Chapter VI.I Have an AdventureCarter had mentioned at lunch that after the inquest he was going to take his car and give Ranville a ride through the near-by country. As the route he had mapped out was the one I had come over the day before, I suggested it would please me just as well if they left me at the house. So, after speaking to his cook about my dinner, they drove out of the yard. I let the dog out of the garage, where he had been the entire day, and settled down on the veranda to read the New York papers which had just come.The news of the murder of Warren must have arrived very late, for they had only a few lines about it. But then, when I thought it over, that was all the space they needed. A very few lines could tell all that was actually known of the crime. But there were long accounts of his professional career, and even a short editorial telling what a loss he would be to science. Naturally enough the question was raised, if his manuscripts were in such shape that the discoveries he had hinted he made in China could be given the world.As I read the various articles, I saw that this one question was of the greatest interest to the public. Warren had said that he could prove for all time the question of man's origin. But what his proofs were no one knew. As he was a real scientist he refused to say anything more until he had whipped his notes into shape for publication and could give the complete data to the world. And the three papers which I read all asked the same question. Were these notes in such condition that they could be worked up by some other man of science?I was interrupted by the cook saying that dinner was ready, and I went into the dining room for my meal. Dinner over, I went out of the house, and for a time strolled around the grounds. They covered about an acre, and after a while I went through the opening in the hedge and into the quiet street. The road took a bend by Carter's house, and around it I saw the dark gray tower of a little church. I walked far enough to be able to have a view of it, deciding that it must be the church of which his next-door neighbor (the minister who had called the night before) had charge.From where I stood it seemed a very pretty sort of a building, with a stone tower directly between the church and the rectory. It was not very large, nor was the tower very high. It stood back from the road, with a vivid green lawn running to the dark granite walls—a lawn with several round flower beds, a mass of color against the green. The setting of the little church was beautiful, as if some corner of England had been lifted and placed in the little New York village.I had thought I might take a little stroll, but feeling lazy I returned to the veranda, where, for a while, I busied myself with a popular magazine. I was in the midst of an inane story when I was hailed by a voice from the lawn, and the dog went barking down the steps.“Say, mister, where is Mr. Carter?”It was a boy of about fourteen who hailed me—a boy with the reddest hair I have ever seen and more freckles than any boy ought to have. He stood at the bottom of the steps looking at me with a very serious expression on his face. He seemed so disappointed when I told him Carter was away that I asked him what he wanted. For a moment or so he studied me as if to decide if I could be trusted. Then, as if reassured, he came up the steps to my side.Giving me that searching look which all boys use in greeting people whom they do not know, he asked:“Are you a detective like Mr. Carter?”I assured him that I might be called something of the sort and received a rather admiring grin. Then seating himself on the top step, he patted the dog which had come to his side and said:“You know I went down to Court to-day, and I heard Jimmy Weedon tell about seeing that boat.”I judged that Weedon must be the caretaker of Warren's grounds. In reply to my question the boy said that he was; and with a laugh added:“Jimmy said that he never saw anybody on Mr. Warren's grounds yesterday, but I did.”I gave him one look, and he went on.“I thought maybe Mr. Carter might like to know what I saw. I caddy for him when he plays golf. My name is George.”He seemed to be taking a good deal of time to tell what he had seen, and I tried to hurry him up. He laughed, then said:“Well, yesterday afternoon about five o'clock I went after berries. You don't live here, so I'll tell you where I went. I went in the fields back of Mr. Warren's house. Right back of the stone wall that goes round his place is a big swamp. 'Twas a swamp once, but it's some filled in now; and across from it are a lot of berries.”He paused to pat the Airedale, so I asked:“Yes, I see what you mean; but what did you see?”“Nothing much. Did not think about it till I heard those questions in Court, those questions to Jimmy Weedon about seeing any one on the grounds. Then I got to thinking about the man I saw.”As he paused for breath, I told him to go on, and he continued:“Just about six—I know it was about six, for the whistles blew a minute or so afterwards, I saw a man climb over the wall—that stone wall of Mr. Warren's. He threw something in the bushes while he was on the wall.”“Do you know who the man was?” came my eager question.The boy was thoughtful a moment, his face screwed up in a funny gesture. Then he shook his head saying:“No, I don't. He looked like somebody I know; but I can't tell who he was.”“Do you know what he threw into the field?”“Nope. I don't know he threw anything, but I saw him throw his hand out as if he did throw something away. I think he had something in it. And then he went down round the wall, and I did not see him any more.”I quickly ran through in my mind what the boy had said. Though he might have been mistaken in thinking the man he saw climb over the wall had thrown something away, yet there was no doubt it was a valuable piece of information. It seemed to prove that some one besides the Chinaman had been on Warren's grounds about the time he must have been killed. And then I wondered if this could have been the person in the boat—that person whom no one had seen.The boy had nothing else to tell. I gave him a dollar after impressing upon him that he must go at once to the chief of police and tell him the same story he had told me. He went away promising to do this, and I sat back to figure out his story. There was not anything suspicious, in a sense, in seeing a man climb a stone wall. But when I remembered that it took place around the time Warren had been killed, it began to look important. So far, from all the evidence we had, there did not seem to be any person who could have killed him. The secretary had come to the house at four, and Warren had not been killed until two hours later. I began to wonder who the man the boy had seen climbing the wall could have been.It was still light, though the sun was low. As my eyes glanced lazily around, they fell upon the open door of Carter's boat house. The thought came to me, it might be worth while to take one of the boats and row along the shore until I reached Warren's land. There would be time before dark to at least have a look at the place where the boy said he had seen the man on the wall.I went down to the boat house and went within. There were two row boats lying in the water, and upon the concrete floor was a red canoe. As the lake was very calm, I decided the canoe would be the easiest to manage. I carried it to the water and launched it. Climbing in rather carefully, I paddled out of the spillway, and then turned up the lake.The lake was perfectly calm, without even a ripple upon its surface. Keeping close to the shore, I paddled rather slowly, enjoying the sight of the estates which I passed. All of them had fine lawns which ran to the water's edge, with little boat houses concealed among the trees. A little way from shore several people were fishing, and as I passed a little sandy beach, I saw some children bathing.For a short distance the shore ran in a straight line, then curved around in a half circle to the right. As I struck across to the point of land which ran out into the lake, I saw from the stone wall which came down to the water's edge that I was opposite the Warren estate. I could see above the trees the library, its red roof being the highest in sight. But there were no signs of life, and as I paddled to the shore I saw no one.At first I had thought I would not land upon the estate, but that I would beach the canoe at the other side of the wall. But changing my mind, I landed on the shore directly in front of the library, which was some hundred feet away upon the hill. I pulled the canoe upon the land, half hiding it behind the low-hanging branches of a willow tree. Then I started across the grass.Passing round the front of the library, I saw that the door was shut and the blinds at the windows. I did not pause, but went down the other side of the hill, through a clump of trees, until I reached the rear wall. The wall was some hundred yards away from the library, and the boy had said that he had seen the man in a direct line with the building.It was a granite wall almost ten feet high. I wondered a moment how I was going to get over it. A near-by tree, which had a branch hanging a few feet over the top of the wall, solved the difficulty. I climbed the tree, crept out on the branch, and dropped to the top of the wall. There I sat a moment to get my bearings.Behind me stretched the grounds of the murdered scientist, the many trees hiding all but the top of the house. Directly back of me was the summer house, where we had found the body. But to my surprise, when I turned and looked in the other direction, I found that in front there was a slight hollow—a mass of tangled underbrush and small trees. Beyond this stretched a pasture, losing itself in the woods some little distance away. The underbrush below me ran the entire length of the wall, but stopped on my right where the wall ended. In fact here the ground rose a few feet to a grass lined meadow.As I looked at the mass of trees and shrubs, the more I began to wonder what any one had been doing on the wall. It was not the way to leave the grounds, for the person would have been forced to climb the smooth stones. And then there was nothing but the distant woods and the field. I wondered if the boy had been right when he said the man had thrown something away.My eyes came again to the slight hollow below me. It was a tangled mass of shrubbery, with high grass, only hidden by the small trees which grew to the height of about eight or nine feet. To try and find anything in that tangle seemed impossible. But after a moment I dropped from the wall and started to make my way through the underbrush.It was even worse than I had expected. The ground was soft because of a spring which must have been near by. Not only were the trees thick, but there was a tangle of wild rosebushes. Their thorns clung to me as I tried to push my way through the bushes. Long before I reached the other side I realized that it was too late to expect to make any kind of a search. It had begun to be dusk by the time I reached the wall, and when I plunged into the underbrush, the thick foliage made it impossible to see.Floundering at every step, my clothes pulled and twisted by the thorns, and with the branches whipping across my face, I stumbled through the swamp. Luckily it was not very wet, for if it had been, I would have been unable to have gotten through. But long before I reached the more solid ground I swore at myself for what I was doing. And then, just when I began to wonder if I would ever reach solid ground, I plunged out of the thicket into the high grass of the field. With a sigh of relief I flung myself down on the grass for breath.My excursion had been of little value. True, I had discovered that the boy could have seen some one on the wall, for I could see its dim shape a few hundred yards away. I glanced at it a moment, then looked behind me at the distant woods, and then glanced back at the wall. And as I looked, to my great surprise I saw a figure slowly drop from the same branch I had been on. A dim, indistinct figure, which seemed to be covered with a long coat—a figure of a man who, as I looked, dropped lightly on the top of the wall.It was now dark, but not so dark that I could not make out the man. The features I could not see, for he was too far away and the darkness too dense. But there in front of me, on the other side of the swamp, was a man—a man who remained but a moment on the wall and then dropped to the ground. For a second I lost him from sight, and then I saw the darkness split by the glare of a flashlight. Like myself, he was going into the underbrush, throwing the light carefully before him and going slowly, step by step, as if he was looking for something.For a second I wondered what I had better do. There was no doubt he was searching for something, and searching very carefully. I could hear the sound of the underbrush as it broke under his feet. Once even I heard a muttered exclamation as the man half fell. The small trees and vines hid him from my sight, but I could catch the circle of flame from the flashlight as he swept it to and fro. He was looking for something, but what? And then it dawned on me that the boy had been right after all. Something had been thrown from the wall into the small swamp.There was little danger of my being seen. Not only was I in the shadow, but it was also dark. The man was about a hundred feet away, directly opposite from where I sat, crouched on the grass. He seemed to be searching over a rather small circle of ground, and evidently the search was not very successful. Then suddenly he threw the light from off the ground at his feet and directed it through the undergrowth in my direction. This caused me to move quickly a few feet to where the grass was higher.After all there was no necessity of my moving, for in a moment the flame again swept the ground in a circle at the man's feet. Wondering what he might find, and knowing that I could not be seen from where he was, I rose and walked to the edge of the swamp, but I could see nothing there. Then, remembering that the ground rose to a pasture at my left, I carefully started in that direction. And then, after I had taken one step, my foot slipped upon a branch, and as the branch rolled over, I fell into the bushes with a crash.I was not hurt, but at the sound of my fall the flashlight was suddenly extinguished. For a second I lay still, then, knowing there was no use to keep silent, arose. And at that second I heard the man blundering out of the underbrush, and the sound of his running feet. Instinctively I started to run in the direction which would the soonest bring me into the open—along the edge of the swamp, up the little grassy hill, and then I paused an instant to listen.For a moment I heard nothing, and then down below me, in the direction of the lake, I heard the sound of running feet. Whoever had been on the other side of the swamp was taking no chance of being seen. As this thought struck me, I started down the hillside for the water. The shore was not so far away, but before I reached it I heard the man half tumble into a boat, and there came the sound of oars splashing in the water.As I reached the shore, almost crashing into the stone wall of the Warren estate, I heard the faint click of the oars as the man began to row down the lake. My canoe was on the other side of the wall. To reach it, I had to stumble as softly as I could around the wall, which stopped at the water. Lucky for me, though I had to wade, the water was not above my shoe tops, and it took only a moment to reach the canoe. I knew I had one advantage. It was almost impossible for the man to row the boat without making some sound with the oars; but I could paddle the canoe silently.As I half fell over the canoe, I paused a second, waiting to catch the faint sound of the oars; then silently I pushed the canoe into the water, climbed in, and started to paddle as softly as possible in the direction of the boat. It was far ahead of me, and the night was so dark I could see but a few feet in front of me. But once in a while I could hear the oars click, for the man was rowing with all his speed, evidently not knowing that I had a canoe.It had been my idea that as I could paddle faster than he could row, I could soon reach him. My plan was to let him go ashore, and then as he stepped out of the boat, to reach his side. One thing above all I wished to do—see who it might be. After that there were a few questions I wished to ask.But either I misjudged the distance he was ahead of me or else he could row far better than I expected. In my haste I had paddled straight out into the lake, forgetting for a moment or so that the shore took a wide curve. When I remembered that, it was to discover the man had rowed straight across this half circle, and I had to turn to the shore. This gave him several extra minutes, and though, when he ran his boat up on the shore, I was only a few feet away, yet it gave the time he needed.He must have discovered just before he beached his boat that I was behind him. In fact I was so close that when he rose and jumped to the shore, I could partly see his figure—an indistinct mass in the darkness. He half turned, jumped from his boat, partly stumbled, only to gather himself and run away in the darkness. The next second my canoe crashed on the beach, half throwing me to my knees.Jumping from it, I set out in the direction the man had taken. We were on some one's lawn, for I saw the figure darting ahead of me, thrown into reflection for a moment by the lights of a house. Then it went through a hedge and was lost to sight. I ran over the grass, through the opening in the hedge, and then discovered that I was on Carter's land. As I glimpsed the running figure ahead, I heard Trouble, who was locked in the garage, give a sudden bark, and then commence to bark incessantly. I wished with all my heart the dog was loose, but there was not time to open the garage door.When I ran around the front of Carter's house, the man was not in sight. In front of me was another hedge, to my left the lake, and to my right the lawn ran to the street. In this direction the street lights made it possible to see that there was no one there. Deciding the man had gone through the hedge, I ran down the path, and the next second was on the lawn which belonged to the minister. But I could see no one, and though there was a light in the rectory, no running figure crossed the reflection. The man was gone, but where?I stopped running, to walk up the slight incline which led to the church. Frankly I was puzzled. There had not been time for him to have gone very far. The street lights gave enough illumination to at least have allowed me to have seen if any running figure was ahead of me. But no one was in sight.Puzzled, I went rather slowly across the grass and came to the dark shadow made by the wall of the church. As I stood silent a moment, I cast my eyes at the dense mass of the tower, which divided the rectory from the church proper. It was not a very high tower, and its top was only a few feet above the roof of the church. Then I went toward the street, keeping in the shadow, and when I reached the tower itself, found to my surprise that the door at the foot was open.I peered within, only to have my eyes met by the blackness. Finding a match, I struck it. For the shortest space of time the darkness was lighted sufficiently for me to see a very narrow winding pair of stairs which were lost to sight above my head. Before the match was out I had time to see an iron railing which ran along the side of the steps. As darkness came again, I once more wondered what had happened to the man. There seemed no chance now of finding him, for by this time he must have been far away.And then, for some unknown reason, I decided to climb the stairs in the tower and see if I could perceive anything from the roof. Thinking it over later, I saw how absurd the idea must have been, for the night was dark and even if I reached the roof, I would not have been able to see very far. But at the time the only thing I remembered was that when I had looked at the tower late in the afternoon I had noticed an iron railing which ran around its top.I reached in my pocket for another match, and then discovered I had just struck the last one. A search of all my pockets gave no results. Hesitating a moment, I finally stepped through the open door, groping my way until my foot plunged against the stone stairs. Then finding the railing, I began slowly to climb the steps.The darkness was intense, and the stairway was not only very narrow, but it wound around and around in a bewildering manner. I groped my way from step to step, my hand firmly grasping the rail. Just about the time I began to wonder if the steps would never end I came out in a small room at the top of the tower. Directly in front of me was an open door, and as my eyes became more accustomed to the darkness, I saw that it led to the platform.When I went through this door, I found myself on a little balcony, which ran around the top of the tower. In my first quick glance I saw below me the lights of the town, and, turning my head, I caught the reflection of the village streets far away in the distance. I leaned over the iron railing, saw the dark shadow of the roof a few feet below me, and began to wonder why under heaven I had ever climbed the steps.After walking completely around the balcony, I came back to my place near the open door. Though I had peered over the edge on all sides, I had seen nothing. Only the lights of the town, the street lamps and the reflections from the houses had broken the blackness. I had just about made up my mind to descend when a sudden sound behind me caused me to stiffen to attention. It was only a slight sound, and what it was I could not tell. But as I started to turn, suddenly from behind I felt something move, and the next moment two hands suddenly gripped my body.The attack was so sudden and unexpected that, taken off my guard as I was, I did not move until the man had secured my arms with a firm grip. I tried to throw them aside, but I might just as well have tried to break a steel rope. Whoever it was had terrific strength, for they held me in such a position that I was unable to move. Throwing my body to this side and that, I tried to break the grip, but it was impossible. And silently, save only for the man's quick breathing, I was being borne to the iron rail.The man had seized me from the rear, and as I was unable to turn I could not see him. Even if I had been able to turn, I could not have distinguished him, for the night was too dark. Silently, without a word, he pushed me against the rail. Then as its iron began to cut into my back, he tried to lift me from the platform. In horror it came over me that he was trying to throw me from the tower.With a sudden burst of strength I managed to free myself from one of the clutching hands and half turned. But the effort was in vain. Again the arms closed around me, and as I slipped on the stone floor, I felt myself being raised and the iron rail pressing against my back. I tried to regain my feet—tried to throw off the clutching hands, but could not; and then, as if my weight was of no avail, the man lifted me slowly but surely until my feet were off the floor. Then he gave a sudden push, and with a cry I went off the platform.
Carter had mentioned at lunch that after the inquest he was going to take his car and give Ranville a ride through the near-by country. As the route he had mapped out was the one I had come over the day before, I suggested it would please me just as well if they left me at the house. So, after speaking to his cook about my dinner, they drove out of the yard. I let the dog out of the garage, where he had been the entire day, and settled down on the veranda to read the New York papers which had just come.
The news of the murder of Warren must have arrived very late, for they had only a few lines about it. But then, when I thought it over, that was all the space they needed. A very few lines could tell all that was actually known of the crime. But there were long accounts of his professional career, and even a short editorial telling what a loss he would be to science. Naturally enough the question was raised, if his manuscripts were in such shape that the discoveries he had hinted he made in China could be given the world.
As I read the various articles, I saw that this one question was of the greatest interest to the public. Warren had said that he could prove for all time the question of man's origin. But what his proofs were no one knew. As he was a real scientist he refused to say anything more until he had whipped his notes into shape for publication and could give the complete data to the world. And the three papers which I read all asked the same question. Were these notes in such condition that they could be worked up by some other man of science?
I was interrupted by the cook saying that dinner was ready, and I went into the dining room for my meal. Dinner over, I went out of the house, and for a time strolled around the grounds. They covered about an acre, and after a while I went through the opening in the hedge and into the quiet street. The road took a bend by Carter's house, and around it I saw the dark gray tower of a little church. I walked far enough to be able to have a view of it, deciding that it must be the church of which his next-door neighbor (the minister who had called the night before) had charge.
From where I stood it seemed a very pretty sort of a building, with a stone tower directly between the church and the rectory. It was not very large, nor was the tower very high. It stood back from the road, with a vivid green lawn running to the dark granite walls—a lawn with several round flower beds, a mass of color against the green. The setting of the little church was beautiful, as if some corner of England had been lifted and placed in the little New York village.
I had thought I might take a little stroll, but feeling lazy I returned to the veranda, where, for a while, I busied myself with a popular magazine. I was in the midst of an inane story when I was hailed by a voice from the lawn, and the dog went barking down the steps.
“Say, mister, where is Mr. Carter?”
It was a boy of about fourteen who hailed me—a boy with the reddest hair I have ever seen and more freckles than any boy ought to have. He stood at the bottom of the steps looking at me with a very serious expression on his face. He seemed so disappointed when I told him Carter was away that I asked him what he wanted. For a moment or so he studied me as if to decide if I could be trusted. Then, as if reassured, he came up the steps to my side.
Giving me that searching look which all boys use in greeting people whom they do not know, he asked:
“Are you a detective like Mr. Carter?”
I assured him that I might be called something of the sort and received a rather admiring grin. Then seating himself on the top step, he patted the dog which had come to his side and said:
“You know I went down to Court to-day, and I heard Jimmy Weedon tell about seeing that boat.”
I judged that Weedon must be the caretaker of Warren's grounds. In reply to my question the boy said that he was; and with a laugh added:
“Jimmy said that he never saw anybody on Mr. Warren's grounds yesterday, but I did.”
I gave him one look, and he went on.
“I thought maybe Mr. Carter might like to know what I saw. I caddy for him when he plays golf. My name is George.”
He seemed to be taking a good deal of time to tell what he had seen, and I tried to hurry him up. He laughed, then said:
“Well, yesterday afternoon about five o'clock I went after berries. You don't live here, so I'll tell you where I went. I went in the fields back of Mr. Warren's house. Right back of the stone wall that goes round his place is a big swamp. 'Twas a swamp once, but it's some filled in now; and across from it are a lot of berries.”
He paused to pat the Airedale, so I asked:
“Yes, I see what you mean; but what did you see?”
“Nothing much. Did not think about it till I heard those questions in Court, those questions to Jimmy Weedon about seeing any one on the grounds. Then I got to thinking about the man I saw.”
As he paused for breath, I told him to go on, and he continued:
“Just about six—I know it was about six, for the whistles blew a minute or so afterwards, I saw a man climb over the wall—that stone wall of Mr. Warren's. He threw something in the bushes while he was on the wall.”
“Do you know who the man was?” came my eager question.
The boy was thoughtful a moment, his face screwed up in a funny gesture. Then he shook his head saying:
“No, I don't. He looked like somebody I know; but I can't tell who he was.”
“Do you know what he threw into the field?”
“Nope. I don't know he threw anything, but I saw him throw his hand out as if he did throw something away. I think he had something in it. And then he went down round the wall, and I did not see him any more.”
I quickly ran through in my mind what the boy had said. Though he might have been mistaken in thinking the man he saw climb over the wall had thrown something away, yet there was no doubt it was a valuable piece of information. It seemed to prove that some one besides the Chinaman had been on Warren's grounds about the time he must have been killed. And then I wondered if this could have been the person in the boat—that person whom no one had seen.
The boy had nothing else to tell. I gave him a dollar after impressing upon him that he must go at once to the chief of police and tell him the same story he had told me. He went away promising to do this, and I sat back to figure out his story. There was not anything suspicious, in a sense, in seeing a man climb a stone wall. But when I remembered that it took place around the time Warren had been killed, it began to look important. So far, from all the evidence we had, there did not seem to be any person who could have killed him. The secretary had come to the house at four, and Warren had not been killed until two hours later. I began to wonder who the man the boy had seen climbing the wall could have been.
It was still light, though the sun was low. As my eyes glanced lazily around, they fell upon the open door of Carter's boat house. The thought came to me, it might be worth while to take one of the boats and row along the shore until I reached Warren's land. There would be time before dark to at least have a look at the place where the boy said he had seen the man on the wall.
I went down to the boat house and went within. There were two row boats lying in the water, and upon the concrete floor was a red canoe. As the lake was very calm, I decided the canoe would be the easiest to manage. I carried it to the water and launched it. Climbing in rather carefully, I paddled out of the spillway, and then turned up the lake.
The lake was perfectly calm, without even a ripple upon its surface. Keeping close to the shore, I paddled rather slowly, enjoying the sight of the estates which I passed. All of them had fine lawns which ran to the water's edge, with little boat houses concealed among the trees. A little way from shore several people were fishing, and as I passed a little sandy beach, I saw some children bathing.
For a short distance the shore ran in a straight line, then curved around in a half circle to the right. As I struck across to the point of land which ran out into the lake, I saw from the stone wall which came down to the water's edge that I was opposite the Warren estate. I could see above the trees the library, its red roof being the highest in sight. But there were no signs of life, and as I paddled to the shore I saw no one.
At first I had thought I would not land upon the estate, but that I would beach the canoe at the other side of the wall. But changing my mind, I landed on the shore directly in front of the library, which was some hundred feet away upon the hill. I pulled the canoe upon the land, half hiding it behind the low-hanging branches of a willow tree. Then I started across the grass.
Passing round the front of the library, I saw that the door was shut and the blinds at the windows. I did not pause, but went down the other side of the hill, through a clump of trees, until I reached the rear wall. The wall was some hundred yards away from the library, and the boy had said that he had seen the man in a direct line with the building.
It was a granite wall almost ten feet high. I wondered a moment how I was going to get over it. A near-by tree, which had a branch hanging a few feet over the top of the wall, solved the difficulty. I climbed the tree, crept out on the branch, and dropped to the top of the wall. There I sat a moment to get my bearings.
Behind me stretched the grounds of the murdered scientist, the many trees hiding all but the top of the house. Directly back of me was the summer house, where we had found the body. But to my surprise, when I turned and looked in the other direction, I found that in front there was a slight hollow—a mass of tangled underbrush and small trees. Beyond this stretched a pasture, losing itself in the woods some little distance away. The underbrush below me ran the entire length of the wall, but stopped on my right where the wall ended. In fact here the ground rose a few feet to a grass lined meadow.
As I looked at the mass of trees and shrubs, the more I began to wonder what any one had been doing on the wall. It was not the way to leave the grounds, for the person would have been forced to climb the smooth stones. And then there was nothing but the distant woods and the field. I wondered if the boy had been right when he said the man had thrown something away.
My eyes came again to the slight hollow below me. It was a tangled mass of shrubbery, with high grass, only hidden by the small trees which grew to the height of about eight or nine feet. To try and find anything in that tangle seemed impossible. But after a moment I dropped from the wall and started to make my way through the underbrush.
It was even worse than I had expected. The ground was soft because of a spring which must have been near by. Not only were the trees thick, but there was a tangle of wild rosebushes. Their thorns clung to me as I tried to push my way through the bushes. Long before I reached the other side I realized that it was too late to expect to make any kind of a search. It had begun to be dusk by the time I reached the wall, and when I plunged into the underbrush, the thick foliage made it impossible to see.
Floundering at every step, my clothes pulled and twisted by the thorns, and with the branches whipping across my face, I stumbled through the swamp. Luckily it was not very wet, for if it had been, I would have been unable to have gotten through. But long before I reached the more solid ground I swore at myself for what I was doing. And then, just when I began to wonder if I would ever reach solid ground, I plunged out of the thicket into the high grass of the field. With a sigh of relief I flung myself down on the grass for breath.
My excursion had been of little value. True, I had discovered that the boy could have seen some one on the wall, for I could see its dim shape a few hundred yards away. I glanced at it a moment, then looked behind me at the distant woods, and then glanced back at the wall. And as I looked, to my great surprise I saw a figure slowly drop from the same branch I had been on. A dim, indistinct figure, which seemed to be covered with a long coat—a figure of a man who, as I looked, dropped lightly on the top of the wall.
It was now dark, but not so dark that I could not make out the man. The features I could not see, for he was too far away and the darkness too dense. But there in front of me, on the other side of the swamp, was a man—a man who remained but a moment on the wall and then dropped to the ground. For a second I lost him from sight, and then I saw the darkness split by the glare of a flashlight. Like myself, he was going into the underbrush, throwing the light carefully before him and going slowly, step by step, as if he was looking for something.
For a second I wondered what I had better do. There was no doubt he was searching for something, and searching very carefully. I could hear the sound of the underbrush as it broke under his feet. Once even I heard a muttered exclamation as the man half fell. The small trees and vines hid him from my sight, but I could catch the circle of flame from the flashlight as he swept it to and fro. He was looking for something, but what? And then it dawned on me that the boy had been right after all. Something had been thrown from the wall into the small swamp.
There was little danger of my being seen. Not only was I in the shadow, but it was also dark. The man was about a hundred feet away, directly opposite from where I sat, crouched on the grass. He seemed to be searching over a rather small circle of ground, and evidently the search was not very successful. Then suddenly he threw the light from off the ground at his feet and directed it through the undergrowth in my direction. This caused me to move quickly a few feet to where the grass was higher.
After all there was no necessity of my moving, for in a moment the flame again swept the ground in a circle at the man's feet. Wondering what he might find, and knowing that I could not be seen from where he was, I rose and walked to the edge of the swamp, but I could see nothing there. Then, remembering that the ground rose to a pasture at my left, I carefully started in that direction. And then, after I had taken one step, my foot slipped upon a branch, and as the branch rolled over, I fell into the bushes with a crash.
I was not hurt, but at the sound of my fall the flashlight was suddenly extinguished. For a second I lay still, then, knowing there was no use to keep silent, arose. And at that second I heard the man blundering out of the underbrush, and the sound of his running feet. Instinctively I started to run in the direction which would the soonest bring me into the open—along the edge of the swamp, up the little grassy hill, and then I paused an instant to listen.
For a moment I heard nothing, and then down below me, in the direction of the lake, I heard the sound of running feet. Whoever had been on the other side of the swamp was taking no chance of being seen. As this thought struck me, I started down the hillside for the water. The shore was not so far away, but before I reached it I heard the man half tumble into a boat, and there came the sound of oars splashing in the water.
As I reached the shore, almost crashing into the stone wall of the Warren estate, I heard the faint click of the oars as the man began to row down the lake. My canoe was on the other side of the wall. To reach it, I had to stumble as softly as I could around the wall, which stopped at the water. Lucky for me, though I had to wade, the water was not above my shoe tops, and it took only a moment to reach the canoe. I knew I had one advantage. It was almost impossible for the man to row the boat without making some sound with the oars; but I could paddle the canoe silently.
As I half fell over the canoe, I paused a second, waiting to catch the faint sound of the oars; then silently I pushed the canoe into the water, climbed in, and started to paddle as softly as possible in the direction of the boat. It was far ahead of me, and the night was so dark I could see but a few feet in front of me. But once in a while I could hear the oars click, for the man was rowing with all his speed, evidently not knowing that I had a canoe.
It had been my idea that as I could paddle faster than he could row, I could soon reach him. My plan was to let him go ashore, and then as he stepped out of the boat, to reach his side. One thing above all I wished to do—see who it might be. After that there were a few questions I wished to ask.
But either I misjudged the distance he was ahead of me or else he could row far better than I expected. In my haste I had paddled straight out into the lake, forgetting for a moment or so that the shore took a wide curve. When I remembered that, it was to discover the man had rowed straight across this half circle, and I had to turn to the shore. This gave him several extra minutes, and though, when he ran his boat up on the shore, I was only a few feet away, yet it gave the time he needed.
He must have discovered just before he beached his boat that I was behind him. In fact I was so close that when he rose and jumped to the shore, I could partly see his figure—an indistinct mass in the darkness. He half turned, jumped from his boat, partly stumbled, only to gather himself and run away in the darkness. The next second my canoe crashed on the beach, half throwing me to my knees.
Jumping from it, I set out in the direction the man had taken. We were on some one's lawn, for I saw the figure darting ahead of me, thrown into reflection for a moment by the lights of a house. Then it went through a hedge and was lost to sight. I ran over the grass, through the opening in the hedge, and then discovered that I was on Carter's land. As I glimpsed the running figure ahead, I heard Trouble, who was locked in the garage, give a sudden bark, and then commence to bark incessantly. I wished with all my heart the dog was loose, but there was not time to open the garage door.
When I ran around the front of Carter's house, the man was not in sight. In front of me was another hedge, to my left the lake, and to my right the lawn ran to the street. In this direction the street lights made it possible to see that there was no one there. Deciding the man had gone through the hedge, I ran down the path, and the next second was on the lawn which belonged to the minister. But I could see no one, and though there was a light in the rectory, no running figure crossed the reflection. The man was gone, but where?
I stopped running, to walk up the slight incline which led to the church. Frankly I was puzzled. There had not been time for him to have gone very far. The street lights gave enough illumination to at least have allowed me to have seen if any running figure was ahead of me. But no one was in sight.
Puzzled, I went rather slowly across the grass and came to the dark shadow made by the wall of the church. As I stood silent a moment, I cast my eyes at the dense mass of the tower, which divided the rectory from the church proper. It was not a very high tower, and its top was only a few feet above the roof of the church. Then I went toward the street, keeping in the shadow, and when I reached the tower itself, found to my surprise that the door at the foot was open.
I peered within, only to have my eyes met by the blackness. Finding a match, I struck it. For the shortest space of time the darkness was lighted sufficiently for me to see a very narrow winding pair of stairs which were lost to sight above my head. Before the match was out I had time to see an iron railing which ran along the side of the steps. As darkness came again, I once more wondered what had happened to the man. There seemed no chance now of finding him, for by this time he must have been far away.
And then, for some unknown reason, I decided to climb the stairs in the tower and see if I could perceive anything from the roof. Thinking it over later, I saw how absurd the idea must have been, for the night was dark and even if I reached the roof, I would not have been able to see very far. But at the time the only thing I remembered was that when I had looked at the tower late in the afternoon I had noticed an iron railing which ran around its top.
I reached in my pocket for another match, and then discovered I had just struck the last one. A search of all my pockets gave no results. Hesitating a moment, I finally stepped through the open door, groping my way until my foot plunged against the stone stairs. Then finding the railing, I began slowly to climb the steps.
The darkness was intense, and the stairway was not only very narrow, but it wound around and around in a bewildering manner. I groped my way from step to step, my hand firmly grasping the rail. Just about the time I began to wonder if the steps would never end I came out in a small room at the top of the tower. Directly in front of me was an open door, and as my eyes became more accustomed to the darkness, I saw that it led to the platform.
When I went through this door, I found myself on a little balcony, which ran around the top of the tower. In my first quick glance I saw below me the lights of the town, and, turning my head, I caught the reflection of the village streets far away in the distance. I leaned over the iron railing, saw the dark shadow of the roof a few feet below me, and began to wonder why under heaven I had ever climbed the steps.
After walking completely around the balcony, I came back to my place near the open door. Though I had peered over the edge on all sides, I had seen nothing. Only the lights of the town, the street lamps and the reflections from the houses had broken the blackness. I had just about made up my mind to descend when a sudden sound behind me caused me to stiffen to attention. It was only a slight sound, and what it was I could not tell. But as I started to turn, suddenly from behind I felt something move, and the next moment two hands suddenly gripped my body.
The attack was so sudden and unexpected that, taken off my guard as I was, I did not move until the man had secured my arms with a firm grip. I tried to throw them aside, but I might just as well have tried to break a steel rope. Whoever it was had terrific strength, for they held me in such a position that I was unable to move. Throwing my body to this side and that, I tried to break the grip, but it was impossible. And silently, save only for the man's quick breathing, I was being borne to the iron rail.
The man had seized me from the rear, and as I was unable to turn I could not see him. Even if I had been able to turn, I could not have distinguished him, for the night was too dark. Silently, without a word, he pushed me against the rail. Then as its iron began to cut into my back, he tried to lift me from the platform. In horror it came over me that he was trying to throw me from the tower.
With a sudden burst of strength I managed to free myself from one of the clutching hands and half turned. But the effort was in vain. Again the arms closed around me, and as I slipped on the stone floor, I felt myself being raised and the iron rail pressing against my back. I tried to regain my feet—tried to throw off the clutching hands, but could not; and then, as if my weight was of no avail, the man lifted me slowly but surely until my feet were off the floor. Then he gave a sudden push, and with a cry I went off the platform.