The Flying Death by Samuel Hopkins Adams (phonics reading books .txt) 📕

In every Anglo-Saxon there is something of the bloodhound. Sorrow for Haynes’ tragic death had merged with and intensified in the mind of Dick Colton a haggard demand for vengeance. He was surprised to find how strong a liking for the reporter had grown out of so brief an acquaintance. With equal surprise, he realised that his every instinct now was set to the blood-trail, that the duty of following the mystery to a definite conclusion possessed his mind to the exclusion of all else. Not quite all, either, for the thought of Dolly Ravenden lay deeper than the mind.

One salient fact asserted itself: Whatever may have been the agency of the other murders, Harris Haynes’ slaying was indubitably the same as that of Paul Serdholm. But what possible motive of murder could comprise these two? Could Bruce be the solution? Following what he thought would have been the processes of the reporter’s keen mind, Colton, after sending necessary telegrams, visited the Bow Hill station. Bruce was not in. He had gone out early that morning, ostensibly to fish. To the officer in charge Colton briefly stated the facts, and suggested that Bruce be detained when he returned, which was agreed to readily, though not without the expression of a hearty disbelief in the coastguard’s having had anything to do with the killing.

“Give a dog a bad name!” said the officer. “Because Bruce was around when Serdholm was killed, he’s suspected of this job. He told me Mr. Haynes was helping to clear him of the other killing.”

“That is true,” replied Colton. “Haynes did not think him guilty. Nor do I. But there are suspicious circumstances.”

It was late in the afternoon when the Coroner, who had driven fifteen miles to reach the spot, had finished his work, and Haynes’ body was brought to the house. From the official investigation nothing had resulted. Bruce was examined, and was pitifully nervous, but told a straight enough story of his fishing and exhibited several fish in corroboration.

Colton felt helpless in this maze. Late in the afternoon Dolly Ravenden came to him. Her brilliant beauty was dimmed and softened by traces of tears, and to the man’s longing heart she never had appealed with so irresistible a charm.

“Dr. Colton,” she said, “I don’t know what to do about Helga. She is like a dazed person. Your brother and I have been with her constantly. She has not broken down once. The tears seem frozen within her. I am frightened for her reason. She seems to blame herself for this dreadful thing.”

“There is something I want her to know,” said Dick. “Will you tell her?”

“Had you not better see her yourself?”

“I think not. You will tell her better. It is this: Poor Haynes had not a year to live. He knew this himself.”

“How did you know?” asked the girl incredulously.

“He told me of the disease that was killing him. It was when I asked him whether I might send for Everard to come down.”

“Then you let me accuse you wrongly,” she said very low. “Why did you not tell me that Mr. Haynes knew of Everard’s coming? Was it fair in you to let me be so unfair? I am ashamed of myself for the way I spoke to you. I have been ashamed.”

She raised her appealing eyes to his and moved a step nearer him. Dick held his breath like a man afraid of dispelling some entrancing vision.

“I did not mean it,” she went on bravely, though her eyes fell before his look. “When I saw how it hurt you I was sorry.”

“It is for me to beg your pardon,” said Dick hoarsely, “for believing your words against what my own heart told me of you. You know why it hurt me so?”

“Yes,” she said, in sweet acceptance of his reason.

“Dolly, do you care at all?” he cried, stretching out his hands to her.

“I don’t know,” she faltered. “Don’t ask me yet. It has been so short a time. I must speak of Helga now.”

“Yes,” said Dick, “I shall wait, and wait happily.” And—so strange a thing is the heart of woman—a pang of disappointment accompanied the quick thrill of admiration in Dolly’s heart at her lover’s loyalty and self-repression.

“I will tell her what you say,” said Dolly. She paused for a moment, and then a wonderful smile flickered over her sobered beauty.

“It ought to have been Helga you cared for,” she said. “But I’m glad it isn’t!” And she was gone.

The evening train brought, in response to Dick’s telegram, a grave and quiet young fellow who introduced himself as Eldon Smith, a reporter from The New Era, Haynes’ paper, and an older man with a face of singular beauty, whose name was a national word by virtue of his gifts as an editorial writer. Archer Melbourne had been the dead man’s only confidant. He at once took charge.

“I have heard from Mr. Haynes within a week,” he said to Dick Colton. “If I believed in such things, I should say that he had a premonition of death. He is to be buried in the hill behind Third House, so he wrote me. His property, which is considerable, including his life insurance, goes to Miss Helga Johnston, in trust, until her marriage. I am named as one trustee, and he writes me to ask you to act as the other.”

“Surely Haynes must have had friends of older standing,” began Dick, “who—”

“Haynes had few intimates. He was a quick and keen judge of men, and you seem to have inspired a strong confidence. There is a peculiar request attached. He asks that you use all your influence to guard Miss Johnston against making any marriage under conditions which you could not approve for the woman you loved best in the world.”

“God helping me, I will!” said Dick solemnly.

“As for the circumstances of Haynes’ death, the stories I heard are too wild for credence.”

“So are the facts,” said Dick briefly.

“Eldon Smith came down on the train with me. There is no keener mind in the newspaper business than his. Of course, he comes to represent his paper at Haynes’ funeral. The managing editor and others of the staff will be down tomorrow. Meanwhile, I think Smith will be investigating. Perhaps you will tell him what you know.”

To the two newspaper men Dick Colton recited the facts. Smith took an occasional note, and left with the brief comment: “I’ve never come across anything like this before. If Mr. Haynes couldn’t make it out, there isn’t much chance for anyone else. But I’ll do my best.”

After the close of the interview, Everard Colton came into Dick’s room.

“Good Heavens, Ev,” said Dick. “You look ten years older. Brace yourself up, man.”

“Dick,” said his brother, “I’ve given up. I see now I was a fool to think I ever could win Helga. I’m going to stick by her until this thing is over, and then I’ll go back.”

“Don’t be too sure,” began Dick; but checked himself, remembering his promise to the girl.

“That is what Dolly said,” replied the other hopelessly. “But I’ve had my eyes opened. I know now what sort of fellow Haynes really was. How could a man such as I win out against that kind of man?”

“Anyway,” said Dick, “Helga needs you at this time; you and Miss Ravenden. You won’t leave now, Ev.”

“Oh, I’ll stand by,” came the weary answer. “I don’t mean to whine; but I’ll be glad when I can get away. Even if I thought there was any chance—Oh, a fellow can’t fight the dead; it’s too cowardly!”

“Ev,” said Dick affectionately, “you don’t know—How is she now?” he asked, breaking off suddenly.

“Just the same. Mr. Melbourne saw her for a few minutes, and brought her some old letters of Haynes’. She has them, but we can’t rouse her to read them.”

“Has Miss Ravenden told her of Haynes’ illness?”

“What illness? Dolly’s been trying to tell her something; but Helga doesn’t seem to comprehend.”

“She will come out of that daze presently,” said Dick. “You’d better go back to her, Ev.”

Late that evening Eldon Smith knocked at Dick’s door, and found Dick talking with Professor Ravenden.

“It certainly is the most extraordinary case in my experience,” said the young reporter. “So many people had wallowed all over the place before I got there that there was nothing to be had from the sand, except two trampled remains of those remarkable tracks. You are sure there were no footprints?”

“Absolutely,” replied the professor and Colton in a breath.

“And you say Mr. Haynes was sure that there was none leading to the body of the man Serdholm?”

“So he positively declared.”

“Of course the pteranodon theory is out of the question.”

“Professor Ravenden does not so consider,” said Dick.

“I beg your pardon, Professor; I understand —”

“That the pteranodon still exists is by no means impossible,” said Professor Ravenden. “That the mysterious marks correspond to the fossil track is undeniable. I cannot so lightly dismiss the theory that a reptile of this supposedly extinct species did the killing.”

“Well, all that I can do is to try again tomorrow. Good-night,” and the reporter left.

“If Haynes were alive,” said Colton as the young man went, “he would go down to the beach the first thing in the morning. That is what I am going to do.”

“Do you think it safe?” queried the professor.

“Not entirely,” replied the other frankly; “but I’ll have a revolver.”

“Little enough avail was that to our poor friend,” said Professor Ravenden. “Suppose I accompany you?”

“Thank you, sir,” said Dick. “If you care to go, I should be glad to have you. But suppose you come across the knolls while I follow Haynes’ course along the beach. We’ll meet at the spot. You of course will go armed?”

“Certainly. Yes, I think your plan a good one.”

For Dick Colton there was little sleep that night. After midnight he was sent for to see Helga. At last she had come out of her semi-stupor, and had given way to such a violence of grief that Dolly and Everard were terrified. Having given her an opiate and ordered Everard to bed, Dick sat up with his own troubled conjectures until nearly dawn. Barely three hours of dozing had been his portion when he woke again.

With his shoes in his hand, he crept downstairs and started for the beach. He had set out early, because, despite the chill in the air, he wished to take a plunge in the sea to freshen himself up. Brief indeed was the plunge; consequently Dick Colton was in a fair way to reach the rendezvous some minutes before the arrival of the professor.

At Graveyard Point he climbed the cliff and took a long look around. A mist, moving along from east to west, cut off his view in one direction. Descending to the beach, he readily found the spot where Haynes’ body had lain. By way of precaution he made sure that his revolver was in condition for instant use. Although a slight rain had fallen, blurring the writings on the sand, and there had been almost total destruction by the trampling of those who had