And now I was again walking along the sand; but this time not alone. I had
my mother on my arm. The sea had ebbed away, had retreated farther still;
it was calmer, but its roar, though fainter, was still menacing and
malignant. There, at last, rose the solitary rock before us; there was the
seaweed too. I looked intently, I tried to distinguish that curved object
lying on the ground--but I saw nothing. We went closer; instinctively I
slackened my pace. But where was the black still object? Only the tangles
of seaweed rose black against the sand, which had dried up by now. We went
right up to the rock.... There was no corpse to be seen; and only where it
had been lying there was still a hollow place, and one could see where the
arms and where the legs had lain.... The seaweed around looked as it were
crushed, and prints were visible of one man’s feet; they crossed the dune,
then were lost, as they reached the heaped-up shingle.
My mother and I looked at each other, and were frightened at what we saw in
each other’s faces....
Surely he had not got up of himself and gone away?
‘You are sure you saw him dead?’ she asked in a whisper.
I could only nod in assent. Three hours had not passed since I had come
upon the baron’s corpse.... Some one had discovered and removed it. I must
find out who had done it, and what had become of it.
But first I had to look after my mother.