At another time the young doctor might have resented the assumption of authority, but now he was too deeply interested in the case. Half an hour later he returned empty of results.
“Not a bit of trouble that I can get wind of. What’s that you’re writing, a report for the coroner?”
“No; this will never get to the coroner. I’m certain it’s a murder; but I’m equally certain that there’s no case against any individual. I’m writing up the wreck for my paper.”
“Are you down here working?” asked Colton.
“No, I’m on vacation; but a reporter is always on duty for an emergency like this.”
“You’re Harris Haynes of The New Era, aren’t you?” asked Colton. “You’re the man that proved the celebrated Bellows suicide and saved Dr. Senderton.”
“He saved himself by telling a straight story, even though it seemed damaging, where most men would have tried to lie,” said Haynes. “Anyone except a Central Office detective would have had the sense to know that the letter was written to bear out a grudge. They never should have arrested him.”
“I was one of the men called in on the case. You’ve shaved your beard, or I should have remembered you.”
“Well, we shan’t have any such satisfactory result in this case,” said the reporter. “Hello! What’s Bruce doing down here?”
The life-guard from the Bow Hill station came hurrying to him. “They’ve just got in the life-line, Mr. Haynes,” he said, “and I examined it as you told me. It’s blood-soaked in the middle, and there are blood-stains all along the shoreward half. There’s nothing on the end toward the ship.”