At once Clyde sat up, rigid and white, his lips a bloodless line, his eyes fixed not on anything here but rather the distant scene at Big Bittern the tall pines, the dark water closing over Roberta. Then they had found her body. And now would they believe that his body was down there, too, as he had planned? But, listen! He must hear in spite of his dizziness.
Gee, thats tough! observed Burchard Taylor, stopping his strumming on a mandolin. Anybody we know?
She says she didnt hear yet.
I never did like that lake, put in Frank Harriet. Its too lonely. Dad and I and Mr. Randall were up there fishing last summer, but we didnt stay long. Its too gloomy.
We were up there three weeks ago dont you remember, Sondra? added Harley Baggott. You didnt care for it.
Yes, I remember, replied Sondra. A dreadfully lonely place. I cant imagine any one wanting to go up there for anything.
Well, I only hope it isnt any one we know from around here, added Burchard, thoughtfully. It would put a crimp in the fun around here for a while, anyhow.
And Clyde unconsciously wet his dry lips with his tongue and swallowed to moisten his already dry throat.
I dont suppose any of to-days papers would have anything about it yet. Has any one looked? inquired Wynette Phant, who had not heard Sondras opening remark.
There aint no papers, commented Burchard Taylor. Besides, its not likely yet, didnt Sondra say she just heard it from Blanche Locke over the phone? Shes up near there.
Oh, yes, thats right.
And yet might not that small local afternoon paper of Sharon The Banner, wasnt it have something as to this? If only he could see it yet to-night!
But another thought! For Heavens sake! It came to him now for the first time. His footprints! Were there any in the mud of that shore? He had not even stopped to look, climbing out so hastily as he did. And might there not have been? And then would they not know and proceed to follow him the man those three men saw? Clifford Golden! That ride down this morning. His going out to the Cranstons in their car. That wet suit over in the room at the Cranstons! Had any one in his absence been in his room as yet to look, examine, inquire open his bag, maybe? An officer? God! It was there in his bag. But why in his bag or anywhere else near him now? Why had he not hidden it before this thrown it in the lake here, maybe, with a stone in it? That would keep it down. God! What was he thinking in the face of such a desperate situation as this? Supposing he did need the suit!
He was now up, standing mentally and physically frozen really his eyes touched with a stony glaze for the moment. He must get out of here. He must go back there, at once, and dispose of that suit drop it in the lake hide it somewhere in those woods beyond the house! And yet he could not do that so swiftly, either leave so instantly after this light conversation about the drowning of those two people. How would that look?
And as instantly there came the thought no be calm show no trace of excitement of any kind, if you can manage it appear cool make some unimportant remark, if you can.
And so now, mustering what nervous strength he had, and drawing near to Sondra, he said: Too bad, eh? Yet in a voice that for all its thinly-achieved normality was on the borderline of shaking and trembling. His knees and his hands, also.
Yes, it certainly is, replied Sondra, turning to him alone now. I always hate to hear of anything like that, dont you? Mother worries so about Stuart and me fooling around these lakes as it is.
Yes, I know. His voice was thick and heavy. He could scarcely form the words. They were smothered, choked. His lips tightened to a thinner white line than before. His face grew paler still.
Why, whats the matter, Clydie? Sondra asked, of a sudden, looking at him more closely. You look so pale! Your eyes. Anything wrong? Arent you feeling well tonight, or is it this light out here?
She turned to look at some of the others in order to make sure, then back at him. And he, feeling the extreme importance of looking anything but the way she was describing him now drew himself up as best he could, and replied: Oh, no. It must be the light, I guess. Sure, its the light. I had a a hard day yesterday, thats all. I shouldnt have come over to-night, I suppose. And then achieving the weirdest and most impossible of smiles. And Sondra, gazing most sympathetically, adding: Was he so tired? My Clydie-mydie boy, after his work yesterday. Why didnt my baby boy tell me that this morning instead of doing all that we did today? Want me to get Frank to run you down to the Cranstons now? Or maybe youd like to go up in his room and lie down? He wont mind, I know. Shall I ask him?
She turned as if to speak to Frank, but Clyde, all but panic-stricken by this latest suggestion, and yet angling for an excuse to leave, exclaimed earnestly and yet shakily: Please, please dont, darling. I I dont want you to. Ill be all right. Ill go up after a bit if I want to, or maybe home a little early, if youre going after a while, but not now. Im not feeling as good as I should, but Ill be all right.
Sondra, because of his strained and as she now fancied almost peevish tone, desisted with: All right, honey. All right. But if you dont feel well, I wish you would let me get Frank to take you down or go upstairs. He wont mind. And then after a while about ten-thirty Ill excuse myself and you can go down with me to your place. Ill take you there before I go home and whoever else wants to go. Wont my baby boy do something like that?
And Clyde saying: Well, I think Ill go up and get a drink, anyhow. And disappearing in one of the spacious baths of the Harriet home, locking the door and sitting down and thinking, thinking of Robertas body recovered, of the possibilities of a bruise of some kind, of the possibility of the print of his own feet in the mud and sandy loam of the shore; of that suit over at the Cranstons, the men in the wood, Robertas bag, hat and coat, his own liningless hat left on the water and wondering what next to do. How to act! How to talk! Whether to go downstairs to Sondra now and persuade her to go, or whether to stay and suffer and agonize? And what would the morrows papers reveal? What? What? And was it wise, in case there was any news which would make it look as though eventually he was to be sought after, or in any way connected with this, to go on that proposed camping trip tomorrow! Or, wiser, to run away from here? He had some money now. He could go to New York, Boston, New Orleans where Ratterer was but oh, no not where any one knew him.
Oh, God! The folly of all his planning in connection with all this to date! The flaws! Had he ever really planned it right from the start? Had he ever really imagined, for instance, that Robertas body would be found in that deep water? And yet, here it was risen so soon this first day to testify against him! And although he had signed as he had on those registers up there, was it not possible now, on account of those three men and that girl on that boat, for him to be traced? He must think, think, think! And get out of here as soon as possible, before anything really fatal in connection with that suit should happen.
Growing momentarily weaker and more terrorized, he now decided to return to Sondra below, and say that he was really feeling quite sick and that if she did not object he would prefer to go home with her, if she could arrange it. And consequently, at ten-thirty, when the evening still had hours to go, Sondra announced to Burchard that she was not feeling well and would he run her and Clyde and Jill down to her place, but that she would see them all on the morrow in time for the proposed departure for Bear Lake.
Growing momentarily weaker and more terrorized, he now decided to return to Sondra below, and say that he was really feeling quite sick and that if she did not object he would prefer to go home with her, if she could arrange it. And consequently, at ten-thirty, when the evening still had hours to go, Sondra announced to Burchard that she was not feeling well and would he run her and Clyde and Jill down to her place, but that she would see them all on the morrow in time for the proposed departure for Bear Lake.
And Clyde, though brooding as to whether this early leaving on his part was not another of those wretched errors which had seemed to mark every step of this desperate and murderous scheme so far, finally entering the swift launch and being raced to the Cranston lodge in no time. And once there, excusing himself to Burchard and Sondra as nonchalantly and apologetically as might be, and then hurrying to his own room only to find the suit as he had left it no least evidence that any one had been there to disturb the serenity of his chamber. Just the same, nervously and suspiciously, he now took it out and tied it up, and then waiting and listening for a silent moment in which to slip from the house unobserved finally ambled out as though going for a short walk. And then, by the shore of the lake about a quarter of a mile distant from the house seeking out a heavy stone and tying the suit to that. And then throwing it out into the water, as far as his strength would permit. And then returning, as silently and gloomily and nervously as he had gone, and brooding and brooding as to what the morrow might reveal and what, if any appeared to question him, he would say.
Chapter 8
The morrow dawned after an all but sleepless night, harrowed by the most torturesome dreams in regard to Roberta, men who arrived to arrest him, and the hike, until at last he arose, his nerves and eyes aching. Then, venturing to come downstairs about an hour later, he saw Frederick, the chauffeur who had driven him out the day before, getting one of the cars out. And thereupon instructing him to bring all the morning Albany and Utica papers. And about nine-thirty, when he returned, proceeding to his room with them, where, locking the door and spreading one of the papers before him, he was immediately confronted by the startling headlines:
MYSTERY IN GIRLS DEATH BODY FOUND YESTERDAY IN ADIRONDACK LAKE MAN COMPANION MISSING
And at once strained and white he sat down in one of the chairs near the window and began to read:
Bridgeburg, N. Y., July 9. The body of an unknown girl, presumably the wife of a young man who registered first on Wednesday morning at Grass Lake Inn, Grass Lake, N. Y., as Carl Graham and wife, and later, Thursday noon, at Big Bittern Lodge, Big Bittern, as Clifford Golden and wife was taken from the waters of the south end of Big Bittern just before noon yesterday. Because of an upturned boat, as well as a mans straw hat found floating on the water in Moon Cove, dredging with hooks and lines had been going on all morning Up to seven oclock last evening, however, the body of the man had not as yet been recovered, and according to Coroner Heit of Bridgeburg, who by two oclock had been summoned to the scene of the tragedy, it was not considered at all likely that it would be. Several marks and abrasions found upon the dead girls head and face, as well as the testimony of three men who arrived on the scene while the search was still on and testified to having met a young man who answered to the description of Golden or Graham in the woods to the south of the lake the night before, caused many to conclude that a murder had been committed and that the murderer was seeking to make his escape.
The girls brown leather traveling bag, as well as a hat and coat belonging to her, were left, the bag in the ticket agents room at Gun Lodge, which is the railway station five miles east of Big Bittern, and the hat and coat in the coatroom of the inn at the Lake, whereas Graham or Golden is said to have taken his suitcase with him into the boat.
According to the innkeeper at Big Bittern, the couple on their arrival registered as Clifford Golden and wife of Albany. They remained in the inn but a few minutes before Golden walked to the boat-landing just outside and procured a light boat, in which, accompanied by the girl and his suitcase, he went out on the lake. They did not return, and yesterday morning the boat was found bottomside up in what is known as Moon Cove, a small bay or extension at the extreme south end of the lake, from the waters of which soon afterwards the body of the young woman was recovered. As there are no known rocks in the lake at that point, and the wounds upon the face are quite marked, suspicion was at once aroused that the girl might have been unfairly dealt with. This, together with the testimony of the three men, as well as the fact that a mans straw hat found nearby contained no lining or other method of identification, has caused Coroner Heit to assert that unless the body of the man is found he will assume that murder has been committed.
Golden or Graham, as described by innkeepers and guests and guides at Grass Lake and Big Bittern, is not more than twenty-four or twenty-five years of age, slender, dark, and not more than five feet eight or nine inches tall. At the time he arrived he was dressed in a light gray suit, tan shoes, and a straw hat and carried a brown suitcase to which was attached an umbrella and some other object, presumably a cane.
The hat and coat left by the girl at the inn were of dark and light tan respectively, her dress a dark blue.
Notice has been sent to all railroad stations in this vicinity to be on the lookout for Golden, or Graham, in order that he may be arrested if he is alive and attempts to make his escape. The body of the drowned girl is to be removed to Bridgeburg, the county seat of this county, where an inquest is later to be held.
In frozen silence he sat and pondered. For would not the news of such a dastardly murder as this now appeared to be, together with the fact that it had been committed in this immediate vicinity, stir up such marked excitement as to cause many perhaps all to scan all goers and comers everywhere in the hope of detecting the one who had thus been described? Might it not be better, therefore, since they were so close on his trail already, if he were to go to the authorities at Big Bittern or here and make a clean breast of all that had thus far occurred, the original plot and the reasons therefor, only explaining how at the very last he had not really killed her had experienced a change of heart and had not been able to do as he had planned? But, no. That would be to give away to Sondra and the Griffiths all that had been going on between him and Roberta and before it was absolutely certain that all was ended for him here. And besides, would they believe him now, after that flight those reported wounds? Did it not really look as though he had killed her, regardless of how he might try to explain that he had not?
It was not unlikely also that at least some among all those who had seen him would be able to detect him from this printed description, even though he no longer wore the gray suit or the straw hat. God! They were looking for him, or rather for that Clifford Golden or Carl Graham who looked like him, in order to charge him with murder! But if he looked exactly like Clifford Golden and those three men came! He began to shiver. And worse yet. A new and horrible thought, this and at this instant, and for the first time flashing upon his mind the similarity of those initials to his own! He had never thought of them in an unfavorable light before, but now he could see that they were detrimental. Why was it that he had never thought of that before? Why was it? Why was it? Oh, God!