Detective Fiction Weekly. Vol. 36, No. 4, October 20, 1928

“ ’Sall right, old man,” I broke in weakly, wriggling to my knees. “I must have fainted, or something. Sorry, Spence,” I went on, addressing the butler, “that my head is so damned much like a billiard ball. You’ll have to try again. Where did that woman go?”

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Norton—” Spence began apologetically.

“Where did she go?” I barked.

“I did not observe her departure, sir.”

“Had eyes only for the top of my dome, I take it. What about you, Steel?”

“I got here right on the heels of this bird,” Jim growled. “Was just a trifle too late to stop him committing an assault on you. As for the woman, I ain’t seen any.”

“Did you hear a scream?”

“No.”

“You heard it, Spence,” I remarked. “So did I. That means I haven’t dreamed it while I slept on the grass. Off with you, Spence — and keep your trap closed. Come with me, Steel.”

“For once in my life I admire that mop of sun-cured hair you sport on your dome,” quoth Jim. “It’s serviceable, even if it ain’t exactly an ornamental adornment. Saved you a cracked skull to-night. What’s the trouble between you and the crook-butler?”

“A pair of dirty shoes,” I replied. “He’s sorry he didn’t clean ’em, and that’s the way he apologized for his carelessness. Just a small matter, Jim. Don’t let it worry you.”

“He’s woozy in the head yet,” Jim muttered to himself. “Your shoes would be something of a large matter, Tug,” he commented. “Was it your boats he neglected?”

“No. His own — and shut up, will you?”

Jim subsided, and I led the way along the path toward the boathouse. I felt fairly sure the woman in red had approached the house from that point, and I might discover her, or some trace of where she had gone, by searching in that direction.

Where had I smelled that lilac perfume before, and recently? The place was alive with the shrubs, but it was past blooming time, and the scent had not come from one of them. Yet it had been very distinct. As noticeable as— As it had been in my office the morning before!

“Got it!” I exclaimed, coming to a stop in the path.

“Let me have it,” Jim requested. “I’m tired of being outside of things. Suppose you spill something?”

“After a bit,” I replied. “I want to add things up first. Try to make two and two emerge into four. Shut up again, will you?”

“Anything to oblige,” Jim replied.

We went on.

“Trying to save his nibs his job?” Jim queried, after a bit. “Telling him to keep his trap shut sounds like you’re afraid Flash might can him.”

“It does sound like it, doesn’t it?”

We came out on the little pier where the boats were at anchor.

“Reckon Flash knew his man was going to clout you?” Steel asked.

“Maybe. Maybe not,” I answered.

“Oh, go to hell!” Jim blazed, disgusted.

When Steel is disgusted he keeps quiet, and that was what I wanted. A big lump had risen on top of my head, and the head itself felt like it was an extra large lump inhabited chiefly by little boys with hammers. I felt uncomfortable in my stomach, too, like I had gone to sea right after eating heartily of pork. But I meant to know something about several things before humoring my desire to go off somewhere and lie down for a day or two.

That creeping, listening woman in red intrigued me greatly. She was on that path for a purpose, and as long as the purpose remained unknown to me, just so long would I feel mighty uncomfortable. Also, had Spence’s attack on me been brought about by his suspicions at seeing me acting like a skulker? Had he recognized me before he struck? And what part had Cato and Flash had in it, if any?

I had a lot of questions, but the answers had been torn out of the back of the book. I’d have to solve them for myself.

No one was about on the pier, and all the boats were in their accustomed places. I had previously checked them over, and knew their number and what each looked like. If the woman had come to Willow Bend by boat, she had departed and taken the craft with her.

We started back up the path.

“Jim,” I said, breaking a long silence, “I’m half persuaded that all is not as it seems to be here.”

“Sometimes a lick on the head has that result,” Steel remarked. “Glad to see you are again thinking in straight lines. As for me, I’ve known this dump was crooked ever since Uncle Cato bought it.”

“I don’t mean that exactly,” I objected. “Cato and his nephew may have as many curves as a clock spring, but I’m not interested in them in that way just now. I’m thinking there is real need for a guard over Cletus. Something is threatening him. Maybe it’s this butler. It may be the three-fingered party. It might even be a woman — the one I saw to-night, for instance. At any rate, Flash is uneasy about something. His actions show it.”