“Ze tracks of eet I do not know. I see zem; but I do not know. Come, I show you.”
He got unsteadily to his feet, and, guarded on either side, led them down the beach toward the Sand Spit station. After walking about a third of a mile he stopped and cast about him.
“Zere!” he said triumphantly, pointing. Following the instruction, they made out traces of blood and the prints of a lamb’s hoof. Leading out to the spot was the dreadful familiar double spoor of talons.
“You did that too,” accused Colton.
For refutation “The Wonderful Whalley” dropped to his knees and laid his hand over one of the marks. The hand more than completely covered the prints.
“You zee?” he said triumphantly.
“Whalley, what made that mark there?” said Professor Ravenden.
Again that strange gesture from the juggler and the quick shuddering in-draw of the shoulders. “Ze death-bird, maybe,” he said.
Nothing more could be gotten from him. They delivered him at the coast-guard station to be turned over to the authorities. When he was out of their hands, Professor Ravenden insisted on returning to look for the remains of his lost specimen, and was relieved at finding one wing intact. Not until he had carefully folded this in paper did he turn to Dick Colton with the question:
“What is your opinion of our problem now?”