But he was gone a good half hour, and in that time Bat could see him prowling up and down along the river bank, the blue glasses off and the magnifying lens in his hands. The rocks in particular seemed to interest him; and when he returned he carried a bit of one in his hand.
“Soft, and almost crying its age aloud,” said he. “I know of no region of such little interest to a geologist.”
He stood for a space, the long yellow fingers crumbling the surface of the soft stone; then he said:
“The recent activity around here seems to prove one thing to me; and that is that Campe’s enemies have made up their minds to end what might very well be called the siege of Schwartzberg.”
“Right,” said Mr. Scanlon. “They are pushing the job to its finish. And I can tell you why. The girl has tipped them off that you are here, and has handed them your record. They mean to rush the fight from now on, afraid that you’re coming back.”
“As you are not quite sure as to the people inside the castle,” said the detective, “I will recommend that you keep even a keener watch than before. But do so in such a way as not to attract attention. Especially watch for small events; they are more apt to be of value to us than showier ones; people as a rule are guarded as to the big things, while the small ones are gone through often with no care.”
“When do you hope to hear from Fuller?” asked Scanlon.
“It will take the greater part of a week for him to reach the place of operation, and with the best of luck two days will be taken up in gathering the facts I want.”
“A lot of things may happen in that time,” remarked the big man. “It might be that before you get his report we’ll meet the rush of the invalid corps in such a way that we’ll put them down for the count.”
Ashton-Kirk made no reply; the big man waited for a moment or two; the vacant blue glasses were fixed upon a point some little distance away. Scanlon turned and looked in the same direction.