United States or Grenada ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
The impression of the heel was very light. Paredes, it was clear, had walked from the house on tiptoe. "Follow on," Robinson commanded. "I told this fellow I wanted to question him. I've scared him off." Keeping his light on the ground, Rawlins led the way across the clearing. The trail was simple enough to follow. Each of the Panamanian's footprints was distinct.
We've never got acquainted until to-night." "Glad to meet you, too," Robinson grinned. Rawlins patted the Panamanian's shoulder. "At that, you'd make a first-class detective." Paredes yawned. "I disagree with you thoroughly. I have no equipment beyond my eyes and my common sense." He yawned again. He arranged the card table in front of the fire.
Cortlandt demanded. "Oh, senor!" Alfarez raised his hands in horrified disclaimer of the very thought, but his victim said, quietly: "He's a liar. He ordered it, then sat there and enjoyed it." The Panamanian's face was yellow as he managed to enunciate: "Eempossible! It is terrible to conceive!"
"After all, you may open the place again and let me visit you." "You will visit us perpetually," Bobby said, while Katherine pressed the Panamanian's hand, "but never here again. We will leave it to its ghosts, as you have often prophesied." "I am not sure," Paredes said thoughtfully, "that the ghosts aren't here."
Graham drew a chair between Paredes and the doctor. Bobby lounged against the mantel, trying to find in the Panamanian's face some clue as to his real feelings. But Paredes's eyes were closed. His hand drooped across the chair arm. His slender, pointed fingers held, as if from mere habit, a lifeless cigarette. "Asleep," Graham whispered.
It isn't fair to think it was greed that urged her. You must understand that it was a bigger impulse than greed. It was a thing of which we of Spanish blood are rather proud a desire for justice, for something that has no softer name than revenge." Suddenly Rawlins stooped and took the Panamanian's hand. "Say! We've been giving you the raw end of a lot of snap judgments.
The detective, Bobby gathered, had brought his report up to date, for he lounged near by, watching the Panamanian's slender fingers as they handled the cards deftly. Bobby, Graham, and Katherine were glad to withdraw beyond the range of those narrow, searching eyes. They entered the library and closed the door.
The Panamanian's decision to remain, his lack of emotion before the tragic succession of events at the house, his attempt to enter the corridor just before Bobby had gone himself to the old room for the evidence, his desire to direct suspicion against Katherine, finally this excursion in response to the eerie crying, all suggested a definite, perhaps a dangerous, purpose in the brain of the serene and inscrutable man.
What are a man's personal fears and desires if he can help his friends?" Graham's distaste was evident. Paredes recognized it with a smile. Bobby watched him curiously, realizing more and more that Graham was right to this extent: they must somehow learn the real purpose of the Panamanian's continued presence here. Paredes resumed his walk. He still had that air of expectancy. He seemed to listen.
"I've really told you everything," he said. "I walked toward the graveyard. At a point very close to it I felt the presence of this creature in black. I spoke. I took my courage in my hands. I reached out. I touched nothing." He raised his injured hand. "I got this for my pains." "What made you go to the graveyard?" Robinson asked suspiciously. There was no mockery in the Panamanian's answer.
Word Of The Day