“They’re on the shelf in the closet,” said he.
“They are not,” I shot back at him; “they have disappeared.”
We all looked at each other, but there was no opportunity for comment. “And now,” I said, “I am going to tell you what happened while you were away; you may explain it as you will. I had an experience which almost unnerved me. And I will show you the visual proof of at least part of what I tell you.”
“It sounds good,” said Brent. “Shall we sit down before the cheerful blaze? That’s a good word—visual.”
Seated before the fire, I told them of my experience as you know it; of my difficult ascent of the mountain, of the footprint, and the word I had seen crazily scratched on the rock. I told them of my supposed dream and of the footprint. Then of my assurance that no one had entered the Lodge. And of the disappearance of the newspaper account of Harrison McClintick’s end. “I saw the face of McClintick, yet it couldn’t have been actually the face of McClintick for he is dead,” I said. “Yet there was an actual footprint left by some one who must have entered the Lodge. Yet no one entered the Lodge. The targets are gone. The folded newspaper clipping is gone. Now, unless you believe I am crazy, what do you say?... Wait a minute, before you say anything. Let’s go upstairs and look at the footprint. And first look at this one in the hearth.” We returned downstairs silently. Even Brent’s air of levity was noticeably absent as he and I resumed our seats while Tom on his own account went about, inspecting the windows and the door. He returned, shaking his head in utter bewilderment, and flung himself into one of the big easy chairs, while Brent thoughtfully poked the fire.
“This blamed place is haunted,” said Tom. “It’s a spook camp, that’s what it is.”
“Well, let’s talk things over,” Brent drawled, lazily throwing one leg over an arm of his chair and poking the other in the direction of the fire. He removed his old-fashioned spectacles and held them toward the blaze, then cleaned them with his handkerchief and replaced them on his nose. “Let’s start on the assumption that you are not crazy.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“Now before we go any further,” he drawled, “let me throw in my little contribution to the mystery. It isn’t much, but it’s the best I can do. Then we’ll see if we can’t get a working hypothesis. This camp is better than I thought it would be. I’m really getting interested.”
“Yes and you’ll get burned if you don’t pull your foot away from the fire,” said Tom.