"I have my car." The tanner glanced at Krech. "You'll notify Creighton?"
"With pleasure. I'll keep these for him, too."
He placed the envelope containing the message and the fingerprints in his pocket, then moved to follow his friend, already on his way to the stairs. He paused at the door, however, and came back rather hesitatingly. "Say—just how did that couplet run?"
Simon made a wry face, but obligingly recited:
"'Who meets the monk when dusk is nigh
Within the fortnight he shall die.'"
"Do you take that seriously?" asked the big man.
"Do you take me for a blasted fool?" snapped Simon irritably.
"Yes," said Mr. Krech simply. "Just the sort of blasted fool I would be in your place, or that nine out of ten men would be. Because the threat is directed at you, you scoff at it and ignore it."
"What are you getting at?"
"This: the fellow who wrote that note and does his stuff in a monk's costume has all the earmarks of a maniac. Maniacs are dangerous. If he has made use of this old local legend to further his purpose, he may go ahead with it to the bitter end—your bitter end! Until he is laid by the heels, why not play safe and stay home after dark?"