XX: H. Antaeus Krech
Miss Ocky, who had heard the story already, sat down on the rock and calmly waited its continuance, but Creighton's eyes narrowed.
"You were present! At the murder!"
"In the background only, I assure you," amended Sherwood, and plunged rather desperately into his account. "It is a habit of mine to grab my hat and stick and take a short walk every evening before going to bed, and that was how I came to be out that night. I had no special objective, and—and because old memories had been stirred by my return I almost unconsciously cut across the fields near my house and headed for that path which leads to this garden. I used to do that twenty-two years ago when—when there used to be some one to meet me right by this rock! Somehow, I felt as if I wanted to—to look at a certain lighted window before I turned in. I don't expect you to understand—"
"I do, however! What time was all this?"
"Half-past ten, roughly. When I got here, the only light burning was in Simon's study—otherwise the house was in darkness, which seemed to me an ironic commentary on my foolish gesture! The study light went out almost immediately, but I lingered on. I sat down on a fallen log in the deep shadow of those trees—there, to the right of the path—and began to think back to old times. One discovery I made was that I hated Simon Varr more than ever after all these years. Damaging confession, I suppose?
"Twenty or thirty minutes must have passed. Then I heard a cautious step on the trail—and nearly fell off my log when a figure in the garb of a monk glided into the open. Rather weird! Sounds silly here, of course, but for a moment my hair stood on end. I had a notion that I was seeing a ghost!
"Before I recovered my wits, it—it happened! I had supposed Simon had gone to bed when his light went out, but now he appeared from around the corner of the house. It was obvious that he was stalking the monk. It was like watching a scene in a melodrama, and I couldn't have moved hand or foot to save my life. All of a sudden, Varr rushed him. I thought the fellow would run, but instead of that he waited. When Simon got close, the monk appeared to raise a sort of mask he wore. I heard Simon cry out something in a surprised voice, and then I saw a flash of steel as the monk threw up his arm and brought it down. Simon dropped to the ground and lay on his back—and the monk glided off down that trail before I realized that I had seen a murder!"
"Why didn't you chase him—holler—do something!" cried Miss Ocky.
"Couldn't seem to budge," said Sherwood briefly. He looked a little hurt. "If you think it was just cowardice you're jolly well mistaken! I had no sensation of fear at any time. You've heard the expression, 'rooted with amazement'? Well, I was it!