CHAPTER XV.
CONCERNS AN ILLUSTRATED PAPER.
The river had disappeared!
In front of us was a great green wall of solid rock, which seemed totower into the sky above us, and to stretch away for miles to rightand left. The curious part about it was that the rock was undoubtedlysolid. The shrubs that grew upon it, the great crevices and clefts,were all real. I knew--though I had a hard struggle to make myselfbelieve--that it was all a marvellous and indescribable delusion, forthere could be no cliff where only a few seconds before there had beena mighty, rushing torrent.
And yet I could have planted finger and foot on the ledges of thatsolid precipice and climbed to the invisible summit. Hilderman wasmuttering to himself beneath his breath, but I was too dazed, my brainwas too numbed to make any sense out of the confused mumble of wordswhich came from him. Dennis held my arm in a vice-like grip thatstopped the circulation, and almost made me cry out with the pain.
Hilderman staggered, his arm over his eyes, across the stepping-stonesto the side of the stream. I found my voice at last.
"Dennis!" I shouted at the top of my voice, though why I should haveshouted I can never explain, for my friend was standing just besideme. "Dennis, come away, man. Get out of this!"
I exerted my strength to the uttermost, but Dennis was immovable,rooted to the spot by the strange, snake-like fascination of thenightmare. Then, as suddenly as it had arisen, the rock disappearedagain, and there before our startled gaze was a peacefully flowingriver. Dennis turned to me with a face as white as a sheet.
"The place is haunted," he said, with a somewhat hysterical laugh.
"Let's get away from it and sit down, and think it over," I urged,pulling him away. We made for the side of the river and sat down, ata very safe distance from the bank. I rolled up my sleeve, and had alook at my arm.
"Great Scott!" Dennis exclaimed, as I dangled the pinched and purplelimb painfully. "What on earth did that?"
"I'm afraid it was your own delicate touch and dainty caress that didit, old man. You seized hold of me as if you hadn't seen me for years,and I owed you a thousand pounds."
"Ron, my dear fellow," he said penitently, "I'm most awfully sorry.Why didn't you shout?"
I burst out laughing.
"I entered a protest in vigorous terms, but you were otherwise engagedat the moment, and, anyway, don't look so scared about it, old man;it'll be quite all right in a minute."
Poor Dennis was quite upset at the evidence I bore of his absorptionin the miracle, and we postponed our discussion while he massaged theinjured arm in order to restore the flow of blood.
"Where's Hilderman?" I asked presently, and though we lookedeverywhere for the American he was nowhere to be seen.
"He didn't look the sort to funk like that," said Dennis thoughtfully.
"I should have been prepared to bet he was quite brave," I concurred."Well, anyway," I added, "the main point is, what do you think of ourentertainment? You've come a long way for it, but I hope you are notdisappointed now you've seen it. It's original, isn't it?"
"By heaven, Ron!" he cried, "you're right. It is original. It is evena more unholy, indescribable mystery than I expected, and I neveraccused you of exaggerating it, even in my own mind."
"I'm glad that both you and Hilderman have had ocular demonstrationof it," I remarked. "It is so much more convincing, and will helpyou to go into the matter without any feeling that we are out on ahare-brained shadow-chase."
"We're certainly not that, anyhow," Dennis agreed emphatically. "It isa real mystery, Ronald, my boy. A real danger, as well, I'm afraid.But we'll stick at it till the end."
"Thanks, old fellow," I said simply, and then I added, "I wonder whatcan have become of Hilderman?"
"Gad!" cried Dennis, in sudden alarm. "He can't have fallen into theriver by any chance?"
We jumped to our feet and looked about us.
"No," I said presently, "he hasn't fallen into the river." And Ipointed a finger out to sea. The _Baltimore II._, churning a franticway across to Glasnabinnie, seemed to divide the intervening water inone great white slash.
"I wonder," said Dennis quietly, "_is_ that funk, or isn't it?"
We watched the diminishing craft for a minute or two in silence, andfinally decided to keep an open mind on the subject until we mighthave an opportunity to see Hilderman and hear his own explanation.
"Talking about explanations, what about the left-handed schoolmasterwith the red-headed wife, or whatever it was?" I asked.
"That was a bit of luck," said Dennis modestly, "and I will admit, ifyou like, that we owe that to Garnesk."
"Garnesk wasn't there," I protested.
"No," my friend admitted, "he wasn't there at the time, but he putme on the look-out for a left-handed sailor. I was very muchimpressed with his deductions about the man who stole Miss McLeod'sdog, and I determined to be on the look-out for a left-handed man. Ialso admit that I carefully watched everyone we met, especially thefishermen at Mallaig, to see if I could detect the sort of man I wanted.I was rewarded when we were pulled out to the _Fiona_ by thosetwo men of Fuller's. One of them was red-headed, you remember? Well,that man was left-handed. It was very easy to observe that by the wayhe held his oar and generally handled things. Of course I was verybucked about it, so I paid very close attention to him. He wore awedding-ring--ergo, he was married. It is not conclusive, of course,but a fairly safe guess when you're playing at toy detectives. So whenI found the knife I looked for some sign that it belonged to him, andfound it. It was all quite simple."
"I daresay it will be when you explain it, but you haven't in theleast explained it yet," I pointed out. "How about the schoolmasterand all that, and what made you think the knife belonged to him."
"Simply because he was very probably--working on the law ofaverages--the only left-handed man among the crew, and that knifebelonged to a left-handed man."
"But my dear old fellow," I cried, "you don't seriously mean to tellme that you can say whether a man is left-handed or not by looking atmarks on the handle of his knife?"
"Not on the handle," Dennis explained; "on the blade. Have you got aknife on you?"
I produced my pen-knife.
"I'll trust you with it," I declared confidently. "I've never held anysecrets from you, Den."
Dennis opened the knife and laid it in the palm of his hand. I stoodstill and watched him.
"You've sharpened pencils with this knife and the pencils have lefttheir mark. If you hold the knife as you would when sharpening apencil and look down on the blade there are no pencil marks visible.Now turn the knife over and you will find the marks on the other sideof the blade."
"Half a minute," I said eagerly, "let's have a look. The knife is inposition for sharpening a pencil and the back of the knife is pointingto my chest. The marks are underneath." I took a pencil from my pocketand tried it. "Yes, I've got you, Dennis. It's quite clear. If I heldthe knife with the point to my right instead of to my left, as Ishould do in sharpening with my left hand, the marks appear on theother side of the blade. It is not quite conclusive, Den, but it'sjolly cute."
"Not when you're looking for it," he said. "I was struck by the factthat the knife which, by its size and weight, was a seaman's handytool, had also been used for the repeated sharpening of a blue pencil.When I saw those indications I went through the motion and came to theconclusion that the marks were on the wrong side. Then I tried with myleft hand and accounted for it. The blue pencil made me suspicious. Ihave no knowledge of a yacht-hand's duties, but surely sharpening bluepencils is not one of them. Then the knife had also been carried inthe same pocket as a piece of white chalk. The only sort of person Icould think of who would carry a piece of chalk loose in his pocketand use a blue pencil continuously was a schoolmaster. So I stateddefinitely--there's nothing like bluff--that the knife belonged to theleft-handed man, who quite obviously had red hair, who appeared towear the insignia of the married state, and who--again according tothe law o
f averages--had at least one child. I naturally slumped theschoolmaster idea in with it, and there you have the whole thing in anutshell. But it was Garnesk who set me looking for left-handed clues,and if I hadn't been looking for it, it would never have entered myhead."
"But look here," I suggested, "some people sharpen pencils by pointingthe pencil to them. Wouldn't that produce the same effect?"
"Yes," he admitted, "I thought of that. But the marks would have beenvery much fainter, because there would have been much less pressure. Iput that idea aside."
"Good!" I exclaimed. "I should much prefer to swallow your theorywhole, Dennis, but it struck me that might be a possible source oferror, which, of course, might have led us on to a false trail. And,I say, those questions you asked about the time he stayed in port andthe hotel. Were those all bluff? Or had you some sort of idea at theback of them?"
"I had a very definite idea at the back of them," Dennis replied. "Ithought perhaps the white chalk which was deposited in the blade-pocket,and was even noticeable on the handle, might be due to billiard chalk.But, of course, I didn't mention billiards, because it would have givenmy line of reasoning away. I thought it was better to spring it on themwith a bump."
"Which you certainly did," I laughed. "As a matter of fact, I thoughtyou were simply having a game with us all. But now that you've told methe details, Den, do you remember what happened when you did spring iton them?"
"Well, of course I do," he replied. "But even so, I hardly know whatto make of it. I should like to feel confidently that Fuller is theman we are after. But we must remember that both he and Hildermanmight very easily have thought I really had discovered something fromthe knife and been exceedingly surprised without having any guiltyconnection with the discovery."
"H'm," I muttered, "I prefer to suspect Fuller."
"Oh, I do too," Dennis agreed. "It is safer to suspect everybody in acase like this. But why are you so emphatic?"
"Well," I explained, "we have a few little things to go on. Myradiagnosed that Sholto was taken on a yacht by Garnesk's left-handedman in sea-boots. Then you produce a left-handed member of a yacht'screw out of an old pocket-knife, and Fuller jumps out of his skin whenyou mention it. That seems to be something to go on, and then therewas that incident in the smoking-room."
"When you were reading the paper?" he asked. "I couldn't make thatout. Did you notice anything suspicious about it?"
"Of course I was in a suspicious mood," I admitted, "but it struck meas a singularly rude thing to do to snatch the paper out of my handlike that. His remark about Hilderman's precious view was very weak.I think there was something behind it."
"What?" asked Dennis.
"It may have been that there was a letter, or something in the way ofa paper, which he didn't want me to see laid inside the paper; butthere was another curious point about it. There was a page torn out. Ihad just noticed this and was on the point of making some silly remarkabout it when Fuller leaned right across you and took the thing fromme, as you saw."
"If the page he didn't want you to see was torn out, there was nochance of your seeing it," Dennis argued, logically enough.
"No," I agreed, "but after your exhibition, if he had anything toconceal he may have been afraid of my even seeing that the page wastorn out."
"What do you imagine the missing page can possibly have contained?"
"I don't know," I answered, and thought hard for a minute. "By Jove,Den!" I cried suddenly, "I believe I've got it. This takes us back toGarnesk's idea of a wireless invention causing all the trouble. Wethink we have reason to believe that Fuller may have stolen the dog.We also think we have reason to believe that one of his yacht-hands iswhat you called 'a mathematical master.' Now, suppose the paper hadgot hold of this and printed an illustration of the mysteriousinvention or perhaps a photograph of the mysterious inventor?"
"And the inventor, knowing that we should accuse him of blinding MissMcLeod and making off with her dog, the moment we could identify him,tears out the offending illustration in case either we or anyone elsein the neighbourhood should see it? He admitted, by the way, that henever went into port if he could help it."
"Well, anyway," I said, "we'll have a look for the paper and find themissing page."
"You noticed the date?" Dennis asked, anxiously.
"Oh! it was this week's issue," I replied.
"Do they take it at the house?" he inquired, again with a note ofanxiety.
"Not that I know of, but we'll rake one up somewhere, don't you fret.And, I say, this is a fine way to welcome a visitor; you haven't evensaid how-do to your host and hostess. I'm most awfully sorry."
"Don't be an ass, Ronnie," said Dennis, cheerfully. "With the utmostrespect, as you barrister chaps would say, I hadn't noticed yourdeparture from the requirements of conventional hospitality. Iwouldn't have missed this for all the world and a bit of Bond Street."
So then we hurried to the house with a nervous energy, which spokeeloquently to our state of suppressed excitement.
"All the same," Den muttered dolefully, as we hurried down the stablepath, "it's going to be what the Americans would call 'some' wirelessinvention that can plant a grown-up mountain in the middle of aninnocent river in the twinkling of an eyelash."
"It is, indeed, old fellow," I agreed, "but don't let us worry aboutthat. We'll get in and see Myra and the General, and then have a lookround for the _Pictures_--the paper you were looking at."
We found Myra sitting on the verandah and wondering what on earth hadkept us, and if we had changed our minds and gone straight back southwith Garnesk.
"I'm most awfully sorry, darling," I apologised. "It's all my fault,of course. We went to Glasnabinnie, and since then I've been showingDennis the river and generally forgetting my duties as deputy host."
"What did you go to the river for?" Myra asked, suspiciously.
"Oh! just to have a look round, you know, dear. It's a very niceriver," I replied, airily.
"Ronnie, dear, please," she said gently, laying her hand on my arm andturning her veiled and shaded face to mine, "please don't joke aboutit. I can't bear to think of you running risks there."
I looked at my beautiful, blind darling, and a pang shot through me.
"God knows I'm not joking about it, dearest," I said sadly.
"I know you weren't really, Ronnie. But, please, oh! please, keep awayfrom the river."
"Very well, dear," I promised, "I will, unless an urgent duty takes methere. We must solve this mystery somehow, and it may mean my going tothe river. But I promise not to run any unnecessary risks."
"I'll keep an eye on him and see that he takes care of himself, MissMcLeod," said Dennis, coming to the rescue.
"Thank you, Mr. Burnham," the girl replied, "but you know it appliesto you as well. You must look after yourself also."
"By the way, dear," I asked, changing the subject, "have you a copy ofthis week's _Pictures_?"
"I'm afraid not," she answered. "Must it be the _Pictures_? I've justbeen looking at another illustrated paper."
"Looking at what?" I cried, jumping to my feet. "Darling, who'stalking about running risks?"
"Oh, it's all right, dear," she assured me. "I got Mary to bring mydark-room lamp down to the den and just glanced at the pictures by thered light. But I won't do it again, if it alarms you, dear. All thesame, I'm quite sure I could see by daylight."
"You promised Garnesk you wouldn't till you heard from him, darling,"I urged. "It might be very dangerous, so please don't for my sake."
"Very well, then," Myra sighed, "I'll try to be good. But I hope he'llwrite soon."
"Where do you think we could get a copy of the paper?" I askedshortly.
"If it's frightfully important, dear, you might get one in Glenelg,and, failing that, Doctor Whitehouse would lend you his. I know hetakes it in. Why are you so keen about it?"
"We'll go into the den and tell you everything in a minute or two,dear," I promised. "Is there any objection to my sending
Angus in tothe doctor?"
"None whatever," Myra declared, "he can go now if you like."
So after I had despatched Angus into the village with strictinstructions not to come back without a copy of the paper if he valuedhis life, we all adjourned to Myra's den, and my friend and I told herin detail everything that had happened. About an hour and a half laterAngus returned with the paper. I took it from him with a hurried wordof thanks and nervously turned over the pages.
"Ah! here's a page I didn't see," I exclaimed excitedly, but the onlything on the whole page was a photograph of a new dancer appearing inLondon. Without waiting for me to do so, Dennis leaned over me andturned the page over with a quick jerk of the wrist.
"Phew!" I exclaimed involuntarily, and Dennis gave a long, lowwhistle.
"Oh! what is it? Tell me!" pleaded Myra, anxiously.
"It's a photograph of our friend Fuller," I replied slowly, in a voicethat shook with excitement. "And he's wearing court dress, andunderneath the photograph are the words 'Baron Hugo von Guernstein,Secretary of the Military Intelligence Department of the ImperialGerman General Staff.'"