"Well," I said, seeing that I should only make myself
ridiculous by trying to learn anything from him, "I
hope our little spats through windows and on walls won't
interfere with our pleasant social relations. And I don't
hesitate to tell you,"-I was exerting myself to keep
down my anger,-"that if I catch you on my grounds
again I'll fill you with lead and sink you in the lake."
"Thank you, sir," he said, with so perfect an imitation
of Bates' voice and manner that I smiled in spite
of myself.
"And now, if you'll promise not to fire into my back
I'll wish you good day. Otherwise-"
He snatched off his hat and bowed profoundly. "It'll
suit me much better to continue handling the case on
your grounds," he said, as though he referred to a
business matter. "Killing a man on your own property
requires some explaining-you may have noticed it?"
"Yes; I commit most of my murders away from
home," I said. "I formed the habit early in life. Good
day, Morgan."
As I turned away he closed his door with a slam,-a
delicate way of assuring me that he was acting in good
faith, and not preparing to puncture my back with a
rifle-ball. I regained the lake-shore, feeling no great
discouragement over the lean results of my interview,
but rather a fresh zest for the game, whatever the
game might be. Morgan was not an enemy to trifle
with; he was, on the other hand, a clever and daring
foe; and the promptness with which he began war on
me the night of my arrival at Glenarm House, indicated
that there was method in his hostility.
The sun was going his ruddy way beyond St. Agatha's
as I drove my canoe into a little cove near which the
girl in the tam-o'-shanter had disappeared the day before.
The shore was high here and at the crest was a
long curved bench of stone reached by half a dozen
steps, from which one might enjoy a wide view of the
country, both across the lake and directly inland. The
bench was a pretty bit of work, boldly reminiscential of
Alma Tadema, and as clearly the creation of John
Marshall Glenarm as though his name had been carved
upon it.
It was assuredly a spot for a pipe and a mood, and
as the shadows crept through the wood before me and
the water, stirred by the rising wind, began to beat below,
I invoked the one and yielded to the other. Something
in the withered grass at my feet caught my eye.
I bent and picked up a string of gold beads, dropped
there, no doubt, by some girl from the school or a careless
member of the summer colony. I counted the separate
beads-they were round and there were fifty of
them. The proper length for one turn about a girl's
throat, perhaps; not more than that! I lifted my eyes
and looked off toward St. Agatha's.