasn't such a fool as that. To accept meant three weeks at Kastle
+Krags--and daily sight of this same lovely face that now held fast my
+eyes. Could there be any question which course I would choose?
+
+"Go--I should say I will go," I told her. "I'll be there bright and
+early to-morrow."
+
+I thought she looked pleased, but doubtless I was mistaken.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+It didn't take long to pack my few belongings. At nine o'clock the
+following morning I broke camp and walked down the long trail to Kastle
+Krags.
+
+No wonder the sportsmen liked to gather at this old manor house by the
+sea. It represented the best type of southern homes--low and rambling,
+old gardens and courts, wide verandas and stately pillars. It was an
+immense structure, yet perfectly framed by the shore and the lagoon and
+the glimpse of forest opposite, and it presented an entirely cheerful
+aspect as I emerged from the dark confinement of the timber.
+
+It was a surprising thing that a house could be cheerful in such
+surroundings: forest and gray shore and dark blue-green water. The house
+itself was gray in hue, the columns snowy white, the roof dark green and
+blending wonderfully with the emerald water. Flowers made a riot of
+color between the structure and the formal lawns.
+
+But more interesting than the house itself was the peculiar physical
+formation of its setting. The structure had been erected overlooking a
+long inlet that was in reality nothing less than a shallow lagoon. A
+natural sea-wall stretched completely across the neck of the inlet,
+cutting off the lagoon from the open sea. There are many natural
+sea-walls along the Floridan coast, built mostly of limestone or
+coraline rock, but I had never seen one so perfect and unbroken.
+Stretching across the mouth of the lagoon it made a formidable barrier
+that not even the smallest boat could pass.
+
+It was a long wall of white crags and jagged rocks, and I thought it
+likely that it had suggested the name of the estate. It was plain,
+however, that the wall did not withstand the march of the tides. The
+tide was running in as I drew near, and the waves broke fiercely over
+and against the barrier, and little rivulets and streams of water were
+evidently pouring through its miniature crevices. The house was built
+two hundred yards from the shore of the lagoon, perhaps three hundred
+yards from the wall, and the green lawns went down half-way to it.
+Beyond this--except of course for the space occupied by the lagoon
+itself--stretched the gray, desolate sand.
+
+Beyond the wall the inlet widened rapidly, and the rolling waves gave
+the impression of considerable depth. I had never seen a more favorable
+place for a sportsman's home. Besides the deep-sea fishing beyond the
+rock wall, it was easy to believe that the lagoon itself was the home of
+countless schools of such hard-fighting game-fish as loved such craggy
+seas. The lagoon was fretful and rough from the flowing tide at that
+moment, offering no inducements to a boatman, but I surmised at once
+that it would be still as a lake in the hours that the tide ebbed. The
+shore was a favorable place for the swift-winged shorebirds that all
+sportsmen love--plover and curlew and their fellows. And the mossy,
+darkling forest, teeming with turkey and partridge, stretched just
+behind.
+
+Yet the whole effect was not only of beauty. I stood still, and tried to
+puzzle it out. The atmosphere talked of in great country houses is more
+often imagined than really discerned; but if such a thing exists, Kastle
+Krags was literally steeped in it. Like Macbeth's, the castle has a
+pleasant seat--and yet it moved you, in queer ways, under the skin.
+
+I am not, unfortunately, a particularly sensitive man. Working from the
+ground up, I have been so busy preserving the keen edges of my senses
+that I have quite neglected my sensibilities. I couldn't put my finger
+on the source of the strange, mental image that the place invoked; and
+the thing irritated and disturbed me. The subject wasn't worth a busy
+man's time, yet I couldn't leave it alone.
+
+The house was not different from a hundred houses scattered through the
+south. It was larger than most of the larger colonial homes, and
+constructed with greater artistry. If it had any atmosphere at all,
+other than comfort and beauty, it was of cheer. Yet I didn't feel
+cheerful, and I didn't know why. I felt even more sobered than when the
+moss of the cypress trees swept over my head. But soon I thought I saw
+the explanation.
+
+The image of desolation and eery bleakness had its source in the
+wide-stretching sands, the unforgettable sea beyond, and particularly
+the inlet, or lagoon, up above the natural dam of stone. The rocks that
+enclosed the lagoon would have been of real interest to a geologist--to
+me they were merely bleak and forbidding, craggy and gray and cold.
+Unquestionably they contained many caverns and crevices that would be
+worth exploring. And I was a little amazed at the fury with which the
+incoming waves beat against and over the rocky barrier. They came with
+a veritable ferocity, and the sea beyond seemed hardly rough enough to
+justify them.
+
+Grover Nealman himself met me when I turned on to the level, gravel
+driveway. There was nothing about him in keeping with that desolate
+driveway. A familiar type, he looked the gentleman and sportsman that he
+was. Probably the man was forty-four or forty-five years old, but he was
+not the type that yields readily to middle-age. Nealman unquestionably
+still considered himself a young man, and he believed it heartily enough
+to convince his friends. Self-reliant, inured to power and influence,
+somewhat aristocratic, he could not yield himself to the admission of
+the march of the years. He was of medium height, rather thickly built,
+with round face, thick nose, and rather sensual lips; but his eyes,
+behind his tortoise-shell glasses, were friendly and spirited; and his
+hand-clasp was democratic and firm. By virtue of his own pride of race
+and class he was a good sportsman: likely a crack shot and an expert
+fisherman. Probably a man that drank moderately, was still youthful
+enough to enjoy a boyish celebration, a man who lived well, who had
+traveled widely and read good books, and who could carry out the
+traditions of a distinguished family--this was Grover Nealman, master of
+Kastle Krags.
+
+I didn't suppose for a moment that Nealman had made his own fortune.
+There were no fighting lines in his face, nor cold steel of conflict in
+his eyes. There was one deep, perpendicular line between his eyes, but
+it was born of worry, not battle. The man was moderately shrewd,
+probably able to take care of his investments, yet he could never have
+been a builder, a captain of industry. He dressed like a man born to
+wealth, well-fitting white flannels whose English tailoring afforded
+free room for arm and shoulder movements; a silk shirt and soft white
+collar, panama hat and buckskin shoes.
+
+He was not a southerner. The first words he uttered proved that fact.
+
+"So you are Mr. Killdare," he said easily. He didn't say it "Killdaih,"
+as he would had he been a native of the place. "Come with me into my
+study. I can tell you there what I've got lined up. I'm mighty glad
+you've come."
+
+We walked through the great, massive mahogany door, and he paused to
+introduce me to a middle-aged man that stood in the doorway. "Florey,"
+he said, kindly and easily, "I want you to meet Mr. Killdare."
+
+His tone alone would have identified the man's station, even if the dark
+garb hadn't told the story plainly. Florey was unquestionably Nealman's
+butler. Nor could anyone have mistaken his walk of life, in any street
+of any English-speaking city. He was the kind of butler one sees upon
+the stage but rarely in a home, the kind one associates with old,
+stately English homes but which one rarely finds in fact--almost too
+good a butler to be true. He was little and subdued and gray, gray of
+hair and face and hands, and his soft voice, his irreproachable attitude
+of respect and deference seemed born in him by twenty generations of
+butlers. He said he was glad to know me, and his bony, soft-skinned hand
+took mine.
+
+I'm afraid I stared at Florey. I had lived too long in the forest:
+the staring habit, so disconcerting to tenderfeet on their first
+acquaintance with the mountain people, was surely upon me. I think that
+the school of the forest teaches, first of all, to look long and sharply
+while you have a chance. The naturalist who follows the trail of wild
+game, even the sportsman knows this same fact--for the wild creatures
+are incredibly furtive and give one only a second's glimpse. I
+instinctively tried to learn all I could of the gray old servant in the
+instant that I shook his hand.
+
+He was the butler, now and forever, and I wondered if, beneath that
+gray skin, he were really human at all. Did he know human passion, human
+ambition and desires: sheltered in his master's house, was he set apart
+from the lusts and the madnesses, the calms and the storms, the triumphs
+and the defeats that made up the lives of other men? Yet his gray,
+rather dim old eyes told me nothing. There were no fires, visible to me,
+glowing in their depths. A human clam--better still, a gray mole that
+lives out his life in darkness.
+
+From him we passed up the stairs and to a big, cool study that
+apparently joined his bedroom. There were desks and chairs and a letter
+file. Edith Nealman was writing at the typewriter.
+
+If I had ever supposed that the girl had taken the position of her
+uncle's secretary merely as a girlish whim, or in some emergency until a
+permanent secretary could be secured, I was swiftly disillusioned. There
+was nothing of the amateur in the way her supple fingers flew over the
+keys. She had evidently had training in a business college; and her
+attitude towards Nealman was simply that of a secretary towards her
+employer. She leaned back as if waiting for orders.
+
+"You can go, if you like, Edith," Nealman told her. "I'm going to talk
+awhile with Killdare, here, and you wouldn't be able to work anyway."
+
+She got up; and she threw me a smile of welcome and friendliness as she
+walked out the study door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+Nealman had me take a chair, then seated himself before the window from
+which he could overlook the lagoon. "I always like to sit where I can
+watch it," he told me--rather earnestly, I thought. "I can't see much of
+it--just a glimpse--but that's worth while. The room I've designated for
+your use has even a better view. You can't imagine, Killdare, until
+you've lived with it, how really marvelous it is--how many colors play
+in the lagoon itself, and in the waves as they break over the
+Bridge----"
+
+"The Bridge----"
+
+"That's the name we've given to the natural rock wall that cuts off the
+lagoon--rather, the inlet--from the open sea," he explained.
+
+"It's one of the most interesting natural formations I've ever seen," I
+told him.
+
+"It is, isn't it?" He spoke with genuine enthusiasm. "And don't the
+crags take peculiar shapes around it? You see it makes a veritable
+salt-water lake out of all this end of the inlet. But Killdare--if you
+can overlook the dreariness and the desolation of it all, it certainly
+is beautiful----"
+
+I nodded. "With a creepy kind of beauty," I told him. "I wish some great
+artist could come here and paint it. But it would take a great one--to
+get the atmosphere. I've never seen a more wonderful place for a
+distinguished home."
+
+It was rather remarkable how pleased he was by the words--particularly
+coming from a humble employee. Evidently Kastle Krags was close to his
+heart. His face glowed and his eye kindled.
+
+"I'm wild about it myself," he confessed. "My friends want to know why I
+bought such a place--miles from a habitation--and guy me for a hermit,
+and all that. Once they see the place, and its devilish fascination gets
+hold of 'em, they won't want to leave."
+
+From thence the talk led to business, and he questioned me in regard to
+the game and fish of the region. I assured him that his friends would
+have sport in plenty, that I knew where to lead them to turkey and
+partridge, and that no better fishing could be found in the whole south
+than in the Ochakee River. He seemed satisfied with my knowledge of the
+country; and told me a little of his own plans. Just as Edith Nealman
+had told me, he was planning a week's fish and hunt for a half dozen of
+his man friends, beginning a fortnight from then. They were coming a
+long way--so he wanted to give them sport of the best. The servant
+problem had been easily solved--he had recruited from the negro section
+of the nearest city--but until he had talked with my friend, Mr. Todd,
+he had been at a loss as to where he could procure a suitable guide.
+
+"I'd like to have a guide for each man, if I could," he went on, "but of
+course they are not to be found. Besides, only a small part of the party
+will want to go out at once. Most of them will be content to hang around
+here, drinking my brandies and fishing in the lagoon."
+
+"How is fishing in the lagoon?" I asked.
+
+"The best. Sometimes we even take tarpon. All kinds of rock fish--and
+they fight like fiends. The rocks are just full of little crevices and
+caves, and I suppose the fish live in 'em. These same crevices are the
+source of one of the most interesting of the many legends connected with
+this house."
+
+It's a dull man that doesn't love legends, and I felt my interest
+stirring. "There are some tales here, eh?"
+
+"Tales! Man, that's one of the reasons I bought the place."
+
+Nealman needed no further urging. Evidently the old stories that almost
+invariably accumulate about such an ancient and famous manor-house as
+this, had the greatest fascination for him; and he was glad of the
+chance to narrate them to any listener. He lighted a cigarette: then
+turned to me with glistening eyes.
+
+"Of course I don't believe them," he began. "Don't get that in your head
+for an instant. All these old houses have some such yarns. But they
+surely do lend a flavor to the place--and I wouldn't have them disproved
+for thousands of dollars. And one of them--the one I just referred
+to--surely is a corker."
+
+He straightened in his chair, and spoke more earnestly. "Killdare,
+you're not troubled with a too-active imagination?"
+
+"I'll take a chance on it," I told him.
+
+"I've seen a few men, in my time, that I wouldn't tell such a yarn to
+for love nor money--especially when they are doomed to stay around here
+for a few weeks. You won't believe it, but some men are so nervous, so
+naturally credulous, that they'd actually have some unpleasant dreams
+about it. But I consider it one of the finest attractions of the place.
+
+"The yarn's very simple. About 1840, a schooner, sailing under the
+Portuguese flag, sailed from Rio de Janeiro. Her name was the _Arganil_,
+she had a mixed cargo, and she was bound for New Orleans. These are
+facts, Killdare. You can ascertain them any time from the marine
+records. But we can't go much further.
+
+"Among the crew were two brothers, Jason by name. Legend says that they
+were Englishmen, but what Englishmen were doing on a Portuguese ship I
+can't tell you. The name, however, might easily be South-European--it
+appears, you remember, in Greek mythology. Now this point also has some
+indications of truth. There was certainly one Jason, at least, shipped
+as boatswain--the position of the other is considerably in doubt.
+
+"Now we've got to get down to a matter of legend, yet with some
+substance of truth. The story goes that there was a treasure chest on
+the ship, the property of some immensely rich Brasilian, and that it
+contained certain treasures that had been the property of a Portuguese
+prince at the time that the court of Portugal was located in Rio de
+Janeiro. This was from 1808 to 1821--breaking up in a revolution just a
+hundred years ago. This is history, as you know. Just what was the
+nature of the treasure no one seems to have any idea. It was a rather
+small chest, so they say, bound with iron, and not particularly
+heavy--but it was guarded with armed men, day and night. Of course the
+prevailing belief is that it contained simply gold--the same, yellow,
+deadly stuff that built the Armada and made early American history.
+It might have been in the form of cups and vessels, beautiful things
+that had been stolen from early heathen temples--again it might have
+been jewels. No estimation of its value was ever made, as far as I
+know--except that, like all unfound-treasures, it was 'incalculable.'
+
+"You can believe as much of this as you like. Gold, however, is heavy
+stuff--no one can carry much over twenty thousand dollars worth. If the
+chest wasn't really very heavy, and really was of such incalculable
+value, it had to contain something more than gold.
+
+"This part of the story is pretty convincing. I've investigated, and the
+legends contain such a wealth of detail concerning the appearance of the
+chest, how it was guarded, and so on, and the various accounts dovetail
+so perfectly one with another, that I am personally convinced that the
+treasure was a reality--at least that such a chest existed on the old
+ship. When you get into the contents of the chest, however, you find
+only a maze of conflicting rumors. To me they tend to make the story as
+a whole even more interesting--and I'll confess I'd love to know what
+was in that chest.
+
+"Well, the _Arganil_ broke to pieces off the west coast of Florida, not
+more than twenty miles from here. That fact can not be doubted. There
+are accounts of the wreck on official record. And legend has it that
+through Heaven knows what wickedness and bloodshed and cunning, the two
+Jason brothers not only managed to get off in the stoutest of the ship's
+boats, but that they carried the treasure with them.
+
+"If there were any other members of the crew in the boat with them they
+were unquestionably murdered. Nothing was ever heard of them again. The
+two brothers are said to have landed somewhere close to this lagoon.
+
+"But naked treasure breeds murder! It is a strange thing, Killdare, but
+the naked, yellow metal, as well as glittering jewels, gets home to
+human wickedness as nothing else in the world can. If that chest had
+been full of valuable securities, even paper currency, it wouldn't have
+left such a red trail from Rio to Florida. Gold and jewels waken a fever
+of possession out of all proportion to their actual value. When they
+landed on the shore one of the Jasons neatly murdered the other and made
+off with the chest.
+
+"The same old yarn--Cain and Abel, Romulus and Remus. Killdare, did
+you know that fratricide is shockingly common? There are three kinds
+of brothers, and the Jasons were simply one of the three kinds.
+Sometimes you find brothers that love each other beyond belief, with a
+self-sacrificing devotion that is beautiful to see. Then you find the
+great mass of brothers--liking each other fairly well, loyal in a family
+scrap, fair pals but much closer to other pals that aren't their
+brothers. Then you come to this third class, a puzzle to psychologists
+the world over! Brothers that hate each other like poison snakes.
+
+"Why is it, Killdare? Jealousy? A survival from the beast? These were
+the kind of brothers that go through life bitter and hating and at
+swords' points. And all too often they get to the killing stage."
+
+"You find it in the beast-world, too," I commented. "Look at the case
+of the wolves and the dogs. They are blood-brothers, drop for drop--and
+they hate each other with a fervor that is simply blood-curdling."
+
+"True enough. I remember hearing about it. Well, one of the Jasons--the
+one whose cunning conceived of the whole wickedness to start XXXX
+with--killed the other, disposed of his body, and then through some
+unknown series of events, concealed the treasure.
+
+"He went away awhile, the old wives say--taking a small portion
+of the treasure with him. At this point the name of Jason is lost,
+irremediably, in the mist of the past. But it is true that some two
+years later a seafaring man, one who had worn earrings and who cursed
+wickedly as he talked, came back and bought a great colonial home where
+the treasure was supposed to have been concealed.
+
+"This part of the story can not be doubted. The county books contain
+records of the sale, and it's written, plain as day, on the abstract.
+The man gave his name as Hendrickson.
+
+"Legend has it that this Hendrickson was no one but Godfrey Jason,
+that he had sold and turned into cash a small part of the treasure,
+temporarily evaded his pursuers, and had bought the big manor house with
+the idea of living in luxury the rest of his life. Incidentally, he was
+accompanied by a Cuban wife.
+
+"It seemed, however, that like most evil-doers, he got little good out
+of his treasure. He paid only a small amount down on the estate, and
+after a year or two let it go back to the original owners. He went away,
+but it doesn't seem likely he took the treasure with him. At least he
+died wretchedly in poverty some months later, and had spent no large
+amount of money in between. The report of his death can be found in the
+records of the city of Tampa, in this state.
+
+"Now all this is unquestionably a mixture of truth and fact.
+Unquestionably there is a vein of truth in it; and I don't see but that
+most of it is fairly credible. But the rest of the yarn is simply
+laughable.
+
+"I tell it only because it goes with the rest--not that I believe one
+word of it myself. After you hear what it is you'll wonder I ever took
+the trouble to tell you that I disbelieved it. It's just the sort of
+thing imaginative old niggers make up to tell their children. And of
+course--the niggers on the place believe every word of it.
+
+"They say that this Jason--or Hendrickson--put a guard over his
+treasure. He was a deep-sea fisherman at one time, when he wasn't a
+seaman, with considerable acquaintance with the various man-eating
+monsters of the deep. It is known that Hendrickson did some queer
+exploring and fishing along the rocky shores beyond the estate. What
+did the villainous old pirate do but catch some big octopus--or some
+other such terrible ocean creature--and transplanted him to the lagoon
+where he was said to have concealed the treasure.
+
+"That's all there is to it. The beast is supposed to be there yet,
+growing bigger and fiercer and more terrible year by year. An octopus is
+supposed to live indefinitely, you know. Once in awhile, the story goes,
+it creeps up on the rocky shore of the lagoon and grabs off a colored
+man. When any one searches around for the chest he's apt to meet up with
+Mr. Monster! Sure proof of his existence, the niggers say, is that Mas'r
+Somebody or other, the son of one of the subsequent owners of the
+estate, also mysteriously disappeared and has never been heard of since.
+When the blacks lose one of their own number they seem to regard it as a
+mere matter of course--but when 'one of de white folks' is taken, it's
+another matter! And of course, even to this day, you can't get a colored
+man to go within two hundred yards of the lagoon at night, and they hate
+to approach it even in the daylight.
+
+"The lagoon where the chest is supposed to be hidden is the one just
+outside my window, cut off from the sea by the natural rock wall you
+just saw. The big crags and rocks and crevices are supposed to conceal
+his ferociousness the sea-monster, growing bigger and hungrier and
+fiercer every day. The house that Jason--or Hendrickson--bought,
+neglected, and let return to the owners is the one you're sitting in,
+right now."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+After Nealman and I had each smoked a cigarette, I thought of a little
+plan that might increase his guest's interest in the week's shoot and
+hunt. He had been right when he said that even incredible legends,
+believed by no one, still add flavor to the country manor. I didn't see
+why we shouldn't turn them into account.
+
+"I've got an idea," I told him, "and it all depends whether or not
+you've already sent the invitations to your guests."
+
+"No, I haven't--just haven't got around to it," he answered. "All I was
+going to do was to write to about nine or ten of my men friends. I don't
+suppose all of them can come."
+
+"Good. I thought it might be interesting if we worked that legend into
+the invitation--just to add a little spice to the fishing and hunting.
+It might serve to waken a little extra interest in your party. Of
+course--it includes poking fun at the ferocious Jason and his treasure."
+
+"They'll have a lot more fun poked at them before we're done. As I told
+you--only the colored people take them seriously at all."
+
+I took out my fountain pen, found a scrap of paper, and drew something
+like this:
+
+ [Illustration: GRAND TREASURE HUNT
+ You are hereby invited to rally round at
+ KASTLE KRAGS
+ Sept. 6-12; search for
+ SPANISH GOLD
+ on 50-50
+ basis.
+
+ The Treasure is
+ guarded by
+ AWFUL SEA-MONSTER
+
+ P.S. Bring rods and guns. Turkey,
+ quail, deer, sea-fish. All that makes
+ the sportsman's heart be glad.
+
+ R.S.V.P.]
+
+As my only drawing experience consisted in portraying specimens, it had
+no artistic pretensions whatever.
+
+He seemed pleased, adopted the plan in an instant, then began to write
+down the names of his guests so that I could prepare an invitation for
+each. Most of them, I observed, lived in great cities to the North, New
+York and Boston particularly, and one or two of the men were more or
+less nationally known. The first half dozen names came easy. Then he
+paused, frowning.
+
+"I wish I knew what to do about this bird," he muttered, as much to
+himself as to me. "Killdare, I don't suppose you've ever heard of
+him--Major Kenneth Dell?"
+
+I shook my head. "Not that I remember."
+
+"Well, I haven't either--yet I suppose he's a good sportsman. In the
+last few weeks he's got close to my best friend, Bill Van Hope, and Bill
+asked me to ask him down for this shoot. Says he's a distinguished man,
+the best of fellows, and is simply wild to try Floridan game. Oh, I'll
+put him down. If Bill recommends him he must be the goods."
+
+He completed the list in a moment, then his duties calling him
+elsewhere, he left me in the study to prepare the invitations. And the
+hour turned out fortunately for me, after all. Thinking that the room
+was empty, Edith Nealman came back to her desk.
+
+All the gold in Jason's chest could not have bought a more lovely
+picture than she made, standing framed in the doorway. She was dressed
+in a spotless cotton middy-suit, and the red scarf at her throat brought
+out to perfection the light in her eyes and the high color in her
+cheeks. Then she came in and inspected the invitations.
+
+There was no occasion for me to leave at once. We talked a while, on
+everything under the sun, and every minute something that was like
+delight kept growing within me. She'd been up against the world, this
+girl that chattered so gayly in the big, easy office-chair. She had
+known poverty, a veritable struggle for existence; yet they hadn't
+hardened her in the least. No one I had ever met had possessed a
+sweeter, truer outlook, an unfeigned friendliness and comradeship
+for every decent thing that lived. Maybe you'd call it a childish
+simplicity, but I didn't stop to consider what it was. I only knew
+that she was the prettiest and the sweetest girl I'd ever seen, and
+I was going to spend every moment possible in her presence.
+
+Oh, but I loved to hear her laugh! I kept my brain busy thinking up
+things to say to her, that might waken that rippling sound of silver
+bells! I liked to see her eyes grow serious, and her lips half-pout as
+some delightful, fanciful thought played hide-and-seek in her mind. She
+had imagination, this niece of Grover Nealman. Perhaps, after all, it
+was the secret of her charm. I didn't doubt for a moment but that she
+read romantic novels by the score, but I, for one, wouldn't hold the
+fact against her.
+
+We talked over the legend of Jason's chest; and I was a little surprised
+at her devoted interest in it. Evidently the savage tale had gone
+straight home to her imagination. Whether she put the least credence in
+it I couldn't tell.
+
+It came about, in the twilight hour, that we walked together down to the
+craggy shore of the lagoon. Then we stood and watched the light dying on
+the blue-green water.
+
+Once more the tide was rolling in. The waves beat with a startling fury
+over and against the rock wall, and in the half-light the white stones
+looked like the foam-covered fangs of a mighty sea-monster, raging at
+our intrusion. The water swept through the little crevices in the wall,
+and the cool spray, refreshing after the tropic day, swept against our
+faces.
+
+The gray sand stretched down to the desolate sea. A plover uttered his
+disconsolate, wailing cry far out to sea. Some dark heron or bittern
+rose croaking from beside the lagoon, then flapped awkwardly away. I
+felt the girl's hand on my arm as she drew closer to my side.
+
+A worthy place--this manor house of Nealman. Vague thoughts, not quite
+in keeping with the ordered dimensions of life, had hold of my mind.
+Presently the girl's grip tightened, and she pointed toward the lagoon.
+
+I saw her face before I followed her gesture. I didn't get the idea that
+she was frightened. Rather she was smiling, quietly, and her eyes
+glistened.
+
+Seventy yards out, and perhaps fifteen yards back from the Bridge, great
+bubbles were bursting upward through the blue-green troubled waters.
+Some mysterious action of the currents, stirred by the tides, was the
+unquestioned cause; yet both of us were stirred by the same fancy. It
+was as if some great, air-breathing sea-monster was exhaling beneath the
+waves.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+The next two weeks sped by as if with one rise and fall of the tides. I
+spent the time in locating the various fields of game: the tall
+holly-trees where the wild turkeys roosted, the sloughs where the bass
+were gamest, and marked down the cover of the partridge. In the meantime
+I collected specimens for the university.
+
+It came about that I didn't always go out alone. The best time of all to
+study wild-life is in late twilight and the first hours of dawn--and at
+such times Edith was unemployed. Many the still, late evenings when we
+stood together on the shore and watched the curlews in their strange,
+aerial minuet that no naturalist has even been able to explain; many the
+dewey morning that we watched the first sun's rays probe through the
+mossy forest. She had an instinctive love for the outdoors, and her
+agile young body had seemingly fibers of steel. At least she could
+follow me wherever I wanted to go.
+
+Once we came upon the Floridan deer, feeding in a natural woods-meadow,
+and once a gigantic manatee, the most rare of large American mammals,
+flopped in the mud of the Ochakee River. We knew that incredible
+confusion and bustle made by the wild turkeys when they flew to the
+tree-tops to roost; and she learned to whistle the partridge out from
+their thickets.
+
+Of course we developed a fine companionship. I learned of her early
+life, a struggle against poverty that had been about to overwhelm her
+when her uncle had come to her aid; and presently I was telling her all
+of my own dreams and ambitions. She was wholly sympathetic with my aim
+to continue my university work for a higher degree; then to spend my
+life in scientific research. I described some of the expeditions that I
+had in mind but which seemed so impossible of fulfillment--the
+exploration of the great "back country" of Borneo, a journey across that
+mysterious island, Sumatra, the penetration of certain unknown realms of
+Tibet.
+
+"But they take thousands of dollars--and I haven't got 'em," I told her
+quietly.
+
+She looked out to sea a long time. "I wish I could find Jason's treasure
+for you," she answered at last.
+
+I was used to Edith's humor, and I looked up expecting to see the
+familiar laughter in her eyes. But the luster in those deep, blue orbs
+was not that of mirth. Fancies as beautiful as she was herself were
+sweeping her away....
+
+Most of the guests arrived on the same train at the little town of
+Ochakee, and motored over to Kastle Krags. A half dozen in all had
+accepted Nealman's invitation. I saw them when they got out of their
+cars.
+
+Of course I straightened their names out later. At the time I only
+studied their faces--just as I'd study a new specimen, found in the
+forest. And when Edith and I compared notes afterward we found that our
+first impression was the same--that all six were strikingly similar in
+type.
+
+They might just as well have been brothers, chips off the same block.
+When Nealman stood among them it seemed as if he might change names with
+any one of them, and hardly any one could tell the difference. There was
+nothing distinguishing about their clothes--all were well-dressed,
+either in white or tweeds; their skins had that healthy firmness and
+good color that is seen so often in men that are free from financial
+worry; their hair was cut alike; their linen was similarly immaculate;
+their accent was practically the same. Finally they were about the same
+age--none of them very young, none further than the first phases of
+middle-age.
+
+Lemuel Marten was of course the most distinguished man in the party.
+Born rich, he had pushed his father's enterprises into many lands and
+across distant seas, and his name was known, more or less, to all
+financiers in the nation. His face was perhaps firmer than the rest--his
+voice was more commanding and insistent. He was, perhaps, fifty years of
+age, stoutly built, with crinkling black hair and vivid, gray eyes. From
+time to time he stroked nervously a trim, perfectly kept iron-gray
+mustache.
+
+Hal Fargo had been a polo-player in his day. Certain litheness and
+suppleness of motion still lingered in his body. His face was darkly
+brown, and white teeth gleamed pleasantly when he spoke. A pronounced
+bald spot was the only clew of advancing years. He was of medium height,
+slender, evidently a man of great personal magnetism and charm.
+
+Joe Nopp was quite opposite, physically--rather portly, perhaps less
+dignified than most of his friends. I put down Nopp as a dead shot, and
+later I found I had guessed right. For all his plump, florid cheeks and
+his thick, white hands, he had an eye true as a surveyor's instrument,
+nerves cold and strong as a steel chain. He was a man to be relied upon
+in a crisis. And both Edith and I liked him better than any of the
+others.
+
+Lucius Pescini was an aristocrat of the accepted type--slender, tall,
+unmistakably distinguished. His hair was such a dark shade of brown that
+it invariably passed as black, he had eyes no less dark, sparkling under
+dark brows, and his small mustache and perfectly trimmed beard was in
+vivid contrast to a rather pale skin.
+
+Of Major Kenneth Dell I had never heard. He had been an officer in the
+late war, and now he was Bill Van Hope's friend, although not yet
+acquainted with Nealman. The two men met cordially, and Van Hope stood
+above them, the tallest man in the company by far, beaming friendship
+upon them both. Dell was of medium size, sturdily built, garbed with
+exceptionally good taste in imported flannels. He also had gray, vivid
+eyes, under rather fine brows, gray hair perfectly cut, a slow smile and
+quiet ways. Solely because he was a man of endless patience I expected
+him to distinguish himself with rod and reel.
+
+Bill Van Hope, Nealman's friend of whom I had heard so much, was not
+only tall, but broad and powerful. He had kind eyes and a happy
+smile--altogether as good a type of millionaire-sportsman as any one
+would care to know. Nealman introduced him to me, and his handshake was
+firm and cordial.
+
+Nealman took them all into the great manor house: I went with Nealman's
+chauffeur to see about the handling of their luggage. This was at
+half-past four of a sunlit day in September. I didn't see any of the
+guests again until just before the dinner hour, when a matter of a
+broken fly-tip had brought me into the manor house. Thereupon occurred
+one of a series of incidents that made my stay at Kastle Krags the most
+momentous three weeks of my life.
+
+It was only a little thing--this experience in Nealman's study. But
+coming events cast their shadows before--and certainly it was a shadow,
+dim and inscrutable though it was, of what the night held in store. I
+had passed Florey the butler, gray and sphynx-like in the hallway, spoke
+to him as ever, and turned through the library door. And my first
+impression was that some other guest had arrived in my absence.
+
+A man was standing, smoking, by the window. I supposed at once that he
+was an absolute stranger. There was not a single familiar image, not the
+least impulse to my memory. I started to speak, and beg his pardon, and
+inquire for Nealman. But the words didn't come out. I was suddenly and
+inexplicably startled into silence.
+
+It is the rare man who can analyze his own mental processes. Of all the
+sensations that throng the human mind there is none so lawless, so
+sporadic in its comings and departure, so utterly illogical as fear--and
+great surprise is only a sister of fear. I can't explain why I was
+startled. There was no reason whatever for being so. I must go
+further--I was not only startled, but shaken too. It has come about that
+through the exigencies of the hunting trail I have been obliged to face
+a charging jaguar--in a jungle of Western Mexico--yet with nerves
+holding true. My nerves didn't hold true now--and I couldn't tell why.
+They jumped unnecessarily and quivered under the skin.
+
+I did know the man beside the window after all. He was Major Kenneth
+Dell that I had observed particularly closely--due to having heard of
+him before--when he had first dismounted from the car. The thing that
+startled me was that in the hour and a half or so since I had seen him
+his appearance had undergone an amazing change.
+
+It took several long seconds to win back some measure of common sense.
+Then I knew that, through some trick of nerves, I had merely attached a
+thousand times too much importance to a wholly trivial incident. In all
+probability the change in Dell's appearance was simply an effect of
+light and shadow, wrought by the window in front of which he stood.
+
+But for the instant his face simply had not seemed his own. Its color
+had been gone--indeed it had seemed absolutely bloodless. His eyes had
+been vivid holes in his white face, his features were drawn out of all
+semblance to his own, the facial lines were graven deep. His lips looked
+loose, as with one whose muscle-control is breaking.
+
+But my impression had only an instant's life. Either the man drew
+himself together at my stare, or my own vision got back to normal. He
+was himself again--the same, suave, genial sportsman I had seen dismount
+from the car. He answered my inquiry, and I turned through the library
+door.
+
+If I had seen true, there could be but one explanation: that Major Dell
+had undergone some violent nervous shock since he had entered the door
+of the manor house of Kastle Krags.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+After the dinner hour Nealman came for me, in the room just off the hall
+from his own that he had designated for my use. I'd never seen him in
+quite so gay a humor. His eyes sparkled; happiness rippled in his voice.
+His tone was more companionable too, lacking that faint but unmistakable
+air of patronage it had always previously held. He had never forgotten,
+until now, that he was the employer, I the employee. Now his accent and
+manner was one of equality, and he addressed me much as he had addressed
+his wealthy guests.
+
+He had been drinking; but he was not in the least intoxicated. Perhaps
+he had been stimulated, very slightly. He wore a dinner coat with white
+trousers.
+
+"Killdare, I want you to come downstairs," he said. "Some of my friends
+want to talk to you about shootin' and fishin'. They're keen to know
+what their prospects are."
+
+"I'd like to," I answered. "But I'll have to come as I am. I haven't a
+dinner coat----"
+
+"Of course come as you are."
+
+His arm touched mine, and he headed me down the hallway to the stairs.
+Then we walked side by side down the big, wide stairway to the big
+living-room.
+
+Already I heard the sound of the guests' laughter. As I went further the
+hall seemed simply ringing with it. There could be no further doubt of
+the success of Nealman's party. Evidently his distinguished guests had
+thrown all dignity to the winds, entering full into the spirit of play.
+
+The glimpse of the big living-room only verified this first impression.
+The guests were evidently in that wonderful mood of merriment that is
+the delight and ambition of all hosts, but which is so rarely obtained.
+Most men know the doubtful temper of a mob. Few had failed to observe
+that the same psychology extends to the simplest social gatherings. How
+often stiffness and formality haunt the drawing-room or dining-table,
+where only merriment should rule! How many times the social spirit
+wholly fails to manifest itself. To-night, evidently, conditions were
+just right, and hilarity ruled at Kastle Krags.
+
+As I came in Joe Nopp--the portly man with the clear, gray eyes--was
+telling some sort of an anecdote, and his listeners were simply shouting
+with laughter. Major Dell and Bill Van Hope were shooting craps on the
+floor, ten cents a throw, carrying on a ridiculous conversation with the
+dice. A big phonograph was shouting a negro song from the corner.
+
+There was a slight lull, however, when Nealman and I came in. Van Hope
+spoke to me first--he was the only one of the guests I had met--and the
+others turned toward me with the good manners of their kind. In a moment
+Nealman had introduced me to Joe Nopp's listeners and, an instant later,
+to Major Dell.
+
+"Mr. Killdare is down here doing some work in zoology for his
+university," Nealman explained, "and he's agreed to show you chaps where
+to find game and fish. He knows this country from A to Izzard."
+
+I held the center of the floor, for a while, as I answered their
+questions; and I can say truly I had never met, on the whole, a
+better-bred and more friendly company of men. They wanted to know all
+about the game in the region, what flies or lures the bass were taking,
+as to the prevalence of diamond-backs, and if the tarpon were striking
+beyond the natural rock wall. In their eagerness they were like boys.
+
+"You'll talk better with a shot of something good," Nealman told me at
+last, producing a quart bottle. "Have a little Cuban cheer."
+
+The bottle contained old Scotch, and its appearance put an end to all
+serious discussion. From thence on the mood of the gathering was ever
+lighter, ever happier; and I merely sat and looked on.
+
+"The question _ain't_," Hal Fargo said of me with considerable emphasis,
+"whether he knows where the turkeys are, but whether or not he knows his
+college song!"
+
+I pretended ignorance, but soon Van Hope and Nealman were singing "A
+Cow's Best Friend" at the top of their voices, while Nopp tried to drown
+them out with "Fill 'em up for Williams."
+
+Even now it could not be said that any of the group were intoxicated.
+Fargo was certainly the nearest; his cheeks were flushed and his speech
+had that reckless accent that goes so often with the first stages of
+drunkenness. The distinguished Pescini was only animated and fanciful,
+Van Hope and Marten perhaps slightly stimulated. For all the charm of
+their conversation I couldn't see that Nopp or Major Dell were receiving
+the slightest exhilaration from their drinks.
+
+But the spirit of revelry was ever higher. These men were on a holiday,
+they had left their business cares a thousand miles to the north, mostly
+they were tried companions. None of us was aware of the passing of time.
+I saw at once that my presence was not objectionable to the party, so I
+lingered long after the purpose for which I had been brought among them
+had been fulfilled--purely for the sake of entertainment. I had never
+seen a frolic of millionaires before, and needless to say I enjoyed
+every moment of it.
+
+In the later hours of night the revellers ranged further over the house.
+Joe Nopp was in the billiard room exhibiting fancy shots and pretending
+to receive the plaudits of a great multitude; Pescini and Van Hope were
+in conversation on the veranda, and Fargo was wholly absent and
+unaccounted for. I had missed Marten, the financier, for a moment; but
+his reappearance was the signal for a fresh rush to the living-room.
+
+The whole party met him with a yell. In the few moments of his absence
+he had wrought a startling change in his appearance. Over his shoulders
+he had thrown a gayly colored Indian blanket, completely hiding his trim
+dinner coat. He had tied a red cloth over his head and waxed the points
+of his iron-gray mustache until they stood stiff and erect, giving an
+appearance of mock ferocity to his face. A silver key-ring and his own
+gold signet dangled from his ears, tied on with invisible black thread.
+And to cap the climax he carried a long, wicked-looking carving-knife
+between his teeth.
+
+Of course he was Godfrey Jason himself--the same character I had
+portrayed in the invitations. Fargo made him do a Spanish dance to the
+clang of an invisible tambourine.
+
+Some of the gathering scattered out again, after his dramatic
+appearance, drifting off on various enterprises and as the hour neared
+midnight only four of us were left in the drawing-room. Marten stood in
+the center, still in his ridiculous costume. Van Hope, Nealman, Pescini
+and myself were grouped about him. And it might have been that in the
+song that followed Pescini too slipped away. I know that I didn't see
+him immediately thereafter.
+
+With a little urging Marten was induced to sing Samuel Hall--a stirring
+old ballad that quite fitted his costume. He had a pleasant baritone, he
+sung the song with indescribable spirit and enthusiasm, and it was
+decidedly worth hearing. Indeed it was the very peak of the evening--a
+moment that to the assembled guests must have almost paid them for the
+long journey.
+
+     "_For I shot a man in bed, man in bed--
+     For I shot a man in bed, and I left him there for dead,
+     With a bullet through his head--
+                 Damn your eyes!_"
+
+But the song halted abruptly. Whether he was at the middle of the verse,
+a pause after a stanza, or even in the middle of a chord I do not know.
+On this point no one will ever have exact knowledge. Marten stopped
+singing because something screamed, shrilly and horribly, out toward the
+lagoon.
+
+The picture that followed is like a photograph, printed indelibly on my
+mind. Marten paused, his lips half open, a strange, blank look of
+amazement on his face. Nealman stared at me like a witless man, but I
+saw by his look that he was groping for an explanation. Van Hope stood
+peculiarly braced, his heavy hands open, beads of perspiration on his
+temples. Whether Pescini was still with us I do not know. I tried to
+remember later, but without ever coming to a conclusion. He had been
+standing behind me, at first, so I couldn't have seen him anyway. I
+believed, however, without knowing why, that he walked into the hall at
+the beginning of the song.
+
+The sound we had heard, so sharp and clear out of the night, so
+penetrating above the mock-ferocious words of the song, was utterly
+beyond the ken of all of us. It was a living voice; beyond that no
+definite analysis could be made. Sounds do not imprint themselves so
+deeply upon the memory as do visual images, yet the remembrance of it,
+in all its overtones and gradations, is still inordinately vivid; and I
+have no doubt but that such is the case with every man that heard it.
+
+It was a high, rather sharp, full-lunged utterance, not in the least
+subdued. It had the unrestrained, unguarded tone of an instinctive
+utterance, rather than a conscious one--a cry that leaped to the lips in
+some great extremity or crisis. Yet it went further. Every man of us
+that heard it felt instinctively that its tone was of fear and agony
+unimagined, beyond the pale of our ordered lives.
+
+"My God, what's that?" Van Hope asked. Van Hope was the type of man that
+yields quickly to his impulses.
+
+None of us answered him for a moment. Then Nealman turned, rather
+slowly. "It sounded like the devil, didn't it?" he said. "But it likely
+wasn't anything. I've heard some devilish cries in the couple of weeks
+I've been here--bitterns and owls and things like that. Might have been
+a panther in the woods."
+
+Marten smiled slowly, rather contemptuously. "You'll have to do better
+than that, Nealman. That wasn't a panther. Also--it wasn't an owl. We'd
+better investigate."
+
+"Yes--I think we had better. But you don't know what hellish sounds some
+of these swamp-creatures can make. We'll all be laughing in a minute."
+
+His tone was rather ragged, for all his reassuring words, and we knew he
+was as shaken as the rest of us. A door opened into the hall--evidently
+some of the other guests were already seeking the explanation of that
+fearful sound.
+
+It seemed to all of us that hardly an instant had elapsed since the
+sound. Indeed it still rang in our ears. All that had been said had
+scarcely taken a breath. We rushed out, seemingly at once, into the
+velvet darkness. The moon was incredibly vivid in the sky.
+
+We passed into a rose-garden, under great, arching trees, and now we
+could see the silver glint of the moon on the lagoon. The tide was
+going out and the waters lay like glass.
+
+Through the rifts in the trees we could see further--the stretching
+sands, gray in the moonlight, the blue-black mysterious seas beyond.
+What forms the crags took, in that eerie light! There was little of
+reality left about them.
+
+We heard some one pushing through the shrubbery ahead of us, and he
+stopped for us to come up. I recognized the dark beard and mustache of
+Pescini. "What was it?" he asked. Excitement had brought out a
+deep-buried accent, native to some South European land. "Was it further
+on?"
+
+"I think so," Nealman answered. "Down by the lagoon."
+
+He joined us, and we pushed on, but we spread out as we neared the shore
+of the lagoon. Some one's shadow whipped by me, and I turned to find
+Major Dell.
+
+The man was severely shaken. "My God, wasn't that awful!" he exclaimed.
+"Who is it--you, Killdare?" He stared into my face, and his own looked
+white and masque-like in the moonlight. Then all of us began to search,
+up and down the shore of the lagoon.
+
+In the moonlight our shadows leaped, met one another, blended and raced
+away; and our voices rang strangely as we called back and forth. But
+the search was not long. Van Hope suddenly exclaimed sharply--an audible
+inhalation of breath, rather than an oath--and we saw him bending over,
+only his head and shoulders revealed in the moonlight. He stood just
+beside the craggy margin of the lagoon.
+
+"What is it?" some one asked him, out of the gloom.
+
+"Come here and see," Van Hope replied--rather quietly, I thought. In a
+moment we had formed a little circle.
+
+A dead man lay at our feet, mostly obscured in the shadow of the crags
+of the lagoon. We simply stood in silence, looking down. We knew that he
+was dead just as surely as we knew that we ourselves were living men. It
+was not that the light was good; that there was scarcely any light at
+all. We knew it, I suppose, from the huddled position of his form.
+
+Joe Nopp scratched a match. He held it perfectly steadily. The first
+thing it showed to me was a gray face and gray hair, and a stain that
+was not gray, but rather ominously dark, on the torn, white front of the
+man's evening shirt. Nealman peered closely.
+
+"It's my butler, Florey," he said.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+There was nothing in particular to say or do. We simply stood looking
+down, that huddled body from which life had been struck as if by a
+meteor, in the center. From time to time we looked up from it to stare
+out over the ensilvered waters of the lagoon.
+
+We all shared this same inclination--to look away into the misty
+distance, past the lagoon, past the gray shore, into the sea so
+mysterious and still. The tide was running out now, so there was no
+tumult of breaking waves on the Bridge. At intervals, and at a great
+distance, we could hear the high-pitched shriek of plover.
+
+Of course the mood lasted just an instant. It was as if we had all been
+stricken silent and lifeless, unable to speak, unable to act, with only
+the power left to look and to wonder and to dream. I suppose the finding
+of that huddled body, under those conditions, was a severe nervous shock
+to us all. Joe Nopp, he of the true eye and the steady nerve, was the
+first to get back on an every-day footing with life.
+
+"It's a fiendish crime," he said in the stillness. He spoke rather
+slowly, without particular emphasis. "Of all the people to murder--that
+gray, inoffensive little butler of yours! Nealman, let's get busy. Maybe
+we can catch the devil yet."
+
+Nealman came to himself with a start. "Sure, Joe. Tell us what to do. We
+need a directing head at a time like this."
+
+Nealman had dropped his accent. He spoke tersely, more like a man in the
+street than the aristocrat he had come to believe himself to be.
+
+"The first thing is to get word into town--Ochakee, you call it. Get
+hold of the constable, or any other authority, and tell him to notify
+the sheriff."
+
+"Ochakee's the county seat--we can reach the sheriff himself."
+
+"Good. Tell him to take steps to guard all roads for suspicious
+characters. Get out posses, if they would help. Get the coroner and all
+the official help we can get out here." He turned to me, with a
+whip-like, emphatic movement. "Killdare, you might help us here. You
+likely know the roads. Tell us what to do."
+
+"You've said what to do," I told him. "There's not enough white men in
+this part of the country to make a posse--and a posse couldn't find any
+one that wanted to hide in the cypress swamps. The thing to do--is to
+cut off the murderer's escape and starve him out. Nealman, isn't yours
+the only road----"
+
+"As far as I know----"
+
+"The marshes are almost impassible to the left, and on the other side is
+the river. If we can keep him from getting as far as Nixon's----"
+
+"Who's Nixon----"
+
+"Next planter up the road, five miles up. Get a phone to him right away.
+Young Nixon will watch all night and stop any one who tries to pass. The
+sheriff can put a man there to-morrow. Let's find a phone."
+
+Hal Fargo, seemingly as cold as a blade, started to bend over the body
+for further examination of the wound, but two of the men caught his arm.
+
+"Don't touch him, Hal," Major Dell advised, quietly. "The less we track
+up the spot and muss things up the better. The detective'll have a
+better chance for thumb prints, and things like that."
+
+"You're right, Dell," the man agreed. "And now let's get to a phone."
+
+"Good." It was Joe Nopp's cool, self-reliant voice again. "In the
+meantime, have any of you got a gun?"
+
+Lemuel Marten alone responded--he carried a little automatic pistol in
+the pocket of his dinner coat. "Here," he said. He drew the thing out,
+and it made blue fire in the moonlight in his hand.
+
+"Then, Marten, you head a hunt through these grounds. The murderer might
+still be hiding in the shrubbery. Stop every one--shoot 'em if they
+don't stop. Now Nealman, Van Hope, Killdare--where's the phone?"
+
+Nopp, Nealman, and myself started for the house; Fargo, Major Dell, and
+Pescini and Van Hope followed Marten into the more shadowed parts of the
+gardens and lawns. Before ever we reached the house we heard their
+excited shouts but we paused only an instant. "They can handle him if
+they've got him," Nopp said. "We'd better go and do our work."
+
+We divided in the hall. Nopp and I went to the phone, Nealman and Van
+Hope, at Nopp's suggestion, to round up all the servants. "Keep 'em in
+one room, and watch 'em," Nopp advised. "We'll like enough find the
+murderer among them--some domestic jealousy, or something like that.
+Don't give any of 'em a chance to get away or to destroy evidence."
+
+I telephoned to Nixon's first. The sleepy, country Central rang long and
+often, and at last a drowsy voice answered the ring.
+
+"This Charley Nixon?" I asked.
+
+"Yes." He awakened vividly at the sound of his own name.
+
+"This is Ned Killdare--I met you on the way out. I'm at
+Nealman's--Kastle Krags. A man has been murdered here, just a few
+minutes ago! I want you to watch the road with your dogs--that strip
+between the river and marsh, and not let any one go through from this
+way. Can you handle it?"
+
+Charley Nixon had borne arms in France, his father had ridden with the
+Clansmen of long ago, and his answer was clear and unhesitating over the
+wire. "Any one who tries to get by me will be S. O. L.," he said.
+
+A moment later I reached the coroner at Ochakee. He promised he could
+start for the scene at once, in his car, bringing the sheriff or his
+deputy, and that he would take all the precautions he could to cut off
+the murderer's escape. Then Nopp and I returned to the living-room.
+
+It was an unforgettable picture--that scene in the big living-room where
+Nealman's guests had been so merry a few minutes before. A bottle of
+whiskey still stood on the table in the center, half-filled glasses,
+in which the ice had not yet melted, stood beside it and on the
+window-sills and smoking stands. Little, unwavering filaments of blue
+smoke streamed up from half-burned cigarettes. In the places of the
+revelers stood a group of sobbing, terrified negroes.
+
+We were not native southerners, accustomed to seeing the black people in
+their paroxysms of fear, and the sight went straight home to all of us.
+These were the "cotton field niggers" of which old-time planters speak,
+slaves to the blackest superstitions that ever cursed the tribes of the
+Congo, and the night's crime had gone hard with them. Their faces were
+gray, rather than black, the whites of their eyes were plainly visible,
+and they made a confused babble of sound. The women, particularly, were
+sobbing and praying alternately; most of the men were either stuttering
+or apoplectic with sheer terror. Some of them cowered, shrieking, as we
+opened the door.
+
+"Shut up that noise," Nopp demanded. A dead silence followed his words.
+"No one is going to hurt you as long as you stay in here and shut up.
+Where's the boss."
+
+One of them pointed, rather feebly, to the next room. And I took the
+instant's interval to reach the side of some one that sat, alone and
+silent, in a big chair in the chimney-corner.
+
+It was Edith Nealman, and she had been rounded up with the rest of the
+house employees. Her bare feet were in slippers, and she wore a long
+dressing-gown over her night-dress. Her hair hung in two golden braids
+over her shoulders.
+
+I was glad to see that the terror of the blacks had not passed, in the
+least degree, to her. Of course she was pale and shaken, her eyes were
+wide, but her voice when she spoke was subdued and calm, and there was
+not the slightest trace of hysteria about her. "It's a dreadful thing,
+isn't it?" she said. "Poor little Florey--who'd want to murder him!"
+
+"Nobody knows--but we're going to get him, anyway," I promised rashly.
+And what transpired thereafter did not come out in the inquest.
+
+It was only a little thing, but it meant teeming worlds to me. One of
+her hands groped out to mine, and I pressed it in reassurance.
+
+Besides the native southern blacks that acted as gardeners and
+chambermaids and table hands about the place, Nealman had rounded up his
+mulatto chauffeur. Mrs. Gentry, his white housekeeper, sat a little to
+one side of the group of negroes.
+
+In a moment Nealman and Van Hope rejoined us, and we turned once more
+through the still hall that had been Florey's particular domain. An
+instant later we were out on the moonlit driveway.
+
+"I wonder if those birds will have sense enough to stay away from the
+body," Nopp said gruffly. "It would be easy to mess up and destroy every
+bit of evidence----"
+
+"Major Dell warned them," I said. "I think they'll remember."
+
+"Nevertheless, I think we'd better post a guard over it." He paused,
+eyeing an approaching figure. It was Marten, and he was almost out of
+breath.
+
+"Any luck?" Nealman asked.
+
+"Nothing." Marten paused, fighting for breath. "Something stirred over
+in the thicket--we chased it down and tried to round it up. I guess it
+wasn't anything--certainly if it had been a man we'd scared it out. Have
+you a dog?"
+
+"Haven't shipped my dogs down here yet, but coons and such things come
+out of the woods every once in a while. Where are your men----"
+
+"They'll round up here in a minute. We've been beating through the
+grounds."
+
+In a moment Major Dell and Fargo approached us from opposite sides of
+the garden, and once more we headed down toward the lagoon. A voice
+called after us, and Pescini caught up.
+
+"No trace of anything?" he asked.
+
+"Not a trace," some one replied.
+
+We walked with ever-decreasing pace, a rather uncertain group, down
+toward the crags of the shore. All of us, I think, were busy with our
+own thoughts. All of us paused, at last, forty yards from the scene of
+the tragedy.
+
+"There's really nothing further we can do," Nopp said. "If the murderer
+is among the servants we've got him--you found 'em all, didn't you,
+Nealman?"
+
+"All of 'em. No suspicious circumstances."
+
+"Good. If he is some outsider, we'll round him up. I rather think the
+former--it's too early to make a guess. But I think we'd better appoint
+a guard over the body--to keep any curious persons from coming near and
+tramping out footprints, and so on. There's apt to be a crowd of the
+curious here to-morrow."
+
+All of us nodded. Lemuel Marten whispered an oath.
+
+Nopp turned to him. "Would you mind taking that post to-night, Marten?"
+he asked. Because he already knew the man's answer, he turned to us.
+"Lem's the best man for the post," he explained. "You chaps know we'll
+all have to give an account of our actions to-night. It's customary at
+such times. And you know that Lem was busy singing his pirate song when
+the thing occurred."
+
+"That's an unnecessary point, Joe," Marten answered. "None of us will be
+in the least suspected. This poor chap--that none of us knew. However,
+I'll gladly enough act as guard."
+
+"You've still got your gun?"
+
+"I made Pescini carry it. He's a shot."
+
+Pescini handed him back the weapon, and Marten walked on across the lawn
+to his post. The rest of us waited an instant in the road, talking
+quietly to one another, and two or three of the men were getting out
+their cigarettes. It was our first breathing-spell. Then we started
+slowly back toward the house.
+
+But we halted at the sound of Marten's voice. "Wait a minute, will you?"
+he called.
+
+It is hard to explain why we all stopped in our tracks. Van Hope, whom I
+had never suspected of nerves, let his cigarette fall to the ground, a
+red streak. The voice out of the gloom was wholly quiet, subdued,
+perfectly calm, seemingly nothing to waken alarm or even especial
+interest. Perhaps what held us and startled us was the realization of an
+effort of will behind those commonplace, unruffled tones.
+
+"What is it, Lem?" Nopp asked.
+
+There was an instant's interval of unfathomable silence. "I wish you'd
+come here," Marten replied. "I'm a little balled up--as to where I am.
+These trees and shrubs are so near alike. I can't exactly find--the
+place."
+
+Nopp did get there, but he didn't go alone. All of us turned,
+half-running. And for a vague, bewildered, half-remembered moment we
+searched frantically up and down the craggy shore of the lagoon.
+
+Then in the moonlight I saw Nopp and Nealman come together, and Nopp
+seized the other's arms.
+
+"My God, Grover!" he said hoarsely. "The body has disappeared!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+There was no further possibility of a mistake. Marten's inability to
+find the body could not be further attributed to a mere confusion as to
+its correct location. In the few minutes we had been phoning and while
+the remainder of the guests had been searching for the murderer, the
+body of the murdered man had vanished from the shore of the lagoon. Nor
+had any mysterious over-sweeping of the water carried it away. We found,
+easily enough, the place where it had lain, and we knew it by the
+crushed vegetation and an ominous stain on the earth.
+
+For a moment we all stood speechless, almost motionless, gazing down on
+the place where the body had been. The guest's faces all looked oddly
+white in the moonlight. Then I heard Nealman and Nopp talking in a
+subdued voice at my side.
+
+"You see what it means," Nealman said. "The murderer came back to the
+body--that's the only explanation! That means he's still on the
+grounds--perhaps within a few hundred yards."
+
+"But what did he do with the thing? I wish I did know what it meant. It
+makes no sense. But there's nothing we can do----"
+
+His words blurred in my consciousness, and I suddenly ceased to hear
+him. The reason was simply that my own thoughts were now too busy to
+admit external impressions. If there was one thing needed in this affair
+it was careful investigation and research--the very key and basis of my
+own life's work. I was a scientist--at least I had gone a distance into
+scientific work--and scientific methods were needed now. Why shouldn't I
+direct the same method that made me a successful naturalist into the
+unraveling of this mystery?
+
+Science has explored the lightless mysteries of the deep, has measured
+the stars and traced the comets through the heavens: there was no cause
+to believe it couldn't conquer now. I was of a branch of science that
+mainly studied externals, my methods were simply accurate observation,
+tireless investigation, and logical deduction--the methods of all
+naturalists the world over; and they were just what was needed here.
+
+Presently I forgot the shaken men about me and began really to observe.
+First, I tried to fix in my mind the exact way the body had lain. It had
+been curiously huddled, lying rather on the right side--and the torn,
+stained shirt-front had been plainly visible. Its location was not far
+above high-tide mark, at the edge of the lawns--and because the craggy
+margin of the lagoon was rather precipitous at that place, not more than
+twenty feet from the water's edge at low tide.
+
+It was impossible even to hazard a guess what kind of a weapon had
+inflicted the death wound. But it had not been a clean, stabbing wound
+to the heart. The wound itself must have been a long gash downward along
+the breast, for the shirt and waistcoat had been curiously ripped and
+torn. And possibly the weapon might be found in the grass where the body
+had lain.
+
+I quietly moved back and forth among the group of men, searching for the
+gleam of moonlight upon a knife blade. It didn't reveal itself, however,
+and there seemed no course but to wait for daylight. But as I was about
+to give up the search my eye caught the glimpse of something white,
+half-hidden in the grass in the direction of the house.
+
+I quietly picked it up, saw that it was a folded piece of heavy paper or
+parchment, and slipped it into my pocket. Then I rejoined the little
+crowd of guests.
+
+"Good Lord, what can we do...?" Pescini was saying excitedly. "The lake
+can't be dragged until to-morrow. There's no use to post guards around
+this big house--the thickets are so heavy that any one could steal
+through almost any place. We've got the road guarded--and the officers
+won't come till to-morrow. It's true that a couple of us could stand
+guard here----"
+
+"I don't see what good it would do," Nopp replied. "The murderer would
+have no cause to come back again. I suggest we go to the house and get
+what rest we can. We may have to make some posses in the morning."
+
+In the privacy of my own room I took from my pocket the paper I had
+found. It proved to be of heavy parchment, whitened by time; and I felt
+at once I was running on a true scent.
+
+There could be little doubt as to the age of the document. The ink was
+fading, the handwriting itself was in the style of long ago. The fact
+that the script was scratchy and uncertain, indicated that a man of
+meager education had written it. It was, however, perfectly legible. I
+judged that the date of the missive was at least ten or twenty years
+prior to the civil war.
+
+Across the top of the page were written the words, referring evidently
+to the script beneath, "Sworn by the Book." At the very bottom was the
+cryptic phrase "int F. T." And the following, mysterious column lay
+between:
+
+     aned
+     dqbo
+     aqcd
+     trkm
+     fipj
+     dqbo
+     scno
+     ohuy
+     wvyn
+     dljn
+     dtht
+
+Of course no kind of an explanation presented itself at first. I took it
+to a mirror, tried to read it backward, then sat down to give it a
+careful analysis.
+
+I copied the column carefully, then tried to rearrange the letters to
+make sense. But no such simple treatment was availing. The fourth,
+ninth, tenth, and last words, for instance, were made up entirely of
+consonants, and no word of any language, known to me, entirely omits
+vowels. Four of the remaining seven words contained but one vowel.
+
+But I was in no mood to go further to-night. The events of the past few
+hours had been a mighty strain on the entire nervous system, and my mind
+could not cope with the problem. I spread the original parchment on the
+little table in the center of the room, then quickly undressed, turned
+out my lights, and went to bed.
+
+Sleep came at once, heavy and dreamless. I barely remember the welcome
+chill that the pre-dawn hours brought to the room. But it wasn't written
+that there should be many hours of refreshing sleep for me that night.
+
+In hardly a moment, it seemed to me, I came to myself with a start.
+Wakefulness shot through me as if by an electric shock. It was that
+fast-flying hour just before dawn: the cool caress of the wind against
+my face and the pale-blue quality of the darkness on the window-pane
+told that fact with entire plainness. It had been wakened by a hushed
+sound from across the room.
+
+It was useless to try to tell myself that the sound was a dream only, an
+imagined voice that had no basis in reality. For all that it was
+subdued, the sound was entirely sharp and clear, impossible to mistake.
+And instantly I knew its source.
+
+Some one had opened my door. There was no other possible explanation.
+Nor had it been merely the harmless mistake of one of the guests,
+confusing my room with his own. I heard the door open, but I did not
+hear it close. Nor did I hear departing steps along the corridor.
+
+My nightly visitor had come in stealth, and there was nothing to believe
+but at that instant he was waiting in the darkness on the other side of
+the room.
+
+It isn't easy to decide what to do at a time like this. I was perfectly
+willing to simulate slumber if by so doing I could increase my own
+safety. Florey's affair was still fresh in my mind. A cruel and
+cold-blooded murder had been committed at Kastle Krags earlier this
+same night: this tip-toeing visitor in my room was in all likelihood a
+desperate man, willing to repeat his crime if his own safety demanded
+it. My possessions were few: it was better to let them go than take such
+a risk.
+
+Yet a wiser, saner self told me that this was no business of thievery.
+The thing went deeper, further than I could see or guess. I lay
+listening: from time to time I could hear the boards settle beneath his
+feet. Evidently he was groping about the darkened room, in search of
+something.... Then a faint jar told me that his hand was on the iron
+railing of my bed.
+
+It wasn't a reassuring thought that he had been groping about the room
+solely to find my bed. My muscles set for a desperate leap in case I
+felt him groping nearer.... There was a long, ominous instant of
+silence. Then a little triangle of light danced out over my table-top.
+
+It was a ray from a flashlight, and it came and went so soon that there
+was no chance to make accurate observation. I did, however, see just the
+edge of his hand as he reached for something on the flat surface of the
+table. It was a white, strong hand--long, sensitive fingers--evidently
+the hand of a well-bred, middle-aged man.
+
+The light flashed out. Steps sounded softly on the floor. Then my door
+closed with a slight shock.
+
+There is no use trying to justify my inactivity during his presence in
+the room. At such times a man is guided by instinct--and my instinct had
+been to lie still and let him do his work. The action might condemn me
+in some eyes, but I felt no shame for it. And as soon as the door closed
+I sprang to the floor.
+
+Groping, I found the light, and the white beams flooded the room.
+Presently I opened the door and gazed down the gloomy hall.
+
+It was still as a tomb. There were a dozen doors along it, and any one
+of them might have closed behind the intruder. It was the hall of a
+well-ordered country manor, rather commonplace in the subdued light of a
+single globe that burned over the stairway. The opportunity to overtake
+the intruder was irredeemably past.
+
+It wasn't hard to tell what had been taken. The sheet of parchment, on
+which was written the mysterious cryptogram, was gone from the table.
+The only satisfaction I had was that the thief had failed to see and
+procure the copy of the document I had made just before retiring.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+The sheriff and the coroner arrived from Ochakee in a roadster soon
+after dawn. All of us felt relieved at their coming: they represented
+the best and most intelligent type of southern citizenry. Sheriff
+Slatterly was scarcely older than I was, and had been given his office
+for meritorious services in the late war. He was a broad-shouldered
+large-headed man, with keen, good-natured eyes, a firm mouth, and rather
+prominent chin. We scraped up an acquaintance at once on the strength of
+our Legion buttons.
+
+"I'm glad theya's a suvice man heah," he confessed to me. "It's sho' a
+mess of a case--and my deputy is busy. I've neveh wo'ked among these
+millionaih Yankee spo'ts befo', but I suppose they ah all right. Now
+tell me what you think of it all."
+
+"I don't think," I confessed. "It doesn't make good sense."
+
+He asked me questions in the vernacular of the South, and I answered
+them the best I could. Then he introduced me to the coroner.
+
+Mr. Weldon was a man of about forty years, intelligent, forceful, not
+in the least the mournful type so often seen among undertakers. He was
+rather careless in speech, but I did not ascribe it to lack of
+education. He had rather a Semitic countenance, and a very deep, manly
+voice.
+
+"Of course the first thing is to drag the lagoon," he said. "We've got
+to have a body before we can hold anything but a semblance of an
+inquest--and of course thet's where the body is. It couldn't be
+nowhere's else."
+
+All of us agreed with him. There was simply nothing else to do. The body
+had lain but thirty feet from the water's edge: it was conceivable that
+for some mysterious reason the murderer had seen fit to return and drag
+his dead into the water. The idea of him carrying it in any other
+direction was incredible.
+
+While we waited for drag hooks to be sent out from town the sheriff made
+a minute examination of the scene of the crime. He searched the ground
+for clews; and it seemed to me the little puzzled line between his brows
+deepened with every moment of the search. He stood up at last, breathing
+hard.
+
+"The murderer made a clean get away, that's certain," he observed. "It
+isn't often a man can commit a crime like this and not leave a few
+trails. I can't find a trace or a button. And if he left any tracks they
+are mixed up with those you gentlemen made last night."
+
+He went carefully over the rocks between the place where the body had
+lain and the water; but there was little for him here. Once or twice he
+paused, studying the rocks with a careful scrutiny, but he did not tell
+us what he found.
+
+About ten the drag-hooks came, and I helped Nealman bring his duckboat
+from the marshy end of the lagoon. Then the sheriff, the coroner and
+myself began the slow, tiresome work of dragging.
+
+Of course we began along the shore, close to the scene of the crime. We
+worked from the natural wall and back to a point a hundred yards beyond
+the starting-place. Then we turned back, just the width of the drag
+hooks beyond. We reached the Bridge again without result.
+
+As the moments passed the coroner's annoyance increased. Noon came and
+passed--already we had dragged carefully a spot a full hundred square
+yards in extent. The tide flowed again, beat against the Bridge and
+fretted the water, making our work increasingly difficult. And at last
+the sheriff rested, cursing softly, on his oars.
+
+"Well, Weldon?" he asked.
+
+The coroner's eyes looked rather bright as he turned to answer him. I
+got the impression that for all his outer complacency he was secretly
+excited. "Nothing, Slatterly," he said. "What do you think yourself?"
+
+"I think we're face to face with the worst deal, the biggest mystery
+that's come our way in years. In the first place, there isn't any use of
+looking and dragging any more."
+
+"But man, the body's got to be here somewhere."
+
+"Got, nothing! We've got to begin again, and not take anything for
+granted. This is still water, except for these waves the tide makes,
+breaking over the rocks--and you know a body doesn't move much in still
+water, especially the first night. For that matter the place was still
+as a slough, they say, while the tide was going out--most of the night.
+We've looked for a hundred yards about the spot. It's not there. And the
+murderer couldn't swim with it clear across the lagoon."
+
+"He might, a strong swimmer."
+
+"But what's the sense of it? Besides, a dead body ain't easy to manage.
+The thing to do is to search Florey's rooms for any evidence, then to
+get all the niggers and the white folks as well and have an unofficial
+inquest. Then we might see where we're at."
+
+"Good." The coroner turned to me. "Is there any use of hunting up Mr.
+Nealman to show us Florey's room?" he asked. "Can't you take us up
+there?"
+
+I was glad enough of the chance to be on hand for that search, so I
+didn't hesitate to answer. "You are the law. You can go where you
+like--wherever you think best."
+
+We went together up the stairs to Florey's room. There was not the least
+sign that tragedy had overtaken its occupant. It was scrupulously kept:
+David Florey must have been the neatest of men. The search, however, was
+largely unavailing.
+
+In a little desk at one corner we found a number of papers and letters.
+Some of them pertained to household matters, there was a note from some
+friend in Charleston, a folder issued by a steamship plying out of
+Tampa, and a letter from Mrs. Noyes, of New Hampshire, who seemed to be
+the dead man's sister. At least the salutation was "Dear Brother Dave,"
+and the letter itself dealt with the fortunes of common relatives. Then
+there were a few short letters from one who signed himself "George."
+
+There was nothing of particular interest. Mostly they were
+notifications of arrivals and departures in various cities, and they
+seemed to concern various business ventures. "I've got a good lead," one
+of them said, "but it may turn out like the rest." "Things are
+brightening up," another went. "I believe I see a rift in the clouds."
+
+"George" was unquestionably a traveler. One of the notes had been
+written from Washington, D. C., one from Tampa, the third from some
+obscure port in Brazil. They were written in a rather bold, rugged, but
+not unattractive hand.
+
+The only document that gave any kind of a key to the mystery was a
+half-finished letter that protruded beneath the blotter pad on his desk.
+It was addressed "My dear Sister," and was undoubtedly in answer to the
+"Mrs. Noyes" letter. The sheriff read it aloud:
+
+     My dear Sister:
+
+     I got the place here and like it very much. Mr. Nealman is a
+     fine man to work for. I get on with my work very well. The
+     house is located on a lagoon, cut off from the open sea by a
+     natural rock wall--a very lovely place.
+
+     But you will be sorry to hear that my old malady, g----, is
+     troubling me again. I don't think I will ever be rid of it.
+     It is certainly the Florey burden, going through all our
+     family. I can't hardly sleep, and don't know that I'll ever
+     get rid of it, short of death. I'm deeply discouraged, yet I
+     know----
+
+At that point the letter ended. The sheriff's voice died away so slowly
+and tonelessly that it gave almost the effect of a start. Then he laid
+the letter on the desk and smoothed it out with his hands.
+
+"Weldon?" he asked jerkily. "Do you s'pose we've got off on the wrong
+foot, altogether?"
+
+"What d'ye mean?"
+
+"Do you suppose that poor devil did himself in? At least we've got a
+motive for suicide, and a good one--and there's none whatever for
+murder. You know what old Bampus used to say--find the motive first."
+
+"Of course you mean the disease he writes of. Why didn't he spell it
+out."
+
+"He was likely just given to abbreviations. Lots of men are. The word
+might have been a long one, and hard to spell."
+
+"Most invalids, I've noticed, rejoice in the long names of their
+diseases!"
+
+"Not a bad remark, from an undertaker. I suppose you mean they get your
+hopes all aroused by their diseases when they ain't got 'em, you old
+buzzard. But seriously, Weldon. He writes here that his old malady has
+come back on him, some disease that runs through his family--that he's
+discouraged, that he doesn't think he'll ever be rid of it. You know
+that ill-health is the greatest cause for suicide--that more men blow
+out their own brains because they are incurably sick than for any other
+reason. He says he can't sleep. And what leads to suicide faster than
+that!"
+
+"All true enough. But it don't hold water. Where's the knife? What
+became of the body? Suicides don't eat the knife that killed them, lay
+dead, and then crawl away. You'll have to do better."
+
+"He might not have been quite dead. Even doctors have been deceived
+before now, and crawled into the water to end his own misery. You can
+bet I'm going to keep the matter in mind."
+
+And it was a curious thing that this little handful of letters also set
+me off on a new tack. A possibility so bizarre and so terrible that it
+seemed almost beyond the pale of credibility flashed to my mind. I
+watched my chance, and slipped one of the "George" letters into my
+pocket.
+
+The idea I had was vague, not overly convincing, and it left a great
+part of the mystery still unsolved--but yet it was a clew. I waited
+impatiently until the search was concluded. Then I sought the telephone.
+
+A few minutes later a telegraphic message was clicking over the wires to
+Mrs. Noyes, in New Hampshire, notifying her of her brother's murder and
+disappearance, and asking a certain question. There was nothing to do
+but wait patiently for the answer.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+In midafternoon the coroner called all the occupants of the manor house
+together in the big living-room. He had us draw chairs to make a half
+circle about him, and the sheriff took a chair at his side. He began at
+once upon a patient, systematic questioning of every one present.
+
+None of us could read the thoughts behind his rather swarthy face. His
+coal-black eyes were alike unfathomable: whether he believed that the
+murderer was then sitting in our circle we could not guess. "Of course
+this is not an official inquest," he told us. "The real inquest can't
+be held until there is a body to hold it over. I'm doing this in
+co-operation with the sheriff. And of course I needn't tell you that all
+of you are held here, with orders not to leave the immediate grounds,
+until a formal inquest can be held."
+
+"But what if you never find the body?" Marten asked. "Some of us--can't
+stay forever."
+
+"The law takes heed of no man's business," the coroner answered,
+somewhat sternly. "However, I'll have counsel from the state in a few
+days, and then we can tell what to do. The district attorney will be
+here just as soon as his work will permit."
+
+He called Nealman first. Except for a strange and startling deepening of
+the worry-line between his brows I would have thought that he was wholly
+unshaken. Weldon asked his name, place of birth, thirdly his occupation.
+
+"I can't hardly say--I'm interested in finance," Nealman said in reply
+to the third question.
+
+"And how long have you occupied this house?"
+
+"Less than a month. I bought it last winter, but it has been under the
+charge of--of a caretaker until that time."
+
+"Who was the caretaker?"
+
+Nealman's voice fell a note. "Florey--the man murdered last night."
+
+"Ah." The coroner paused an instant, as if deep in thought. "And how did
+he happen to come into your employ?"
+
+"He was employed at this house by its previous owner, just a few days or
+weeks before I purchased it. He asked for work here when I came to take
+possession. He was an experienced butler, he said."
+
+"Then that's all you know about the dead man?"
+
+"Absolutely all."
+
+"His full name?"
+
+"I made out his check to David Florey. I assumed he was an Englishman."
+
+"You didn't know that, for sure?"
+
+"No." Nealman hesitated, as if secretly startled. "I really didn't know
+it, when I come to think about it. I always assumed that he was."
+
+"He was a good servant?"
+
+"Excellent. I can go further. The best, most conscientious butler I ever
+had."
+
+"Did you ever get the idea he had any enemies?"
+
+"No. He seemed the most peaceable of men."
+
+"None of the other servants were jealous of him?"
+
+"On the contrary, they seemed to like him very much."
+
+"He stayed close to his work?"
+
+"He scarcely ever went to town. Once or twice he asked me for permission
+to go with my chauffeur--for a hair cut, and so on."
+
+"What did you observe about his health? Did it seem to be good?"
+
+"It seemed so. Very good."
+
+The coroner's interest quickened. "You weren't aware, then, that he had
+an incurable malady?"
+
+"No. And I don't think he had. At least I never saw the least sign of
+it. None of the other servants ever mentioned it."
+
+"Did he look like a man in good health?"
+
+"He was rather gray--from his indoor life, I suppose. But he never
+looked sick to me."
+
+"You think he was murdered, then?"
+
+"Good Heavens, I don't see how we can think anything else!"
+
+"You can ascribe no reason for his murder."
+
+"Absolutely none."
+
+"You can't, eh." The coroner paused, several seconds. "To come back to
+yourself. You were here less than a month. May I ask what was your idea
+in buying this manor house?"
+
+"I hardly understand----"
+
+"What did you get it for, a home?"
+
+"I can't hardly say a home. I got it more for a winter shooting and
+fishing lodge. My home is on the Hudson. I'm very fond of fishing and
+shooting. I loved the place on sight."
+
+"I take it, then, that you are a man of large financial means--able to
+indulge your whims even to the extent of buying a shooting and fishing
+lodge such as this?"
+
+Nealman stiffened slightly. "I don't see how that point can possibly
+have any bearing on this case."
+
+"The merest detail of the lives of any one of the actors involved often
+throws light upon a crime." The coroner spoke slowly, seemingly choosing
+his words with care.
+
+"I am not a man of great wealth, if that's what you want to know,"
+Nealman answered at last. "I feel--I felt able at the time to buy this
+house."
+
+"No great financial disaster has overtaken you since, I judge?"
+
+Nealman's voice dropped a tone, and he spoke with a curious hesitancy.
+"No. I shouldn't say that there had."
+
+The coroner halted, gazing absently at the carpet, and then began on a
+new tack. "This butler of yours--I suppose you paid him a good wage?"
+
+"It would be considered so, among the men of his occupation."
+
+"Do you know if he had any large amount of money saved, or if he carried
+any large amount on his person?"
+
+"Not that I know of. He was very non-committal about his affairs."
+
+"He was a good butler," the coroner commented.
+
+"Yes. Excellent. If you mean, did he carry enough money on his person to
+invite robbery, I should say that I don't think he did. Of course I
+don't know for certain. However, I know that he had banking connections
+in Ochakee."
+
+"What of your other employees. Do you know anything about them?"
+
+"They all came recommended. I know nothing further except, of course, in
+regard to my housekeeper and chauffeur."
+
+"Your chauffeur is a colored man?"
+
+"Yes. He has been with me for four years. A man of good character and
+habits."
+
+"Do you know where he was at the time of the murder?"
+
+"I do not."
+
+"Your housekeeper--she has been in your employ a long time, also?"
+
+"About two years."
+
+"Was she well known to the murdered man?"
+
+"Her acquaintance began with him at the same time as my own--less than a
+month ago."
+
+"How old is this lady?"
+
+"She sits in the circle. You can ask her if you like. I have never put
+the question to her."
+
+Every one smiled at this sally. The housekeeper, a buxom woman of fifty
+years, flushed and giggled alternately.
+
+"Where were your other servants at the time of the murder?"
+
+"I suppose most of them were in bed. Sam, the negro boy, was in the
+kitchen, helping me to serve my guests."
+
+"Then David Florey was not on duty that night?"
+
+"I didn't watch Mr. Florey closely, Mr. Weldon. He was the kind of
+servant that didn't seem to require watching. He helped me serve some
+cold drinks immediately after dinner. I didn't see him again."
+
+"You don't know at what hour he ventured out into the lawns?"
+
+"I do not. I was under the impression that he was in the pantry or hall
+for several hours after dinner. I can not say definitely."
+
+"And now will you describe the crime--that is, what you yourself heard
+and saw?"
+
+"Beginning where?"
+
+"At the beginning. Where you were, who was with you, and all you can
+tell me."
+
+"I was in this room. I don't know the exact time--it must have been
+close to midnight. My guests were here with me."
+
+"All of them?"
+
+Nealman paused, seemingly considerably disturbed. "I can't say that all
+of them were in my immediate sight," he replied at last. "My guests were
+free of the house--some of them were at the billiard tables, others in
+the library, and so on. I can say definitely that Mr. Marten, Mr. Van
+Hope, and Mr. Killdare were in the room. Mr. Pescini was with us until
+just before we heard the sound."
+
+"How long before?"
+
+"I can't say for certain. It didn't seem to me more than a minute or
+two."
+
+"You don't know where the others were?"
+
+"Not exactly. I had left Mr. Fargo in the billiard room a moment before.
+Major Dell and Mr. Nopp had been talking on the veranda."
+
+"None of these men indicated any previous acquaintance with the butler?"
+
+"None whatever. They were all northern men, from my own part of the
+country."
+
+"All of them were your friends?"
+
+"Yes." His face changed expression, ever so little. "Yes, of course."
+
+"You four men were in the lounging-room--and you heard a certain sound.
+Will you describe the sound?"
+
+"It was a scream--I can't describe it any further."
+
+"Rather a long-drawn scream, or just a sharp utterance?"
+
+"I would say it was rather long--and very loud."
+
+"You knew at once it was the scream of a man?"
+
+"I thought at first it might be some wild thing--perhaps a panther or a
+lynx--even a water bird."
+
+"Yet it must have been a very distressing sound, was it not? Would you
+say it was a cry of agony or of fear?"
+
+"Both. Yes--I would say it was a cry of both fear and agony."
+
+"Then what did you do? Tell exactly what happened."
+
+"We went out to investigate. My other guests ran out the same time."
+
+"You didn't see them run out?"
+
+"No, but I met most of them outside. At such times one doesn't observe
+closely. We ran down to the shore of the lagoon, at the place we've
+indicated to you, and there we found David Florey, lying dead. There
+was no one near, and no weapons were lying beside him--at least I didn't
+see any. He was lying on his side, and his vest and shirt were torn and
+wet with blood. Some of us went at once to telephone--Mr. Killdare, Mr.
+Van Hope, Mr. Nopp and myself. The others began to beat through the
+garden in search of the murderer."
+
+"No one stayed with the body?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You're perfectly certain Mr. Florey was dead, Mr. Nealman."
+
+"I didn't dream of anything else at the time, Mr. Weldon. He lay
+huddled, his face drawn, and certainly there was a terrible wound in his
+breast."
+
+"These men that hunted through the gardens and lawns. Were they armed?"
+
+"Mr. Marten had a pistol. The others were unarmed."
+
+"They stayed close together?"
+
+"I don't think they did. I can't say for sure."
+
+"Then what happened?"
+
+"We telephoned, met the searching party, and all of us went back to the
+body. It was gone."
+
+"No action or word of any of your guests wakened your suspicions?"
+
+"None whatever."
+
+"You suspect no one?"
+
+"No one. I am absolutely in the dark."
+
+"Remember, as the occupant of the house, you are in a better position to
+give us a right steer than any one else. I want you to think hard. You
+observed, at no time, any suspicious circumstances?"
+
+"None whatever." Nealman's voice was firm.
+
+"What weapon, would you say, inflicted the wound?"
+
+"I don't know. It wasn't a pistol, of course. We didn't hear a shot. We
+didn't examine the wound carefully, but I would say it was some metal
+instrument, not overly sharp. It might have been a dull knife."
+
+"Would a knife likely have torn the shirt and vest as you describe?"
+
+"It doesn't seem likely, unless the murderer gave a furious, downward
+stroke."
+
+The coroner paused again, and the room was utterly silent. "You have
+never heard any story, any legend--any set of facts connected with this
+house and its occupants that might explain the murder?"
+
+Nealman waited a long time before he answered. "None that are the least
+credible."
+
+"You've got something on your mind, Nealman. Credible or not, I want to
+hear it."
+
+"I can't bring myself to repeat such a silly story. All old houses have
+various legends. This particular legend is not worth hearing."
+
+"I'm sorry, Mr. Nealman, but I must be the judge of that. You have the
+same as admitted that the story has occurred to your mind. What was it,
+please?"
+
+Nealman's voice lowered perceptibly, and he answered with evident
+difficulty. "A silly thing about a buried treasure--and a sea-monster--a
+giant octopus or something like that--that had been set to guard it--in
+the lagoon."
+
+As we waited we heard the faint scream of the plover on the shore and
+the lapping waves of the tide. Most of the white men were smiling
+grimly--the negroes were gray as ashes.
+
+"You will admit that the tragedy of last night, the nature of the wound
+and the disappearance of the body, brought the legend forcibly to your
+memory?"
+
+"I couldn't help but remember it," Nealman answered. "But it's inane and
+silly--just the same."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+Nealman was of course the most important witness. Further testimony was
+really only in corroboration of his. The coroner called on Marten next.
+
+This man spoke bluntly, answering all questions in a vigorous, rather
+masterful voice. Financier, he said simply, in answer to the question as
+to his occupation.
+
+"You were with Mr. Nealman when you heard Florey's scream?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Who else was there?"
+
+"Mr. Van Hope and Mr. Killdare."
+
+"Do you know the exact location of any other of the guests at the time
+of the murder?"
+
+"No, not exactly. They were all in rooms adjoining the living-room."
+
+"You're sure of that?"
+
+"Practically sure. They came in and out every few minutes."
+
+"Did you have any previous acquaintance with the dead man?"
+
+"None whatever."
+
+In reply to the coroner's questions, he testified as to the finding of
+the body, the nature of the scream we had heard and gave a similar
+report as to the appearance of the wound. He had observed no suspicious
+actions on the part of any one.
+
+"You led the search, I believe, through the gardens?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You were the one man that was armed. May I ask how you happened to have
+a pistol in the pocket of dinner clothes?"
+
+"I was held up, once," Marten replied straightforwardly. "Several years
+ago. I've carried a pistol ever since."
+
+The coroner nodded. "Did your party stay together in searching the
+gardens, or did they scatter out?" he asked.
+
+"We scattered out. We couldn't have hoped to find any one if we had
+stayed together. We called back and forth, however."
+
+"You kept track of one another all the time?"
+
+"I can't say that. The gardens and grounds are large and full of
+shrubbery."
+
+"The search lasted--how long?"
+
+"Only a few minutes."
+
+The coroner dismissed him at this point, calling on Mr. Van Hope. The
+latter told of his long acquaintance with Nealman, and verified in every
+detail the story that his friend had told.
+
+"And where were you, Mr. Dell, when the scream was heard?" the coroner
+asked.
+
+"In the library," was the reply. Major Dell spoke evenly, but his keen,
+flushed face showed that he was taking the most keen and lively interest
+in the proceedings.
+
+"Why weren't you with the others in the party?"
+
+"We were all running all over the house. I was trying to find Mr.
+Nealman's copy of Jordan's work on fish. Fargo and I had got into an
+argument about black bass."
+
+"Mr. Fargo was not with you at the time?"
+
+"I was alone. I had left Mr. Fargo at the billiard table."
+
+Weldon's voice changed in tone. "And how did the argument come out, may
+I ask."
+
+Major Dell smiled dryly. "It isn't concluded yet," he said.
+
+The coroner paused, then took a new tack. "You heard the sound
+distinctly?"
+
+"Distinctly, but probably not so clearly as Mr. Nealman heard it. The
+library is back of the lounging-room."
+
+"Then what did you do?"
+
+"I ran outside. I joined Nealman and some of the other guests on the
+grounds, and went down with them to investigate."
+
+"You took part in the hunt through the grounds?"
+
+"Yes. I beat back and forth with the rest."
+
+"And saw or heard nothing suspicious?"
+
+"Something moved in the shrubbery, but we couldn't locate it. Nealman
+thought afterward it was a raccoon or some other small animal."
+
+"You knew Mr. Florey?"
+
+"I had never set eyes upon him before."
+
+"You've had long acquaintance with Mr. Nealman, however?"
+
+Major Dell hesitated, just an instant. "No. I had never met Mr. Nealman
+until last night."
+
+The coroner's interest quickened. "You didn't? How did you happen to be
+included among his guests?"
+
+"I was a great friend of his friend, Mr. Van Hope. I was invited through
+his kindness. He wanted me to have a taste of shooting and fishing."
+
+"What is your occupation, Mr. Dell?"
+
+"I am interested in finance, in a modest way."
+
+"You saw, heard or knew of nothing connected with this murder that you
+haven't testified."
+
+"No." Dell paused, considering. "Nothing, I'm sure."
+
+"I say 'murder.' Testimony has gone to show that Florey was dead, not
+just severely wounded, when you and the others reached his side. Mr.
+Dell, do you think there is any possibility that life remained in his
+body when you saw him beside the inlet?"
+
+Dell spoke clearly. "None whatever," he said.
+
+"You speak very sure."
+
+"I am sure. I've seen too many dead men ever to make a mistake. The
+position of the body, the features--everything told it as plain as day."
+
+The coroner leaned forward. His eyes gleamed. "And where and how did you
+happen to see all these dead men, may I ask?"
+
+There was an instant's second of strain throughout the room. All of us,
+I think, were siding with Major Dell--from the sheer instinctive
+distrust of constituted authority that seems to be implanted in our
+bodies at birth. Dell looked down, and his face was gray.
+
+"In the Argonne," he said, quietly. The room was deathly still.
+
+Fargo, called immediately after, testified as to his argument with Dell
+as to the nature of black bass. Dell had left him, he said, to go into
+the library.
+
+"You were alone in the billiard room when you heard the cry?"
+
+"Yes. But I ran outdoors and joined the others."
+
+Van Hope testified as to his acquaintance with Major Dell, saying that
+they had known each other for several months, and that Dell belonged to
+one of his clubs. He verified Nealman's story perfectly.
+
+"And what is your occupation, Mr. Pescini?" the coroner asked.
+
+"I am in the publishing business, in New York."
+
+"You have a long acquaintance with Mr. Nealman?"
+
+"Something over four years."
+
+"Where were you when you heard David Florey scream?"
+
+"On the veranda."
+
+"Alone?"
+
+"Yes, alone. I had been with Mr. Van Hope and Nealman a few moments
+before. I was rather hot, and I went out on the veranda for a breath of
+air. I rushed out toward the sound, and Nealman and his party caught up
+with me."
+
+He testified that he had taken part in the search, and was utterly
+baffled as to the solution of the mystery.
+
+Nopp was in the music room, he said, looking for a certain record that
+he wished his friends to hear. He had been in the billiard room a few
+seconds before. He had heard the cry but faintly, and had not been
+especially alarmed. The shouts of the other guests, he said, rather than
+the scream of the dying man, had caused him to rush out and join in the
+investigation. He had known Nealman a long time, was an architect by
+profession, and had been one of those to partake in the hunt through the
+gardens.
+
+Last of all the white men, he called on me. I told of my relations with
+Nealman, the work I had been hired to do and, my own reactions to the
+fearful scream in the darkness. I had been with Marten, Van Hope and
+Nealman and had sent through the calls to Ochakee.
+
+"You saw or heard nothing beyond that which these other gentlemen have
+testified?"
+
+"Nothing at all," I answered.
+
+"You have made no subsequent discoveries?"
+
+Just for a moment I was silent, conjecturing what my answer should be.
+Was I to tell of the cryptogram I had found beside the body, and its
+theft during the night?
+
+I couldn't see how the least good would come of it. Indeed, if last
+night's intruder was in the room, listening to my testimony, he would be
+very glad to know if I had discovered the theft. I had resolved to work
+out the case in my own way, employing the methods of a naturalist, and
+these agents of the law were not my allies.
+
+"Nothing has come to my observation," I told him simply.
+
+If he had pressed the matter he might have got the admission out of me;
+but fortunately he turned to other subjects.
+
+There was quite a little stir of interest throughout the circle when he
+began to question Edith. None of us will forget the picture of that
+golden head, graced by the sunlight slanting through the leaded panes of
+the window, the flushed, lovely face, the frank eyes and the girlish
+figure, lost in the big chair. She was in such contrast to the rest of
+us. Except for the housekeeper, buxom and fifty, she was the only white
+woman present; and she could have been the daughter of any one of the
+gray men in the circle.
+
+She had gone to her room about ten, she said, and had read for perhaps
+an hour. Her room was just over the front hall. About eleven she went to
+bed, and the coroner's questions brought out the interesting fact that
+seemingly she had been the last of the household--unless the murderer
+himself was to be included thus--to have seen Florey alive. Her bed
+stood just beside the front window, and just before she had retired she
+had seen him walking out toward the lagoon.
+
+The whole circle, tired of the dull testimony of the past hour, leaned
+forward in rapt attention. "He was alone?" the coroner asked.
+
+"Yes. I think I heard the door close behind him--I'm not sure. Then I
+saw his form in the moonlight on the front lawn."
+
+"You recognized him at once?"
+
+"Not at once. I thought perhaps it was one of the guests. But in a
+bright patch of moonlight I saw him plain."
+
+"Where did he go?"
+
+"He turned down the driveway toward the lagoon. I didn't see him again."
+
+At the sound of the piercing scream she got up and put on a
+dressing-gown, but she did not come down at once. She was afraid, she
+said--she didn't know what to do. She had no knowledge as to the
+activities and the positions of the other members of the household at
+the time of the crime.
+
+She had come to work as her uncle's secretary but a few weeks before;
+and she verified perfectly Nealman's testimony in regard to the dead
+servant. If he had had enemies in the household she had not been aware
+of it, she knew of no chronic malady, and she did not think that he
+carried any large amount of money on his person. The scream had seemed
+to her to be one of unfathomable fear.
+
+The housekeeper, Mrs. Gentry, was the last of the white people to be
+called upon; and her testimony threw no new light upon the problem. She
+was in bed and asleep, and the shouts of the men without had wakened
+her.
+
+The coroner called on the negroes in turn, and I was a little amazed
+at the ease with which he wrung their testimony out of them. He knew
+these dark people: no northern man could have hoped to have been so
+successful. Sometimes he shouted at them as if in fury, sometimes he
+wheedled or jested with them.
+
+Not one of them but could prove an alibi. They were all in their own
+quarters, they said, at the moment of the tragedy. Because this was the
+South and they were black, they did not know Florey, a white man, very
+well. And they had all been frightened nearly out of their wits by the
+events of the night.
+
+One by one he questioned them, but the inquest ended just as it
+began--with the affair of Florey's murder as great a mystery as ever.
+At the end of the fatiguing afternoon we were face to face with the
+baffling fact that only four men had proven satisfactory alibis--Lemuel
+Marten, Van Hope, Nealman and myself--and that any one of the dozen or
+more men and women in that great, rambling house might have done the
+deed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+Two telegrams had come for Mr. Nealman during the inquest; but the negro
+messenger who had brought them had been too frightened by the august
+session in the living-room to disturb him. It came about that Nealman
+didn't get them until he and Van Hope left the room together.
+
+The yellow envelopes were lying on a little table in the hall, and
+Nealman started, perceptibly, at the sight of them. Except for that
+nervous reflex through his body I wouldn't have given the messages a
+second thought. Nealman picked them up, and still carrying on a
+fragmentary conversation with his friend, tore out the messages.
+
+He did not merely tear off the edges. In his eagerness his clawing
+fingers ripped the envelopes wide open, endangering the messages
+themselves within. He opened one of them, and his eye leaped over the
+script.
+
+He took one curious, short breath, then opened the second message, more
+carefully now. Then he crowded both of them into his outer coat pocket.
+
+At that point his conversation with Van Hope took a curious trend. He
+still seemed to be trying to talk in his usual casual voice; yet a
+preoccupation so deep, so engrossing was upon him that his friend's
+words must have seemed to reach him from another sphere. It was a brave
+effort; but his disjointed sentences, his blurred perceptions, told the
+truth only too plainly.
+
+Nealman had received disastrous news. His lips were smiling, but his
+eyes were filled with some alien light. What that light was neither Van
+Hope nor I could tell. It might have been frenzy. Quite likely it was
+fear.
+
+"Bad news, old man?" Van Hope blurted out at last, impulsively. They
+were old friends--he was risking the charge of ill-bred curiosity to
+offer sympathy to the other.
+
+"Not very good, old man. I'll see you later about it. If you'll excuse
+me I'll go to my room--and answer 'em."
+
+He turned up the stairs--Van Hope walked out onto the verandas. I waited
+for Edith, and in a moment we were walking under the magnolias,
+listening to the twilight boomings of a bittern on the lagoon.
+
+"And what do you think of it?" I asked her.
+
+No human memory could forget her lustrous eyes, solemn and yet lighted
+by the beauty of her thoughts, as she gazed out over the waters,
+troubled by the flowing tide.
+
+"I can't make anything out of it," she told me at last. "It doesn't seem
+to make good sense. Yet there have been hundreds of more baffling
+mysteries, and they all were cleared up at last. Cleared up
+intelligently, too, if you know what I mean."
+
+"You mean--with credible motives and actions behind them."
+
+"Yes, and _human_ actions. I'm thinking about--you know what. Human
+agents were the only agents in this crime. In the end it will prove out
+that way."
+
+"Then you aren't at all superstitious about--this." I indicated that
+eery, desolate lagoon with its craggy margin, stretching away like a
+ghost-lake in the gray light. As always the tidal waves were bursting
+with ferocious, lunging onslaughts on the natural rock wall, and the
+foam gleamed incredibly white against the dark water.
+
+"Not in the least," she answered me. "I don't like the place when the
+tide's rolling in--it's too rough and too fierce--but it's lovely in
+the ebb-tide! Did you ever see anything so still as it is then--the
+water's edge creeping inward, and such a wonderful blue-green? No, I'm
+not superstitious about it at all. I'm going swimming, one of these
+nights, when the tide's going out. I'd cross it to-night in an
+emergency."
+
+"You're a strong swimmer, then."
+
+"I can swim well enough--nothing to boast of though. Ned"--for we had
+got to the first name stage, long since--"this whole matter will be
+cleared up in a few days more. Such things always do come out right. I
+wouldn't be surprised if that poor man's body should be found any day,
+dragged into some thicket. The rocks are full of caves--perhaps the drag
+hooks simply failed to find it."
+
+"And your uncle--he feels the way you do?"
+
+"Of course. If you are talking about that silly legend--it gives him
+only the keenest delight as a big story to tell his friends. He has no
+more superstitious fear about this lagoon than I have."
+
+"Have you talked to him since the inquest?"
+
+"You know I haven't."
+
+"He got two telegrams to-day. They seemed to go mighty hard with him. I
+was wondering--whether you ought to go to him now."
+
+A little line came between her straight brows. "I can't imagine what
+they could be----" she said.
+
+"The loss of some friend? Financial loss, perhaps----?"
+
+"I don't know. The latter, if anything. For I do know he's been buying
+certain stocks--awfully heavy."
+
+"Playing the stock market, eh----?"
+
+"I don't think I should have told you that. But I know you won't say
+anything about it. Oh, I do hope he hasn't had any real misfortune----"
+
+Our talk veered to other subjects, and for a while we stood and watched
+the twilight descending over the lagoon. The crags were never so
+mysterious. They seemed to take weird shapes in the half-light, and the
+water sucked and lapped about their stony feet.
+
+In a little while her hand stole into mine. It rested softly, and
+neither of us felt the need of words. The twilight deepened into that
+pale darkness of the early Floridan night.
+
+"How I'd like to help him, if he's in trouble," she said at last, almost
+whispering. "And how I'd like to help you--do all the things you want to
+do."
+
+"I'm glad--that you care about it," I told her, not daring to look down
+into that sober, wistful face.
+
+"I _do_ care about it," she declared. She bent, until her lips were
+close to my ear. "And I believe I see the way."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+Nealman did not come down to dinner. He sent his apologies to the
+guests, pleading a headache, and through some mayhap of circumstance the
+coroner took his place at the head of the great, red-mahogany table.
+There was a grim symbolism in the thing. No one mentioned it, not one of
+those aristocratic sportsmen were calloused enough to jest about it, but
+we all felt it in the secret places of our souls.
+
+The session at Kastle Krags was no longer one of revelry. I could fancy
+the wit, the repartee, the gaiety and laughter that had reigned over the
+board the evening previous; but Nealman's guests were a sober group
+to-night. At the unspoken dictates of good taste no man talked of last
+night's tragedy. Rather the men talked quietly to one another or else
+sat in silence. A burly negro, rigged out in a dinner coat of ancient
+vintage, helped with the serving in Florey's place.
+
+After dinner I halted the sheriff in the hall, and we had a single
+moment of conversation. "Slatterly," I said, "I want you to give me some
+authority."
+
+"You do, eh?" He paused, studying my face. "What do you want to do?"
+
+"I want your permission--to go about this house and grounds where and
+when I want to--and no complications in case I am caught at it. Maybe
+even go into some of the private rooms and effects of the guests. I want
+to follow up some ideas that I have in mind."
+
+"And when do you want to do it?"
+
+"Any time the opportunity offers. I'm not going to do anything
+indiscreet. I won't get in your way. But I'm deeply interested in this
+thing, I've had scientific training, and I want to see if I can't do
+some good."
+
+His eyes swept once from my shoes to my head. "From amateur detectives,
+as a rule--Good Lord deliver us," he said with quiet good humor. "But
+Killdare--I don't see why you shouldn't. Two heads are better than
+one--and I don't seem to be getting anywhere. Really, the more
+intelligent help we can get--from people we can co-operate with, of
+course--the better."
+
+"I'm free, then, to go ahead?"
+
+"Of course with reasonable limits. But ask my advice before you make any
+accusations--or do anything rash."
+
+By previous arrangement Mrs. Gentry, the housekeeper, was waiting for
+me on the upper floor. There could be no better chance to search the
+guests' rooms. All of the men were on the lower floor, smoking their
+after-dinner cigars and talking in little groups in the lounging-room
+and the veranda. Of course Nealman was in his room, but even had he been
+absent, a decent sense of restraint would have kept me from his
+threshold. And of course Marten and Van Hope had established perfect
+alibis at the inquest.
+
+We entered Fargo's room first. It was cluttered with his bags, his guns
+and rods, but the thing I was seeking did not reveal itself. I looked in
+the inner pockets of his coat, in the drawers of his desk, even in the
+waste-paper basket without result. Such personal documents as Fargo had
+with him were evidently on his person at that moment.
+
+Nopp's room was next, but I was less than twenty seconds across his
+threshold. He had been writing a letter, it lay open on his desk, and I
+needed to glance but once at the script. If my theory was right Nopp
+could be permanently dropped from the list of suspects of Florey's
+murder.
+
+But the next room yielded a clew of seemingly inestimable importance.
+After the drawers had been opened and searched, and the desk examined
+with minute care, I searched the inner pocket of a white linen coat that
+the occupant of the room had worn at the time of his arrival. In it I
+found a letter, addressed to some New York firm, sealed, stamped, and
+ready to send.
+
+How familiar was the bold, free hand in which the address was written!
+Not a little excited, I compared it with the script of the "George"
+letter I had taken from Florey's room. As far as my inexperienced eye
+could tell the handwriting was identical.
+
+The room was that of Lucius Pescini. If I had not been mistaken in the
+handwriting, I had proven a previous relationship and acquaintance,
+extending practically over the whole lifetime of both men, between the
+distinguished, bearded man that came as Nealman's guest and the gray
+butler who had died on the lagoon shore the previous night.
+
+I put the letter back in the man's coat-pocket; then joined Mrs. Gentry
+in the hall. She went to her own room. I turned down the broad stairs to
+the hall. And the question before me now was whether to report my
+discovery to the officials of the law.
+
+I had started down the stairs with the intention of telling them all I
+knew. By the time I had reached the hall I had begun to have serious
+doubts as to the wisdom of such a course. After all I had learned
+nothing conclusive. Handwriting evidence is at best uncertain; even
+experts have made mistakes in comparing signatures. In this regard it
+was quite different from finger-prints--those tell-tale stains that
+never lie. True, the handwriting looked identical to the naked eye, but
+a microscope might prove it entirely dissimilar. Was I to cast suspicion
+on a distinguished man on such fragile and uncertain grounds?
+
+Pescini had been in the lounging-room only a few minutes before the
+crime was committed. It seemed doubtful that he would have had time to
+cover the distance between the house and the lagoon, strike Florey low,
+and get back to the place where we met him in the short time of his
+absence.
+
+Besides, I wanted to work alone. I couldn't bring myself to share my
+discoveries with Slatterly and Weldon.
+
+The hall below was deserted and half in darkness. I met Marten and Nopp
+on the way to their rooms: passing into the library I found Hal Fargo
+seated under a reading-lamp, deep in "Floridan fauna." Major Dell was
+smoking quietly on the veranda, gazing out over the moonlit lawns. Van
+Hope and Pescini himself were seated at the far end of the
+lounging-room, evidently in earnest conversation.
+
+I sat down across the room where from time to time I could glance up and
+observe the bearded face of my suspect. How animated he was, how
+effective the gestures of his firm, strong hands. Was that the hand I
+had seen in the flashlight over my table the preceding night? He had
+rather thin, esthetic lips, half concealed by his mustache. Yet it
+wasn't a cruel or degenerate face.
+
+But soon I forgot about Pescini to marvel at the growing, oppressive
+heat of the night. The chill that usually drops over the West coast in
+the first hours of darkness, did not manifest itself to-night. It was
+the kind of heat that brings a flush to the face and a ghastly crawling
+to the brain, swelling the neck glands until the linen collar chokes
+like strangling fingers, and heightens the temper clear to the
+explosion-point. Van Hope and Pescini tore at their collars, seemingly
+at first unaware as to the source of their discomfort.
+
+In reality the heat wave had overspread us rather swiftly, and what was
+its source and by what shiftings of the air currents it had been sent
+to harry us was mostly beyond the wit of man to tell. The temperature
+must have been close to a hundred in that big, coolly furnished room,
+and the veranda outside seemed to offer no relief. The dim warmth from
+the electric lights above, added to the sweltering heat of the air, was
+wholly perceptible on the heated brain, and seemed to stretch the
+over-taut nerves to the breaking-point.
+
+"Isn't this the devil?" Van Hope exclaimed as I came out. "It wasn't
+half so hot at sunset. For Heaven's sake let's have a drink."
+
+"Whiskey'd only make us hotter, would it not?"
+
+"The English don't think so--but they're full of weird ideas. Have that
+big coon bring us some lemonade then--iced tea--anything. This is the
+kind of night that sets men crazy."
+
+Men who have spent July in India, when the humidity is on the land,
+could appreciate such heat, but it passed ordinary understanding. It
+harassed the brain and fevered the blood, and warned us all of lawless
+demons that lived just under our skins. A man wouldn't be responsible,
+to-night. The devil inside of him, recognizing a familiar temperature,
+escaped his bonds and stood ready to take any advantage of openings.
+
+It was a curious thing that there was no perceptible wind over the
+lagoon. Perhaps the reason was that we invariably associate wind with
+coolness, rather than any sort of a hushed movement of the air--and the
+impulse that brushed up on the veranda to us was as warm as a child's
+breath on the face. There was simply no whisper of sound on shore or sea
+or forest. The curlews were stilled, the wild creatures were likely
+lying motionless, trying to escape the heat, the little rustlings and
+murmurings of stirring vegetation was gone from the gardens. But that
+first silence, remarkable enough, seemed to deepen as we waited.
+
+There is a point, in temperature, that seems the utter limit of cold.
+Mushers along certain trails in the North had known that point--when
+there seems simply no heat left in the bitter, crackling, biting air.
+The temperature, at such times, registers forty--fifty--sixty below. Yet
+the scientist, in his laboratory, with his liquid hydrogen vaporizing in
+a vacuum, can show that this temperature is not the beginning of the
+fearful scale of cold. To-night it was the same way with the silence.
+There simply seemed no sound left. But as we waited the silence grew and
+swelled until the brain ceased to believe the senses and the image of
+reality was gone. It gave you the impression of being fast asleep and
+in a dream that might easily turn to death.
+
+The mind kept dwelling on death. It was a great deal more plausible than
+life. The image of life was gone from that bleak manor house by the
+sea--the sea was dead, the air, all the elements by which men view their
+lives. The forest, lost in its silence, its most whispered voices
+stilled, was a dead forest, incomprehensible as living.
+
+I went upstairs soon after. I thought it might be cooler there.
+Sometimes, if you go a few feet off the ground, you find it XXXX
+cooler--quite in opposition to the fact that hot air rises. There was no
+appreciable difference, however; but here, at least, I could take off my
+outer clothes. Then I got into a dressing-gown and slippers and waited,
+with a breathlessness and impatience not quite healthy and normal, for
+the late night sea breeze to spring up.
+
+Seemingly it had been delayed. The hour was past eleven, the sweltering
+heat still remained. There was no way under Heaven to pass the time. One
+couldn't read, for the reason that the mental effort of following the
+lines of type was incomprehensibly fatiguing. I had neither the energy
+nor the interest to work upon the cryptogram--that baffling column of
+four-lettered words. Yet the brain was inordinately active. Ungoverned
+thought swept through it in ordered trains, in sudden, lunging waves,
+and in swirling eddies. Yet the thoughts were not clean-cut, wholly
+true--they overlapped with the bizarre and elfin impulses of the fancy,
+and the fine edge of discrimination between reality and dreams was some
+way dulled. It wasn't easy to hold the brain in perfect bondage.
+
+To that fact alone I try to ascribe the curious flood of thoughts that
+swept me in those midnight hours. Except for the heat, perhaps in a
+measure for the silence, I wouldn't have known them at all. I got to
+thinking about last night's crime, and I couldn't get it out of mind.
+The conceptions I had formed of it, the theories and decisions, seemed
+less and less convincing as I sat overlooking those shadowed, silent
+grounds. So much depends on the point of view. Ordinarily, our will
+gives us strength to believe wholly what we want to believe and nothing
+else. But the powers of the will were unstable to-night, the whole seat
+of being was shaken, and my fine theories in regard to Pescini seemed to
+lack the stuff of truth. I suppose every man present provided some
+satisfactory theory to fit the facts, for no other reason than that we
+didn't want to change our conception of Things as They Are. Such a
+course was essential to our own self-comfort and security. But my
+Pescini theory seemed far-fetched. In that silence and that heat,
+anything could be true at Kastle Krags!
+
+From this point my mind led logically to the most disquieting and
+fearful thing of all. What was to prevent last night's crime from
+recurring?
+
+It isn't hard to see the basis for such a thought. Some way, in these
+last, stifling, almost maddening hours, it had become difficult to rely
+implicitly on our rational interpretation of things. Certain things are
+credible to the every-day man in the every-day mood--things such as
+aeronautics and wireless, that to a savage mind would seem a thousand
+times more incredible than mere witchcraft and magic--and certain things
+simply can not and will not be believed. Society itself, our laws, our
+customs, our basic attitude towards life depends on a fine balance of
+what is credible and what is not, an imperious disbelief in any
+manifestation out of the common run of things. It is altogether good for
+society when this can be so. Men can not rise up from savagery until it
+is so. As long as black magic and witchcraft haunt the souls of men,
+there is nothing to trust, nothing to hold to or build towards, nothing
+permanent or infallible on which to rely, and hope can not escape from
+fear, and there is no promise that to-day's work will stand till
+to-morrow. Men are far happier when they may master their own beliefs.
+There is nothing so destructive to happiness, so favorable to the
+dominion of Fear, as an indiscriminate credulity. Those African
+explorers who have seen the curse of fear in the Congo tribes need not
+be told this fact.
+
+But to-night this fine scorn of the supernatural and the bizarre was
+some way gone from my being. It wasn't so easy to reject them now. Those
+hide-and-seek, half-glimpsed, eerie phantasies that are hidden deep in
+every man's subconscious mind were in the ascendancy to-night. They had
+been implanted in the germ-plasm a thousand thousand generations gone,
+they were a dim and mystic heritage from the childhood days of the race,
+the fear and the dreads and horrors of those dark forests of countless
+thousands of years ago, and they still lie like a shadow over the
+fear-cursed minds of some of the more savage peoples. Civilization has
+mostly got away from them, it has strengthened itself steadily against
+them, building with the high aim of wholly escaping from them, yet no
+man in this childlike world is wholly unknown to them. The blind,
+ghastly fear of the darkness, of the unknown, of the whispering voice or
+the rustling of garments of one who returns from beyond the void is an
+experience few human beings can deny.
+
+The cold logic with which I looked on life was in some way shaken and
+uncertain. The fanciful side of myself crept in and influenced all my
+thought-processes. It was no longer possible to accept, with implicit
+faith, that last night's crime was merely the expression of ordinary,
+familiar moods and human passions, that it would all work out according
+to the accepted scheme of things. Indeed the crime seemed no longer
+_human_ at all. Rather it seemed just some deadly outgrowth of these
+weird sands beside the mysterious lagoon.
+
+The crime had seemed a thing of human origin before, to be judged by
+human standards, but now it had become associated, in my mind, with
+inanimate sand and water. It was as if we had beheld the sinister
+expression of some inherent quality in the place itself rather than the
+men who had gathered there. It was hard to believe, now, that Florey had
+been a mere actor in some human drama that in the end had led to murder.
+He had been little and gray and obscure, seemingly apart from human
+drama as the mountains are apart from the sea, and it was easier to
+believe that he had been merely the unsuspecting victim of some outer
+peril that none of us knew. Slain, with a ragged, downward cut through
+the breast--and his body dragged into the lagoon!
+
+What was to prevent the same thing from happening again? Before the
+week was done other of the occupants of that house might find themselves
+walking in the gardens at night, down by the craggy shore of the
+lagoon! Nealman, others of the servants, any one of the guests--Edith
+herself--wouldn't circumstance, sooner or later, take them into the
+shadow of that curse? Who could tell but that the whole thing might be
+reenacted before this dreadful, sweltering night was done!
+
+The occupants of the house wouldn't be able to sleep to-night. Some of
+them would go walking in the gardens, rambling further down the
+beguiling garden paths that would take them at last to that craggy
+margin of the inlet. Some of them might want a cool glimpse of the
+lagoon itself. Would we hear that sharp, agonized, fearful scream again
+streaming through the windows, gripping the heart and freezing the
+blood in the veins? Any hour--any moment--such a thing might occur.
+
+But at that point I managed a barren and mirthless laugh. I was letting
+childlike fancies carry me away--and I had simply tried to laugh them to
+scorn. Surely I need not yield to such a mood as this, to let the
+sweltering heat and the silence change me into a superstitious savage.
+The thing to do was to move away from the window and direct my thought
+in other channels. Yet I knew, as I argued with myself, that I was
+curiously breathless and inwardly shaken. But these were nothing in
+comparison with the fact that I was some way _expectant_, too, with a
+dreadful expectancy beyond the power of naming.
+
+Then my laugh was cut short. And I don't know what half-strangled
+utterance, what gagging expression of horror or regret or fulfilled
+dread took its place on my lips as a distinct scream for help, agonized
+and fearful, came suddenly, ripped through the darkness from the
+direction of the lagoon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+The most outstanding thing about that sound was its amazing loudness. It
+was hard to believe that a human voice could develop such penetration
+and volume. It had an explosive quality, bursting upon the eardrums with
+no warning whatsoever, and the man who had cried out had evidently given
+the full power of his lungs. It was probably true that the moist, hot
+atmosphere, hanging almost without motion, was a perfect medium for
+transmitting sound. Besides, my windows were open, facing the lagoon.
+
+I heard the sound die away. The silence dropped down again to find me
+standing wholly motionless before the window, one hand resting on the
+sill, seemingly with all power of action gone. It was a shattering blow
+to spirit and hope that there was no further sound from that deathly
+still lagoon. Further calls would indicate that the outcome of the
+affair was still in doubt, that there was still use to hope and
+struggle. But there was a sense of dreadful finality in that unbroken
+silence. The drama that had raged on that craggy shore was already
+closed and done.
+
+The sound had not been only a cry for help. It had been charged full of
+the knowledge of impending death.
+
+Motion came back to my body; and I sprang to the door. The interlude
+of inactivity couldn't have been more than a second in duration. That
+still, upper corridor was coming to life. Some one flashed on a light at
+the end of the hall, and the door of the room just opposite mine flew
+open. Van Hope, also in dressing-gown and slippers, stood on the
+threshold.
+
+He saw me, and pushed through into the hall. His face had an almost
+incredible pallor in the soft light. In a moment his strong hand had
+seized my arm.
+
+"Good God, I didn't dream that, did I?" he cried. "I was dozing--you
+heard it, didn't you----"
+
+"Of course I heard----"
+
+"Some one screamed for help! I heard the word plain. Good Lord, it's
+last night's work done over----"
+
+What he said thereafter I didn't hear. I was running down the hall
+toward the stairway, and at the head of the stairs I almost collided
+with Major Dell, just emerging from his room. He had evidently gone to
+bed, and he had just had time to jerk on his trousers over his pajamas
+and slip on a pair of romeos. The light was brighter here, and I got a
+clear picture of his face.
+
+It is a curious thing what details imprint themselves ineffaceably
+on the memory in a moment of crisis. Perhaps--as in the world of
+beasts--all the senses are incalculably sharpened, the thought processes
+are clean-cut and infallible, and images have a clarity unequalled at
+any other time. I got the idea that Dell had been terribly moved by that
+scream in the darkness. His emotion had seemingly been so violent that
+it gave the impression of no emotion. His face looked blank as a sheet
+of white paper.
+
+I rushed by him, and I heard him and Van Hope descending the stairs just
+behind me. The hall was still lighted, but long shadows lay across the
+broad veranda. Fargo, his book still in his hand, stood just outside the
+door.
+
+"What was it, Killdare?" he asked me. "I couldn't tell from where it
+was----"
+
+"The lagoon!" I answered. In the instant Van Hope and Dell caught up
+with me, and the four of us raced down the driveway.
+
+Instinctively we went first to the place on the shore where Florey had
+been slain the night before. The action was a clear indication of what
+was in our minds--that this matter was in some way darkly related to the
+crime of the night before. But the sand was bare, and the grass
+unshadowed in the moonlight.
+
+For a moment we stood, aghast and shaken, gazing out over the lagoon. It
+was still as glass. The tide was running out, and not a wave stirred in
+all its darkened expanse. We saw the image of the moon far out, scarcely
+wavering, and the long, bright trail that it made across the water to
+our eyes. The night was still stifling hot, and the lagoon conveyed an
+image of coolness.
+
+"Don't stand here!" Fargo cried. "We've got to make a search. Some poor
+devil is likely lying somewhere in these gardens----"
+
+The house was lighted now, and in an uproar, and some of the other
+guests were racing down the driveway to us. In this regard it might have
+been last night's tragedy reenacted. There was, however, one significant
+change.
+
+The iron self-control, the coolness, the perfect discipline of mind and
+muscle that had marked the finding of the dead body on the shore the
+preceding night was no longer entirely manifest. These northern men,
+cold as flint ordinarily, were no longer wholly self-mastered. One
+glance at their faces, loose and pale in the moonlight, and the first
+sound of their voices told this fact only too plainly. It was not,
+however, that they were completely broken. Their training and their
+manhood was too good for that.
+
+We didn't stop to answer their queries. We began to search through the
+gardens, examining every shadow, peering into every covert. We tried to
+direct each other according to our several ideas as to the source of the
+sound. We all agreed, however, that the sound had seemed to come from
+the immediate vicinity of the natural rock wall that formed the lagoon.
+
+The next few moments were not very coherent. We called back and forth,
+encountered one another in the shadows, knew moments of apprehension
+when the brush walls cut us off from our fellows, but we found nothing
+that might have explained that desperate cry of a few moments before. At
+last some one called out commandingly from the shores of the lagoon.
+
+"Come here, every one," he said. The voice rose above our confused
+utterances, and all of us, recognizing a leader, hurried to him. Pescini
+was standing beside the craggy shore, a strange and imposing figure in
+the wealth of moonlight, at the edge of that tranquil water.
+
+Pescini, after all, was showing himself one of the most self-mastered
+men among us. Any one could read the fact in his voice. How white his
+skin looked in the moonlight, how raven-black his mustache and beard! He
+was still in the garb he had worn at dinner, immaculate and unruffled.
+
+"We're not getting anywhere," he said. "Is every one here?"
+
+"Here!" It was Joe Nopp's voice, and he immediately joined us. We waited
+an instant, seeing if any further searchers were yet to come in. But the
+thickets were as hushed as the lagoon itself.
+
+"Let's take another tack," Pescini said. "There's nothing in these
+gardens. If there is we'll find it in an organized search. Remember--our
+search got us nowhere last night. Let's count up, and see if we're all
+all right."
+
+We waited for him to continue. All of us breathed deeply and hard.
+
+"Then let's go up to the house to do it," Nopp suggested. "We know we're
+not all here now--there's no use getting alarmed before we're sure. Go
+up to the living-room."
+
+His voice was oddly penetrative, wakening a whole flood of unwelcome
+thoughts.... We were not all here, he said--seemingly not even all the
+white occupants of Kastle Krags had obeyed the common instinct to answer
+and investigate that cry! Yet it all might come to nothing, after all. A
+close tabulation might account for every one--and that the remainder of
+our party had merely not yet wakened. Stranger things have happened.
+We told ourselves, in silent ways, that we had heard of men sleeping
+through more fearful sounds than that! I agreed with Nopp that the thing
+to do was to go to the living-room, make a careful count, and then see
+where we stood.
+
+In a moment we had started back. We were not afraid we had left some of
+our party still searching through the gardens. No man cared to be alone
+out there to-night, and all of us kept close track of our fellows. Edith
+was standing just before the veranda, on the driveway, as we came up.
+The coroner, who had taken time fully to dress, met us half-way down the
+lawns.
+
+We walked almost in silence; and quietly, rather grimly, Joe Nopp
+flashed on all the lights of the big living-room.
+
+"Go ahead, Slatterly," he said to the sheriff, "See that we're all
+here."
+
+"Let Killdare do it. I don't know you all, you know----"
+
+So I made the count, just as sometimes we did after raids over No Man's
+Land. The sheriff and the constable were both present, Mrs. Gentry, the
+housekeeper, was standing, pale but remarkably self-possessed, at the
+inner door of the room. Of course I couldn't count up the blacks. Most
+of them were evidently hiding in their rooms. And every one of the six
+guests answered his name.
+
+"There's just one more name to give," Nopp said at last.
+
+"But there's no use naming it," some one answered in a queer, flat
+voice. "He's not here."
+
+Nopp turned, and bounded like a deer up the stairs. All of us knew what
+he had gone to do: to see if the missing man was in his room. And there
+was nothing for us but to wait for his report.
+
+But in a moment we heard his step on the stairs. He sprang down among
+us, and evidently his fine self-mastery was breaking within him. His
+fine eyes held vivid points of light.
+
+"My God, he's gone," he said. "Not a sign of him."
+
+"It can't be true," Pescini answered.
+
+"It is. His bed is rumpled--but not thrown back or slept in."
+
+Von Hope, the missing man's closest friend, suddenly gasped aloud. "But
+I won't believe it--not until we make a search!" he cried. "It can't be
+true."
+
+"Believe it or not. Search through the grounds or call through the
+house. Nealman's gone just as Florey's body went last night."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+We searched through the house, grimly and purposefully; but Nealman, the
+genial host of Kastle Krags, was neither revealed to our eyes or gave
+answer to our calls. It was no longer possible to doubt but that it was
+his voice that had uttered that fearful cry for help.
+
+While the coroner, whose special province is death, led the guests in a
+detailed search through the grounds, Sheriff Slatterly and I examined
+the missing man's room. And here I was to learn the contents of those
+mysterious telegrams that had reached Nealman after the inquest of the
+preceding day.
+
+They were lying on his desk, one of them torn in two as if in a fit of
+anger, the other rumpled from a hundred readings. I read aloud to the
+sheriff:
+
+     BLAIR COMBINE FORCING I. S. AND H. TO BOTTOM. MOVE QUICK IF
+     YOU CAN.
+
+The second read:
+
+     I. S. AND H. DOWN TO 28. ALL YOUR INDUSTRIALS SMASHED WIDE
+     OPEN. FLETCHER NEALMAN GOES DOWN IN SMASH.
+
+The sheriff halted in his search and took the messages from my hand.
+"I'm not much up on the stock market," he said. "Do you know what these
+mean----"
+
+"Not exactly. I know that I. S. and H. stock has taken a fearful
+drop--if he had bought heavily on margin his whole fortune might have
+been wiped out. Blair is a prominent speculator on the exchange.
+Industrials refer, of course, to industrial stocks. Fletcher Nealman was
+Mr. Nealman's uncle, supposed to be a man of great wealth----"
+
+"Then you think--Nealman was ruined financially?" He paused, seemingly
+studying his hands. "I wonder if it could be true."
+
+"You mean of course--the same thing that you guessed about Florey.
+Suicide?"
+
+"Yes. I'll admit there's plenty against it."
+
+"If suicide--why did he cry for help?"
+
+"Many a man cries for help after he's started to do himself in. The
+darkness scares 'em, when it's too late to turn back. That wouldn't
+puzzle me at all. Killdare, do you know the importance of example?"
+
+"I know that what one man does, another's likely to do."
+
+"I'm not saying that Nealman killed himself, but listen how much there
+is to say for such a theory. You're right--what one man does, another's
+likely to do. A curious thing about suicides, Weldon tells me, is that
+they usually come in droves. One man sets an example for another. Say
+you're worrying to death about something, sick perhaps, or financially
+ruined, and you hear of some fellow--some chap you know, perhaps, a man
+you respect almost as much as you respect yourself--suddenly getting out
+of all his difficulties all nice and quiet--with one little click to the
+head? Isn't it likely you'd begin thinking about the same thing for
+yourself? Call it mob psychology--I only know it happens in fact.
+
+"I'm more confident than ever that Florey did himself in, on account of
+his sickness. Here was Nealman, worried to death over money matters,
+holding a lot of options on a falling market. It's true that we didn't
+find Florey's knife, but who can say but maybe Nealman himself threw it
+into the lagoon, and dragged the body afterward, so that no one would
+guess it was suicide. He liked Florey--he didn't want any one to know
+he had done himself in. Maybe he was thinking already about doing the
+same thing to himself, and in such a case he'd been glad enough to have
+some one hide the evidence of suicide. To-day he gets word of a final
+smash, and he stays all day in his room, brooding about it. To-night
+comes this heat--enough to drive a man crazy. Maybe he just called out
+to make us think it was murder. Proud men don't usually want the world
+to know that they've killed themselves.
+
+"Then there's one other thing--more important still. What's that book,
+open, on the table?"
+
+I glanced at its leathern cover. "The Bible," I told him.
+
+"The Holy Book. And how often do you find a worldly man like this
+Nealman getting out the Bible and reading it? Doesn't it show that he
+was planning something mighty serious--that he wanted to give his soul
+every chance before he took the last step? It's a common thing for
+suicides to read the Bible the last thing. And what are these?"
+
+He showed me a rumpled sheet of paper, procured from the waste-basket,
+on which had been written a number of unrelated figures.
+
+"I can't say," I told him. "Probably he was doing some figuring about
+his losses."
+
+"Looks to me like he was out of his head--was just writin' any old
+figures down. But maybe you're right."
+
+It was true that the bed had not been slept in. Nealman had lain down on
+it, however, and disarranged the spread. Many cigarette and cigar stubs
+filled the smoking stand, and a half-filled whiskey-and-soda glass stood
+on the window sill.
+
+No other clews were revealed, so we went down to the study. The guests
+of Kastle Krags had not gone back to their beds. They sat in a little
+white-faced group beside the window, talking quietly. Marten beckoned
+the sheriff to his side.
+
+"What have you found out, Slatterly?" he asked.
+
+He spoke like a man used to having his questions answered. There was a
+note of impatience in his voice, too, perhaps of distrust. Slatterly
+straightened.
+
+"Nothing definite. Nealman has unquestionably vanished. His bed hasn't
+been slept in, but is ruffled. Undoubtedly it was his voice we heard. I
+think I'll be able to give you something definite in a little while."
+
+"I'd like something definite now, if you could possibly give it. That's
+two men that have disappeared in two nights--and we seem to be no nearer
+an explanation than we were at first. This isn't a business that can be
+delayed, Mr. Slatterly."
+
+"If you must know--I think both men committed suicide."
+
+"You do!"
+
+"It certainly is the most reasonable theory, in spite of all there is
+against it." Then he told of Nealman's financial disaster, of the Bible
+open on his desk, and all the other points he had to back his theory.
+
+"And I suppose Florey swallowed his knife, and threw his own body into
+the lagoon!" Fargo commented grimly.
+
+Slatterly turned to him, his eyes hard and bright. "We'll have your
+jokes to-morrow," he reproved him sternly. "Of course some one else did
+that. I've got a theory--not yet proven--to explain it, but I can't give
+it out yet."
+
+"How do you account for Florey's body not being found in the lagoon?"
+Marten asked quietly.
+
+"I can't account for it. We might have missed it--I don't see how we
+could, but we might have done so. I'm going to have men dragging the
+lagoon all day, over and over again--until we find _both_ bodies."
+
+"You are convinced that Nealman, too, lies dead in the lagoon?"
+
+"Where else could he be? Did you hear that cry a few hours ago?"
+
+"Good Heavens! Could I ever forget it? My old friend----"
+
+"Was it faked? Could any man have faked a cry like that?"
+
+"Heavens, no! It had the fear and the agony of death right in it. There
+can't be any hope of that, Slatterly."
+
+The sheriff gazed about the little circle of white faces. No one
+dissented. That cry was real, and there had been tragic need and
+extremity behind it: we knew that fact if we knew that we lived.
+Evidently the sheriff had completely given over the theory that he had
+suggested, half-heartedly, to me--that Nealman might have cried out to
+hide the fact of his own suicide.
+
+"No man could have cried out like that to deceive, and then disappear.
+No, Mr. Marten, the man that gave that cry is dead, in all probability
+in the lagoon, and there seems no doubt but that Nealman was the man."
+
+"Yet you think he was a suicide."
+
+"A suicide often cries out for help when it is too late to back out. But
+of course--I can't say for sure."
+
+"You're mistaken in that, Slatterly." Van Hope drew himself together
+with a perceptible effort. "I've known this man for years--and in the
+end, you'll see it isn't suicide. He wasn't the type that commits
+suicide. He's young, he'd be getting himself together to meet that Blair
+gang that ruined him and chase 'em into their holes. The suicide theory
+is far-fetched, at best."
+
+"It may be," the sheriff agreed. "I only wish there could be some light
+thrown on this affair----"
+
+"There will be, Slatterly." Marten's voice dropped almost to a monotone.
+"This is too big a deal for one man--or two men either. We've been
+talking, and we've decided to send for some one to help you out."
+
+"You have, eh?" Slatterly stiffened. "If I need help I can send through
+my own channels--get some state or national detectives----"
+
+"That's all right. Get 'em if you want to. The more the better. But
+you haven't got any help yet--even the district attorney has failed
+to come and won't come for at least a day or two more. We've got a
+private detective in mind--one of the biggest in America. His name's
+Lacone--you've heard of him. It won't be an official matter at all. Van
+Hope is hiring him--a wholly private enterprise. I know you'll all be
+glad to have his co-operation."
+
+"If it's a private venture, I have nothing further to say," Slatterly
+told him stiffly. "When do you expect him?"
+
+"He's operating in the Middle West. He can't possibly make it until day
+after to-morrow----"
+
+"Twenty-four hours, eh?"
+
+"It's after midnight now. Probably not for forty-eight hours."
+
+"By that time, I hope to have the matter solved." Then his business took
+him elsewhere, and he strode away.
+
+There was one thing more I could do. It was an obligation, and yet,
+because it was in the way of service, it was a happiness too. I climbed
+the broad stairs and stopped at last before Edith's door.
+
+She called softly in answer to my knock. And in a moment she had opened
+the door.
+
+She was fully dressed, waiting ready for any call that might be made
+upon her. And the picture that she made, framed in the doorway, went
+straight to my heart.
+
+Her eyes were still lustrous with tears, and the high girlish color and
+the light of happiness was gone from her face. It was wistful, like that
+of a grief-stricken child. Her voice was changed too, in spite of all
+her struggle to make it sound the same. And at first I stood helpless,
+not knowing what to say or do.
+
+"I came--just to see if I could be of any aid--in any way."
+
+"I don't think you can," she answered. "It's so good of you, though, to
+remember----"
+
+"There's no one to notify--no telegrams to send----"
+
+"I don't think so, yet. We're not sure yet. Ned, is there any chance for
+him to be alive----"
+
+"Not any."
+
+Her hand touched my arm. "You haven't any idea how he died?"
+
+"No. It's absolutely baffling. But try not to think about it. Everything
+will come out right for you, in the end."
+
+I hadn't meant to say just that--to recall her to the uncertainty of her
+own future now that her uncle, financially ruined, had disappeared.
+
+"I'm not thinking--about what will happen to me." She suddenly
+straightened, and her eyes kindled. "About the other--Ned, I'm not going
+to try to keep from thinking about it. I'm going to think about it all I
+can, until I see it through. Only thought, and keen, true thought, can
+help us now. I've had to do a lot of thinking in my life, overcoming
+difficulties. And there's no one really vitally interested but me--I was
+the closest relative, except for his uncle, that Nealman had. I'm going
+to find out the mystery of that lagoon! Perhaps, in finding it, I can
+solve a lot of other problems too--perhaps the one you just mentioned.
+Uncle Grover was kind to me, he gave me his protection and shelter--and
+I'm going to know what killed him!"
+
+I found myself staring into her blazing, determined eyes. She meant what
+she said. The fire of a zealot was in her face. "Good Heavens, Edith!
+That isn't work for a woman----"
+
+"It's work for anybody, with a clear enough brain to see the truth, and
+courage to prove it out----"
+
+In some mysterious way her hands had got into mine. We were standing
+face to face in the shadowed hall. "But promise me--you won't go into
+danger!"
+
+"I promise--that I'll take every precaution--to preserve myself."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+As soon as daylight came the coroner held another inquest. Again the
+occupants of the great manor house, black and white, were gathered in
+the living-room, and the coroner called on each person in turn. Possible
+suspects had been numerous in the case of Florey's death: in regard to
+this second mystery they seemingly included almost every one in the
+house.
+
+I was able to state positively that Major Dell and Van Hope were in
+their own rooms at the time, or such a short time afterward as to
+preclude them from any possible connection with the crime. I had seen
+the latter on his threshold: both of us had encountered Major Dell as he
+emerged from his room, his trousers slipped on over his pajamas. The
+court had to take each man's word in every other instance.
+
+The coroner questioned Fargo particularly closely. I had testified that
+we had met him, at the lower hallway, fully dressed, and evidently the
+official attributed sinister importance to the fact. Fargo stood tightly
+by his guns, however, testifying that he sat in the same chair in the
+library from shortly after the dinner hour until he had heard the
+scream.
+
+"What was the nature of the scream, Mr. Fargo?" the coroner asked.
+
+"It was very high and loud--I would say a very frantic scream."
+
+"You would say it was a cry of agony? Like some one mortally wounded?"
+
+"I wouldn't hardly think so."
+
+"And why not?"
+
+"I don't think a wounded man could have uttered that scream. It was too
+loud and strong--given by a man whose strength was still largely
+unimpaired."
+
+The coroner leaned nearer. "How further would you describe it?"
+
+"It was a distinct cry for help," Fargo answered. "The word he said was
+'Help'--I heard it distinctly. But it wasn't a cry of any one mortally
+injured. If anything, it was a cry of--fear."
+
+"Where did it come from?"
+
+"From the lagoon."
+
+The coroner's eyes snapped. "If you knew it was from the lagoon why did
+you ask Mr. Killdare, when he encountered you last night, where it was
+from."
+
+Fargo stiffened, meeting his gaze. "I wasn't sure last night, Mr.
+Weldon," he answered. "I knew it was somewhere in that direction. When
+Mr. Killdare said it was from the lagoon I instantly knew he was right.
+I can't say just how I knew. All the testimony I've heard to-day proves
+the same thing."
+
+"No one wants you to tell what other people have testified, Mr. Fargo,"
+the coroner reproved him. "We want to know what you saw with your own
+eyes and heard with your own ears and what you thought at the time, not
+now. To go further. You think that the cry was uttered by a man whose
+strength was unimpaired. A strong, full-lunged cry. Moreover, it was
+given in deadly fear. Does that suggest anything in your mind?"
+
+"I don't see what you are getting at."
+
+"You say it was a long, full-voiced cry. Or did you say it was long?"
+
+"I don't think I said so. It was rather long-drawn, though. It's
+impossible to give a full-lunged cry without having it give the effect
+of being long-drawn."
+
+"You would say it lasted--how long?"
+
+"A second, I should say. Certainly not more. Just about a second."
+
+"A second is a long time, isn't it, Mr. Fargo, when a man stands at the
+brink of death. Often the tables can be turned in as long a time as a
+second. Many times a second has given a man time to save his life--to
+prepare a defense--even to flee. Does it seem to you unusual that a man
+would give that much energy and time to cry for help when he was still
+uninjured, and still had a second of life."
+
+"Not at all--under certain circumstances."
+
+"What circumstances?"
+
+"It would depend on the nature of the force. A man might see--that while
+he still had strength left to fight, he wouldn't have the least chance
+to win."
+
+"Exactly. Yet if a man had time to call out that way, he'd at least have
+time to run. A man can take a big jump in a second, Fargo."
+
+Fargo's voice fell. "Perhaps he couldn't run."
+
+"Ah!" The coroner paused. "Because he was in the grasp of his
+assailant?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Yet he still had his strength left. Nealman was a man among men, wasn't
+he, Fargo?"
+
+"Indeed he was!" Fargo's eyes snapped. "I'd like to see any one deny
+it."
+
+"He wasn't a coward then. He'd fight as long as he had a chance, instead
+of giving all his energies to yelling for help--help that could not
+reach him short of many seconds. In other words, Nealman knew that he
+didn't have the least kind of a fighting chance. He was in the grasp of
+his assailant so he couldn't run. And his assailant was strong--and
+powerful enough--that there was no use to fight him."
+
+It was curious how his voice rang in that silent room. Fargo had leaned
+back in his chair, as if the words struck him like physical blows. A
+negro janitor at one side inhaled with a sharp, distinct sound.
+
+"It might have been more than one man," Fargo suggested uneasily.
+
+"Do you believe it was?"
+
+"I don't know. It's wholly a blank to me."
+
+"Have you any theory where the body is?"
+
+"I suppose--in the lagoon."
+
+"Would you say that cry was given while he was in the water?"
+
+"I hardly think so. I'm slightly known as a swimmer, Mr. Weldon--was
+once, anyway, and I know something about the water. A drowning man can't
+call that loud. Mr. Nealman was a corking good swimmer himself--nothing
+fancy at all, but fairly well able to take care of himself. When he
+disappeared the tide was running out--the lagoon on this side of the
+rock wall was still as glass. If Mr. Nealman, through some accident or
+other, fell in that lagoon he'd swim out--unless he was held in. At
+least he'd try to swim out. And by the time he found out he couldn't
+make the shore, he'd be so tired he couldn't cry out like he did last
+night."
+
+"I see your point. I don't know that it would always work out.
+Occasionally a man--simply loses his nerve."
+
+"Not Nealman--in still water, most of which isn't over five feet deep."
+
+"'Unless he was held in,' you say. What do you think held him in?"
+
+Fargo's hands gripped his chair-arms. "Mr. Weldon, I don't know what you
+want me to say," he answered clearly. "I feel the same way about this
+mystery that I felt about the other--that human enemies did him to
+death. I don't think anything held him in. I think he was dead before
+ever he was thrown into the water. I think two or three men--perhaps
+only one--surrounded him--probably pointed a gun at him. He yelled for
+help, and they killed him--probably with a knife or black-jack. That's
+the whole story."
+
+The coroner dismissed him, then slowly gazed about the circle. For the
+first time I began to realize that these mysteries of Kastle Krags were
+pricking under his skin. He looked baffled, irritated, his temper was
+lost, as gone as the missing men themselves.
+
+Ever his attitude was more belligerent, pugnacious. His lips were set in
+a fighting line, his eyes scowled, and evidently he intended to wring
+the testimony from his witnesses by third degree methods. Suddenly he
+whirled to Pescini.
+
+"How did you happen to be fully dressed at the time of Nealman's
+disappearance last night?" he demanded.
+
+Pescini met his gaze coolly and easily. Perhaps little points of light
+glittered in his eyes, but his pale face was singularly impassive. "I
+hadn't gone to bed," he answered simply.
+
+"How did that happen? Do you usually wait till long after midnight to go
+to bed?"
+
+"Not always. I have no set hour. Last night I was reading."
+
+"Some book that was in your room?"
+
+"A book I had carried with me. 'The diary of a Peruvian Princess' was
+the title. An old book--but exceedingly interesting."
+
+He spoke gravely, yet it was good to hear him. "I'll make a note of it,"
+the coroner said, falling into his mood. But at once he got back to
+business. "You didn't remove your coat?"
+
+"No. I got so interested that I forgot to make any move towards bed."
+
+The coroner paused, then took another tack. "You've known Nealman for a
+long time, have you not, Pescini?"
+
+"Something over four years, I should judge."
+
+"You knew him in a business way?"
+
+"More in a social way. We had few business dealings."
+
+"Ah!" The coroner seemed to be studying the pattern of the rugs. "The
+inquiry of the other day showed you and he from the same city. I suppose
+you moved largely in the same circle. Belonged to the same clubs, and
+all that? Mr. Pescini, was Nealman a frequent visitor to your house?"
+
+The witness seemed to stiffen. The coroner leaned forward in his chair.
+
+"He came quite often," the former replied quietly. "He was a rather
+frequent dinner guest. He and I liked to talk over various subjects."
+
+"You will pardon me, Mr. Pescini, if I have to venture into personal
+subjects--subjects that will be unpleasant for you to discuss. This
+inquiry, however, takes the place of a formal inquest. Two men have
+disappeared. It is the duty of the state, whose representative I am, to
+spare no man's sensibilities in finding out the truth. We've got to get
+down to cases. You understand that, I suppose."
+
+"Perfectly." Pescini leaned back, folding his hands. "Perfectly," he
+said again.
+
+"I believe you recently filed and won a suit for divorce against your
+wife, Marie Pescini. Isn't this true?"
+
+The witness nodded. None of us heard him speak.
+
+"May I ask what was your grounds, stated in your complaint?"
+
+"I don't see that it makes any difference. The grounds were the only
+ones by which divorce can be granted in the State of New York."
+
+"Infidelity, I believe?"
+
+"Yes. Infidelity."
+
+"You named certain co-respondents?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I ask you this. Was there any man whom you regarded as one of those
+that had helped to break up your home that, for any reason in the world,
+you did not name in your complaint?"
+
+"There was not. You are absolutely off on the wrong track."
+
+The coroner dismissed him pre-emptorily, then turned to Edith Nealman.
+He asked her the usual questions, with considerable care and in rather
+surprising detail--how long she had worked as Nealman's secretary,
+whether he had any enemies; he sounded her as to the missing man's
+habits, his finances, his most intimate life.
+
+"When did you last see Mr. Nealman?" he asked quickly.
+
+"Just before yesterday's inquest--when he went to his room."
+
+"He didn't call you for any work?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You didn't see him in the corridor--in his room--in the study adjoining
+his room--or anywhere else?"
+
+"No." Edith's face was stark white, and her voice was very low. Not one
+of us could ever forget how she looked--that slim, girlish figure in the
+big chair, the frightened eyes, the pale, sober face. The coroner
+smiled, a little, grim smile that touched some unpleasant part of me,
+then abruptly turned to Mrs. Gentry, the housekeeper.
+
+"I'll have to ask you to give publicly, Mrs. Gentry, the testimony you
+gave me before this inquest."
+
+"I didn't tell you that to speak out in court," the woman replied,
+angrily. "There wasn't nothin' to it, anyway. I'm sorry I told you----"
+
+"That's for me to decide--whether there was anything to it. It won't
+injure any one who is innocent, Mrs. Gentry. What happened, about
+ten-thirty or eleven o'clock."
+
+The woman answered as if under compulsion--in the helpless voice of one
+who, in a long life's bitter struggle, has learned the existence of many
+masters. Mrs. Gentry had learned to yield. To her this trivial court was
+a resistless power, many of which existed in her world.
+
+"I was at the end of the corridor on the second floor--tendin' to a
+little work. Then I saw Miss Edith come stealin' out of her room."
+
+"You say she was 'stealing.' Describe how she came. Did she give the
+impression of trying to go--unseen?"
+
+"Yes. I don't think she wanted any one to see her. She went on tip-toe."
+
+"Did she carry anything in her hands?"
+
+"Yes. She had a black book, not big and not little either. She had it
+under her arm. She crept along the hall, and a door opened to let her
+in."
+
+"What door was it?"
+
+"The door of Mr. Nealman's suite--a little hall, with one door leading
+into his chamber--the other to his study."
+
+"Nealman opened the door for her, then?"
+
+"Yes. I saw his sleeve as he closed it behind her."
+
+The coroner's face grew stern, and he turned once more to Edith. To all
+outward appearance she hadn't heard the testimony. She leaned easily in
+her big chair, and her palm rested under her chin. Her eyes were shadowy
+and far-away.
+
+"How can you account for that, Miss Nealman?" Weldon asked.
+
+"There's nothing I can say about it," was her quiet answer.
+
+"You admit it's true, then?"
+
+"I can't make Mrs. Gentry out a liar." It seemed to me that a dim smile
+played at her lips; but it was a thing even closely watching eyes might
+easily mistake. "It's perfectly true."
+
+"Then why, Miss Nealman, did you tell us a few minutes ago you hadn't
+seen Mr. Nealman since afternoon? That was a lie, was it not? I didn't
+ask you to take formal oath when you gave me your testimony. I presumed
+you'd stay by the truth. Why did you tell us what you did?"
+
+"I didn't see any use in trying to explain. I didn't tell you--because
+Mr. Nealman asked me not to."
+
+A little shiver of expectancy passed over the court. "What do you mean?"
+
+"Just that--he asked me to tell no one about my visit to the little
+study adjoining his room. The whole thing was simply this--there's
+certainly no good in withholding it any more. About eleven he rang for
+me. There is a bell, you know, that connects that study with my room. I
+answered it as I've always done. He asked me if I had a Bible--and I
+told him I did. He asked me to get it for him, as quietly as possible.
+
+"I got it--quietly as possible--just as he said. There was nothing very
+peculiar about it--he often wants some book out of the library. I gave
+him the book and he dismissed me, first asking me to tell no one, under
+any conditions, that he had asked for it. I didn't know why he asked it,
+but he is my employer, and I complied with his request. Mrs. Gentry saw
+me as I was coming down the hall with the Bible under my arm. I didn't
+tell you about it because he asked me not to."
+
+"It was your Bible, then, that we found in his room?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"Mr. Nealman was given to reading the Bible at various times?"
+
+"On the contrary I don't think he ever read it. He didn't have a copy.
+He was not, outwardly, according to the usual manifestations, a highly
+religious man."
+
+"Yet you say he was intrinsically religious? At least, that he had
+religious instincts?"
+
+"He had very fine instincts. He had a great deal of natural religion."
+
+"You often brought him books, you say. Yet you must have thought it
+peculiar--that he would ask for the Bible--in the dead of night."
+
+"Yes." Her voice dropped a tone. "Of course it was peculiar."
+
+"Then why didn't you notify some one about it?"
+
+"Because he told me not to."
+
+The coroner seemed baffled--but only for an instant. "Did it occur to
+you that he was perhaps trying to get some religious consolation--just
+before he took some important or tragic step? Did the thought
+of--suicide ever occur to you?"
+
+"No. It didn't occur to me. My uncle didn't commit suicide."
+
+"You have only your beliefs as to that?"
+
+"Yes, but they are enough. I know him too well. I'm sure he didn't
+commit suicide."
+
+"How did he appear when you talked to him--excited, frenzied? Did he
+seem changed at all?"
+
+"I think he was somewhat excited. His eyes were very bright. I wouldn't
+call him desperate, however. He was dressed in the flannels he had worn
+when he went to his room. Of course he looked dreadfully worn and
+tired--he had been through a great deal that day. As you know he had
+just heard about his frightful losses on the stock exchange, wiping out
+his entire fortune and even leaving some few debts."
+
+"You went away quietly--at once? Leaving him to read the Bible?"
+
+"Very soon. We talked a few minutes, perhaps."
+
+Then the coroner began upon a series of questions that were abhorrent to
+every man in the room. There was nothing to do, however, but to listen
+to them in silence. The man was within his rights.
+
+"You say that Nealman was your uncle?" he asked.
+
+The girl's eyes fastened on his, and narrowed as we watched her. "Of
+course. My father's brother."
+
+"A blood relative, eh?" The coroner spoke more slowly, carefully. "I
+suppose you could prove that point to the satisfaction of a court."
+
+"With a little time. I'd have to go back to the records of my own old
+home. What are you getting at?"
+
+"What was your father's name, may I ask?"
+
+"Henry H. Nealman."
+
+"Older or younger than Grover Nealman?"
+
+"Nearly ten years older, or thereabouts."
+
+"Where was Mr. Nealman born?"
+
+"In Rensselaer, New York. His father was named Henry H. Nealman, also.
+He was a rug manufacturer. There was also one sister that died many
+years ago--Grace Nealman. Are you satisfied that I am really his niece,
+Mr. Weldon?"
+
+"Perfectly." The coroner nodded, slowly. "Perfectly satisfied."
+
+He dismissed her, but it came about that I failed to hear the testimony
+given immediately thereafter. One of Slatterly's men that had been sent
+for to help him drag the lake brought me in a telegram.
+
+It was the belated answer to the wire I had sent to Mrs. Noyes, of New
+Hampshire the previous day, and signed by the woman's husband. It read
+as follows:
+
+     MY WIFE DIED LAST MONTH LEAVING ME TO MOURN. THE LETTERS
+     WERE UNQUESTIONABLY FROM GEORGE FLOREY DAVID'S BROTHER. THEY
+     HAVE BEEN BITTER ENEMIES SINCE YOUTH OVER SOME SECRET
+     BUSINESS. FIND GEORGE FLOREY AND YOU WILL FIND THE MURDERER.
+     I HAVEN'T EVER SEEN HIM AND SO FAR HAVE BEEN UNABLE TO FIND
+     PHOTO. IF ONE TURNS UP I WILL SEND IT ON.
+
+                         WILLIAM NOYES.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+Grover Nealman had disappeared, and no search could bring him back to
+Kastle Krags. The hope that we all had, that some way, some how he would
+reappear--destroying in a moment that strange, ghastly tradition that
+these last two nights had established--died in our souls as the daylight
+hours sped by. Even if we could have found him dead it would have been
+some relief. In that case we could ascribe his death to something we
+could understand--a sudden sickness, a murderer's blow, perhaps even his
+own hand at his throat, all of which were within our bourne of human
+experience. But it was vaguely hard for us to have two men go, on
+successive nights, and have no knowledge whence or how they had gone.
+
+Of course no man hinted at this hardship. It was simply the sort of
+thing that could not be discussed by intelligent men. Yet we were human,
+only a few little generations from the tribal fire and the
+witch-doctors, and it got under our skins.
+
+Grover Nealman's body was not lying in some unoccupied part of the
+house, nor did we find him in the gardens. Telephone messages were
+sent, but Nealman had not been seen. And after six hours of patient
+search, under that Floridan sun, it was no longer easy to believe that
+he lay at the bottom of the lagoon.
+
+The sheriff's men dragged tirelessly, widening out their field of search
+until it covered most of the lagoon, but they found neither Nealman nor
+Florey. Some of the work was done in the flow-tide, when the waves
+breaking on the rocky barrier made the lagoon itself choppy and rough.
+They came in tired and discouraged, ready to give up.
+
+In the meantime Van Hope had heard from Lacone--but his message was not
+very encouraging either. It would likely be forty hours, he said, before
+he could arrive at Kastle Krags. Of course Van Hope and his friends
+agreed that there was nothing to do but wait for him.
+
+The sun reached high noon and then began his long, downward drift to the
+West. The shadows slowly lengthened almost imperceptibly at first, but
+with gradually increasing speed. The heat of the day climbed, reached
+its zenith; the diamond-back slept heavily in the shade, a deadly
+slumber that was evil to look upon; and the water-moccasin hung
+lifelessly in his thickets--and then, so slowly as to pass belief, the
+little winds from the West sprang up, bringing relief. It would soon be
+night at Kastle Krags. The afternoon was almost gone.
+
+Not one of those northern men mentioned the fact. They were
+Anglo-Saxons, and that meant there were certain iron-clad restraints on
+their speech. Because of this inherent reserve they had to bottle up
+their thoughts, harbor them in silence, with the risk of a violent nerve
+explosion in the end. Insanity is not common among the Latin peoples.
+They find easy expression in words for all the thoughts that plague
+them, thus escaping that strain and tension that works such havoc on the
+nervous system. Slatterly and Weldon, native Floridans, had learned a
+certain sociability and ease of expression under that tropical sun,
+impossible to these cold, northern men; and consequently the day passed
+easier for them. Likely they talked over freely the mystery of Kastle
+Krags, relieved themselves of their secret dreads, and awaited the
+falling of the night with healthy, unburdened minds. They were naturally
+more superstitious than the Northerners. They had listened to Congo
+myths in the arms of colored mammies in infancy. But superstition, while
+a retarding force to civilization, is sometimes a mighty consolation
+to the spirit. The tribes of Darkest Africa, seeing many things that
+in their barbarism they can not understand, find it wiser to turn
+to superstition than to go mad. Thus they escape that bitter,
+nerve-wracking struggle of trying to adjust some inexplicable mystery
+with their every-day laws of matter and space and time. They likely find
+it happier to believe in witchcraft than to fight hopelessly with fear
+in silence.
+
+A little freedom, a little easy expression of secret thoughts might have
+redeemed those long, silent hours just before nightfall. But no man told
+another what he was really thinking, and every man had to win his battle
+for himself. The result was inevitable: a growing tension and suspense
+in the very air.
+
+It was a strange atmosphere that gathered over Kastle Krags in those
+early evening hours. Some way it gave no image of reality. It was
+vaguely hard to talk--the mind moved along certain channels and could
+not be turned aside. We couldn't disregard the fact that the night was
+falling. The hours of darkness were even now upon us. And no man could
+keep from thinking of their possibilities.
+
+I noticed a certain irritability on the part of all the guests.
+Their nerves were on edge, their tempers--almost forgotten in their
+years of social intercourse--excitable and uncertain. They were all
+pre-occupied, busy with their own thoughts--and a man started when
+another spoke to him.
+
+It couldn't be truly said that they had been conquered by fear. These
+were self-reliant, masterful men, trained from the ground up to be
+strong in the face of danger. Yet the mystery of Kastle Krags was
+getting to them. They couldn't forget that for two nights running some
+power that dwelt on that eerie shore had claimed one of the occupants of
+the manor house--and that a third night was even now encroaching over
+the forest. Any legend however strange concerning the old house could
+not wake laughter now. It was true that from time to time one of
+the guests laughed at another's sallies, but always the sound rang
+shockingly loud over the verandas and was some way disquieting to every
+one that heard it. Nor did we hear any happy, carefree laughter such as
+had filled the halls that first night. Rather these were nervous,
+excited sounds, conveying no image of mirth, and jarring unpleasantly on
+us all.
+
+The hot spell of the previous night was fortunately broken, yet some of
+us chose to sit on the verandas. Through rifts in the trees we could
+watch the darkness creeping over the sea and the lagoon. There was no
+pleasure here--but it was some way better than staying in our rooms and
+letting the night creep upon us unawares. It seemed better to face it
+and watch it, staring away into it with rather bright, wide-open
+eyes....
+
+The trees blurred on the lawns. The trunks faded until they seemed like
+the trunks of ghost-trees, haunting that ancient shore. It was no longer
+possible to distinguish twig from twig where the branches overlapped.
+
+The green grass became a strange, dusky blue; the gray sand of the shore
+whitened; the blue-green waters turned to ink except for their
+silver-white caps of foam. Watching closely, our eyes gradually adjusted
+themselves to the fading light, conveying the impression that the
+twilight was of unusual length. Perhaps we didn't quite know when the
+twilight ended and the night began.
+
+The usual twilight sounds reached us with particular vividness from the
+lagoon and the forest and the shore. We heard the plover, as ever; and
+deeper voices--doubtless those of passing sea-birds, mingled with
+theirs. But the sounds came intermittently, sharp and penetrating out of
+the darkness and the silence, and they always startled us a little.
+Sometimes the thickets rustled in the gardens--little, hushed noises
+none of us pretended to hear. A frog croaked, and the hushed little
+wind creaked the tree-limbs together. Once some wild creature--possibly
+a wildcat, but more likely a great owl--filled the night with his weird,
+long-drawn cry. We all turned, and Van Hope, sitting near by, smiled
+wanly in the gloom.
+
+Darkness had already swept the verandas, and Van Hope's was the only
+face I could see. The others were already blurred, and even their forms
+were mere dark blotches of shadow. A vague count showed that there was
+six of us here--and I was suddenly rather startled by the thought that I
+didn't know just who they were. The group had changed from time to time
+throughout the evening, some of the men had gone and others had taken
+their chairs, and now the darkness concealed their identities. It
+shouldn't have made any difference, yet I found myself dwelling, with a
+strange persistency, on the subject.
+
+The reason got down to the simple fact that, in this house of mystery,
+a man instinctively wanted to keep track of all his fellows. He wanted
+to know where they were and what they were doing. He found himself
+worrying when one of them was gone. I suppose it was the instinct of
+protection--a feeling that a man's absence might any moment result in
+a shrill scream of fear or death in the darkness. Van Hope sat to my
+left, a little further to the right was Weldon, the coroner. There were
+three chairs further to the right, but which of the five remaining
+guests occupied them I did not know.
+
+Three white men--two of the guests and the sheriff--were unaccounted
+for. My better intelligence told me that they were either in the
+living-room or the library, perhaps in their own rooms, yet it was
+impossible to forget that these men were of the white race, largely free
+from the superstition that kept the blacks safely from the perilous
+shores of the lagoon. Any one of a dozen reasons might send them walking
+down through the gardens to those gray crags from which they might never
+return.
+
+I found myself wondering about Edith, too. She had excused herself and
+had gone to her room, ostensibly to bed, but I couldn't forget our
+conversation of the previous night and her resolve to fathom the mystery
+of her uncle's disappearance. Would she remain in the security of her
+room, or must I guard her, too?
+
+How slow the time passed! The darkness deepened over land and sea. The
+moon had not yet risen--indeed it would not appear until after midnight.
+The great, white Floridan stars, however, had pushed through the dark
+blue canopy of the night, and their light lay softly over the gardens.
+The guests talked in muffled tones, their excited laughter ringing out
+at ever longer intervals. The coals of their cigars glowed like
+fireflies in the gloom.
+
+By ten o'clock two of the six chairs were vacant. Two of the guests had
+tramped away heavily to their rooms, not passing so near that I could
+make sure of their identity. Soon after this a very deep and curious
+silence fell over the veranda.
+
+The two men to my right, Weldon the coroner and one of the guests, were
+smoking quietly, evidently in a lull in their conversation. I didn't
+particularly notice them. Their silence was some way natural and easy,
+nothing to startle the heart or arrest the breath. If they had been
+talking, however, perhaps the moment would have never got hold of me as
+it did. The silence seemed to deepen with an actual sense of motion,
+like something growing, and a sensation as inexplicable as it was
+unpleasant slowly swept over me.
+
+It was a creepy, haunting feeling that had its origin somewhere beyond
+the five senses. Outwardly there was nothing to startle me, unless it
+was that curious, deepening silence. The darkness, the shore, the
+starlit gardens were just the same. Nor was it a perceptible, abrupt
+start. It came slowly, growing, creeping through me. I had no
+inclination to make any perceptible motion, or to show that anything was
+different than it was before. I turned slowly to Van Hope, sitting to my
+left.
+
+Instinctively I knew that here was the source of my alarm. It was
+something that my subconscious self had picked up from him. He was
+sitting motionless in his chair, his hand that held his cigar half
+raised to his lips, staring away into the distant gardens.
+
+There is something bad for the spirit in the sight of an entirely
+motionless figure. The reason is simply that it is out of accord with
+nature--that the very soul of things, from the tree on the hill to the
+stars in the sky, is motion never ending. A figure suddenly changed to
+stone focuses the attention much more surely than any sudden sound or
+movement. Perhaps it has its origin in the deep-hidden instincts,
+harking back to those long ago times when the sudden arresting of all
+motion on the part of the companion indicated the presence of some great
+danger and an attempt to escape its gaze. Even to-day it indicates a
+thought so compelling that the half-unconscious physical functions are
+suspended: a fear or a sensation so violent that life seems to die in
+the body.
+
+Van Hope couldn't get his cigar to his lips. He held it between his
+fingers, a few inches in front. He was watching so intently that his
+face looked absolutely blank. A little shiver that was some way related
+to fear passed over me, and I had all the sensations of being violently
+startled. Then Van Hope suddenly got to his feet with a short, low
+exclamation.
+
+Our nerves on edge, instantly all three of us were beside him--Weldon,
+myself, and Joe Nopp. All of us tried to follow his gaze into the gloom.
+"What is it?" Weldon asked.
+
+Van Hope, seemingly scarcely aware of us before, instantly rallied his
+faculties and turned to us. In a single instant he had wrenched back
+complete self-control--an indication of self-mastery such as I had
+rarely seen surpassed. He smiled a little, in the gloom, and dropped his
+hand to his side.
+
+"I suppose it was nothing," he answered. "I guess I'm jumpy. Maybe half
+asleep. But I saw some one--walking through the gardens down by the
+lagoon."
+
+Van Hope spoke rather lightly, in a wholly commonplace voice. He had not
+been, however, half asleep. The frozen face I had seen was of complete
+wakefulness.
+
+"A man, you say--down by the lagoon?" Weldon asked.
+
+"Yes. Of course there's always a chance for a mistake. Probably it
+wouldn't be anything anyway--just one of the men getting a little air.
+Watch a minute--maybe you'll see him again."
+
+We watched in silence, and listened to one another's breathing. But the
+faint shadows, in that starlit vista, were unwavering.
+
+"It wasn't likely anything----" Van Hope said apologetically. "I was
+thinking, though, that any stranger ought to be investigated----"
+
+"He had, too," Weldon agreed. "Not just any stranger. Any one who goes
+walking down there in the darkness ought to be questioned--whether he's
+one of us or not. But are you sure you saw anything?"
+
+"Not sure at all. I thought I did, though. I thought I saw him step,
+distinctly, through a rift in the trees. Excuse me for bothering you."
+
+None of us felt any embarrassment on Van Hope's account, or any
+superciliousness if he had been unnecessarily alarmed. It was wholly
+natural, this third night of three, to wonder and be stirred by any
+moving thing in the darkened gardens.
+
+But we waited and watched in vain. There were no cries from the shore of
+the lagoon. The silence remained unbroken, and after awhile the thought
+turned to other channels.
+
+Van Hope rose at last, hurled his cigar stub to the lawns and for a
+breath stood watching its glowing end pale and die. The disappearance of
+his old friend had gone hard with him. You could see it in the stoop of
+his shoulders. He looked several years older.
+
+"Nothing to do now--but go to bed," he commented quietly. "Maybe we can
+get some sleep to-night."
+
+"The third night's the charm," Nopp answered grimly. "How do we know but
+that before this night is over we'll be gathered out here again." He
+paused, and we tried to smile at him in the darkness. Nopp was speaking
+with a certain grim humor, yet whatever his intentions, none of us got
+the idea that he was jesting. "It's worked two nights--why not three.
+I'd believe anything could happen at this goblin house----"
+
+We listened to him with relief. It was some way good for our spirits to
+have one of us speak out what we had all been thinking and had strained
+so hard to hide. Nor did we think less of him for his frankness. We knew
+at first, and we knew now, that Nopp's nerve was as good or better than
+any man in the gathering, and he had never showed it better than in
+speaking frankly now.
+
+"Bunk, Nopp," Van Hope answered. "You're mixing coincidence up with
+atmosphere. It was a strange and a devilish thing that those two crimes
+should have happened two nights running, but it will work out perfectly
+plausible--mark my words. And coincidences don't happen three times in a
+row."
+
+Nopp lifted his face to the starlit skies. "My boy," he said, rather
+superciliously, "_anything_ could happen at Kastle Krags."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+After I went to my room I worked for an hour on the cryptogram, found
+beside Florey's body. The mysterious column of four-letter words,
+however, did not respond to any methods of translation that I knew. For
+another hour thereafter I lay awake in my bed beside the window.
+
+It was one of the few spots in the house that offered a fairly clear
+glimpse of the lagoon. The trees opened, like curtains: I could see the
+water darkly blue in the starlight, and the faint, gray line, like a
+crayon mark, that was the natural rock wall. The tide was coming in now:
+I could see the white manes of the sea-horses as they charged over the
+barrier. The whole surface of the lagoon was fretted by them.
+
+Had Nopp spoken true--could there be a recurrence of last night's
+tragedy? Could any situation arise in human affairs that would result in
+three murders, one after another, all under practically the same and the
+most mysterious conditions? It was possible, by a long stretch of the
+imagination, to conceive of two such crimes occurring on successive
+nights--the murderer striking again, through some unknown movement of
+events, to hide his first crime--but coincidences do not happen thrice!
+If indeed these disappearances could be wholly attributed to human
+activities, human designs and human passions, there was no need of lying
+awake and expectant this third night. Surely no super-criminal had
+declared remorseless war against _all_ of the occupants of that house.
+Certainly we could sleep in peace to-night!
+
+But I couldn't get away from the same thought that haunted me
+before--that these crimes lay somehow without the bourne of human event
+and circumstance, that they were some way native to this strange, old
+manor-house beside the sea. It wasn't easy to lose one's self in sleep.
+I felt no shame at my own uneasiness. It was true that the crimes had
+both occurred, evidently, on the shore of or near the lagoon, but could
+the curse that lay upon the old estate extend its baleful influence into
+the house itself? Anything could happen at Kastle Krags, Nopp had said,
+and it became increasingly difficult to disbelieve him.
+
+Since the intrusion of two nights before I had slept with a chair
+blocked firmly against my door, knowing that no one could enter from
+the corridor, at least without waking me. My own pistol lay just under
+my mattress where the hand could reach it in an instant. Both these
+things were an immense consolation now. I would not be so helpless in
+case of another midnight visitor.
+
+Yet I had no after-image of terror in thinking upon the intruder of two
+nights before. Strangely, that hand reaching in the flashlight was the
+one redeeming feature of this affair of Kastle Krags. That hand was
+flesh and blood, and thus the whole mystery seemed of flesh and blood
+too. If this incident did not confine the mystery to the realm of human
+affairs, at least it showed that there were human motives and human
+agents playing their parts in it.
+
+Was that intruder Pescini? The hand could easily have been his--firm,
+strong, aristocratic, sensitive and white. After all, there was quite a
+case to be made against Pescini. "Find George Florey and you'll find the
+murderer," William Noyes had written. And the whole business of proving
+that Pescini was George Florey was simply that of proving his
+handwriting and that of the "George" notes we had found in the butler's
+room were the same.
+
+"They have been bitter enemies since youth." Rich, proud, distinguished,
+had this bearded man carried a life-long hatred for the humble servitor
+of Kastle Krags? What boyhood rivalry, what malice, what blinding,
+bitter jealousy had wakened such a hatred as this? Yet who can trace the
+slightest action from its origin to its consummation; much less such a
+complex human drama as this. No man can see truly into the human heart.
+It seemed fairly credible that this gray servant might hate, with that
+bitter hatred born of jealousy, his richer, more distinguished
+brother--yet human relations, in their fullness, are beyond the ken of
+the wisest men. It would be easy to prove or disprove whether or not
+Pescini and Florey were brothers: the "George" letters were secure in
+the hands of the State, and a copy of Pescini's handwriting could be
+procured with ease. Besides their lives and origins would likely be easy
+to trace.
+
+Florey's letter to his sister was further proof of Pescini's guilt. I
+made an entirely different interpretation of it than that of the
+officials. I did not think that he was referring to any physical
+disease. I believed, at the first hearing, and I believed still that he
+had written in veiled language of the persecutions of his brother:
+
+     "My old malady, G---- is troubling me again," Florey had
+     written. "I don't think I will ever be rid of it. It is
+     certainly the Florey burden--going through all our family.
+     I can't hardly sleep and don't know how I'll ever get rid of
+     it. I'm deeply discouraged, yet I know...."
+
+I did not share the sheriff's view that "G----" referred to some
+long-named malady that, either for the sake of abbreviation or because
+he could not spell it, he had neglected to write out in full. I felt
+sure it meant "George" and nothing else. "The Florey burden----"--what
+was more reasonable than that his family had been cursed by feuds
+within. I hadn't forgotten my talk with Nealman. He had spoken of the
+hatred sometimes borne by one brother for another; and had named the
+Jason family, main characters in the treasure legend of the old manor
+house, as a case in point. But Florey had got rid of his burden at last.
+He had got rid of it by death.
+
+Could I make myself believe that Pescini had lured his brother to the
+shore, killed him, seized an opportunity to hurl his body into the
+lagoon, from which, by the thousandth chance, our drag-hooks had failed
+to find it; and the following night, to conceal his guilt, had struck
+down his host? Perhaps the former was true, and that the crime, coming
+just previous to his own financial failure, had suggested suicide to
+Nealman's mind. No one had track of Pescini the night of the crime. For
+that matter, unlike Van Hope, Major Dell, and several others, he was not
+undressed and in his room when Nealman had disappeared. And the coroner
+had suggested a motive for murder in the matter of Pescini's suit for
+divorce.
+
+It wasn't easy to believe that such an obviously distinguished
+and cultured man could stoop to murder. There is such a thing,
+criminologists say, as a criminal face; but Pescini had not the least
+semblance of it. Criminologists admit, however, in the same breath that
+they are constantly amazed at the varied types that are brought before
+them, charged with the most heinous crimes. Pescini looked kind,
+self-mastered, not given to outlaw impulses. Yet who could say for sure.
+
+I was already falling to sleep.... It was hard to keep the sequence
+of thought; absurd fancies swept between. Ever my hold on wakefulness
+was less. It was pleasant to believe that the mystery would soon be
+unraveled, all with a commonplace explanation.... At first I gave no
+heed to a rapid footfall in the corridor.
+
+Yet in an instant I was wide awake. In the silent hall the footfall was
+perfectly distinct, carrying through the walls of my room, and echoing
+somewhere in the wall behind me. In any quiet home, in any land, it
+would have been impossible to disregard those footsteps. There was a
+distinct tone of urgency behind them that simply could not be denied. In
+this dark house of mystery the senses rallied, quickened, and seemed to
+lie waiting to contend with any emergency.
+
+The steps were not only hurried and urgent. They were
+_frenzied_--although they were not running footsteps. At the same time
+they gave the image of some one trying to hurry, some one trying to
+conquer himself, and yet not move too loudly. It was as if he was some
+way fearful to waken the poignant silence of that shadowed corridor.
+
+"He is coming to my door," I told myself. It was wholly likely that I
+spoke the words aloud; at least, I believed them as unwaveringly as if
+the man outside had thus announced his intentions. No man can ever tell
+how such knowledge comes to him. Perhaps it is coincidence--that he
+expects such a summons on a hundred different occasions before it ever
+comes to him in reality. Yet many things already proven true are a
+thousand times harder to believe than telepathy--the transmission of
+messages according to no known laws of matter and space.
+
+The tread itself was peculiar. It had an odd, shuffling quality that was
+hard to analyze. Then some one rapped excitedly on my door.
+
+"What is it?" I asked.
+
+I was already out of bed, groping for my light switch.
+
+"It's me--Wilkson," was the reply. "Boss, will ye open de do'?"
+
+I knew Nealman's colored janitor--a middle-aged servant of an
+old-fashioned, almost departed glory--but for an instant I found it
+almost incredible that this was his voice. The tones were blurred,
+lifeless, spoken as if from drawn lips. There was only one thing to
+believe, and I fought it off as long as I could: that the man outside my
+door was simply stricken and almost dead with fear.
+
+It wasn't easy to open the door to hear what he had to tell. A scream in
+the night is one thing; a chattering fellow man, just on the other side
+of a pine door, is quite another. But I took away the chair and turned
+the knob.
+
+The man's face was almost as hard to recognize as his voice. It was
+Wilkson, beyond possibility of doubt, but he was no longer the tranquil,
+genial serving-man. His face had the strangest gray hue pen ever tried
+to describe. I could see the whites of his eyes, his lips were rounded,
+he was almost unconscious from sheer terror.
+
+At that moment I began to strive hard to remember certain truths--one of
+them being that little things, laughed away by an Anglo-Saxon, have been
+known to instill the most unfathomable depths of fear into an unlettered
+southern negro. What seemed terrible to him might be only laughable to
+me. I thought of these things in order to brace myself for what he had
+to tell.
+
+At that moment I knew the inroads that the events of the last two nights
+had made upon me--likely upon every man and woman in the house. I could
+have met that gray face much more bravely the night previous, and would
+have likely been largely unmoved by it two nights before. But mystery,
+the lack of sleep, the terrible possibilities to which both crimes had
+pointed, had over-stretched the nerves and taken the pith from the
+thews. The sight of that terrified face sent a sharp chill of fear
+through every avenue of my nerves. I felt its icy touch in my veins.
+Kastle Krags was getting to me--denial of that fact was impossible even
+to myself.
+
+"Iscuse me, Boss," he said humbly, pathetically, if I had ever known
+what pathos was. In his terror he wanted to propitiate the whole world,
+and was begging my indulgence of his intrusion. "Boss, is Majo' Del in
+yo' room?"
+
+"No." I didn't reprove him for failing to notice that my light was out.
+"Where is he?"
+
+"Boss, he am gone. He's gone just like them other two am gone." His
+voice died and a low moan escaped his lips. "Boss, who'll they be takin'
+nex'? Gawd, who'll they be takin' nex'----?"
+
+I seized his arm, trying to steady him. "Listen, Wilkson," I commanded.
+"How do you know he's gone----"
+
+"Telephone message come for him, Boss. Telegram, from Ochakee. And he
+ain't here to get it. He's gone--just like dem oder two men has gone
+befo' him."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+It wasn't easy to steady Wilkson so that he could tell an intelligent
+story. His own dark superstitions had hold of him, and his shambling
+search through the darkened corridors had stretched his nerves to the
+absolute breaking-point. It was evident at once that there was nothing
+to do but let him take his time and get the story out the best he could.
+After all, immediate action had never helped matters in this affair of
+Kastle Krags. There had been a grim finality about everything that had
+occurred. Those who were gone had not been brought back by prompt
+search.
+
+He did not respond to any of the ruses so often used to get a colored
+man to talk--scorn or incredulity or sternness. He was aware of nothing
+but his own terror, and the image in those fear-widened eyes no man
+could guess.
+
+"You say a telegram came for him, Wilkson?" I asked gently. "Some one
+phoned it in?"
+
+"De phone bell rung, jus' off de su'vant's rooms," he explained. "It was
+a message fo' Majo' Dell. 'Get him up to get dis telegram,' some white
+gen'lman said, so I done went to get him up. He ain't in his room. Bed
+not been slept in. I called and no one answered. Den I ask Mrs.
+Gentry--she saw him go down the hall hour ago, all dressed, and seen him
+turn in yo' room----"
+
+"He's not here. He hasn't been here." I slipped on a dressing-gown
+and slippers, then stood a moment with Wilkson in the darkened hall.
+It was curious that the housekeeper should have made such an odd
+mistake--thinking that Dell had turned into my door. Perhaps at the
+distance she had observed she confused the door either to the right or
+left with mine.
+
+There was no need for panic yet. Any one of a dozen things might have
+explained his temporary absence from his room in the dead of night. He
+might be in the room to my right--Fargo's room--in some conference with
+his friend. Yet there was no light under the door.
+
+I knocked loudly. Fargo called sharply from his bed.
+
+"Have you seen Major Dell?" I asked.
+
+"Dell? No! Good Lord, he hasn't disappeared, too?"
+
+"We can't find him." I heard Fargo spring from his bed, and I turned to
+the room to my left. Yet in an instant I remembered and halted on the
+threshold. This was Nealman's room, dark and chill with shadows. I
+scratched a match and lifted it high.
+
+But no one was here. My voice rang with a hollow sound back to me. Our
+shouts had aroused Nopp, and in a moment he came out in the hall to join
+us. I think Nopp was a steadying influence on us both. He walked, rather
+than ran, he was perfectly composed, wholly himself, and his voice when
+he spoke was low and even. Yet there was no tone or note of an attempt
+to belittle our alarm. He acted as I have seen strong men act in the
+presence of some great disaster--calmly, soberly, rather white-faced and
+silent, but unflinching and steadfast.
+
+There was no amazement in Nopp's face. Evidently he had expected just
+such a development.
+
+"Another gone, eh?" he said. "I wish these devils would stay in their
+rooms, where they belong. What's taking them out there, Killdare?"
+
+"How do I know? Maybe they just can't sleep--want to walk----"
+
+"They wouldn't want to walk in that part of the grounds, if they're
+human, unless they've got business there. But no matter. We've got to
+look around for him at least. I don't suppose it will do any good----"
+
+He spoke with an unmistakable fatalism. "You don't mean--that he's gone
+like the rest----"
+
+I heard our low breathing as I waited for his answer. "What's the use of
+fooling ourselves any more, Killdare?" he replied quietly. "We're up
+against something--God knows what. Of course he's gone--just like the
+rest. Where else could he be?"
+
+We turned once more into his room. Wilkson had reported rightly--his bed
+had not been slept in, and there was not the slightest sign of disorder.
+His coat--a well-made garment of some gray, cotton cloth hung on the
+back of his chair, and the butts of two cigars lay on his smoking stand.
+He was not in his bathroom, nor did we hear his voice from some
+adjoining room.
+
+And now all the other guests, all of whom slept on this same floor, were
+gathering about us, wakened by the sound of our voices. Marten came,
+swearing under his breath, and Van Hope's brow was beaded with
+perspiration that glistened in the dim light. But none of them knew
+where Major Dell was. Indeed none of them had seen him since he had
+gone to his room.
+
+There was a curious, dream-like quality about the little session that we
+had together at the door of Dell's room. It was all rather dim, obscure,
+the voices that we heard seemed to come from some place far off, and
+that ring of faces no longer looked clear-cut and sharp. I suppose the
+answer lay in the great preoccupation that was upon us all, a struggle
+for understanding that engulfed our minds.
+
+There were no excited, frenzied voices. The men spoke rather quietly and
+slowly, as if measuring their words, and Van Hope was smiling, faintly.
+It wasn't a mirthful smile, but rather a wan smile such as a man gives
+when some incredible disaster, long expected, has fallen upon him. None
+of us liked to see it. There was nothing to believe but that the mystery
+had gone home to him more fully than to any one else--and we all wished
+that he could be spared the tragic, vain hour of search that awaited us.
+Because none of us had the least hope, in our own hearts, that we would
+ever see Major Dell again. We had got past the point where we could
+deceive ourselves. The truth was all too self-evident. We would search
+through the grounds, as a matter of duty we would call and run back and
+forth. But the end was already sure.
+
+Indeed, there was no look of surprise on any one of those white faces.
+Rather they had a helpless, almost fatalistic expression, as men have
+when at last they are crushed to earth by the inevitable. I have heard a
+detachment of soldiers, seemingly trapped by death, speak in the same
+quiet way, and have seen the same baffled, resigned expression on their
+faces.
+
+I didn't try to keep track of who was there and who was absent. It was
+impossible to think of such things now. But bitter, blasting fear surged
+through me when I thought of Edith--wondering if she was safe in her
+room.
+
+There was a moment of stress, a sudden, momentary explosion of
+suppressed excitement, when Slatterly the sheriff joined us in the hall.
+We heard his running feet in the corridor, and we turned to watch him,
+his dressing-gown flopping about him. Evidently he had heard our words
+from his room in the upper corridor. Certain exclamations were on his
+lips--whether they were profane oaths I do not know.
+
+"What is it?" he demanded in an irritable, rasping voice. "Why are you
+all gathered here?"
+
+Silently we waited for Nopp to speak--Nopp who had become the strongest
+arm in the affair. "We're not having any late evening gossip," he
+answered. "Kastle Krags has its tail up again. We're here--to find out
+what has become of Major Dell."
+
+"Major Dell! Good God, don't tell me he's gone too."
+
+Instantly the sudden, deadly surge of wrath we had all felt toward the
+sheriff died in our breasts. That cry he made, the hopeless, defeated
+way in which he spoke, made him, in an instant, one of us--subject to
+the same fear and despair, a crushed and impotent human being like
+ourselves.
+
+"He's gone," Nopp told him quietly. "He's not in his room. He doesn't
+seem to be any place else."
+
+"Have you searched? I don't suppose there's any use of it, but we've got
+to search. Oh, why didn't I guard him--why did I ever take such a
+criminal risk!"
+
+None of us could forget his rugged, brown face in the wan electric
+light. Whether it was regret or fear that swept it we didn't know. It
+was ashen, almost expressionless, and his eyes were lifeless under his
+heavy brows. His hands hung, fingers slightly apart, at his side.
+
+"Wait just a minute before we begin an indiscriminate search," Nopp
+said. "Slatterly, we've got to face facts. Do you think--there's any
+place in these grounds that none of us _ought to go_?"
+
+We knew what he meant. He wanted to guard against further loss of life.
+
+"The thing seems to run according to rule," the sheriff replied, rather
+grimly. "Just one gone--every night. But keep together when you're down
+near the lagoon."
+
+There was not the least good in searching further through the house.
+Most of the household had gathered around us, by now, and no one had
+seen Major Dell. We walked the length of the corridor and down the
+stairs, and then we went out into the still darkness. The hour was
+evidently shortly after midnight--the tide was almost at its flood.
+
+Just a moment more we stood just below the great veranda, and no man
+knew the other's thoughts. The moon was rising--we could see its argent
+gleam through nebulous clouds to the East. Far away the gray shore
+stretched to the darkened sea, and the natural rock wall showed a faint,
+gray line. Then we headed out into the grounds.
+
+But there was no answer to the calls we made, and only such little
+people as moles and gophers, burrowers in the ground, stirred in the
+thickets as we crushed through. We hunted aimlessly, more to satisfy our
+own sense of duty than through any expectation of finding the missing
+man. The moon came out more vividly, but its light did not bring
+success. At last we collected, a silent, rather breathless group, in
+front of the house.
+
+"What now, Slatterly?" Nopp asked. "Is there anything more we can do?"
+
+"Nothing more." His old confidence was gone from his voice. "I wish I'd
+done something long ago, instead of being so sure. But this thing can't
+happen to-morrow night."
+
+"Slatterly, you're a brave man to say that _anything_ can't happen
+to-morrow night. I thought you'd learned your lesson----"
+
+"I have. Never fear for that. To-morrow night I'm going to watch beside
+that lagoon with a loaded gun--and I am going to see this thing
+through."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+The sheriff had finished his investigations by noon of the following
+day, and after lunch I was free to work upon the problem that I felt was
+the key to the whole mystery--the cryptogram beside Florey's body.
+Lately I had been thinking that in all probability to procure the script
+had been the direct motive of the murder; and the fact of its theft from
+my room seemed to bear me out.
+
+Why wasn't it reasonable to presume that in the last instant of Florey's
+life, just before the attack was made, he had attempted to conceal the
+script. He had thrown it from him; his death-cry had aroused the
+household so that the murderer had no time to seek and procure it. Then
+from a hiding place, or even from among a group of the guests, he had
+seen me pick it up.
+
+To work out that cryptogram, to read its hidden meaning was the first
+and the best thing I could do in the way to solve the mystery of Kastle
+Krags. Written originally on parchment, sixty or seventy years before,
+it doubtless referred and was in explanation of the secret of the old
+manor house--the legend of the treasure, supposedly hidden by Godfrey
+Jason in the long ago. I had just toyed with it before. Perhaps I had
+had little faith that it was of any real importance. But now, other
+avenues had failed, and I was resolved to know the truth if it was
+humanly possible to do so. I copied the script again, with great care:
+
+     aned
+     dqbo
+     aqcd
+     trkm
+     fipj
+     dqbo
+     seho
+     ohuy
+     wvyn
+     dljn
+     dtht
+
+Then I began to make a systematic analysis. I noticed first that the
+second and the sixth words were identical, indicating--considering the
+brevity of the entire message--that it must represent a word of most
+frequent use. Of course the articles "a" and "the" occur most often in
+any English writing, yet I found it hard to believe that "dqbo"
+represented either. In the first place, in a message of that length it
+is reasonable to assume that all articles and words not absolutely
+necessary to the meaning had been omitted.
+
+Weeks that seemed years before Nealman had told me that, after careful
+study, he had been convinced that there was some truth in the legend of
+buried treasure. Was it not within the bounds of reason to assume that
+this cryptic message revealed the hiding place of the treasure? Working
+on this assumption, I made up an imaginary description of some hiding
+place, just to see what words occurred with the greatest frequency. I
+found at once that the word that would be most likely to be used twice
+in a description of that kind would be some measurement--either feet,
+yards, meters, rods, or something of the kind. If I could convince
+myself that "dqbo" represented some English measurement I might find the
+key and system of the code.
+
+Either "feet," "yard" or "rods" were words of four letters--either one
+of which might be represented by "dqbo." Then I tested each one to see
+if I could establish a pattern.
+
+I tried first the old code-system of having each letter in the word
+represent some other letter a certain number of spaces backward or
+forward in the alphabet. Suppose a man wanted to disguise the word
+"cab." He might do so, very easily, by spelling it "dbc"--using, instead
+of the right letter, the letter immediately following it in the
+alphabet, "d" for "c," "b" for "a," etc. Testing for "feet" as a
+possible interpretation of "dqbo" I saw that "f" was the second
+letter in the alphabet beyond the letter "d"--first letter in the
+script-word--but I found that such a relation could not possibly hold
+with "e" and "q" respectively, the second letters. "Yard" or "rods"
+failed the same test. Nor by any juggling of this simple code, counting
+so many spaces backwards or forwards, could I make it come out true.
+
+Some time before I had decided that it was unlikely to the verge of
+impossibility that any message could be made up completely of four
+letter words. It seemed likely, at first, that letters had been cut
+from each word in order to make them of four letters. Working on this
+hypothesis I tested for "meters" but the word "dqbo" could not be made
+to conform.
+
+At that point it was necessary to begin on another tack. I smoked a
+while in silence, hoping that some idea, some little inspiration that
+so often furnished the key for such a mystery as this, would come to me.
+I had a dim thought that, since the words were all of four letters and
+could not be made intelligible by any shifting of the alphabet, that
+perhaps it had undergone some double transformation--changed first from
+words into some other symbol form, and then back into words. But I
+couldn't seem to get hold.
+
+If I could only see the key! Possibly it was extremely simple, just
+before my eyes if I could only grasp it. It wasn't reasonable, I
+thought, for a lone man to leave a hidden message without giving some
+key, however adroit, for the reader to translate it. Jason hadn't
+written that message for his own amusement. He had inscribed it to be
+read by some one who came after--perhaps by himself when old age had
+dulled his memory.
+
+Working from this point of view I set myself to remember what had been
+written on the parchment beside the column of figures. Perhaps the key
+had been there also; I had simply failed to observe it. At the bottom of
+the message had appeared the words "At F. T." And at first this seemed
+to offer the most interesting possibilities.
+
+Certainly the word and letters had some meaning. In the first place
+this, and the sentence above the script, indicated that the writer did
+his thinking in English--not in Spanish or Portuguese or any other
+language. But "F. T." did not convey any meaning to my mind. I simply
+couldn't catch it.
+
+I tried to make the letters "F" and "T" a starting point in the alphabet
+for rearranging the letters in the column of words, on the same theory
+that I had worked at first, but nothing came of it. And at that point my
+hopes and confidence, falling steadily for the past hour, was at its
+lowest ebb. I didn't see but that I would have to give up the venture
+after all.
+
+My mind slipped easily to the message in English above the
+column--"Sworn by the Book," or something after that nature. Taking
+these words simply as they seemed, an oath on the part of the writer
+that the ensuing message was true, I hadn't taken the trouble to copy
+them from the original parchment. Fortunately I remembered them,
+approximately at least. And I felt a little quickening of hope as I
+contemplated them.
+
+The more I looked at them the more they seemed to be "dragged in by the
+heels." I didn't think that one with knowledge of hidden treasure,
+conveying its hiding place to some one else, would have taken the
+trouble to declare the truth of his statement by oath. Nor was such
+a pious beginning, on the part of that iniquitous murderer and
+cut-throat, Jason, quite in character. He would have been more likely to
+have begun with a sentence of piratical profanity. He had some reason
+for bringing in the "Book"--and when I knew what it was, I believed I
+would know the key to the cryptogram.
+
+The "Book" was the Bible of course--a name still in wide use. And the
+whole volume of my blood seemed to spurt through the veins when I
+remembered what an important place the Bible had taken in the events of
+the past few days!
+
+Nealman had had a Bible, wide open, in his room. Edith had been seen to
+carry it to him through the corridor--and this business with it had been
+of such a character that he had ordered Edith's silence in regard to the
+errand. Whether or not Florey had possessed a copy I wasn't able to
+remember for certain.
+
+It must have been a grim old joke to Jason--to use the Holy Word to
+transmit the record of his iniquity! In an instant I was burrowing, not
+a little excited, into the bottom of my bag for a small copy of the
+Bible that I carried with me on every journey.
+
+Apart from religious reasons, there is no better traveling companion
+for a knowledge-loving man than King James' Bible. The font of all
+literature, the mighty well of inspiration, the record of the ages--it
+was beloved not only of the scientist and historian, but the literati
+and the esthete. Hardly a week had passed that I hadn't referred to it,
+in one capacity or another. And now I felt that I was on the right track
+at last.
+
+There is no book in such common usage, published with such fidelity as
+to the position of every word, so easily procured in any place or time,
+as the Holy Bible. It would be the perfect code-book. Certainly it could
+be used to the greatest advantage as the key to a cryptogram.
+
+But what had been the method of its use? In what way could these
+four-letter words, none of which were intelligible, be made through the
+agency of the Bible to present an intelligent meaning? Again I found
+myself relying on inductive reasoning. I worked backward, just as I had
+done before, trying to see some way to convey a secret meaning through
+the agency of this universally read book.
+
+All at once I saw the way. The Bible contained almost every word in the
+present English vocabulary. In all probability each one of the words in
+the column represented some English word to be found somewhere in the
+Bible, and the column of them, written out, would be the message in
+full.
+
+How to find that word was the only problem that remained. True, it
+looked formidable enough at first. Yet I saw in a moment that the
+four-letter words could not represent the words of the message
+themselves, but only their _position_ in the Bible.
+
+My mind was working clearly now, leaping from one conclusion to another;
+and reasoning deductively I tried to work out some method of secret
+writing whereby I could reveal to another person the position of a
+certain word I wanted him to know. Suppose, for instance, that Jason
+wished to use the word "feet" in his message. Looking through the Bible
+he found the word--say on page 86, third line, fourth word. It was
+conceivable that he might send the numbers "86-3-4" to some other
+person; and the latter, aware that the Bible acted as the key, looked
+up the place in the Book and learned what the word was.
+
+The number of pages vary, however, in Bibles of different size. It was
+natural that the location must be a constant in order that the recipient
+of the note could always find it. So I began again:
+
+Suppose Jason, looking through his Bible, found the word "feet" in the
+book of Genesis, the first chapter, the third verse, and the fourth word
+of the verse. If he should send the symbols "Gen. 1, 3, 4" to his
+friend, the man could easily look up the place and see what he meant.
+And in this case he wouldn't have to have any certain edition of the
+Bible. The fourth word of the third verse of the first chapter of
+Genesis is the same in all copies of King James' Bible over all the
+world.
+
+Now I was working on sure ground. I had no doubt but that "dqbo"
+represented a certain point in the Bible--the letter "d" probably
+representing the book, "q" the chapter, "b" the verse and "o" the word.
+Once more my attention was called, with particular vividness, to the
+fact that all the words in the column were of four letters, proving in
+my mind that this last contention was true.
+
+My heart was racing as I moved to the next step in working out the
+cryptogram. It was simply that of finding what method had been used to
+transform such a symbol as "Gen. 1, 3, 4" into such a sign as "dqbo." If
+instead of four-letter words I was working with sequences of numbers
+such as "1, 1, 3, 4" I would have felt that the problem was solved. "1,
+1, 3, 4" would have plainly meant the first book, the first chapter,
+the third verse, and the fourth word.
+
+To transform letters into numbers--that was all that remained. Again I
+went back to "dqbo" and took the simplest method of transformation. "D"
+was the fourth letter in the alphabet. "Q" was the seventeenth letter in
+the alphabet. "B" was the second letter in the alphabet. "O" was the
+fifteenth letter in the alphabet. I wrote down the numbers:
+
+     4-17-2-15
+
+And I felt sure that they meant the fourth book, the seventeenth
+chapter, the second verse and the fifteenth word in the Holy Bible.
+
+Shaken, so nervous I could hardly hold my hands still, I stopped a
+moment to rest. This was the crisis. I was either at the verge of
+absolute success or hopeless failure. If when I looked up the place I
+found some word that couldn't possibly be used in such a message I
+wouldn't have the spirit to seek further. And it would be a real blow to
+all my hopes.
+
+I opened the Bible. The fourth book proved to be "Numbers." I turned to
+the seventeenth chapter, the second verse. And there I read as follows:
+
+     Speak unto the children of Israel and take one of them a
+     _rod_ according to the house of their fathers.
+
+The fifteenth word was _rod_--used as a staff in this case but
+undoubtedly used as a term of measurement in the script.
+
+From then on my fingers flew through the pages of the Book. "Aned," the
+very first word in the column, represented--finding the alphabetical
+position of each letter--the numbers 1-14-5-4. It was a simple matter to
+look up the first book of the Bible, Genesis, the fourteenth chapter,
+the fifth verse, and the fourth word. The verse in this case began:
+
+     "And in the _fourteenth_ year came Chedorlaomer, and the
+     kings that were with him."
+
+The fourth word of the verse was _fourteenth_--and the first word of the
+finished script.
+
+It was easy to find the other words. I worked them all out in fifteen
+minutes. "Aqcd," the third in the column, proved to be the first,
+seventeenth, third, and fourth letters of the alphabet, respectively,
+and 1-17-3-4 meant first book, seventeenth chapter, third verse, fourth
+word, as plain as could be. The word proved to be "on." Swiftly I went
+down the list. And at last I had the whole column translated:
+
+     fourteen
+     rod
+     on
+     wall
+     three
+     rod
+     straight
+     right
+     fastened
+     white
+     rock
+
+Writing it out, I had:
+
+     Fourteen rod on wall three rod straight right fastened white
+     rock.
+
+In clearer language, it meant simply and unmistakably, that to find the
+missing object--unquestionably Jason's treasure--go fourteen rods out on
+the natural rock wall, turn straight right into the lagoon for three
+rods, and there I would find it--fastened to a white rock.
+
+The thing was done. I came to myself to find my fingers toying with the
+pencil, and my thoughts soaring far away. In spite of the grim record of
+death already made, the deadly precedent that had been set, in spite of
+all the dictates of ordinary intelligence, I knew what my future course
+would be. The lure of gold had hold of me. As soon as the opportunity
+offered, I was going to follow the thing through to its end, and see
+with my own eyes that which lay hidden in the depths of the lagoon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+
+Just before the dinner hour I met Slatterly on the lower floor, and we
+had a moment's talk together. "You've been in on most everything that's
+happened around here," he said. "You might as well be with us to-night.
+We're going to watch the lagoon."
+
+The truth was I had made other plans for this evening--plans that
+included Edith Nealman--so I made no immediate answer. The official
+noticed my hesitancy, and of course misunderstood.
+
+"Speak right up, if you don't want to do it," he said, not unkindly. The
+sheriff was a man of human sympathies, after all. "I wouldn't hold it
+against any man living if he didn't want to sit out there in the dark
+watching--after what's happened the last three nights. I don't know that
+I'd do it myself if it wasn't in line of duty."
+
+"I don't think I'd be afraid," I told him.
+
+"It isn't a question of being afraid. It's simply a matter of human
+make-up. To tell the truth, I'm afraid myself--and I'm not ashamed of
+it. More than once I've had to conquer fear in my work. A man who ain't
+afraid, one time or another, hasn't any imagination. Some men are cold
+as ice, I've had deputies that were--and they wouldn't mind this a bit.
+I know, Killdare, that you'd come in a pinch. Any man here, I think--any
+white man--would be down there with me to-night if something vital--some
+one's life or something--depended on it. But I don't want to take any
+one that it will be hard for, that--that is any one to whom it would be
+a real ordeal. I'm picking my bunch with some care."
+
+"Who is going?"
+
+"Weldon, Nopp, you and myself--if you want to come. If not, don't mind
+saying so."
+
+"I want to come!" We smiled at each other, in the hall. After all, no
+other decision could be made. The high plans I had made for an evening
+with Edith would have to be given over. In the first place the night
+might solve the mystery into which I had been drawn. In the second it
+was the kind of offer that most men, over the earth, find it impossible
+to refuse. Human beings, as a whole, are not particularly brave. They
+are still too close to the caves and the witch-doctors of the young
+world. They are inordinately, incredibly shy, also, and like little
+children, sometimes, in their dreads and superstitions. Yet through some
+blessing they have a high-born capacity to conquer the fear that
+emburdens them.
+
+No white man in the manor house would have refused Slatterly's offer.
+Mostly, when men see that they are up against a certain hard deal, some
+proposition that stirs the deep-buried, inherent instinct that is
+nothing more or less than a sense of duty--that deep-lying sense of
+obligation that makes the whole world beautiful and justifiable--they
+simply stand up and face it. No normal young man likes war. Yet they all
+go. And of course this work to-night promised excitement--and the love
+of excitement is a siren that has drawn many a good man to his doom.
+
+"Good," the sheriff told me simply, not in the least surprised. "What
+kind of a gun can you scare up?"
+
+"I can get a gun, all right. I've got a pistol of my own."
+
+Nopp came up then, and he and the sheriff exchanged significant glances.
+And the northern man suddenly turned to me, about to speak.
+
+Until that instant I hadn't observed the record that the events of the
+past three nights had written in his face. Nopp had nerves of steel;
+but the house and its mystery had got to him, just the same. The sunset
+rays slanted in over the veranda, poured through the big windows, and
+showed his face in startling detail. The inroads that had been made upon
+it struck me with a sudden sense of shock.
+
+The man looked older. The lines of his face seemed more deeply graven,
+the flesh-sacks were swollen under his eyes, he was some way shaken and
+haggard. Yet you didn't get the idea of impotence. The hands at his side
+had a man's grasp in them. Nopp was still able to handle most of the
+problems that confronted him.
+
+Slatterly, too, had not escaped unscathed. The danger and his own
+failure to solve the mystery had killed some of the man's conceit, and
+he was more tolerant and sympathetic. There was a peculiar, excited
+sparkle in his eyes, too.
+
+Slatterly turned to Nopp. "He says he's got a pistol."
+
+The second that ensued had an unmistakable quality of drama. Nopp turned
+to me, exhaling heavily. "Killdare, we've beat the devil around the
+stump all along--and it's time to stop," he said. "I don't like to talk
+like a crazy man, but we've got to look this infernal matter in the
+face. When you come out to-night come armed with the biggest gun you can
+find--a high-powered rifle."
+
+No man argued with another, at a time like this. "I don't know where I
+can get a rifle," I told him.
+
+"Every man in the house has got some kind or another. I'm going to be
+frank and tell you what I'm carrying--a big .405, the biggest
+quick-shooting arm I could get hold of. Whatever comes to-night--we've
+got to stop."
+
+We gathered again at the big mahogany table, dined quietly, and the four
+of us excused ourselves just before dessert. The twilight was already
+falling--like gray shadows of wings over land and sea--and we wanted to
+be at our post. We didn't desire that the peril of the lagoon should
+strike in our absence. And we left a more hopeful spirit among the other
+occupants of the manor house.
+
+They were all glad that armed men would guard the lagoon shore that
+night. I suppose it gave them some sense of security otherwise not
+known. The four of us procured our rifles, and walked, a grim company,
+down to the shore of the lagoon.
+
+"We want to guard as much of the shore line as we can, and still keep
+each other in sight," Slatterly said. "And there's no getting away from
+it that we want to be in easy rifle range of each other."
+
+He posted us at fifty-yard intervals along the craggy margin. I was
+placed near the approach of the rock wall, overlooking a wide stretch of
+the shore, Weldon's post was fifty yards above mine, the sheriff's next,
+and Nopp's most distant of all. Then we were left to watch the tides and
+the night and the stars probing through the darkening mantle of the sky.
+
+We had no definite orders. We were simply to watch, to fire at will in
+case of an emergency, to guard the occupants of the manor house against
+any danger that might emerge from the depths of the lagoon. The tide, at
+the lowest ebb at the hour of our arrival, began soon to flow again. The
+glassy surface was fretted by the beat and crash of oncoming waves
+against the rocky barrier. We saw the little rivulets splash through;
+the water's edge crept slowly up the craggy shore. The dusk deepened,
+and soon it was deep night.
+
+We were none too close together. I could barely make out the tall figure
+of Weldon, standing statuesque on a great, gray crag beside the lagoon.
+His figure was so dim that it was hard to believe in its reality, the
+gun at his shoulder was but a fine penciled line, and with the growing
+darkness, it was hard to make him out at all. Soon it took a certain
+measure of imagination to conceive of that darker spot in the mist of
+darkness as the form of a fellow man.
+
+The sense of isolation increased. We heard no sound from each other, but
+the night itself was full of little, hushed noises. From my camp fire
+beside Manatee Marsh I had often heard the same sounds, but they were
+more compelling now, they held the attention with unswerving constancy,
+and they seemed to penetrate further into the spirit. Also I found it
+harder to identify them--at least to believe steadfastly the
+identifications that I made.
+
+We hadn't heard a beginning of the sounds when we had listened from the
+verandas. They had been muffled there, dim and hushed, but here they
+seemed to speak just in your ear. Sea-birds called and shrieked, owls
+uttered their mournful complaints, brush cracked and rustled as little,
+eager-eyed furry things crept through. Once I started and the gun leaped
+upward in my arms as some great sea-fish, likely a tarpon, leaped and
+splashed just beyond the rock wall.
+
+"What is it, Killdare?" Weldon called. His voice was sharp and urgent.
+
+"Some fish jumped, that was all," I answered. And again the silence
+dropped down.
+
+The tide-waves burst with ever-increasing fury. The stars were ever
+brighter, and their companies ever larger, in the deep, violet spaces of
+the sky. The hours passed. The lights in the great colonial house behind
+us winked out, one by one.
+
+There was no consolation in glancing at my watch. It served to make the
+time pass more slowly. The hour drew to midnight, after a hundred years
+or so of waiting; the night had passed its apex and had begun its swift
+descent to dawn. And all at once the thickets rustled and stirred behind
+me.
+
+No man can be blamed for whipping about, startled in the last, little
+nerve, in such a moment as this. Some one was hastening down to the
+shore of the lagoon--some one that walked lightly, yet with eagerness. I
+could even hear the long, wet grass lashing against her ankles.
+
+"Who is it?" I asked quietly.
+
+"Edith," some one answered from the gloom.
+
+Many important things in life are forgotten, and small ones kept; and my
+memory will harbor always the sound of that girlish voice, so clear and
+full in the darkness. Though she spoke softly her whole self was
+reflected in the tone. It was sweet, tender, perhaps even a little
+startled and fearful. In a moment she was at my side.
+
+"What do you mean by coming here alone?" I demanded.
+
+"The phone rang--in the upper corridor," she told me almost
+breathlessly. "The negroes were afraid to answer it. I went--and it was
+a telegram for you. I thought I'd better bring it--it was only two
+hundred yards, and four men here. You're not angry, are you?"
+
+No man could be angry at such a time; and she handed me a written copy
+of the message she had received over the wire. I scratched a match, saw
+her pretty, sober face in its light and read:
+
+     Am sending picture of George Florey, brother of murdered
+     man. Watch him closely. Am writing.
+
+It wasn't an urgent message. The picture would have reached me, just the
+same, and I had every intention of watching closely the man I believed
+was the dead butler's brother. Yet I was glad enough she had seen fit
+to bring it to me. We would have our moment together, after all.
+
+What was said beside that craggy, mysterious margin, what words were all
+but obscured by the sound of the tide-waves breaking against the natural
+wall of rock, what oaths were given, and what breathless, incredible
+happiness came upon us as if from the far stars, has little part in the
+working out of the mystery of Kastle Krags. Certain moments passed,
+indescribably fleet, and certain age-old miracles were reenacted. Life
+doesn't yield many such moments. But then--not many are needed to pay
+for life.
+
+After a while we told each other good-night, and I scratched a match to
+look again into her face. Some way, I had expected the miraculous
+softening of every tender line and the unspeakable luster in her blue
+eyes that the flaring light revealed. They were merely part of the night
+and its magic, and the joy I had in the sight was incomparable with any
+other earthly thing. But what surprised me was a curious look of
+intentness and determination, almost a zealot's enthusiasm in her face,
+that the match-light showed and the darkness concealed again.
+
+She went away, as quietly as she had come. Whether Weldon had seen her I
+did not know. There was something else I didn't know, either, and the
+thought of it was a delight through all the long hours of my watch.
+Edith Nealman had worlds of common sense. I wondered how she had been
+able to convince herself that the message was of such importance that
+she needs must carry it through the darkness of the gardens to me at
+once.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+
+The tide reached its full, shortly after two o'clock, and then began to
+ebb. Almost at once the little waves of the lagoon smoothed out, they
+lapped no more against the craggy margin, and the water lay like a sheet
+of gray glass. I had seen the same transformation on several previous
+occasions, but to-night it seemed to get hold of me as never before.
+
+Seemingly it partook of a miraculous quality to-night--as if winds had
+been suddenly stilled by a magician's art. The water was of course
+flowing out between the crevices of the rock wall, yet there was no
+sense of motion. The water-line dropped slowly down.
+
+It is an unescapable fact that the whole atmosphere of the Ochakee
+country is one of death. The moss-draped forests seem without life, the
+rivers convey no sense of motion, the air is dead, and vegetation rots
+underfoot. To-night the lagoon was without any image or indication of
+life. The whole vista seemed like some dead, forgotten wasteland in a
+dream--a place where living things had never come and was forever
+incompatible with life.
+
+It was a mysterious hour. The half-crescent moon rose at last, at first
+a silver tinting of the skyline, a steadily growing wave of light and
+then the sharply outlined moon itself above the eastern forest. The dark
+shadows that were my companions took form, strengthened; again I could
+see their erect figures on the gray crags and the gleam of their rifles
+in their arms. The perspective widened, the rock wall seemed to extend,
+stretch ever further across the lagoon, and now the sky was graying in
+the East.
+
+A moment later I heard Weldon's voice, ringing full in the hush of the
+dying night, as he spoke Slatterly's name. The latter answered at once.
+
+"Yes. What is it?"
+
+"Let's go in. The night's over and nothing's happened. It's pretty near
+bright day already."
+
+It was true that the eastern sky had begun to be tinged with gray. I
+could see the lines of my hands and the finer mechanisms of the rifle.
+The hour, however, seemed later than it really was, simply because of
+the effulgence of the moon. The dread atmosphere of Kastle Krags had in
+a moment been wholly destroyed. Instead of a place of mystery and
+peril, it was simply an old-time manor-house fronting the sea, built
+between the forest and a calm lagoon.
+
+There didn't seem any use of watching further. If the night was not yet,
+in fact, completely over, the moon and the graying east gave the effect
+of morning. Perhaps the fact that the outgoing tide had stilled the
+lagoon had its effect too. The ominous sound of breaking waves was gone,
+and it gave a perfect image of quietude and peace.
+
+Slatterly waited an instant before he answered. "Wait a little more," he
+said in a resigned tone. "But you're right--it's almost morning."
+
+I don't think it was five minutes later that I saw Weldon leave his post
+and saunter over to the sheriff's side. I suppose, bored with his task,
+the time seemed much longer to him. True, the lagoon was gray, the
+shadows of the garden had lost their mystery, and there didn't seem any
+use of waiting. Indeed, I don't think any of us escaped a sense of inner
+embarrassment--something akin to ignominy and chagrin--that we should be
+standing beside that quiet water-body, with high-powered rifles in our
+hands. It made us feel secretly ridiculous.
+
+Nopp called over, cheerily, "Through for the night?"
+
+"Might as well," Slatterly answered. "It was a fool party anyway."
+
+Very glad that the watch was over, I left my own post, and we had a
+cigarette apiece beside the still lagoon. Then we went through the
+gardens to the house.
+
+"We've disrupted the regular schedule, anyway," Nopp said. "I think
+we've come to the end of our trouble, and nothing more to fear. Man, do
+you think to-day will clear the thing up?"
+
+"What chance is there to clear up such a mess in one day?" The sheriff
+spoke moodily.
+
+"Because you're going to have some real help--not a lot of bungling
+amateurs. You know who's coming?"
+
+"Lacone--Van Hope's detective."
+
+"Yes. He's a distinguished man--a real scientist in the study of crime.
+He may do wonders, even in one day."
+
+"I only hope he does! I don't care who clears it up--as long as it's
+cleared. Now to get a little sleep."
+
+Tired out, we went to our rooms. The cool of early morning had swept
+through the halls, and the first glimmer of dawn was at the windows. How
+white the moon was in the sky, how mysteriously gray the whole sweep of
+shore and sea! So tired I dreaded the work of undressing, I sat down a
+moment before the window that overlooked the lagoon.
+
+The moonlight and the dawn gave the appearance of a mist, a gray mist as
+is sometimes seen over water when the sky is overcast with heavy clouds.
+At that moment it was impossible to conceive of anything but grayness.
+The whole conception that the brain had, the only interpretation that
+the senses made was of this same, lifeless hue. If an artist had tried
+to paint the picture that was spread before my window he would have
+needed but one tube of paint.
+
+It was in some way vaguely startling. It went home to some dark
+knowledge within a man, and left him fearful and expectant. The shore
+and the sea were gray, the gardens were swept with grayness, the lagoon
+itself had lost its many colors and only the same neutral tint remained.
+The only way that the eye could distinguish shore from sea, and garden
+from shore, was the gradations of the same hue.
+
+Surely dawn was almost at hand. The moon looked less vivid in the sky.
+And nothing remained but to find what sleep I could.
+
+But at that instant my senses quickened. I could hardly call it a
+start--it was just a sudden wakening of mind and body. I wasn't the
+least sure.... Perhaps in a moment the old lull, the well-remembered
+sense of well-being and security would return. It had seemed to me that
+a swift shadow glided through the grayness at the shore of the lagoon.
+
+The window afforded a remarkably wide glimpse of that particular part of
+the estate. The rift in the trees permitted a view of scattered segments
+of the rock wall itself. And it wasn't to be that I could turn and leave
+them to the gray of morning. In that mysterious, eerie light I saw the
+whisking shadow again.
+
+It was not merely some little creeping thing from the forest--some
+living creature such as stirs about at the first ray of dawn. The shadow
+was much too large. I would have thought, at the first glance, that it
+was the shadow of a man. But at that instant the figure emerged into the
+open, and I knew the truth.
+
+The trim form on the shore of the lagoon was that of Edith Nealman. I
+could see her outline with entire plainness, dark against the gray. Some
+errand of stealth had taken her down to the shore of the lagoon the
+moment that it was left unguarded.
+
+In an instant she disappeared, and in the interval I found out how
+deeply and inexplicably startled I was. And then I saw her again,
+walking out on the natural rock bridge, and carrying some heavy object,
+that dragged on the rocks, in her arms.
+
+I could see her stooped figure, and the shadow of the thing that
+dragged. And there is no telling under Heaven the thoughts and the
+terrors that swept through me as to what that dragging thing might be.
+
+But in an instant I saw what it was. It was a rather long, heavy plank,
+certainly of wood. She was about two hundred feet out on the rock wall
+by now, and I saw that she was launching the plank to the right of the
+wall, in the water of the lagoon. Before I could wonder or exclaim she
+herself had slipped in with it, her arms pale white from the shoulders
+of her dark bathing suit, wading out and guiding the heavy plank beside
+her.
+
+No man who had read that mysterious script could doubt what her purpose
+was. She had gone fourteen rods out on the wall, and then she had turned
+to the right into the lagoon. Plainly she was searching for Jason's
+treasure.
+
+She, too, knew the key. In that same flash of time, I understood the
+look of intent I had seen on her face earlier that night. She had kept
+her resolve--even now she was herself trying to sound the mystery of her
+uncle's disappearance. I understood her own exultation when I had
+talked of my many scientific plans, and how I lacked means to carry them
+out. Even then she had likely been working on the cryptogram. It was
+wholly possible that either Nealman or herself had encountered a copy of
+the script in the old house, and they had worked on it together.
+
+But there had been some sort of a guard put over Jason's treasure! With
+what right had we been so smugly certain that the old legend was not
+true--that there was not still some evil, tentacled monster of the deep
+left to slay and drag to his cavern those that dared to penetrate the
+lagoon. Even now she was wading further and further from the rock wall.
+I could see just her head and the top of her shoulders above water, the
+heavy plank still guided beside her.
+
+Fear is an emotion that speeds like lightning through the avenues of the
+nerves. In the instant that these thoughts went home--thoughts that
+would have taken moments to narrate in speech but which whipped through
+the mind in the twinkling of an eye--I plumbed the utter depths of fear.
+There can be no other word. The gray expanse seemed the waters of death
+itself; the whole scene, in the gray of dawn, was eerie, savage,
+unutterably dreadful. And the girl that had come to be my own life was
+even now wholly within the power of any monstrous foe that should leave
+its cavern to attack her.
+
+Why had we been so sure! Why hadn't we guarded those deadly waters every
+hour, day and night. Every day teaches that many things that seemed
+incredible a day ago are true: how had we dared to be so arrogant in
+regard to the legend of the lagoon. Even when three men, one after
+another, had disappeared without trace we had refused to change our
+ancient habits of thought: we had still refused to believe. I knew now
+the fate of the missing men. They had gone in search of Jason's
+chest--and the treasure guard that dwelt in the lagoon had put them to
+death. And just before my eyes the girl I loved was following the path
+they made, making the same quest.
+
+And in that breathless, never-to-be-forgotten moment, I heard a
+resounding splash of water. Against the craggy, opposite shore the water
+flew far and white as some living thing that had been concealed in the
+far crags dived toward her through the still waters of the lagoon.
+
+The whole scene had seemingly occupied less than a second. Already,
+before I could breathe, I was leaping down the corridor towards the
+stairs. I called once for help--a door behind me opened. Then I was out
+in the gray dawn, racing toward the lagoon.
+
+There seemed no interlude of time between the instant that I saw that
+splashing water and that in which I had plunged full into the gray
+depths myself. In reality there was a space of several seconds--the gray
+light showed me that the drama of the lagoon had progressed immeasurably
+further. The girl was fifty or sixty feet from the rock wall now, just
+her head showing above water, her arms locked tight about the plank and
+facing her approaching foe. And something that swam swiftly made
+streaming ripples toward her.
+
+I swam with amazing ease and swiftness. The terror, innate love of life,
+were all forgotten in the hope that I might reach Edith's side in time.
+And now, by the gray light of dawn, I saw that her foe was upon her.
+
+They were struggling with a desperate frenzy, and for an instant the
+splashing water almost obscured them. The plank had been torn from her
+grasp, and by some circumstance had been sped hopelessly out of her
+reach. And now, the water clearing from my eyes, I could determine the
+identity of her assailant. No matter what further fate the lagoon had in
+store for her, this foe was human, at least. Terrible and drawn with
+passion as it was, I saw the face of Major Kenneth Dell, the man who had
+disappeared the preceding night.
+
+I yelled, trying to give hope. Already I was almost upon them; and Dell
+had released his hold of the girl. Whatever had been his purpose it had
+been forgotten in the face of some greater extremity. Their fight was no
+more with each other: rather they seemed at death grips with some
+resistless foe that tore at them from beneath the waves.
+
+I saw Dell's face. An unspeakable terror, that of one who in wickedness
+goes down to an awful death, was on his face. It was such a terror as
+men can know but once, for they never live to tell of it, and which
+blasts the heart of any one that beholds it. No artist, delving into the
+abnormal, could have portrayed that fear. It was a thing never to
+forget, but ever to see again in dreams.
+
+Edith was terrified too, but such a terror as Dell knew was impossible
+for her. The fear of death that curses a godless man is perhaps the most
+dreadful retributive force in this world or the next, and Dell knew it
+to the full. No one who had seen his face could doubt but that all the
+iniquity of a long life had been atoned for, in one little moment, in
+the scales of justice. But only a measure of it could oppress her. The
+only fear that her fine young soul could know was that born of the
+elemental love of life. And with what seemed to be a final effort she
+raised her head to call a warning to me.
+
+But even if I had heeded it, it would have come too late. I saw the
+heads of the man and woman in front of me go down as if drawn by
+quicksand. And there was no escape for me. The death that dwelt in the
+lagoon had already seized me in its resistless grasp.
+
+But the guard over Jason's treasure was not merely some monster
+implanted from the sea, a mortal thing that years could claim or
+muscular strength oppose. Rather it was a power that had dwelt there
+since the world's young days, ever claiming tribute, and which would
+continue on until the very sea itself was changed. The demon that had
+hold of me was merely that of rushing waters. They swept me forward and
+sucked me down with remorseless force.
+
+There was a sink-hole in the floor of the lagoon. No wonder the water
+that rushed in at high-tide had seemed to go so quietly away. I was
+being carried down a subterranean outlet, through some water passage
+under the rock wall, and into the open sea.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+
+The water surrounding the underground outlet was not of great depth--an
+inch or so over five feet--but the suction of the sink-hole was
+irresistible. Once caught in those sinking waters meant to go down with
+them; and a moth would have struggled to equal advantage. If fate had
+given me the choice of fighting to save myself it would not have changed
+the outcome in the least. The plank had floated too far away to seize.
+The water was deep enough that if, by a mighty wrench of muscles, I was
+able to seize with my hands some immovable rock on the lagoon floor my
+head would have been under water.
+
+Fate, however, didn't give me that fighting choice. Edith Nealman had
+already gone down, a single instant before. Loss of life itself couldn't
+possibly mean more. There was nothing open but to follow through.
+
+But while the trap itself was infallible, irresistible to human
+strength, there might be fighting aplenty in the darkness of the channel
+and beyond. The time hadn't come to give up. The slightest fighting
+chance was worth every ounce of mortal strength. And as the waters
+seized me I gave the most powerful swimming stroke I knew, a single,
+mighty wrench of the whole muscular system, in an attempt to get my lips
+above water for a last breath.
+
+Partly because I have always been a strong swimmer, but mostly by good
+fortune, I won that instant's reprieve. I had already exhaled; and in
+the instant that my lips were above the smooth surface of the lagoon I
+filled my lungs to their utmost capacity, breathing sharp and deep, with
+the cool, sweet, morning air. The force of my leap carried me over and
+down, the descending waters seized me as the sluice in a sink might
+seize an insect, and slowly, steadily, as if by a giant's hand, drew me
+into darkness.
+
+I had been drawn into the subterranean outlet of the lagoon, the
+passageway of the waters of the outgoing tide. Life itself depended on
+how long that under-water channel was. I only knew that I was headed
+under the rock wall and toward the open sea.
+
+At such times the mental mechanics function abnormally, if at all. I
+was not drowning yet. The thousand thoughts and memories and regrets
+that haunt the last moments of the lost did not come to me. The whole
+consciousness was focussed on two points: one of them a resolve to do
+what I could for Edith, and the other was fear.
+
+Besides the seeming certainty of death, it was unutterably terrible to
+be swept through this dark, mysterious channel under the sea. Perhaps
+the terror lay most in the darkness of the passage. It was a darkness
+simply inconceivable, beyond any that the imagination could conjure
+up--such absolute absence of light as shadow the unfathomable caverns
+on the ocean floor or fill the great, empty spaces between one
+constellation and another. In the darkest night there is always some
+fine, almost imperceptible degree of light. Here light was a thing
+forgotten and undreamed of.
+
+The waters did not move with particular swiftness. They flowed rather
+easily and quietly, like the contents of a great aqueduct. Perhaps it
+would have been better for the human spirit if they had moved with a
+rush and a roar, blunting the consciousness with their tumult, and
+hurling their victim to an instantaneous death. The death in that
+undersea channel was deliberate and unhurried, and the imagination had
+free play. Already we three were like departed souls, lost in the still,
+murky waters of Lethe--drifting, helpless, fearful as children in the
+darkness. It was such an experience that from sheer, elemental
+fear--fear that was implanted in the germ-plasm in darkness tragedies in
+the caves of long ago--may poison and dry up the life-sustaining fluids
+of the nerves, causing death before the first physical blow is struck.
+
+It was an old fear, this of darkened waters. Perhaps it was remembered
+from those infinite eons before the living organisms from which we
+sprang ever emerged from the gray spaces of the sea. And I knew it to
+the full.
+
+But I didn't float supinely down that Cimmerian stream. The race was
+certainly to the swift. Knowing that the only shadow of hope lay in
+reaching the end of the passage before the air in my lungs was
+exhausted, I swam down that stream with the fastest stroke I knew.
+Carried also by the waters, I must have traveled at a really astounding
+pace, at momentary risk of striking my head against the rock walls of
+the channel.
+
+An interminable moment later my arms swept about Edith's form. I felt
+her long tresses streaming in the flood, but her slender arms had
+already lost all power to seize and hold me. Had death already claimed
+her? Yet I could not give her the little store of life-giving air that
+still sustained me. Holding her in one arm and swimming with every
+ounce of strength I had, we sped together through that darkened channel.
+
+No swimmer knows the power and speed that is in him until a crisis such
+as this. No under-water swimmer can dream of what distances he is
+capable until death, or something more than death, is the stake for
+which he races. The passage seemed endless. Slowly the breath sped from
+my lungs. And the darkness was still unbroken when the last of it was
+gone.
+
+The trial was almost done. I could struggle on a few yards more, until
+the oxygen-enriched air in my blood had made its long wheel through my
+body.
+
+What happened thereafter was dim as a dream. There was a certain period
+of bluntness, almost insensibility; and then of tremendous stress and
+conflict that seemed interminable. It must have been that even through
+this phase I fought on, arms and legs thrashing in what was practically
+an involuntary effort to fight on to the open sea. The last images that
+drowning men know, that queer, vivid cinema of memories and regrets
+began to sweep through the disordered brain. There was nothing to do
+further. The trial was done. I gave one more convulsive wrench....
+
+And that final impulse carried me into a strange, gray place that the
+senses at first refused to credit. It was hard to believe, at first,
+that this was not merely the gray borderland of death. Yet in an instant
+I knew the truth. I was heading toward light: the subterranean blackness
+of the channel was fading, as the gloom of a tunnel fades as the train
+rushes into open air. And a second later I shot to the surface of the
+open sea.
+
+It was through no conscious effort of mine that I did not lose my life
+in the moment of deliverance from the channel. At such times the body
+struggles on unguided by the brain; instinct, long forgotten and
+neglected, comes into its own again. As I came up my lips opened, I took
+a great, sobbing breath.
+
+I must have submerged again. At least the blue water seemed to linger
+over my eyes for interminable seconds thereafter. But there were no
+walls of stone to imprison me now, and I again rose, and this time came
+up to stay. The life-giving air was already sweeping through me, borne
+on the corpuscles of the blood.
+
+In an instant I had found my stroke--paddling just enough to keep
+afloat. Edith still lay insensible in my arms. Only a glance was needed
+to see where I was. A gray line back of me stretched the rock wall, and
+beyond it the lagoon. I had been swept from the latter, through a
+submarine water passage under the wall and a hundred yards into the open
+sea. Dell, who had gone through the channel ahead of us, was nowhere to
+be seen.
+
+As soon as I had breath I shouted for help to the little file of men who
+were already streaming through the gardens toward the lagoon. They must
+come soon, if at all. Tired out, I couldn't hold on much longer. In the
+pauses between my shouts I gazed at the stark-white face of the girl in
+my arms. My senses were quickening now, and a darkness as unfathomable
+as that of the undersea passage itself swept over me at the thought that
+I had lost, after all--that the girl I had carried through was already
+past resuscitation.
+
+But the men on the shore had heard me now--I was aware of the splash of
+oars and the hum of the motor of Nealman's launch. Some one shouted
+hope--and already the dark outline of the motorboat came sweeping
+towards me. It was none too soon.... The dead weight in my arms was
+forcing me down, and my feeble strokes were no longer availing. But now
+strong arms had hold of me, dragging me and my burden into the boat.
+
+There are no memories whatever of the next hour. I must have lain
+unconscious on the sand of the shore while Nopp and his men fought the
+fight for Edith's life. At least I was there when at last, after
+lifetimes were done, a strong hand shook my shoulder. Van Hope and Nopp
+were beside me, and they were smiling.
+
+"A piece of news for you," Nopp told me, happily. "You put up a good
+fight--and you'll be glad to know that your girl will live."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+
+Though we were out of the water, we were not yet out of the woods. There
+were many explanations to be made and many guesses that took the place
+of explanations. No questions could be put to the butler, Florey, nor
+Nealman, host of Kastle Krags, nor to Major Kenneth Dell. All of these
+had been swept down the sink-hole and through the subterranean channel
+into the sea.
+
+Perhaps we would never have got anywhere, for a certainty, if it hadn't
+been for the letter and the photograph that William Noyes sent me from
+Vermont, and which arrived the day following our journey through the
+passage. Short though it was, it served to clear up many matters to our
+complete satisfaction. It was addressed to me:
+
+     I am sending photo of that scoundrel, George Florey, brother
+     of the dead man. I hope it helps you catch him. He always
+     hated his brother, and my late wife told me that as far back
+     as you want to go in her family you'll find one brother
+     hating another. I don't know where to tell you to look for
+     George. He and his brother both had spent most of their
+     lives looking for a chest of treasure that was hidden by
+     their grandfather down where you are--in Florida. They just
+     took this name of Florey the last generation. Before that it
+     was Hendrickson, my wife told me--and before that Heaven
+     knows what. Mostly they were a bad lot.
+
+After I had read it I showed it to Nopp; and he breathed deeply. But he
+made but one comment.
+
+"Human nature is a winner, isn't it, Killdare?" he observed. "Will we
+ever see the head and tail of it? Now let me see the picture."
+
+Neither Nopp nor Edith nor any one who looked at it could mistake the
+likeness presented in the photograph. It was not that of my suspect, Mr.
+Pescini. One glance established that fact. The well-bred, rather
+aristocratic face was none other than that of Major Kenneth Dell, he who
+had got himself invited to Kastle Krags, and who had died in the trap
+his grandfather had set nearly eighty years before.
+
+Edith and I went over the case together, and we managed to fill up the
+breaks in each other's story. We talked it over in the early evening,
+sitting in a secluded corner of the veranda.
+
+She had already mostly recovered from the experience of the day before.
+She was still weak and shaken, but seemingly all serious complications
+had been averted. And she resolutely refused to stay in bed.
+
+"It's been a tragic thing, all the way through," she began in the voice
+I loved. "It's over now--but Heaven knows it cost enough lives. All for
+a treasure that no one knows for sure is a reality.
+
+"I'm going over the case simply, Ned--and you tell me if I have it
+right. The letter shows that both George Florey and David Florey, the
+butler, were the grandsons of Hendrickson, who once owned this
+house--who of course was no one but the original Godfrey Jason. Jason
+too had hated his brother enough to kill him, and as the legend says, it
+was Jason who first buried the treasure in the lagoon.
+
+"He put it near, perhaps just beside a dangerous sink-hole through which
+the tidal waters swept under the wall to the open sea. And when he died
+he left two, and perhaps more, copies of a cryptogram to show where the
+chest was hidden.
+
+"As you say, Dave Florey, one of the two brothers of this generation of
+the Jason family, unquestionably got hold of one of the copies. He
+secured the position of butler at this house on purpose to hunt for and
+secure the chest. Meanwhile George Florey--we can call him Major Dell,
+the name he assumed, from now on--got track of the hiding-place of the
+treasure. The letters show that he had sought for it and traced it from
+Brazil to Washington, D. C.--at the latter place he possibly consulted
+old marine records. He evidently had considerable money, and was earning
+some in questionable ways, and through his acquaintance with Van Hope he
+got himself invited to this house.
+
+"Here he found his brother. It must have been a disagreeable surprise to
+him--the fact that you saw him so shaken and seemingly alarmed in the
+hall would indicate that it was. As the Jason brothers had done before
+them, these two men hated each other as only brothers can--jealously and
+terribly. And through some series of events that will never be known,
+they met that night beside the lagoon.
+
+"George Florey--rather, Major Dell--must have been a thoroughly
+wicked man. I guess he inherited all of his grandfather Jason's
+wickedness--otherwise he wouldn't have been able to play the part
+he did. To me it was a dramatic thing--this heritage of wickedness,
+generation after generation: this blood lust and hatred that was the
+curse of all his breed. It was Cain and Abel again--the same, old
+tragic story.
+
+"They met on the lagoon shore, beside the crags, and perhaps Major Dell
+made an attempt to wrest the copy of the cryptogram from his brother.
+It's even possible, but it doesn't seem likely, that it was the other
+way 'round. At least, they were working at cross purposes, both of them
+seemed just about to triumph--and hating each other like two serpents,
+they came to grips. And here Dell struck a fatal blow--likely with some
+terrible, hooked instrument that he had brought to grapple for the
+chest.
+
+"Florey cried out in his death agony and his fear, and Dell was obliged
+to flee without getting hold of the cryptogram. While the hunt was going
+on through the gardens, he came back to the body, likely searched the
+pockets of the victim, and for some reason that can never be exactly
+known, dragged the body into the lagoon.
+
+"Perhaps he thought the character of the wound would give him away.
+There's little doubt that he threw it there with the idea of destroying
+evidence--at least its presence some way interfered with his plans. And
+of course before the night was done it had drifted to the sink-hole and
+through the channel to the open sea.
+
+"Dell likely saw you pick up the script, and that accounts for his
+presence in your room that night. Meanwhile Nealman and I were working
+on a copy of it I had found in an old book. The book was the Bible, by
+the way, and it gave me the first key to the truth. Nealman offered to
+divide the treasure with me, if he was able to find it. That promise is
+on paper. It isn't necessary now, however--and you know why."
+
+I knew why--well enough. As his niece, Edith inherited all that Grover
+Nealman left, including this Floridan estate. It was true, however, that
+his debts just about wiped out all his other possessions.
+
+"As you know, a deal in the stock market practically ruined him," she
+went on. "The only way out he could see was the chest that both of us
+felt was hidden in the lagoon. He never took the monster legend
+seriously, but always before he had been willing to wait until he could
+procure some safe appliance to rescue the chest. At that time both of us
+knew almost exactly where it was. And when the crash came, the sudden
+need for money and his desperation sent him out in the darkness to
+procure it. He too was caught in the undersea channel.
+
+"Of course Major Dell was never even menaced by the sink-hole. Likely he
+had some knowledge of it. He vanished the third night, because first,
+he realized that Noyes' testimony would sooner or later convict him of
+his brother's murder, and second, because the disappearance of Florey
+and Nealman had set a good example for him. Some secret business took
+him into my uncle's room first, as you guessed. I have no doubt that he
+was hiding in the dense thickets on the other side of the lagoon all the
+time--waiting for his chance to procure the treasure and make his
+escape.
+
+"I don't know that you'll believe it, but by this time I had guessed the
+secret of the lagoon. I didn't know just how it worked, but I felt there
+was some kind of an underground outlet that would sweep away any one who
+tried to wade in the proximity of the treasure. Of course I didn't
+suspect Dell--I thought he had merely gone as Uncle Grover had gone,
+through the sink-hole to his death. When I made my attempt, I went
+prepared."
+
+"But how dared you attempt it?" I demanded.
+
+She laughed at my anger. "I wanted to know the truth!" she exclaimed. "I
+owed it to Uncle Grover--to find out what became of him. I needed the
+treasure chest, too--for his securities won't quite balance, he told me,
+the demands that will be made upon the estate. And finally--maybe there
+was another reason, too. Perhaps you know what it was."
+
+The narration could not go on at once. It was one of those moments that
+a man always remembers, and holds dear when most earthly treasures are
+as dust. She hadn't forgotten my own dreams--the plans I had made but
+which seemed so impossible of fulfillment.
+
+"But how did you dare take the risk?" I demanded.
+
+"There wasn't any risk--at least, I didn't think there was. I felt sure
+that a sink-hole in the bed of the lagoon was the explanation. The plank
+I dragged out there was plenty big enough to hold me up. You know a
+floating cake of soap doesn't go down the sluice as long as the bathtub
+is any way near full of water. The plank would have held me easily if
+Dell hadn't interfered and torn it from my hands.
+
+"Why did he interfere? Of course we can only guess at that. I think he
+was waiting for a chance to take the treasure himself--and he saw my
+intention. I suppose he had dreamed about his grandfather's gold until
+it was a veritable passion with him--a mania--and he was willing to risk
+death in the sink-hole sooner than let it go? Likely he meant to tear my
+hands from the plank but hang on to it himself. Of course it got away
+from us both. That's the whole story. Your own wonderful endurance and
+mastery of swimming saved me. Doesn't that seem to clear up everything?"
+
+"Almost everything. Yet I don't see why Dell waited--why he hadn't got
+the treasure out some time night before last--or yesterday----"
+
+"Of course he couldn't work in daylight. Most of the night after his
+disappearance the lagoon was guarded. Yet it isn't easy to see why he
+didn't make the attempt the night of his disappearance----"
+
+"I suppose he was waiting for a favorable time. He had to have certain
+equipment, I suppose--to keep from being carried down. Perhaps there are
+certain periods when the flow through the channel is less, and there
+isn't so much suction----"
+
+A sudden light in the girl's face arrested me and held me. Her eyes were
+sparkling like blue seas in the sunlight. "'At F. T.,'" she quoted.
+"Ned, Ned, what stupids we are! Don't you see----"
+
+"I can't say that I do. I saw 'At F. T.,' at the bottom of the script,
+but I don't know what it meant----"
+
+"'At flood tide'--that's what it meant! Just as a sailor would say it.
+He told on his own directions the way to safety. When the tide flows
+the water movement is probably in the other direction through the
+underground channel, and the lagoon is as safe as a lake; and it's only
+in the ebb-tide that the suction exists. And of course the ignorant
+treasure-seeker would make his search in the ebb-tide, when the surface
+of the lagoon is still."
+
+Exultant over this, a discovery that, if the treasure was a reality,
+assured its procurance, neither of us noticed the dignified, courteous
+approach of Pescini from the hallway. He was distinguished as ever, his
+dinner-jacket unruffled, his linen gleaming white in the dying light.
+
+"Have you seen Sheriff Slatterly anywhere?" he asked me. "I'm in a sort
+of quandary--I've got a letter on my hands and don't know what to do
+with it."
+
+"A letter?" I repeated. The skin was twitching on my back.
+
+"Yes. I hardly know whether to send it on--or whether he will want it
+for the investigations. It's one that Major Dell gave me a few days ago
+to mail, but which I dropped in my pocket and forgot."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+
+The guests refused to go back to their city homes until they had seen
+the contents of the chest that had brought such woe to Kastle Krags; and
+there was nothing to do but to make an immediate search. When daylight
+came again Edith announced that she had fully recovered from the
+adventure of two days before, and was ready to help me recover the
+chest.
+
+"I can't wait to see if it's really there," she confessed.
+
+We went in flow-tide, and we guided a boat over the place. But we
+weren't trusting entirely to our theory that the sink-hole was only
+dangerous when the tide was running out. A stout rope was attached to
+the prow of the boat, and I lashed it about my waist before I stepped
+off into the water.
+
+We had guessed right about the underground channel. At flood tide a
+swimmer could pass directly over it in safety. I located a great
+limestone boulder that I thought was undoubtedly the "white rock" of the
+script, but as the surface was rough and choppy from the tidal waves
+breaking against the rock wall, it was impossible to find the chest by
+power of vision alone. I found I had to dive again and again, groping
+with my hands.
+
+But in scarcely a moment my foot encountered an iron chain at the base
+of the rock. In a moment more the search was ended. A small, iron-bound
+chest, hardly of twelve inch dimensions, was fastened to the chain,
+which in turn was hooked securely in a crevice of the boulder.
+
+It was a rather wide-eyed, sober group that rowed back to the shore. In
+the first place it was almost impossible to believe that such a seeming
+legendary thing was actually in our hands, a thing of weight and
+substance and unquestioned reality.
+
+The chest had been made of some sort of very hard wood, chemically
+treated, and showed not the slightest sign of decay in the eighty years
+it had lain in the water. How many little crafts had passed over it!
+What a scarlet trail it had left since the _Arganil_ had borne it from
+Rio de Janeiro, so long ago. "But naked treasures breed murder!" Nealman
+had said--speaking truer than he knew.... "They get home to human
+imagination and human wickedness as nothing else can."
+
+The boat touched the shore. Nopp lifted the chest easily on the ground.
+"Don't be too hopeful," he advised Edith quietly. "If it's gold that's
+in it, you couldn't have much over a thousand. It only weighs nine or
+ten pounds, box and all."
+
+It was true. And the box itself, bound with iron, could easily weigh
+that much. Had we been hoaxed by an empty chest?
+
+Somehow or other, nervous and fumbling, we got the thing open. Some of
+the rods we broke, others we bent back. And at first we only stared in
+blank surprise.
+
+It did not look like gold--the contents of the chest. Nor was it a
+string of precious jewels. It seemed merely a bent, shapeless object of
+some dark-colored metal, and a few dull stones, some of which were as
+large as hickory nuts, loose in the bottom. Certain words were said as
+we looked down, certain questions asked--but all of them were dim and
+lost in a great, wondering preoccupation that dropped over me.
+
+Nopp reached a big hand, took one of the stones, and rubbed it on his
+trouser leg. Looking at it, he rubbed it again with added vigor. Then he
+stared at it in sudden, fascinated _wonder_.
+
+"Good Heavens!" he suddenly exclaimed in tremendous excitement. "Do you
+know what this is?"
+
+We turned to him, staring blankly. "What is it?" Edith asked. Her voice
+was quiet; only the bright sparkle in her eyes revealed how excited she
+really was.
+
+"It's an emerald. That's what it is. One of the finest in this country.
+It's worth a whole chest of gold. Killdare, the story was that it was a
+_Portuguese_ ship--bound out from Rio?"
+
+"Yes----"
+
+"And the chest was the property of some noble family, Portuguese princes
+at the time the court of Portugal was located in Rio de Janeiro?"
+
+"Something like that----"
+
+"The property of a noble family! Edith, it was unquestionably the
+property of the ruling house itself. Wait just a minute."
+
+He took the shapeless thing of metal, rubbed it until a little of the
+tarnish was gone, revealing yellow gold beneath, and slowly bent it in
+his hands. It took a circular shape. Then he showed us little sockets,
+set at various points, that had been the settings for the jewels. We saw
+the truth at once.
+
+"A crown!" Edith said.
+
+"Unquestionably the famous crown that the Portuguese king wore at his
+Brazilian court--one of the richest courts in history. The jewels came
+from Brazil, from Peruvian temples--Heaven knows where. And for Heaven's
+sake, Edith, send it away and get it changed into securities. It's
+death--that's all it is. It's the kind of thing that drives men insane."
+
+We took the yellow thing, and in a wonderful, elated mood, we set it on
+her own golden curls. But she removed it quickly. We were all instantly
+sobered as she put it into my hands.
+
+"It's bad luck to wear it," she said. "It makes me creep to think what
+wickedness it has caused--clear through the centuries. I'm an
+American--and being a queen has never appealed to me."
+
+Nopp smiled quietly, into the depths of the lagoon. "But you intend to
+be _somebody's_ queen, don't you, Edith?" he asked.
+
+And thus the matter of Kastle Krags came to a new beginning. Edith
+changed the jewels into securities, just as Nopp advised, and a tenth of
+them paid the obligations that were left after Nealman's estate was
+settled up. The rest provided an annual income that, while it would have
+been considered moderate by such great financiers as Marten and his
+fellows, seemed of kingly proportions to me. At least it provided for
+the maintenance of the old southern manor-house according to its best
+traditions.
+
+And when Edith and I go sailing away to strange lands beyond the sea,
+bent on scientific research and adventure, we often wonder what haughty
+princes and bearded pirates, lurking in the shadows of the deck are
+saying among themselves. Things have taken a great turn, they whisper
+together, when the jewels for which they lived and fought, did murder
+and died, have gone to sustain a rich man's secretary and a penniless
+schoolmaster! Perhaps lovely Portuguese princesses watch with contempt;
+and ear-ringed villains, scornful of such science as mine, swear evil
+oaths and wonder how the times have tamed!
+
+But perhaps they are glad that their watch of the lagoon is over! There
+is nothing to hold these restless spirits now, and you can hear them
+rustling no more in the forest, or feel their tragic presence in the
+gardens. Some way, the house is more cheerful, and the sea no longer
+conveys the image of desolation and mystery. When our young friends
+visit us, to play golf on our links and shoot and fish in the lakes and
+rivers, they invariably speak of its homely charm and cheer. We have,
+however, made certain improvements in the grounds.
+
+We have huge, black-lettered signs posted here and there along the
+lagoon, giving certain advice concerning swimming at ebb-tide.
+
+                         THE END.
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:
+
+Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; otherwise,
+every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words and
+intent.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Kastle Krags, by Absalom Martin
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