The British Mysteries Edition: 14 Novels & 70+ Short Stories. Sapper
but the light had almost gone. And it was about five minutes after they had heard the shot that Jim rounded a projecting bush and stopped abruptly with his hand held up in warning to his cousin.
"Look at that," he muttered as Percy joined him. "It was here that it happened."
The undergrowth was trampled and beaten down, showing every sign of a desperate struggle. But of the combatants there was no trace. They listened intently: nothing stirred in the forest. And at length Jim crept cautiously forward.
Suddenly his foot met something hard, and he stooped and picked it up. And the next moment he cursed savagely.
"My gun, Percy," he said. "The one I gave Bill."
A spasm of rage shook him.
"By God!" he cried, "these things—whatever they are—will regret this. Once I've got Judy safely away, I'll come back here with a proper expedition and exterminate the lot. What's the matter?"
His cousin had bent forward excitedly, and was staring at something on the ground.
"It's a hat, Jim," he cried. "And it's not Bill's."
"What's that? Let me see it."
He picked up the hat: it was wet and sticky. And glancing at his fingers he saw they were red. He looked inside the hat, and then with a feeling of uncontrollable repulsion he flung it far out into the swamp. For its late owner's head had been literally battered to pieces.
"Poor devil," he muttered. "You're sure it's not Bill's, Percy?"
"Absolutely certain."
"Then how did my gun get here?"
But his cousin did not answer: he was standing by a big tree that grew on one side of the beaten-down patch.
"Jim," he cried shakily, "this tree is all wet."
It was true, and for a moment Jim stared at it incredulously. At first he had assumed that the deed had been done with a club or even possibly the butt of the gun. But the blood on the tree told a different tale, and one that was well-nigh inconceivable. For it proved that the man had been killed by having his head bashed against the trunk, and the strength necessary to do such a thing was unbelievable. And in his imagination he visualised the scene. The shot, fired in a panic at the monstrous thing that had suddenly appeared out of the dusk: the brief hopeless struggle when the bullet missed, and then the ghastly ending with the lifeless body flung into the bog.
But who was it? Surely Bill would not have handed over the only long range weapon they had with them to somebody else, unless he had been compelled to. At the best of times he was a very bad shot with a revolver, so it was hard to believe that he would have lent the rifle to anyone willingly. And if that was so what had happened on board the motor-boat?
The forest was silent as they started off again. Twice during the next hour they heard from far off that strange grunting roar answered from three or four different places which showed that the denizens were on the prowl. But their luck held good: the track along the edge of the swamp was deserted. And at last they were clear of it, and able to increase their pace as they began to climb the hill.
They reached the top: the lagoon below them was in darkness. No light came from the place where the boat had been anchored. And sick with anxiety they half ran, half slid down towards the beach. The dinghy was still where they had left her, and it was while they were getting her afloat that a large stone came bounding down the hill and crashed into the water a few yards away.
For a moment Jim paused, staring up at the sky line behind them. Was it they who had loosened it as they came down, or had something else started it? But he could see nothing, and jumping into the dinghy they pulled feverishly for the boat.
"Bill," he shouted. "Ahoy! there, Bill."
There was no answer, and leaving Percy to make the dinghy fast, he scrambled on board.
"Bill," he cried again. "Judy. Where are you?"
He dashed into the little saloon, and this time there was an answer.
"Good evening, my dear Mr. Maitland," came a well-known voice. "You are, if I may say so, a little later than I expected."
He lit the lamp: seated at the table was the dwarf with a malignant smile on his lips.
"You little devil," roared Jim. "What have you done with Miss Draycott?"
The blind man held up a deprecating hand.
"Really, Mr. Maitland," he protested, "the space here is very confined. Would it be too much if I asked you to moderate your voice?"
"Where is Miss Draycott, Dresler?" said Jim controlling himself with an immense effort. "Because I warn you quite quietly that I am not in a mood to be trifled with to-night, and if anything has happened to her I shall blow out your brains without the smallest compunction."
"It is extraordinary," remarked the other, "with what unerring accuracy I have read your character. I actually said to Monty—you remember Sir Montague Barnet, of course—when he went ashore that I was sure you would say something bright and original like that."
Jim glanced at Percy who had come into the saloon.
"So Barnet went ashore, did he? From here?"
"Yes. I thought perhaps you might meet him, but in the darkness you must have missed one another. However he is sure to be back soon."
"May I ask if he was wearing a Homburg hat?"
"My dear sir, you know my affliction. I'm afraid I didn't ask him. But if you saw a man with a Homburg hat it must have been Monty."
"I didn't," said Jim tersely. "I only saw the hat."
"You speak in riddles," murmured the dwarf.
"You'll get the solution soon," remarked Jim. "To return to Miss Draycott. I assume she is on board the yacht."
"Correct. And with her is the admirable guardian you left whose name I fear I do not know. He was most abusive, and had to be hit over the head with a belaying-pin, but I don't think his condition is dangerous."
"And your object in this abduction?"
"My dear fellow, you pain me. You know as well as I do. Now where is the correct map?"
"In my pocket," said Jim.
"Excellent. By the way I congratulate you on the idea, Mr. Maitland. It appealed to me immensely when I gathered from Monty's blasphemy what had happened."
"Cut it out," remarked Jim curtly. "I assume that you want it."
"That is the notion. And fearing you might prove difficult about it, I took the precaution of removing the lady. She is quite safe at present, and her quarters are far more comfortable. But I do not need to remind you, do I, that my friend Don Miguel has a keen eye for a pretty girl, and that his reputation is not perhaps all that it should be. And so I earnestly advise you not to play any more tricks this time, either over the map, or with me. Because if you do I cannot guarantee Miss Draycott's continued safety."
"And what is your proposal?" said Jim.
"A simple one. As soon as Monty returns, you will start up the motor and take your boat round to the other side of the island where the yacht is now anchored. We will all go on board her, and then when you have satisfied us that the map is what we want—well, my dear Maitland, as far as I am concerned you can go to the devil."
"Very interesting," said Jim with a laugh. "Extraordinary what bloomers you always seem to make in your schemes Dresler, isn't it?"
"What do you mean?" remarked the blind man softly.
"I mean that if we wait here till Barnet returns we shall wait a considerable time. It was very unwise of him to go ashore alone."
"Have you killed him?" said the dwarf even more softly.
"No: but he's dead. This island is a funny place, my friend, and if you take my advice you'll do what I'm going to do—leave it."