The Mystery of the Green Ray

“Not on the handle,” Dennis explained; “on the blade. Have you got a knife on you?”

I produced my pen-knife.

“I’ll trust you with it,” I declared confidently. “I’ve never held any secrets from you, Den.”

Dennis opened the knife and laid it in the palm of his hand. I stood still and watched him.

“You’ve sharpened pencils with this knife and the pencils have left their mark. If you hold the knife as you would when sharpening a pencil and look down on the blade there are no pencil marks visible. Now turn the knife over and you will find the marks on the other side of the blade.”

“Half a minute,” I said eagerly, “let’s have a look. The knife is in position for sharpening a pencil and the back of the knife is pointing to my chest. The marks are underneath.” I took a pencil from my pocket and tried it. “Yes, I’ve got you, Dennis. It’s quite clear. If I held the knife with the point to my right instead of to my left, as I should do in sharpening with my left hand, the marks appear on the other side of the blade. It is not quite conclusive, Den, but it’s jolly cute.”

“Not when you’re looking for it,” he said. “I was struck by the fact that the knife which, by its size and weight, was a seaman’s handy tool, had also been used for the repeated sharpening of a blue pencil. When I saw those indications I went through the motion and came to the conclusion that the marks were on the wrong side. Then I tried with my left hand and accounted for it. The blue pencil made me suspicious. I have no knowledge of a yacht-hand’s duties, but surely sharpening blue pencils is not one of them. Then the knife had also been carried in the same pocket as a piece of white chalk. The only sort of person I could think of who would carry a piece of chalk loose in his pocket and use a blue pencil continuously was a schoolmaster. So I stated definitely – there’s nothing like bluff – that the knife belonged to the left-handed man, who quite obviously had red hair, who appeared to wear the insignia of the married state, and who – again according to the law of averages – had at least one child. I naturally slumped the schoolmaster idea in with it, and there you have the whole thing in a nutshell. But it was Garnesk who set me looking for left-handed clues, and if I hadn’t been looking for it, it would never have entered my head.”

“But look here,” I suggested, “some people sharpen pencils by pointing the pencil to them. Wouldn’t that produce the same effect?”

“Yes,” he admitted, “I thought of that. But the marks would have been very much fainter, because there would have been much less pressure. I put that idea aside.”

“Good!” I exclaimed. “I should much prefer to swallow your theory whole, Dennis, but it struck me that might be a possible source of error, which, of course, might have led us on to a false trail. And, I say, those questions you asked about the time he stayed in port and the hotel. Were those all bluff? Or had you some sort of idea at the back of them?”

“I had a very definite idea at the back of them,” Dennis replied. “I thought perhaps the white chalk which was deposited in the blade-pocket, and was even noticeable on the handle, might be due to billiard chalk. But, of course, I didn’t mention billiards, because it would have given my line of reasoning away. I thought it was better to spring it on them with a bump.”

“Which you certainly did,” I laughed. “As a matter of fact, I thought you were simply having a game with us all. But now that you’ve told me the details, Den, do you remember what happened when you did spring it on them?”

“Well, of course I do,” he replied. “But even so, I hardly know what to make of it. I should like to feel confidently that Fuller is the man we are after. But we must remember that both he and Hilderman might very easily have thought I really had discovered something from the knife and been exceedingly surprised without having any guilty connection with the discovery.”

“H’m,” I muttered, “I prefer to suspect Fuller.”

“Oh, I do too,” Dennis agreed. “It is safer to suspect everybody in a case like this. But why are you so emphatic?”

“Well,” I explained, “we have a few little things to go on. Myra diagnosed that Sholto was taken on a yacht by Garnesk’s left-handed man in sea-boots. Then you produce a left-handed member of a yacht’s crew out of an old pocket-knife, and Fuller jumps out of his skin when you mention it. That seems to be something to go on, and then there was that incident in the smoking-room.”

“When you were reading the paper?” he asked. “I couldn’t make that out. Did you notice anything suspicious about it?”

“Of course I was in a suspicious mood,” I admitted, “but it struck me as a singularly rude thing to do to snatch the paper out of my hand like that. His remark about Hilderman’s precious view was very weak. I think there was something behind it.”

“What?” asked Dennis.

“It may have been that there was a letter, or something in the way of a paper, which he didn’t want me to see laid inside the paper; but there was another curious point about it. There was a page torn out. I had just noticed this and was on the point of making some silly remark about it when Fuller leaned right across you and took the thing from me, as you saw.”

“If the page he didn’t want you to see was torn out, there was no chance of your seeing it,” Dennis argued, logically enough.

“No,” I agreed, “but after your exhibition, if he had anything to conceal he may have been afraid of my even seeing that the page was torn out.”

“What do you imagine the missing page can possibly have contained?”

“I don’t know,” I answered, and thought hard for a minute. “By Jove, Den!” I cried suddenly, “I believe I’ve got it. This takes us back to Garnesk’s idea of a wireless invention causing all the trouble. We think we have reason to believe that Fuller may have stolen the dog. We also think we have reason to believe that one of his yacht-hands is what you called ‘a mathematical master.’ Now, suppose the paper had got hold of this and printed an illustration of the mysterious invention or perhaps a photograph of the mysterious inventor?”

“And the inventor, knowing that we should accuse him of blinding Miss McLeod and making off with her dog, the moment we could identify him, tears out the offending illustration in case either we or anyone else in the neighbourhood should see it? He admitted, by the way, that he never went into port if he could help it.”

“Well, anyway,” I said, “we’ll have a look for the paper and find the missing page.”

“You noticed the date?” Dennis asked, anxiously.

“Oh! it was this week’s issue,” I replied.

“Do they take it at the house?” he inquired, again with a note of anxiety.

“Not that I know of, but we’ll rake one up somewhere, don’t you fret. And, I say, this is a fine way to welcome a visitor; you haven’t even said how-do to your host and hostess. I’m most awfully sorry.”

“Don’t be an ass, Ronnie,” said Dennis, cheerfully. “With the utmost respect, as you barrister chaps would say, I hadn’t noticed your departure from the requirements of conventional hospitality. I wouldn’t have missed this for all the world and a bit of Bond Street.”

So then we hurried to the house with a nervous energy, which spoke eloquently to our state of suppressed excitement.

“All the same,” Den muttered dolefully, as we hurried down the stable path, “it’s going to be what the Americans would call ‘some’ wireless invention that can plant a grown-up mountain in the middle of an innocent river in the twinkling of an eyelash.”

“It is, indeed, old fellow,” I agreed, “but don’t let us worry about that. We’ll get in and see Myra and the General, and then have a look round for the Pictures– the paper you were looking at.”

We found Myra sitting on the verandah and wondering what on earth had kept us, and if we had changed our minds and gone straight back south with Garnesk.

“I’m most awfully sorry, darling,” I apologised. “It’s all my fault, of course. We went to Glasnabinnie, and since then I’ve been showing Dennis the river and generally forgetting my duties as deputy host.”

“What did you go to the river for?” Myra asked, suspiciously.

“Oh! just to have a look round, you know, dear. It’s a very nice river,” I replied, airily.

“Ronnie, dear, please,” she said gently, laying her hand on my arm and turning her veiled and shaded face to mine, “please don’t joke about it. I can’t bear to think of you running risks there.”

I looked at my beautiful, blind darling, and a pang shot through me.

“God knows I’m not joking about it, dearest,” I said sadly.

“I know you weren’t really, Ronnie. But, please, oh! please, keep away from the river.”

“Very well, dear,” I promised, “I will, unless an urgent duty takes me there. We must solve this mystery somehow, and it may mean my going to the river. But I promise not to run any unnecessary risks.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him and see that he takes care of himself, Miss McLeod,” said Dennis, coming to the rescue.

“Thank you, Mr. Burnham,” the girl replied, “but you know it applies to you as well. You must look after yourself also.”

“By the way, dear,” I asked, changing the subject, “have you a copy of this week’s Pictures?”

“I’m afraid not,” she answered. “Must it be the Pictures? I’ve just been looking at another illustrated paper.”

“Looking at what?” I cried, jumping to my feet. “Darling, who’s talking about running risks?”

“Oh, it’s all right, dear,” she assured me. “I got Mary to bring my dark-room lamp down to the den and just glanced at the pictures by the red light. But I won’t do it again, if it alarms you, dear. All the same, I’m quite sure I could see by daylight.”

“You promised Garnesk you wouldn’t till you heard from him, darling,” I urged. “It might be very dangerous, so please don’t for my sake.”

“Very well, then,” Myra sighed, “I’ll try to be good. But I hope he’ll write soon.”

“Where do you think we could get a copy of the paper?” I asked shortly.

“If it’s frightfully important, dear, you might get one in Glenelg, and, failing that, Doctor Whitehouse would lend you his. I know he takes it in. Why are you so keen about it?”

“We’ll go into the den and tell you everything in a minute or two, dear,” I promised. “Is there any objection to my sending Angus in to the doctor?”

“None whatever,” Myra declared, “he can go now if you like.”

So after I had despatched Angus into the village with strict instructions not to come back without a copy of the paper if he valued his life, we all adjourned to Myra’s den, and my friend and I told her in detail everything that had happened. About an hour and a half later Angus returned with the paper. I took it from him with a hurried word of thanks and nervously turned over the pages.

“Ah! here’s a page I didn’t see,” I exclaimed excitedly, but the only thing on the whole page was a photograph of a new dancer appearing in London. Without waiting for me to do so, Dennis leaned over me and turned the page over with a quick jerk of the wrist.

“Phew!” I exclaimed involuntarily, and Dennis gave a long, low whistle.

“Oh! what is it? Tell me!” pleaded Myra, anxiously.

“It’s a photograph of our friend Fuller,” I replied slowly, in a voice that shook with excitement. “And he’s wearing court dress, and underneath the photograph are the words ‘Baron Hugo von Guernstein, Secretary of the Military Intelligence Department of the Imperial German General Staff.’”

CHAPTER XVI.

DISCLOSES CERTAIN FACTS

“There’s no doubt about it,” I remarked as soon as we had partially recovered from our surprise. “That’s Fuller right enough.”

“Oh! there’s no doubt it’s our man,” said Dennis emphatically. “Even if we had not the evidence of the torn page to corroborate it, the likeness is perfect.”

“Yes,” I agreed, “but what do you think his game can be? I’m coming round to Garnesk’s wireless theory.”

“Whatever it is, we’ve stumbled on something of real importance this time. We must find out what it is and show it up at once.”

“I hope you’ll take care,” said Myra anxiously. “I shouldn’t mind so much if I could be with you to help, but it’s dreadful to sit here and know you are in danger and not be able to do anything at all.”

“I’m very glad you can’t, darling,” I said heartily, as I threw my arm round her shoulders. “I don’t want you to come rushing into these dangers, whatever they may be. In a way I am glad you are not able to join us, because I know how difficult it would be to stop you if you were.”

“I suppose this is all one affair,” she said doubtfully. “You don’t think this is something quite different from the green ray? It might be two quite separate things, you know.”

“I don’t think we are likely to meet with two such interesting problems in such a remote locality unless they are connected with each other, Miss McLeod, and especially as everything else apart from the photograph of Baron von Guernstein points to Fuller as the culprit. I think we can take it that in solving one mystery we provide the solution to the other.”

“I quite agree with you, Dennis,” I said, “but what I am worrying about now is, what we are going to do.”

“The first thing you must do is to dress for dinner, and not let anyone imagine there is anything untoward about,” Myra advised. “And please don’t tell father you have been lunching with one of the Kaiser’s principal spies, if that’s what the Baron’s title really means. I would much rather you said nothing to him at all about it for the present, and in any case you must have something definite in mind as to your plans before you put the matter to him. If you tell him you don’t know what to do about it he will be in a dreadful state. He is very far from well, and all this business has told on him dreadfully.”

“That is very excellent advice, Miss McLeod,” Dennis agreed warmly. “Ronald, we’ll go and disguise ourselves as ordinary, undisturbed human beings and hide our fears and doubts behind the breastplate of a starched shirt. Come along.”

So Dennis dragged me away, and then, realising his indiscretion, allowed me to return to my fiancée “just for two minutes, old fellow.”

Dinner was a curious meal, though not quite so strange as the meal the General and I had together the night, less than a week before, that Myra lost her sight.

I hope I shall never live through a week like that again. Even now, as I look back, I cannot believe that it all happened in seven days. It still seems to have been something like seven months at the very least.

We had one thing in our favour as we sat down to the table; we all had a common object in view. We were each of us determined to forget the green ray for a moment. Fortunately the old man took an immediate fancy to Dennis and that brightened me considerably. There are few things so pleasant as to see those whose opinion you value getting on with your friends. Only once, and that after Mary McNiven had come to take poor Myra away, did the subject of the green ray crop up.

“Mr. Burnham knows about it all, I suppose?” the General asked.

“I’ve told him everything, and Garnesk and I went over the whole thing with him before the train went.”

“Good!” said the old man emphatically. “Excellent fellow Garnesk – excellent; in fact, I don’t know when I’ve met such a thundering good chap. No new developments, I suppose?”

I hesitated. I could not have brought myself to lie to him, and in view of the startling complications with which we had so recently been confronted, I was at a loss for an answer. Dennis came to my rescue just in time.

“I think Ron’s difficulty is in defining the word ‘developments,’ General,” said he. “If we said there were developments it would naturally convey the impression that we had something definite to report. I think perhaps the best way to put it would be that we believe we are getting on the right scent, by the simple process of putting two and two together and making them four. We hope to have something very decided to tell you in a day or two.”

“I shall be glad to hear something, I can assure you,” said the old man, “but in the meantime we will try to forget about it. You have had a tiring journey, Mr. Burnham, followed by a strange initiation into what is probably a new sphere of life altogether – the sphere of mysteries and detectives, and so forth. No, Ronald, we’ll give Mr. Burnham a rest for to-night.”

But just as I was congratulating myself that we had escaped from the painful necessity of putting him off with an evasive answer, if not a deliberate lie, the butler entered and announced that he had shown Mr. Hilderman into the library.

“Well, as we are ready, we had better join him,” said the old man, and we adjourned to the other room.

Now if Hilderman should by any tactless remark betray our strange experience in the afternoon there would be the devil to pay. I followed the General into the library, beckoning to the American with a warning finger on my lip. He saw at once what I meant, fortunately, and held his tongue, and we all talked of general matters for some little time. Then Hilderman took the bull by the horns.

“As a matter of fact, General,” he announced boldly, “I ran over to have a word with Mr. Ewart about a certain matter which is interesting us all. I don’t suppose you wish me to worry you with details at the moment?”

“I should be very glad to hear what you have to tell us, Mr. Hilderman, but unfortunately I – er – I have a few letters I simply must write, so I hope you will excuse me. My daughter is in the drawing-room, so perhaps you fellows would care to join her there. Her counsel will be of more use to you than mine in your deliberations, I have no doubt.”

However, when we looked for her in the drawing-room Myra was not there, and I found her in her den.

“Why not bring him in here?” she asked. “He won’t bite, and it will be more conducive to a free and easy discussion. I should like to hear what he has to say for himself in view of his running away this afternoon, and I shouldn’t feel comfortable in the drawing-room with this shade on. In here I feel that he must just put up with any curiosities he meets.”

So we made ourselves comfortable in the den, and Hilderman sat in a chair by the window.

“Of course, you know what I have come to speak about, Mr. Ewart,” he began at once. “You must have thought my conduct this afternoon was very strange – very unsportsmanlike, to say the least.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I replied as lightly as I could. “It was a very strange affair, and it rather called for strange conduct of one sort or another.”

“Still, you must have thought it cowardly to run away as quickly as I could,” he insisted.

“It was some time before we even noticed you had left us,” I laughed, “and then, I confess, I couldn’t quite make out where you had got to or why you had gone.”

“As a matter of fact we were rather scared,” Dennis put in. “We searched for you in the river.”

“It sounds a very cowardly confession to make,” Hilderman admitted, “but I went back to the landing-stage, got into my boat, and cleared off as quickly as I could. I must ask you to believe that I was under the impression that it would be best for us all that I should. But my idea proved to be a bad one and nothing came of it. So here I am to ask you if you have learned anything or have anything to suggest.”

“I’m afraid we’re more at a loss than ever now,” I admitted. “The further we get with this thing the less we seem to know about it, unfortunately.”

Hilderman was exceedingly sympathetic, and though he made numerous suggestions he was as puzzled as we were ourselves. I had some difficulty in defining his attitude. We knew as much as was sufficient to hang his friend “Fuller,” but I could not make up my mind whether he really was a friend of von Guernstein’s or not. It was a small thing that decided me. On an occasionable table beside the American lay a steel paper-knife, a Japanese affair, with a carved handle and a very sharp blade. Hilderman picked up the knife and toyed with it.

“I should be careful with that, Mr. Hilderman,” I advised. “That is a wolf in sheep’s clothing; it’s exceedingly sharp.”

“Oh, yes!” cried Myra. “If you mean my paper-knife, it ought not really to be used as a paper-knife at all, the point is like a needle. I must put it away or hang it up as an ornament.”

The American laughed and laid the knife down again on the table, and we resumed our discussion. Both Dennis and I knew that we must be very careful to conceal our suspicions, but at the same time we did our best to reach some sort of conclusion with regard to Hilderman himself.

“And, I suppose, until you have searched about the Saddle,” he remarked, “you will be no further on as to who stole Miss McLeod’s dog. It seems to me that the dog was taken by the man who wished to conceal an illicit still, and the green flash, or green ray, or whatever you call it, is simply a manifestation of some strange electrical combination in the air.”

“I’m afraid we shall have to leave it at that,” I said with an elaborate sigh of regret.

“Not when you have Mr. Burnham’s distinguished powers of deduction to assist you, surely, Mr. Ewart?” said Hilderman, and waited for an answer.

“Flukes are not very consistent things, I fear,” Dennis supplied him readily, “and if we are to make any progress we shall hardly have time for idle speculation.”

“Fortune might continue to favour you,” the American persisted. “Don’t you think it’s worth trying?”

“I’m afraid not,” said Dennis, with a laugh that added emphasis and conviction to his statement.

“By the way,” Myra suggested, “I don’t know if anybody would care for a whisky and soda or anything. I won’t have drinks served in here, but if anybody would like one, you know where everything is, Ron. I always say if anyone wants a drink in my den they can go and get it, and then I know they really like being in the den. You see I’m a woman, Mr. Hilderman,” she laughed.

“I must say I think the idea of refreshment would not enter the head of anyone who had the pleasure of your company here, Miss McLeod, unless you suggested it yourself.”

We laughed at the rather heavy compliment, and I went into the dining-room to fetch the decanters, syphons and glasses.

“I’ll help you to get them,” called Dennis, and followed me out of the room.

“Well?” I asked as soon as we reached the other room. “What do you make of it?”

“I’m not sure,” Dennis admitted. “I’m puzzled. I shouldn’t be surprised if he turned out to be a Government secret service man keeping an eye on Fuller-von-Guernstein, and that when he has quite made up his mind that the mystery of the green ray is connected with his own business he will show his hand.”

“Something of the same sort occurred to Garnesk,” I said. “Well, at present we’d better avoid suspicion and go back before he thinks we’re holding a committee meeting.”

So I led the way to the den. I was walking carefully and slowly, because I was unaccustomed to carrying trays of glasses and things, and consequently I made no noise. I pushed the door open with my shoulder, Dennis following with a couple of syphons, and as I did so I chanced to glance upwards.

In a large mirror which hung over the fireplace I saw the reflection of Hilderman’s face, knitted in a fierce frown, gazing intently at some object which was outside my view. Myra was talking, though what she was saying I did not notice. I went into the room and put the tray on the big table, and as I filled the glasses I looked round casually to see what Hilderman had been looking at. Lying on the sofa on which Myra was sitting was the copy of the Pictures, open at the page bearing the incriminating photograph!

I mixed Hilderman’s drink according to his instructions – for by this time he had entirely recovered his equanimity – and handed it to him. As I did so I happened to look in the direction of the small table beside him. Myra’s Japanese paper-knife was still there, but the point had been stuck more than an inch into the mahogany top of the table. I turned away quickly, with a laughing remark to Myra, which did not seem to raise any suspicion at the time, though I have no recollection now what it was I said.

A few moments afterwards I quietly and unostentatiously slipped out of the room. Surely there could be no doubt about it now. The whole thing was obvious. Hilderman had noticed the paper, jumped to the conclusion that we suspected everything, and in the sudden access of baffled rage had picked up the paper-knife and stabbed it into the table.