“Yes,” gravely assented Luke, “it is a mystery. The police couldn’t get here now in time to do anything, and what evidence is left we can look at as well as they. Since the telephone doesn’t work don’t bother with the police.”
“I could go out and telephone,” offered Neale.
“No, let it go. In the morning we’ll take a look ourselves,” decided Ruth.
And so it was arranged. Then, after some witch-hazel had been rubbed by Ruth on the bump on Luke’s head, he told his story:
“You know the first part of it as well as I do,” he said to his friends gathered around him at this midnight session in the Corner House. “I was going along carefully, looking for any sign of intruders, when, all at once, I saw what I thought was a shadow moving.
“It was near one of the brick pillars that hold the floor beams, and I know now the shadow must have been caused by a man who was hiding behind this pillar, though I didn’t realize this at the time.
“I kept on going. Then I saw another flashlight—I mean another than yours and mine, Neale—and a moment later I saw a club raised in the air. Before I could think that it was raised to come down on my head it came down, and I don’t remember anything more except that it got black all of a sudden.”
“Did you think you were struck by lightning?” asked Hal.
“I don’t know what I did think. But what did you and Ruth see, Neale?”
“Not much more than you did, old man. We saw the shadow of the club and a man’s arm raised to strike you. But before we could do a thing—or even call out a warning—it was all over.”