Slatterly waited an instant before he answered. “Wait a little more,” he said in a resigned tone. “But you’re right—it’s almost morning.”
I don’t think it was five minutes later that I saw Weldon leave his post and saunter over to the sheriff’s side. I suppose, bored with his task, the time seemed much longer to him. True, the lagoon was gray, the shadows of the garden had lost their mystery, and there didn’t seem any use of waiting. Indeed, I don’t think any of us escaped a sense of inner embarrassment—something akin to ignominy and chagrin—that we should be standing beside that quiet water-body, with high-powered rifles in our hands. It made us feel secretly ridiculous.
Nopp called over, cheerily, “Through for the night?”
“Might as well,” Slatterly answered. “It was a fool party anyway.”
Very glad that the watch was over, I left my own post, and we had a cigarette apiece beside the still lagoon. Then we went through the gardens to the house.
“We’ve disrupted the regular schedule, anyway,” Nopp said. “I think we’ve come to the end of our trouble, and nothing more to fear. Man, do you think to-day will clear the thing up?”
“What chance is there to clear up such a mess in one day?” The sheriff spoke moodily.
“Because you’re going to have some real help—not a lot of bungling amateurs. You know who’s coming?”
“Lacone—Van Hope’s detective.”