CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE EARLY EXCURSION
IN every Anglo-Saxon there is something of the bloodhound. Sorrow for Haynes’ tragic death had merged with and intensified in the mind of Dick Colton a haggard demand for vengeance. He was surprised to find how strong a liking for the reporter had grown out of so brief an acquaintance. With equal surprise, he realised that his every instinct now was set to the blood-trail, that the duty of following the mystery to a definite conclusion possessed his mind to the exclusion of all else. Not quite all, either, for the thought of Dolly Ravenden lay deeper than the mind.
One salient fact asserted itself: Whatever may have been the agency of the other murders, Harris Haynes’ slaying was indubitably the same as that of Paul Serdholm. But what possible motive of murder could comprise these two? Could Bruce be the solution? Following what he thought would have been the processes of the reporter’s keen mind, Colton, after sending necessary telegrams, visited the Bow Hill station. Bruce was not in. He had gone out early that morning, ostensibly to fish. To the officer in charge Colton briefly stated the facts, and suggested that Bruce be detained when he returned, which was agreed to readily, though not without the expression of a hearty disbelief in the coast-guard’s having had anything to do with the killing.
“Give a dog a bad name!” said the officer. “Because Bruce was around when Serdholm was killed, he’s suspected of this job. He told me Mr. Haynes was helping to clear him of the other killing.”
“That is true,” replied Colton. “Haynes did not think him guilty. Nor do I. But there are suspicious circumstances.”
It was late in the afternoon when the Coroner, who had driven fifteen miles to reach the spot, had finished his work, and Haynes’ body was brought to the house. From the official investigation nothing had resulted. Bruce was examined, and was pitifully nervous, but told a straight enough story of his fishing and exhibited several fish in corroboration.
Colton felt helpless in this maze. Late in the afternoon Dolly Ravenden came to him. Her brilliant beauty was dimmed and softened by traces of tears, and to the man’s longing heart she never had appealed with so irresistible a charm.
“Dr. Colton,” she said, “I don’t know what to do about Helga. She is like a dazed person. Your brother and I have been with her constantly. She has not broken down once. The tears seem frozen within her. I am frightened for her reason. She seems to blame herself for this dreadful thing.”
“There is something I want her to know,” said Dick. “Will you tell her?”
“Had you not better see her yourself?”