Storm glanced hurriedly, keenly behind him. Not a figure was in sight, no sound broke the stillness save his companion’s voice and the whispering of the wind in the rows of trees along the deserted drive. On the other side of the low wall the ground dropped away into seemingly limitless space, while outward and far below the broad river waited. A few yards more, a few steps——
A sudden raucous honk blared upon the air, and over the top of the hill appeared a wildly careening motor car which bore down upon them and passed in a bedlam of screeching brakes and maudlin song.
An oath borne of his keyed-up nerves burst unbidden from Storm’s lips, and Horton turned.
“Gave you a start, eh?” he remarked. “This is a nice stretch of road on which to be flirting with death like that, isn’t it? Thirty miles an hour and a chance to see the scenery, that’s my motto; but then as I told you I’ve learned to play safe.”
“My nerves aren’t what thy used to be,” Storm admitted, listening intently. The roar of the car had diminished in the distance to a low humming whirr which seemed only to accentuate the silence. “Just at the turn of the path there ahead—I think the boat is coming. Do you see any lights on the river?”
Horton quickened his pace, peering expectantly out over the wall. He was sensible that Storm had fallen back and heard the click of his cigarette case and the rasp of a match.
“Just those bobbing down there on some tugs,” he announced. “A river steamer is a pretty sight at night, isn’t she? I remember——”
The words ended in a gasp as something crashed down hideously upon him from behind, and the world was blotted out. His body lurched, sagged, and slumped down in a crumpled heap against the wall.
Storm’s arm sank nervelessly to his side and a sickening wave of horror swept over him. Had Horton cried out, or had he himself? It seemed to him for an instant that tumultuous shouting rang in his ears, that footsteps were beating upon the pavement behind him, a myriad of lights flashing in his eyes. Then silence and darkness descended again, and a shuddering sigh escaped him. The blow had been struck, but had it been sufficiently heavy? Suppose Horton still lived! What if he survived to be found in the morning by some damnable chance and to name his assailant?
Storm bent swiftly over the body, and his groping fingers came in contact with the back of the head, only to be shrinkingly withdrawn. God, but that sturdy stick had done its work well! He had only to possess himself of the key to the closet and heave the body over the wall——