At last Roden returned, accompanied by a police official—a phlegmatic Dutchman, who listened to the story in silence. He shook his head at Cornish's suggestion, made in halting Dutch mingled with German, that Von Holzen had swum away in the darkness.
“No,” said the officer, “I know these canals—and this above all others. They will find him, planted in the mud at the bottom, head downward like a tulip. The head goes in and the hands are powerless, for they only grasp soft mud like a fresh junket.” He drew his short sword from its sheath, and scratched a deep mark in the gravel. Then he turned to the nearest tree, and made a notch on the bark with the blade. “There is nothing to be done tonight,” he said philosophically. “There are men engaged in dredging the canal. I will set them to work at dawn before the world is astir. In the mean time”—he paused to return his sword to its scabbard—“in the meantime I must have the names and residence of these gentlemen. It is not for me to believe or disbelieve their story.”
“Can you go home alone? Are you all right now?” Cornish asked Roden, as he walked away with him towards the Villa des Dunes.
“Yes, I can go home alone,” he answered, and walked on by himself, unsteadily.
Cornish watched him, and, before he had gone twenty yards, Roden stopped. “Cornish!” he shouted.
“Yes.”
And they walked towards each other.
“I did not know that Von Holzen was there. You will believe that?”
“Yes; I will believe that,” answered Cornish.
And they parted a second time. Cornish walked slowly back to the hotel. He limped a little, for Von Holzen had in the struggle kicked him on the ankle. He suddenly felt very tired, but was not shaken. On the contrary, he felt relieved, as if that which he had been attempting so long had been suddenly taken from his hands and consummated by a higher power, with whom all responsibility rested. He went to bed with a mechanical deliberation, and slept instantly. The daylight was streaming into the window when he awoke. No one sleeps very heavily at The Hague—no one knows why—and Cornish awoke with all his senses about him at the opening of his bedroom door. Roden had come in and was standing by the bedside. His eyes had a sleepless look. He looked, indeed, as if he had been up all night, and had just had a bath.