Part 30 (1/2)

Jake took out a cigarette and was lighting it when he heard a swift, stealthy step close behind him. He dropped the match as he swung round, pus.h.i.+ng back his canvas chair, and found his eyes dazzled by the sudden darkness. Still he thought he saw a shadow flit across the veranda and vanish into the mist. Next moment there were heavier footsteps, and a crash as a man fell over the projecting legs of the chair. The fellow rolled down the shallow stairs, dropping a pistol and then hurriedly got up.

”Stop right there, Pepe!” he shouted. ”What were you doing in that room?”

n.o.body answered and Jake turned to the man, who was rubbing his leg.

”What's the trouble, Payne?” he asked.

”He's lit out, but I reckon I'd have got him if you'd been more careful how you pushed your chair around.”

”Whom did you expect to get?”

”Well,” said Payne, ”it wasn't Pepe.”

”Then why did you call him?”

”I wanted the fellow I was after to think I'd made a mistake.”

Jake could understand this, though the rest was dark. Pepe was an Indian boy who brought water and domestic stores to the shack, but would have no excuse for entering it at night.

”I allow he meant to dope the coffee,” Payne resumed.

This was alarming, and Jake abruptly glanced at the table. The intruder must have been close to it and behind him when he heard the step, and might have accomplished his purpose and stolen away had he not struck the match.

”He hadn't time,” he answered. ”We had better see what he was doing in the house.”

Payne put away his pistol and they entered d.i.c.k's room. Nothing seemed to have been touched, until Jake placed the lamp on a writing-table where d.i.c.k sometimes worked at night. The drawers beneath it were locked, but Payne indicated a greasy finger-print on the writing-pad.

”I guess that's a dago's mark. Mr. Brandon would wash his hands before he began to write.”

Jake agreed, and picking up the pad thought the top sheet had been hurriedly removed, because a torn fragment projected from the leather clip. The sheet left was covered with faint impressions, but it rather looked as if these had been made by the ink running through than by direct contact. Jake wrote a few words on a sc.r.a.p of paper and pressing it on the pad noted the difference.

”This is strange,” he said. ”I don't get the drift of it.”

Payne looked at him with a dry smile. ”If you'll come out and let me talk, I'll try to put you wise.”

Jake nodded and they went back to the veranda.

CHAPTER XX

DON SEBASTIAN

When they returned to the veranda Payne sat down on the steps. Jake picked up his chair and looked at him thoughtfully.

”Now,” he said, ”I want to know why you have been prowling about the shack at night. You had better begin at the beginning.”

”Very well. I guess you know I was put off this camp soon before you came?”

”I heard something about it,” Jake admitted.