_A KEY TO A MYSTERY_
Halfway down the path, the man paused and lighted a gasoline lantern. In
the bright glow Flash distinguished the caretaker, Fleur.
“Anyone here?” the old man called. He turned his lantern at different
angles, throwing the beam over the ground.
Flash stepped from behind the tree.
“Good evening, Fleur.”
The caretaker gave a gasp of surprise and nearly dropped the lantern.
“Well, if it ain’t the young feller!” he exclaimed. “And us givin’ you
up fer dead! I’m mighty glad to see you back safe and sound, I sure am!”
“Where is Rascomb?” Flash demanded curtly. “And my very good friend,
Doyle?”
“They both came back together hours ago. Mr. Doyle and Mr. Rascomb was
bad upset over the accident.”
“Accident?”
“You fallin’ out of the boat the way you did and upsetting it.”
“Oh, so I upset the boat?”
“Don’t you remember nothin’ about it?” Fleur asked, raising the lantern
so he could see Flash to better advantage.
“I don’t remember it that way.”
“You’re sure a sight,” Fleur said quickly. “Must have had a bad time of
it. How did you get out alive?”
“Swam through Gersham Pass and walked around the lake.”
“And all the time Mr. Rascomb and Mr. Doyle was worried sick thinkin’
you was drowned! Mr. Rascomb said you went down just like a rock and
never came to the top even. They kept draggin’, long as they dast. Then
they gave you up and made a dash through the gap. Barely made it by the
skin o’ their teeth.”
“Where is Rascomb now?”
“Him and your friend started for town ’bout an hour ago to notify the
coroner. They’ll be happy to see you back safe and sound.”
“_Surprised_ is the right word.”
“You will have your little joke,” chuckled the old man. “I’m tellin’ you
it wasn’t no joking matter with them. They both was bad hit. Mr. Rascomb
spoke out sharp to me for the first time since I come to work for him.”
Flash scarcely listened. “I must get to Excelsior City at once!” he said
abruptly, cutting Fleur short. “Is there a car here?”
“Mr. Rascomb’s sedan. I’ll fetch it from the garage while you wash up.
Want me to lay out some clean clothes and a pair of shoes for you?”
“Never mind. I’ll help myself to what I need. You bring the car. I’m in
a big hurry.”
Carrying the lantern with him, Fleur disappeared in the direction of the
garage.
The door of the lodge had been left half open. Flash limped to it, but
at the threshold he hesitated. He seemed to sense a presence—sinister
and very close at hand. Yet he heard nothing.
Shaking off the uncomfortable sensation, he entered the lodge. A light
burned in the living room but the other rooms and the entrance hall were
dark.
Flash crossed to the bathroom where he switched on a light and washed
what grime he could from his hands and face. His hair and eyebrows were
singed; a large knob had appeared on his head.
He had changed his clothes, when he heard a slight sound in an adjoining
room.
“That you, Fleur?” he called.
No one answered.
Turning off the light, Flash stepped outside. A board creaked. He
whirled swiftly.
Before he could defend himself, he was struck directly behind the knees.
Thrown off balance, he crumpled and fell to the floor.
A flashlight beam played upon his face, blinding him. The muzzle of a
revolver pressed into his ribs.
“Stay where you are!”
The voice, low-spoken and cool, belonged to Herbert Rascomb.
“So it’s you, Povy?”
“There is no such person as Albert Povy,” Flash’s captor corrected. “It
will pay you dividends to keep that fact in mind. No! Don’t move! I
really shouldn’t enjoy pumping you full of lead.”
“You prefer to assault your victims with oars?”
Rascomb laughed as he snapped on a lamp above the desk. Keeping Flash
covered, he motioned for him to rise and sit on a straight-back chair
against the wall.
“You forced my hand this afternoon,” he said. “I acted without due
thought or I should have handled the situation differently.”
“You mean you would have cracked me harder,” Flash retorted.
“Your unexpected return has inconvenienced me,” Rascomb admitted
pleasantly. “Yet, I hope you believe that I did not desire your death.
You are a fellow with nerve. I admire courage. Unfortunately, your
curiosity in a matter which never need have concerned you jeopardizes my
interests.”
“So you have decided to blot me out?”
“Nothing that drastic, providing you decide to forget a few of your
remarkable observations.”
“Meaning I am never to reveal that you are Povy?”
“We understand each other, Evans. Now I had planned to retire to a quiet
life here at my lodge, but you have made that impossible. I shall attend
to a few necessary tasks, one deal in particular, and then disappear. My
only demand from you is that you forget you ever knew either Rascomb or
Povy.”
“And if I refuse?”
“I shall find an effective means of dealing with you if you become
annoying. However, your wagging tongue can do me very little harm. By
the time you are free I shall be a long distance from Excelsior City.”
Still keeping his revolver trained on Flash, Rascomb picked up an
overcoat and hat from the table. He had changed into a well tailored
business suit, and had re-touched the telltale scar so that it no longer
was visible.
“You will be quite safe and comfortable here,” he said, backing toward
the door. “The fire will miss the lodge by many miles. As soon as I am
well away I will mail the key to one of the rangers. Good evening.”
He slipped swiftly out the door. A key turned in the lock.
Making a quick appraisal of his prison, Flash saw that it was one of the
few inside rooms of the lodge, a small den with no windows. The only
exit was through the door. Its panels were heavy oak and could not be
rammed even with a piece of furniture.
Quiet settled over the lodge. After a short time Flash heard a car drive
out of the yard. There was a shuffling of shoes through the gravel, then
a heavy step outside the door.
“Fleur!” he shouted, pounding on the panel.
“Take it easy, young feller, take it easy,” the caretaker called
soothingly. “It won’t do you no good to try to pound your way out o’
there. Mr. Rascomb’s gone for the doctor.”
“Let me out of here, Fleur!” Flash pleaded. “Rascomb will get away! You
don’t know who he is! He’s Albert Povy, a spy—”
“You’re plumb out o’ your head just as Mr. Rascomb said,” Fleur returned
sadly. “It must of come from what you went through during the fire. Just
take it easy.”
“Listen, Fleur, I’ll pay you well to let me out of here!”
“Mr. Rascomb’s orders are to keep you in there until he gets back with
the doctor. I wouldn’t dast to do different even if I was a mind to.”
Flash argued until he realized he was talking for his own benefit. Fleur
had gone.
Despondently, he sank down into a chair. Never had he been more
discouraged. The key to a mystery in his hand and he was powerless to
use it! Unless he escaped quickly, Rascomb would vanish and leave no
trace.
Flash sat staring at the oaken panel. Suddenly he made a significant
observation. The door swung on large ornamental brass hinges which had
been fastened on the inside with tiny screws.
He sprang to his feet.
“Maybe I’ll get out of here yet!” he thought exultantly. “Maybe I will!”