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TWICE-A-MONTH MAGAZINE SECTION
to the causeway head I pulled up and
looked about me. There was a slip
of a moon over the island and a plenty
of stars, so that tho night was fairly
bright. No one was in sight, but pre
sently I heard the. thump, thump, of a
man running over the turf, and who
should come panting down the slope
but Jake Warner, tho keeper. He
was in such a hurry that he was nigh
as clone as I am to you, sir, before he
saw me.
"'Good Lord?' he cried, jumping
back; 'and what arc you doing here ?'
" 'Didn't you bear a shot fifed?'
I asked.
" 'Not a sound of it,' he said, with
& sulky face on him.
"It surprised me more than a bit.
Indeed, 1 had begun to wonder if 1
could have been mistaken, when there
came a clatter on the slabs of the
causeway, and a man rushed out from
the reeds like a mad thing, lie gave
a little ery like a frightened rahbit when
he caught sight of us, and tried to twist
away, but his feet slipped from under
him, and down he fell. Before he
could recover I was Hitting on his chest.
" 'I had no hand in it,' he shouted.
'I swear to you it was not me. I was
to meet him on the island. He was
dead when I came to him.'
" 'Dead who is dead?' asked Jake
very anxious.
" 'Sir Andrew Cheyne,' said the
man, with a shiver.
"I was that taken aback that he if
had made a run for it he might have
done so for all I could have stopped
him. As for Jake, he gave a yelp and
disappeared down the causeway, like a
rat into a hole. '
" 'Sir Andrew is in Trance,' I said,
for so Mr. Roberts bad told me not a
week before. 'You're crajy, man.'
" 'Shut your mouth, you fool'
those were his very last words, sir
'I tell you Cheyne is dead. Go and
look for yourself.'
" 'I must trouble you to come with
me, then,' said I, taking him by the
collar.
"We walked down the causeway be
tween the reeds, he in front and me
behind with my hand in his neck.
About half-way down we came upon
Jake, who was kneeling by tho body,
which lay flat on its bock. 1 had never
seen Sir Andrew and no more had
Jake, so we had to take the stranger's
word for it. When we found there
was no sign of life left in him, I sent
Jake to get assistance. He came back
with Mr. Roberts and two of the men,
who carried away the body up to the
house, while 1 arrested my prisoner and
walked him off to the lock-up. We
found a loaded revolver upon him.
Ho refused to Bay who he was or to
make any explanation."
"And afterwards?" asked Addiugton
Peace.
"I searched the causeway as soon as
it was light. There was nothing to
be found. But the evidence against
the prisoner seems clear enough, sav
ing the fact that the shotgun ho used
has disappeared. He must have thrown
it into the water. They will drag the
luke for it this afternoon. We've got
the real murderer all right, don't you
think, sir?"
"Did you search the island before you
left last night ?"
"No, sir."
"Might not another man have been
concealed there?"
The policeman did not reply, save
by coloring a deeper red and staring
hard at his lniots.
"Well, well, no one can think of
everything," said Peace, with a flicker
iisl
"Whereof It is said in the book of the wars of the Lord, what he did in the Red
tea and in the brooks of Arnon." Numbers, 22:14.
When the Book of the Wars of Men is done
And the story is truly penned
From the yellowing page of the tale begun
To the chapter that holds The End
When the trumpets of peace the world around
Have blent in a chorus grand,
And the battle flag shall no more be found
As a shadow above the land ;
Will we keep the Book of the Wars of Men
In a high and an honored place,
That our children's sons may be thrilled again
With the stories their eyes may trace ?
Will we cherish the book in faithful pride
That men of a future age
May acquaint themselves with the ones who died
That the volume might have; a page ?
Will the Book of the Wars of Men tell truth?
Will it mingle the songs and cheers
With the sacrifice of the beardless youth
And the dew of a mother's tears ?
Will it blazon in gold the noble deed
That won a forgotten fame?
Will it tell of the gripe of a ceaseless greed
. That has wrought for a nation's shame?
O, the Book of the Wars of Men! It waits
Till the wakening of the world,
Till the banners that tell of scorns and hates
In the glory of peace are furled .
Will we keep it to tell of the rolling drum
And the peals that the fifers know,
Or to speak to the men of thedays to come
Of the way that they must not go?
of a smile. "Come and show me where
you found him."
The dark stain upon the slabs between
the nodding reeds was sign-post suf
ficient. The little detective took one
look at the spot, and then stood with
his hands behind his back, peering about
him.
"Were the prisoner's clothes wet?"
he asked quietly.
"No, sir; quite dry."
"And how deep is the lake ?"
"From three to six feet deep, or
so I've always heard."
" Is there a boat on it ? "
"Jake keeps an old punt, I believe,
but the pleasure craft are under lock
and key in the boathouse. They've
not been in the water for years, and
would leak like sieves."
"That is all. Go up to the house
and wait for me there. I shall be
back in an hour or so."
The policeman saluted and retired
down the causeway, his heavy hoots
clattering upon the stones.
"Now we can get to work, Mr.
Phillips," said the little man, cheer
fully, his eyes dancing with a pleasant
expectation. "While I am making a
little examination of the causeway,
I should be obliged if you will wait for
me at the cottage on the island yonder."
The last thing I saw of him was a
neat boot sticking out from the reeds
into which he was crawling on hands
and knees.
The cottage was an old-fashioned,
one-storied building. The red tiles
of its gabled roof had been delicately
toned by age until they had sunk to
a color very restful to an artist's eye.
Wooden shutters blocked the win
dows; its door of stained and worm
eaten oak was firmly secured. A path led
through struggling laurel bushes from
the door to the lake, and I walked down
to it to the loud outcry of the nestling
ducks that rose with flapping wings
about me and circled round to splash
into the water at a safe distance.
By a dilapidated wooden landing stage
I stopped to light a cigarette. As f
threw away the match a ragged tear
in the deep moss that covered the
planking caught my eye. I stooped to
examine it. Under the moss the wood it
self was splintered wit h a deep, fresh Ecar.
I studied the rest of tho landing stage
without result. Neither the moss nor
tho exposed patches of woodwork show
ed any similar signs. The one fresh
scar that was all.
I was still considering the problem
when Peace joined me. He was in
high good humor. For a time he
stared at the mark with his head on
one side like a meditative sparrow, and
then, seizing me by the arm, led me
back by the way we had come. s
"Picturesque, eh I" he said, pointing
to the old pavilion. "It catches your
artistic eye. Perhaps you will have
time to make a sketch of it this after
noon." "Nonsense," I said, irritably enough.
"Who shot this poor fellow ?"
"No one."
"What suicide?"
"Nothing so simple. I'm afraid.
Now don't lose your temper. You
will understand within the hour. Come
along."
"Where are we going?"
"To visit our esteemed friend, Jake
Warner. There is just a chance he
may show temper. Shall we risk it,
Mr. Phillips, or shall we call the
policeman from the house yonder?"
I told him quite briefly that I would
see the policeman condemned first.
(Continmmd on Pag 10)
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