But I did not find out how he got in. He did not get in, as far as I could find out. The door and windows had all been locked, and none had been tampered with. There was no ladder about and no sign of any attempt to reach the upper windows by any other means. I even went over to the smaller lodge where the boys slept. It was locked and our two ladders were on the floor inside. Tom said that the rungs of a ladder will turn around with annoying effects if allowed to get wet and then dry out. So we kept them under cover.
I returned to the lodge utterly bewildered. Considering the footprint as wholly apart from my harrowing vision, still here was a profound mystery. If some one had entered, then how had he entered. There was just not one way he could have done so without breaking either window or door latch and so leaving the evidence of his way of entry. The mysterious footprint had been left by some one already in the lodge and still concealed in it. What other explanation was there?
As I entered the lodge resolved to throw open the cupboard, and then to look into the rooms of my friends, I recalled how I had folded that old newspaper article into a sort of plug to stop the rattling of the door. It must have fallen to the ground when I threw the door open. But search as I would, I could find it nowhere on the adjacent floor of the lodge nor on the ground outside. I threw open the cupboard, and not without some trepidation looked for Tom’s pistol before ascending the stair to the balcony. I could not find it, so in a spirit of fine abandon I strode up the stairs and threw both doors open.
No one was in either room. The little closed up quarters smelled damp and stuffy from the penetrating moisture of the recent storm.
I went downstairs again and began a still more thorough search for the folded bit of newspaper. It was not to be found. It seemed to have been taken away by some one capable of entering and departing through solid walls. The supposition that Mr. McClintick’s shade had indeed stood over me and left a ghostly footprint was the only alternative theory that I could devise.
CHAPTER XV—OUT OF THE PAST
I had made no progress in solving these mysteries when, on the second evening after my startling discovery, Tom and the others returned. The weather was cold for that time of year and I had been writing all day in the lodge with a fire blazing in the chimney-place. I had begun to think of another long evening in that uncanny place when I heard the honking of that familiar horn and presently the voices of the returning party as the rattling little flivver emerged from the forest trail into the clearing. I had often ridiculed that rickety and clanking flivver, but on that evening its every squeak was like music to my ears.
They had a fine catch of fish and a big piece of ice which they had brought from Harkness to keep the welcome delicacy fresh if it should last more than a day or two.
“Do you wish ice to-day?” Brent asked, as he approached the door where I stood waiting like some fond mother ready to welcome a long lost son.
“I almost think it will be cold enough without ice,” I commented, as they entered, stretching themselves and setting down their burdens. “Home again,” I said gladly. “And how is the Ausable Chasm?”