The Flying Death
CHAPTER ELEVEN--THE BODY ON THE SAND
FOUR days had passed since the schooner came ashore on Graveyard Point.It now was the twentieth of September. The little community in ThirdHouse, which had bade fair to be such a happy family, was in rather asplit-up state. After their tilt of the day before, Dolly Ravenden andDick Colton were in a condition of armed neutrality. Dolly was ashamedthat her guardian imp had led her to so misrepresent herself to Dick,ashamed too of the warm glow at her heart because he cared so deeply.Thus a double manifestation of her woman's pride kept her from makingamends.
Dick was longing to abase himself, but wisely took Helga's advice, whichhe wholly failed to understand. Helga's beautiful voice rang like aninvocation to happiness through the house, but Everard Colton sat ingloom and reviled himself because he had promised Dick to stay severaldays longer. Haynes was irritable because the puzzle was getting on hisnerves. Professor Ravenden brooded over the loss of a fine specimen of_Lycona_ which had proved too agile for him, after a stern chase whichdeveloped into a long chase early that morning. Breakfast was not alively meal.
The morning was thick. A still mist hung over the knolls. It was anideal day for quiet and secret reconnoissance.
"This is our chance," said Haynes after breakfast to Dick Colton andProfessor Ravenden. "We'll get the horses and ride out across the point.We may happen on something."
The others readily agreed, and soon they had disappeared in thegreyness. Their tacit purpose was to find some trace of the WonderfulWhalley. All the morning they rode, keeping a keen outlook from everyhilltop, but without avail. They lunched late at First House and startedback well along in the afternoon.
"He may be in any one of those thousand scrub-oak patches," said Haynesas they remounted. "It's like hunting a crook on the Bowery. This fog isthickening. Let's hustle along."
To hustle along was not so easy, for presently a fine rain came drivingdown, involving the whole world in a grey blur. For an hour the threecircled about, lost. From the professor came the first suggestion:
"I believe that I hear the surf," said he. "Guiding our course by thesound, we may gain the cliff, by following the line of which we easilyshould reach our destination."
"Bravo, Professor!" said Haynes, and they made for the sea.
As they reached the crest of the sand-cliff some eighty feet above thebeach, the rain ceased, a brisk puff of wind blew away the mist, andthey found themselves a quarter of a mile west of Graveyard Point.
A short distance toward the point a steep gully debouched upon theshore, and a few rods out from its mouth the riders saw the body of aman stretched on the hard sand.
The face was hidden. Something in the huddled posture struck the eyewith a shock as of violence. With every reason for assuming, at firstsight, the body to have been washed up, they immediately felt that theman had not met death by the waves. Where they stood, the cliff felltoo precipitously to admit of descent; but the ravine farther on offeredeasy access. Half-falling, half-slipping, they made their way down theabrupt declivity to the gully's opening, which was partly blocked by agreat boulder, and came upon a soft and pebbly beach, beyond whichthe hard clean level of sand stretched to the receding waves. As theyreached the open a man appeared around the point to the eastward,sighted the body, and broke into a run. Haynes recognised him as Bruce,the Bow Hill station patrol, who had been on the cliff the night of thewreck. Dick Colton also started forward, but Haynes called to him:
"Hold on, Colton. Don't go out on the sand for a moment."
"Why not," he asked in surprise.
"No use marking it all up with footsteps."
At this moment the coast-guard hailed them. "How long has that beenthere?"
"We've just found it," said Colton.
"I'm on patrol duty from the Bow Hill station," said the other. "Oh,it's you, Mr. Haynes," he added, recognising the reporter.
"These gentlemen are guests at Third House, Bruce," said Haynes. "Here'sfresh evidence in our mystery, I fear."
"Looks so," said the patrol. "Let's have a closer look." He walkedtoward the body, which lay with the head toward the waves. Suddenly hestood still, shaking.
"Good God! it's Paul Serdholm!" he cried. Then he sprang forward with agreat cry: "He's been murdered!"
"Oh, surely not murdered!" expostulated Professor Ravenden. "He's beendrowned and----"
"Drowned?" cried the man in a heat of contempt. "And how about thatgash in the back of his neck? It's his day on patrol from the Sand Spitstation, and this is where the Bow Hill and Sand Spit lines meet. Threehours ago I saw him on the cliff yonder. Since then he's come and gonebetwixt here and his station. And----" he gulped suddenly and turnedupon the others so sharply that the professor jumped--"what's he metwith?"
"Perhaps the surf dashing him on a rock made the wound," suggestedHaynes.
"No, sir!" declared the guard with emphasis. "The tide ain't this highin a month. It's murder, that's what it is--bloody murder!" and he bentover the dead man with twitching shoulders.
"He's right," said Colton, who had been examining the corpse hastily."This is no drowning case, The man was stabbed and died instantly."
"Was the unfortunate a friend of yours?" asked Professor Ravendenbenevolently of the coastguard.
"No, nor of nobody's, was Paul Serdholm. No later than yesterday hepicked a fight with me, and----" he broke off and looked blankly at thethree men.
"How long would you say he had been dead?" asked Haynes of Colton.
"A very few minutes."
"Then we may catch the murderer!" cried the reporter energetically."Professor Ravenden, I know I can count on you. Colton, will you takeorders?"
"You're the captain," was the quiet reply.
"Then get to the cliff top and scatter, you three. The murderer musthave escaped that way. You can see most of the gully from there. Notthat way. Make a detour. I don't want any of our footprints on the sandbetween here and the cliff."
The patrol hesitated.
"Bruce, I've had twenty years' experience in murder cases," said Haynesquickly. "I'll be responsible. If you will do as I direct for the nextfew minutes we should clear this thing up."
"Right, sir," said the man.
"Come back here in fifteen minutes, then, if you haven't found anything.Professor Ravenden, I will meet you at the Sand Spit station in half anhour. You the same, Dr. Colton."
As the three started away, Haynes moved up to Colton and said in a lowtone: "The same wound?" Dick nodded. "Without a shadow of doubt. It'sWhalley of course. What will you do?"
"Stay here and collect the evidence we shall need."
No sooner had the searchers disappeared up the gully than Haynes sethimself whole-heartedly to the work he loved. His nerves were tense withthe certainty that the answer was writ large for him to read. Indeed,it should have been almost ridiculously simple. On three sides was thebeach, extending eastward and westward along the cliff and southward tothe water-line. Inland from where he stood over the body, the hard sandstretched northward, terminating in the rubble at the gully's mouth. Inthis mass of rubble, footprints would be indeterminable. Anywhere elsethey would stand out like the mark on a coin.
On their way forward to meet the patrolman the party from Third Househad passed along the pebble beach and stepped out on the hard sand at apoint east of the body, making a circuitous route. Haynes had contrivedthis, and as he approached he noted that there were no trail marks onthat side. Toward the ocean there was nothing except numerous faint birdtracks, extending almost to the water. Now, taking off his shoes, Haynesfollowed the spoor of the dead man. Plain as a poster it stood out, tothe westward. For a hundred yards he trailed it. There was no paralleltrack. To make doubly certain that the slayer had not crept uponSerdholm from that direction, Haynes examined the prints for evidencesof superimposed steps. None was there. Three sides, then, wereeliminated. As inference at first had suggested, the killing was donefrom the cliff side.
Haynes' first hasty glance at the
sand between the body and the ravine'sopening had shown him nothing. Here, however, must be the telltaleevidence. Striking off from the dead man's line of approach, he walkedout upon the hard surface. The sand was deeply indented beyond the body,where his three companions had hurried across to the cliff. But no othershoe had broken its evenness.
Not until he was almost on a line between the body and the mouth of thegully did he find a clue. Clearly imprinted on the clean level was theoutline of a huge claw. There were the five talons and the nub of thefoot. A little forward and to one side was a similar mark, except thatit was slanted differently.
Step by step, with starting eyes and shuddering mind, Haynes followedthe trail. Then he became aware of a second, confusing the first, thetrack of the same creature. At first the second track was distinct, thenit merged with the first, only to diverge again. The talons were turnedin the direction opposite to the first spoor. From the body of Serdholmto the soft sand stretched the unbroken lines. Nowhere else within aradius of many yards was there any other indication. The sand layblank as a white sheet of paper; as blank as the observer's mind, whichstruggled with one stupefying thought: that between the body of the deadlife-saver and the refuge of the cliff no creature had passed except onethat stalked on monstrous, taloned feet.
Sitting down upon the beach, Haynes reasoned with himself aloud: "Thisthing," he said, "cannot be so. You ought not to have sent the othersaway. Someone in full command of his eyesight and faculties should behere."
Then, the detective instinct holding faithful, he hastily gathered someflat rocks and covered the nearest tracks, in case of rain. A fieldsparrow hopped out on the rubble and watched him.
"To-morrow," said Haynes to the sparrow, "I'll pick up those rocks andfind nothing under them. Then I'll know that this was a phantasm. Iwonder if you're an illusion."
Selecting the smallest stone, he threw it at the sparrow. With a shriekof insulted surprise the bird flew away. Haynes produced a pencil, withwhich he drew, upon the back of an envelope, a rough but pretty accuratemap of the surroundings. He was putting on his shoes when Bruce came outof the gully.
"See anything?" called Haynes.
"Nothing moving to the northward," replied Bruce, approaching. "Have youfound anything?"
"Not that you could call definite. Don't cross the sand there. Keepalong down. We'll go to Sand Spit and report this."
But the man was staring beyond the little column of rock shelters.
"What's that thing?" he said, pointing to the nearest unsheltered print."My God! It looks like a bird track. And it leads straight to the body!"he cried in a voice that jangled on Haynes' nerves. But when he beganto look fearfully overhead, into the gathering darkness, drawing in hisshoulders like one shrinking from a blow, that was too much.
Haynes jumped up, grabbed him by the arm and started him along.
"Don't be a fool!" he said. "Keep this to yourself. I won't have a lotof idiots prowling around those tracks. Understand? You're to reportthis murder, and say nothing about what you don't know. Later we'll takeit up again."
The man seemed stunned. He walked along quietly, close to his companion,to whom it was no comfort to feel him, now and again, shaken by aviolent shudder. They had nearly reached the station, when ProfessorRavenden and Colton came down to the beach in front of them. Coltonhad nothing to tell. The professor reported having started up a finespecimen of sky-blue butterfly, which led him astray. This went to show,he observed, that a man never should venture out lacking his net.
"Whalley might have bumped into him, and he probably wouldn't havenoticed it," remarked Haynes aside to Colton. "It takes something reallyimportant, like a bug, to attract the scientific notice. A mere murdererdoesn't count."
"Then you've found evidence against the juggler?" asked Colton eagerly.
"I've found nothing," returned the reporter, "that's any clearer than abucket of mud."
He refused to say anything more until they were close to the station.Then he tested a hopeless theory.
"The man wasn't stabbed; he was shot," he observed.
"What's the use?" said Colton. "You know that's no bullet wound. You'veseen the same thing twice before, not counting the sheep, and you oughtto know. The bullet was never cast that could open such a gap in a man'shead. It was a broad-bladed, sharp instrument with power behind it."
"To Dr. Colton's opinion I must add my own for what it is worth," saidProfessor Ravenden.
"Can you qualify as an expert?" asked the reporter with the rudenessof rasped nerves. He was surprised at the tone of certainty in thescientist's voice as he replied:
"When in search of a sub-species of the _Papirlionido in the Orinocoregion, my party was attacked by the Indians that infest the river.After we had beaten them off, it fell to my lot to attend the wounded. Ithus had opportunity to observe the wounds made by their slender spears.The incision under consideration bears a rather striking resemblanceto the spear gashes which I saw then. I may add that I brought awaymy specimens of _Papilionidointact, although we lost most of ourprovisions."
"No man has been near enough the spot where Serdholm was struck down tostab him," Haynes said. "Our footprints are plain: so are his. There areno others. What do you make of that?" He was not yet ready to reveal thewhole astounding circumstance.
"Didn't I hear somethin' about that juggler that was cast ashore fromthe _Milly Esham_ bein' a knife-thrower?" asked Bruce timidly. "Maybe hespiked Serdholm from the gully."
"Then where's the knife!" said Haynes. "He'd have to walk out to get it,wouldn't he?"
"You must have overlooked some vestigia," said the professor quietly."The foot may have left a very faint mark, but it must have pressedthere."
"No; I'm not mistaken. Had you used your eyes, you would have seen."
"How far did Bruce's footprints go?" asked Colton.
The three looked at the coast-guard, who stirred uneasily. "Gentlemen,"said he, "I'm afraid there's likely to be trouble for me over this." Hisharassed eyes roved from one to the other.
"Quite likely," said Haynes. "They may arrest you."
"God knows, I never thought of killing Serd-holm or any other man!" hesaid earnestly. "But I had a grudge against him, and I wasn't far awaywhen he was killed. Your evidence will help me, unless-" he swallowedhard.
"No; I don't believe you had any part in it," said Haynes, answering theunfinished part of the sentence. "I don't see how you could have unlessyou can fly."
The man smiled dismally. "And then about those queer tracks----"
"Nothing about that now," interrupted Haynes quickly. "You'd betterreport to your captain and keep quiet about this thing."
"All right," said Bruce. "Good-night, gentlemen."
"What's that about tracks?" asked Colton.
"I want you and the professor to come to my room sometime this evening,"said the reporter. "I'll have a full map drawn out by then, and I wantyour views. Perhaps you'd better feel my pulse first," he added, with aslant smile.
Colton looked at him hard. "You're excited, Haynes," he said. "I haven'tseen you this much worked up. You've got something big, haven't you?"
"Just how big I don't know. But it's too big for me."
"Well, after you've got it off your mind on paper you'll probably feelbetter."
"On paper?"
"Yes; you'll report it for your office, won't you?"
"Colton," said the reporter earnestly, "if I sent in this story as Inow see it, it would hit old Deacon Stilley on the telegraph desk. TheDeacon would say: 'Another good man gone wrong,' and he'd take it overto Mr. Clare, the managing editor. Mr. Clare would read it and say: 'Toobad, too bad!' Then he'd work one of the many pulls that he's alwaysusing for his friends and never for himself, and get board and lodgingfor one, for an indefinite period at reduced rates, in some first-classprivate sanitarium. The 'one' would be I. Let's go inside." For twohours Haynes talked with the men in the life-saving station. Then he andProfessor Ravenden and Colton walked home in silence,
broken only by theprofessor.
"I wish I could have captured that _Lyccena_" he said wistfully.