“I’m an idiot!” said the girl contritely. “I never thought to look.”
“It’s well that your eyes are ornamental; they’re not always useful,” said Haynes in accents of raillery which did not conceal his disappointment.
“What have the great Dupin, Jr.’s eyes discovered to-day?” she asked.
“Nothing, You and Colton have provided an unsatisfactory ending to an unsatisfactory day. I’ve been talking with the survivors of the wreck and couldn’t get any light at all. They’ve all left except ‘the Wonderful Whalley.’ He’s pretty badly bruised, and anyway he won’t go before paying his respects to Helga.”
“I should think not, indeed!” said Miss Ravenden. “And to you.”
“It’s a curious thing, but he doesn’t seem to be inspired by that devotion to me which my highly attractive character would seem to warrant. In fact he looks at me as if he would like to stick me with one of those particularly long, lean and unprepossessing knives which he cherishes so fondly.”
“You don’t really think,” said Miss Ravenden in concern, “that there is any——”
“Figure of speech,” interrupted Haynes. “But the man certainly isn’t normal. I’ll have to trace his movements of yesterday evening. First, however, I’ll have a look at that sheep.”
“Surely the Portuguese had nothing to do with that? Why should he kill a harmless animal?”
“There is such a thing as murderous mania,” said Haynes after some hesitation.