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The Best Wadsworth Camp Mysteries. Charles Wadsworth Camp
Miller turned towards the verandah, but Molly seemed to prefer the clearing. She made excuses for lingering there, pointing out the small view of the inlet which Jake had achieved by cutting away a few of the thickest trees, and describing the canvases which Anderson had planned but had been unable to carry through.
“Why, when the axe was working,” Miller asked, “didn’t you tear out that mass of undergrowth which threatens to swallow the house from the rear?”
“Jake’s been afraid to go in,” she answered. “He says he knows it’s full of snakes. Looks as though it might be, doesn’t it? We haven’t dared take the responsibility of forcing him to work there against his own judgment.”
“Mayn’t I see the house?” he asked. “I acknowledge you and Andy have some reason. Its exterior has a frowning, inhospitable air.”
She walked slowly to the verandah. She held the screen door open, motioning him to enter.
He stepped into a large, square, windowless hall. Even with the door open it was difficult to see at first, and he was chilled by the same revolting atmosphere that had crept into his stateroom two nights before.
He shivered.
“You ought to keep a light and a fire burning here.”
“It’s warm enough outside, isn’t it! Whole house is like this. We keep the doors and windows wide, but the heat and light appear to prefer the open.”
“Sensible elements!” Miller muttered.
The entire building housed this air of chill decay, and, although the rooms were large and comfortably furnished. Miller was restless in all of them. Molly’s listening attitude troubled him. He wandered from parlour to library to diningroom, and even to the kitchen. All bore testimony to Molly’s devotion and determination. Molly, Miller made up his mind, must be rewarded-No matter what happened he would see her and Anderson through to the recapture of the mental peace for which they were suffering on here.
“Smoke, Jim,” Molly whispered when they were back in the hall.
“Why do we whisper?” Miller asked.
“Then you do feel something?” Molly demanded.
He would not listen to his momentary doubt. Pushing the screen door open, he stepped into the sunlight of the clearing. The doubt became nothing.
“Of course not,” he said. “What do you think?”
“Then don’t,” Molly begged. “You mustn’t. But you didn’t go upstairs. Will you!”
“Not now, “Miller answered. “I don’t want to discount my first dreadful night in one of those bedrooms. When I do stay you mustn’t fail to entertain me with your choicest spirits. “
“Perhaps there’ll be none for you,” Molly said wistfully. “That would mean just nerves for Andy and me.”
“I’ll prove it,” he laughed.
He sat down on the verandah and chatted pleasantly until Molly smiled and laughed with him.
Morgan appeared about half past four on his way home from Sandport. Miller hailed him. Molly had just brought out the tea things, and Morgan looked at them longingly.
“May I?”
Molly beckoned.
“A party!” she called.
“That collection of huts,” Morgan said as he came up and sat down,” seemed such a metropolis I hated to leave it, so I lingered, ordering much more than I really needed. If Mr. Miller stays on I think I’ll give a party myself in a day or two.”
Miller laughed.
“Then there’ll be one on the Dart.”
“We’ll capture the air of a real winter resort yet,” Morgan said.
He picked up the cup of tea which Molly had poured and looked around with an air of contentment.
“If Andy were only back to enjoy this!” Molly sighed. “Did he say anything more?”
“He expected to catch the boat down to Sandport.”
“I hope nothing keeps him. You know I’m getting worried. I can’t imagine where Jake is. I think he walked over to flirt with your cook.”
Morgan’s eyes twinkled.
“That,” he said, “adds to the air of a true winter resort”
“But it isn’t like him,” she said uneasily. “He doesn’t know about you two. He wouldn’t be likely to leave me alone so long.”
“Time is no match for amorous skirmishing,” Miller said.
Yet, watching Molly, he saw her anxiety grow, needlessly, he thought. When, therefore, Morgan arose after an hour, he asked if he might not accompany him.
“I had promised myself to call on you this afternoon,” he explained, “and I will hunt up Jake and hurry him back.”
“Company through that piece of woods,” Morgan said, “is always a blessing.”
Miller turned to Molly.
“If I shouldn’t see him I’ll report here immediately, if I may.”
“If you would—” she said, relieved.
He joined Morgan at the foot of the steps. They crossed the clearing and walked down the path to the shore where he had landed.
“I’m glad I’ve a guide,” Miller said.
Morgan laughed.
“I’m glad to have some one to guide. Wait until you’ve seen the path from the shore to the quarters. It would make a Stanley long for Darkest Africa.”
“I’ve noticed,” Miller said with a smile, “that you dwellers in this place answer to its loneliness surprisingly.”
“I’ve prided myself on my resistance,” Morgan answered, “but the Andersons and I have had a long winter of it. I—I think the place has gotten a little on our nerves. Don’t you judge any of us too harshly, young man, until you’ve been here a reasonable length of time yourself. Then, perhaps, you’ll get our standpoint. For instance, while I’m not the least superstitious, the path we are going to take from the shore to the old quarters has an unpleasant effect on us all. It comes down to this : We prefer to walk it by day. Why? I don’t know. I can only repeat that I have no belief in the abnormal.”
They had reached the shore. Morgan pointed to an opening in the jungle.
“There’s the path. Maybe you’ll see what I mean.”
Immediately they had entered the forest, Miller did, indeed, see. He understood, too, after a moment, why the agent had failed to reach the quarters. The trees and underbrush were so thick that he had an impression of walking in a low, narrow tunnel. He had another fancy that the sharp palmetto scrub along the edges was a warning chevaux de frise before a citadel impossible of assault.
It was necessary to go in single file, so Morgan stepped ahead. He no longer spoke, and, in the half light of that thicket, breathing the heavy air of vegetable decay, Miller found his own silence compelled.
They continued for five minutes, during which Miller combatted and tried to analyse this atmosphere, this deadening impulse to silence. He had made up his mind to break the spell, to speak, when Morgan suddenly stopped with a gasping intake of breath.
Miller saw his companion’s shoulders grow rigid, saw him slowly turn and reveal a pallid face and startled eyes.
Miller broke the silence now. His own heart was jumping.
“What is it! What did you see!”
Morgan didn’t answer, but over his shoulder Miller saw;