Part 35 (2/2)

”Thank Heaven for that,” he murmured. ”I must steer clear of such pitfalls in the future. If only I had a light!”

But his pocket light as well as his pistol had been taken from him.

Whatever was to be done, must be accomplished in the darkness, and once more he set out on his tour of exploration, but this time with added caution.

It was not long before he found a place where the cellar sloped downward. At the end was a semi-circular opening, not unlike a huge drain.

”I'll follow this and see where it leads to,” he told himself, and went ahead a distance of thirty feet, when he found himself wading into water that was fairly clean and sweet.

”I must be close to the river now,” he reasoned. ”I wonder if I can swim out to the stream?”

He hesitated for a minute and then resolved to make a dive for liberty.

Down he went into the water and plunged along until he was over his head. Then he struck out as well as circ.u.mstances permitted. It was a truly perilous thing to attempt, but the detective was on his mettle and desperate.

Twenty feet were pa.s.sed and then the force of the water seemed to drive him upward. There was now no turning back, and holding his breath with difficulty, he swam on and on, rising steadily until his head struck an iron obstruction. He put up his hands and found that it was a grating.

Opening his eyes he made out that the grating was less than three inches from the surface of the river. Beyond he could see the open sky and the stars s.h.i.+ning brightly.

With might and main he tried to push the grating aside. It refused to budge, and he grew frantic, for his breath was fast leaving him. It looked as if he would be drowned like a rat in a trap.

Desperately and with all of his remaining strength he threw himself at the grating. It bent at one end and came loose. Then he made another attack and the grating dropped to one side and his body shot upward to the surface of the river, out into the life-giving air. He gasped, spluttered, almost tumbled down again, and then staggered to the sh.o.r.e, which was close at hand. He had been under water less than three minutes, yet the time had seemed an age.

He sat on the gra.s.sy bank for a long time, trying to get back his strength and wondering what he had best do next. All was silent around him, saving for the hooting of some owls and the occasional far-off cry of a whip-poor-will. He gazed around, but not a light was in sight.

The old mill was beyond him, partly screened by a number of trees.

Should he return to the vicinity of Matlock Styles' house and set a watch? This he thought a good idea, but there were two objections. He was wet to the skin and wanted some dry clothes, and he did not relish running into one or more of the Englishman's savage dogs, when he had nothing with which to defend himself.

As he sat there meditating, a stream of light shot across his feet and then disappeared. It had come from an upper window of the old mill and he scrambled to his feet to see what it meant. In a moment more he saw another stream of light and then a curious white cloud floated up from another window of the mill. At the same time he heard loud groans and then a hoa.r.s.e note coming from what appeared to him to be a fog horn.

The groans and the white vapor lasted for several minutes and then died away together.

It was a most uncanny happening and made his heart beat a little quicker than was its usual habit. Then of a sudden his face brightened and he smiled to himself.

”Make-believe ghosts and nothing more,” he mused. ”I wonder who is trying to scare folks away from the old mill? Most likely it is this Matlock Styles and it is part of another game of his. He must have gotten his idea from the old miser in the 'Chimes of Normandy,' only he works his ghosts.h.i.+p a little differently.”

He was about to move forward when a sound reached his ears which caused him to pause. A dog was approaching--one of the mastiffs he had met before. The animal growled ominously and would have attacked Adam Adams had not the detective leaped into the water and begun to swim away. The dog halted on the edge of the bank, and then there seemed nothing for the detective to do but to swim to the other side of the river, which he did, and then disappeared into the bushes.

”I think this investigation will keep--at least for to-night,” he reasoned. ”I may as well get back to town, get some dry clothes, and go to bed.”

His adventures had tired him and he was thoroughly exhausted by the time he reached the Beechwood Hotel. Here he explained that he had slipped into the river and readily obtained some dry garments, after which he went to bed, sleeping soundly until sunrise.

He obtained an early and substantial breakfast and then visited a clothing establishment for another suit of clothing and a hat. From the clothing store he stepped into a drug shop, purchasing a number of chemicals and also an atomizer. Then he visited a barber shop and got a close hair cut.

At the post-office he received a letter, dropped by Charles Vapp the evening before. It was short and to the point:

”The man is keeping me on the jump. He went to see Matlock Styles and Styles threatened him with something again and Ostrello was greatly disturbed. After that Ostrello sent a money-order to his brother d.i.c.k for fifty dollars. He is now going to New York again and I shall follow.”

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