Then a swift thought brought beads of sweat out upon his brow. The cap! The maker’s name and his own initials were inside; suppose he had forgotten it! With fumbling, sticky fingers he felt about on the wet pavement. Thank heaven the puddles left by the rain had not dried!
The sinister stains would be obliterated, washed away——But where was the cap? Horton had been leaning toward the wall when the blow reached him; could the cap have fallen over and down, to be found on the morrow and traced?
With wild fear clutching at his heart, Storm straightened and groped feverishly along the wall. Was this to be the end, after his scheme had worked so smoothly; was he to be betrayed by the merest detail, one of the details which he had himself worked out to insure success? He felt along to the very edge of the wall, and then a sob of relief welled up in his throat; for his fingers had closed at last upon the cap, caught by a clutching tendril of vine as it must have fallen from the head of his victim.
He stuffed it into his coat pocket and stooping once more thrust his hand beneath that crumpled body and after a moment produced the key to the closet which contained the treasure. His! One hundred and twelve thousand——
But what was that light, quick tapping like hastily running feet? Storm recoiled and turned instinctively to flee, then by a supreme effort of will stayed the wild impulse. The tapping sounded there upon the wall close at hand; it was just a dead branch of the vine whipping in the wind. What a fool he was! Where had his nerve gone?
He must finish his job and quickly. That policeman would pass shortly again upon his rounds, or if not he, some strolling night prowler might appear at any moment to stumble over the body and raise an alarm. Every minute that he lingered there increased his danger, and yet he felt a loathsome repugnance at the thought of touching Horton again.
Nerving himself desperately he slipped his arms beneath the body and gave a convulsive heave. It jerked, swayed suddenly but slumped back again, and Storm’s breath came in a sobbing gasp. God, how heavy it was! Could he ever get it up to the top of the wall? The sweat poured like rain down his face, and with a mighty effort of strained and snapping muscles he lifted it from the pavement, poised it for a moment on the edge of the abyss and sent it crashing over and down.
Weak and trembling in the nausea of sickening reaction, he cowered back and listened. Would the thing ever stop rolling? The first thud and crash of underbrush was followed by a sound as of mighty beasts trampling through a forest, then a pattering hail of pebbles and then, at last, silence.
Swaying drunkenly, Storm groped for the cane, found it and turned. Every instinct impelled him to frenzied flight, to run while wind and limb retained strength to obey his will; yet beneath the shuddering terror which obsessed him he realized that he must walk slowly, casually, that no chance passer-by might connect this strolling pedestrian with the horror which lay behind.
Quivering with the effort to stay the mad impulse, he moved stiffly off down the path nor dared glance once behind him, although he could feel the gooseflesh rising upon his neck with the sensation of being watched by something supernatural, unclean! He must pass beneath the first street lamp, but in the shadows midway the block he could cross the bridle road and driveway and continue south on the sidewalk. It would not do to remain on the path; if he should encounter the policeman again, and the latter recognizing him, should question him, should question why only one returned where two had gone——