The Flying Death - Samuel Hopkins Adams (story reading .txt) 📗
- Author: Samuel Hopkins Adams
- Performer: -
Book online «The Flying Death - Samuel Hopkins Adams (story reading .txt) 📗». Author Samuel Hopkins Adams
“Do your people know?”
“I have no people. It hasn’t seemed worth while to mention it to my friends. So you will regard this as a professional confidence?”
“Oh, look here!” burst out Colton. “I can’t sit around and watch this go on. I’ve got more money than I can rightly use. You don’t know me much, and you don’t like me much, but try to put that aside. Let me pay your—” he glanced at Haynes and swiftly amended—“let me lend you enough to take you abroad for a year. I’ll write to some people in Vienna and Berlin. They’re away ahead of us in cancerous affections. I’d go with you, only—” he stopped short, as he realised that the controverting reason was Miss Dorothy Ravenden’s presence on the American side of the ocean.
The reporter walked over and put his hand on Colton’s shoulder. His harsh voice softened to something of the tone that he used toward Helga, as he said: “My dear Colton, all the money in the world won’t do it. If it would, well,” with a sudden, rare smile, “I’m not sure I wouldn’t take yours, provided I needed it.”
“Try it,” urged the other. “You don’t know how much those foreign experts may help you.”
Haynes shook his head. “O, terque quaterque beati, queis ante ora patrum contigit oppetere,” he quoted. “That’s one of my few remnants of Virgil. It means a great deal to me. I shall not die in exile. Well, Colton, send for your brother.”
“And what will you do?”
“Stay here and work. There’s something in life besides pain when inexplicable strokes from the void kill men and sheep. I’m going over to do some more investigating.”
“And I to wire my brother,” said Colton.
“Don’t forget that ‘The Wonderful Whalley’ is to give his exhibition this evening.”
They met at dinner, and before they had finished the juggler was announced. The whole party joined him outside, where he had been arranging his simple paraphernalia. Running to Helga, he dropped on his knee in exaggerated and theatrical courtliness.
“Mademoiselle, I am your adoring slave for always,” he said, lifting his brilliant, unsteady eyes to her for a moment. “Weeth your kind permission I exheebit my powers.”
He led them to the barnyard, where there was a favourable open space, and began with some simple acrobatics. His audience was Mr. and Mrs. Johnston, Helga, Haynes, Colton, and the servants. Professor Ravenden and his daughter had not returned. After the acrobatics came sleight-of-hand with cards and handkerchiefs.
“Now I show you ze real genius,” said the performer.
From his belt he drew the two heavy blades which had so interested Haynes. These he supplemented with smaller knives, until he held half a dozen in hand. Facing the great barn door, he dexterously slanted a card into the air. As it rose he poised one of the smaller knives. Down came the card, paralleling the surface of the door. Swish! The knife shot through the air and nailed the card to the wood. Another card flew. Thud! It was pinned fast. A third, less accurately reckoned, fluttered by one corner.
“Now, ze ace of hearts!” cried the juggler. “We shall face it.”
Forward he flipped it. It turned in air, showing the central spot. It struck the door at a slight angle and was about turning when the knife met it. Straight through the single heart passed the blade. “The Wonderful Whalley” struck an attitude.
“Well, by Jove!” exclaimed Colton. “I’ve seen knife-play in Mexico by the best of the Greasers, but nothing like this.”
“Zere is no one like ‘Ze Wonderful Whalley,’” declared that artist coolly, as he gathered his knives, all except the one that held the ace of hearts. He stepped back. “You look at ze spot,” he added, addressing Haynes.
Haynes moved forward to draw out the blade.
There was a cry from Helga and Colton. Something struck the wood so close to his ear that he felt the wind of it, and the handle of one of the big blades quivered against his cheek.
“Eet is for warning,” said “The Wonderful Whalley” urbanely. “Ze heart, eet could—”
He choked as the powerful grasp of Johnston closed on his throat. Haynes and Colton ran forward; but there was no need. The man was passive.
“Eeet was onlee a trick,” he said. “I am insult. I go home.”
“Shall we let him go?” said Haynes undecidedly.
The question was settled for them. With a sudden blow, the juggler knocked down Johnston, dodged between Haynes and Colton, caught his knife from the door as he ran with great swiftness, and threatening back pursuit at the ready point, disappeared not toward the Sand Spit station, but straight over the hills. The baffled captors looked at each other in dismay.
“We’ve got a loose wild animal to deal with now,” said Colton.
Around the big fireplace with its decorations of blue-and-white Colonial china, which many a guest by vast but vain inducements had tried to buy from the little hostelry, sat Dick Colton, Haynes and old Johnston. The clock had struck nine some minutes earlier.
“Your brother couldn’t have caught the afternoon train,” remarked Haynes. “Was he to ride over?”
“Yes, I arranged for a saddle-horse to meet him at Amagansett,” answered Colton.
“Reckon the Professor and Miss Dolly stopped at the fishermen’s for dinner,” opined the old man, as a soft and sudden breeze stirred the curtains. “If they ain’t in pretty quick they’ll get wet. There’s somebody now!”
A tramp of feet clumped on the porch, the door was thrown open and a young man limped in. He was tall, almost as tall as Dick Colton, but much slenderer, and extremely dark. Despite his unsteady gait, he bore himself with an inimitably buoyant and jocund carriage. His well-made riding-suit was muddied and torn, his head was bare, and from a long but shallow cut on his forehead blood had trickled down one side of his handsome face, giving him an appearance of almost theatrical rakishness.
“Hello, Dick, old man!” he cried. “How goes the quest for slumber?”
“Good Lord, Ev!” responded Dick Colton, hurrying to meet him. “What’s the matter with you? Are you hurt?”
Keenly watching the greeting, Haynes noted the evident and open affection between the two brothers.
“Just a twisted knee,” said the younger. “Thrown, Dick—thrown like a riding-school novice. I’d hate to have it get back to the troop.”
“It must have been something extraordinary to get you out of the saddle,” said Dick, for Everard Colton was one of the best of the younger polo men.
“It was extraordinary enough, all right,” acquiesced the younger man, “Let me clean up and I’ll tell you about it.”
“Wait a moment,” said Dick Colton, and introduced his brother to the other men. “Several queer things have been happening here lately,” he continued. “We’re all interested in them, particularly Mr. Haynes. Tell us now—unless you’re in pain,” added Dick anxiously. “Let’s look at your knee.”
“Oh, that’s nothing. I’m not suffering any except in my temper. Things I don’t understand disturb my judicial poise.”
“Did your horse roll into one of the gullies?” asked Haynes. “There are some nasty slides if you get off the road.”
“No, my horse didn’t; but I did,” replied the other. “The Professor of Prevarication who keeps the Amagansett livery stable told me that the mare knew the road. If she did know it, she carefully concealed her knowledge, for as soon as the pitch darkness fell (by the way, I don’t remember a blacker night) she began to stroll across the verdant meads like a man chewing a straw and thinking of his troubles. Except for the sound of the surf, I had no way to steer her, so I just said to her: ‘If you lug me back to Amagansett, I’ll break every rib in your umbrella,’ and let her amble. About half an hour ago I sighted your light here. Without any cause that I could make out, my lady friend began to toss her head upward and sniff the air and tremble.”
“You think the horse heard something?” asked Haynes.
“If I’d been in a big game country I should have said she scented something. It was a dead calm, and I could have heard any noise, I think. Well, Jezebel began to buck-jump, and I was rather enjoying myself when suddenly she did a thing that was new to me in the equine line. Her legs just seemed to give way from under her, and she slumped so completely that I was flipped off sidewise. As I got to my feet I felt a little gust of air that brought a curious odour very plainly to me.”
“That’s a new development,” said Haynes quietly. “What was it like?”
“Did you ever smell a copperhead snake?”
“Often. Like ripe cucumbers.”
“Yes. Well, this was something on that order, only much stronger and pretty sickening. Are there any copperheads in Montauk?”
“No, nor ever was,” said Johnston positively.
“Anyway, I think it was a snake. The mare thought it was something uncanny. She went crazy, and began to rave and tear like a bucking automobile. Just as I thought I was getting her calmed I stepped on a round stone, that slid me down into a gully on one side of my face. Again I felt that strange rush of foul air. Jezebel gave a yell and broke away, and I was adrift on the broad prairies. There’s one thing I noticed—oh, well, I suppose I imagined it.”
“No. Go on. Tell us what it was.”
“Well, the draft of wind seemed to come from opposite directions. It seemed as if something had passed and repassed above me.”
Dick Colton turned to Haynes. “‘The Wonderful Whalley’ is somewhere on the knolls,” he said.
“Yes; but he isn’t flying around in the air on a broomstick.”
“One could almost believe he had other attributes of the vampire besides the blood-thirst,” replied Colton. “Ev, Mr. Johnston will show you your room. Come down when you’re ready. I’ve got something to look after.”
“You’re worried about Miss—about the Ravendens,” said Haynes to Dick as the junior Colton left the room. “Wait a moment, till I get lanterns. I’m going with you.”
“Thank you,” said Dick quietly. “I thought you would. Ev won’t like it much when he finds there’s something afoot and he has been left out.”
“He’s had his share. I’ve an idea that your brother has been near to death tonight.”
“The more reason for haste, then.”
“I’ll strike off inland. You take the sea side,” said Haynes, as the two lighted lanterns and passed out into the dead blackness. “And, by the way,” he added, “I wouldn’t make my light any more conspicuous than necessary.”
“All right,” said Dick. “I’ve no particular desire to attract Whalley’s attention.”
Within ten minutes the young doctor heard voices, and called. Professor Ravenden’s dry accents answered him. With a hail to Haynes, Colton ran forward. He almost plunged into Dolly Ravenden’s horse, which reared and snorted.
“What is it?” cried the girl. “Oh, it’s Dr. Colton. Are you hunting the night-flying arachnida?”
“I was looking for you.”
“Has anything happened? ” asked the girl quickly, sobered by his tone. “Helga? Mr. Haynes?”
“No, all are safe.” He laid his hand on the neck of her mount. “But you must come home at once. There is danger abroad.”
“Why, Dr. Colton, you’re trembling! I wouldn’t have believed you knew what it was to be afraid.”
“You don’t know what it is to care—” he cut off the words with
Comments (0)