Once more outside, the man led them along a foot-path that seemed to cut the institution grounds in two. The rays of his lantern danced along the carefully kept lawn; the shadowy trees seemed to move backward and forward, as the thin beams wavered among them.
"The professor lives a good piece away,"the man informed them. "Away over on the county road."
"Prefers to be alone, eh?"
"I suppose so, sir. And then he has his laboratory and work-shop there, well away from interruption. He don't like to be much disturbed while he is engaged in his studies."
"Few of us do,"said Pendleton.
"Quite right, sir."
They walked along in silence for a time; then they caught a clear humming noise from some distance ahead.
"A motor car,"said Pendleton.
"It's on the county road,"said the man with the light. "We always hear them when the wind blows from that direction."
After some fifteen minutes' steady walking they saw a long twinkling shaft of light coming from among the trees.
"That's the house,"said Haines. "I hope the professor ain't busy; you wouldn't believe what a blowing up he can give a body with his fingers when he's vexed. I'd almost rather have the doctor himself; though, as a rule, the professor is a very nice gentleman."
The house was a brick structure of two stories and dimly lighted on the lower floor. Near by was a long, shed-like building, the windows of which were brilliantly lighted.
"He's at work,"said Haines, in a troubled tone. "And in the shop too! If it was even the laboratory, it wouldn't be so bad. But he does get so interested in the shop. That machine means more to him, whatever it is, than anything else about the place."
There came a harsh burring sound from within both the shop and the house. Haines seemed surprised.
"Visitors,"he said. "He seldom has one; and I never knew any to come at night before."
They saw the figure of Locke cross one of the shed windows toward a door. And just then Ashton-Kirk stumbled rather heavily against Haines; the lantern dropped to the ground and was extinguished.
"I beg your pardon,"said the investigator in a rueful tone; then he began to rub his shins. "That was rather hard, whatever it was."
The door of the building opened and Locke appeared; his great bald head shone in the light that streamed after him; and it was thrust forward as he strove to penetrate the darkness ahead.
"He feels the vibrations of those buzzers,"Haines told them, "and knows right away when anyone wants to get in."
He began fumbling with the lantern as Locke disappeared; but Ashton-Kirk said to him:
"You need not light that. We can see very well. And, on second thought, you need not wait, either. We can introduce ourselves to Professor Locke without troubling you further."
"Thank you, sir,"said the man, vastly relieved. "They all have queer dispositions, you see, and I don't like to trouble them."
At once Haines made his way back along the path by which they had approached; some distance away they saw him kindle his lantern, and then watched the yellow spark as it glanced fitfully away across the grounds.
The cottage and work-shop of Professor Locke appeared to be set back some little distance from what Haines had called the county road; a grove of tall trees thickened the shadows all about, and it was into these trees that the professor had gone.
"The buzzer must have the button that sounds it attached to a gate opening upon the road,"said Pendleton.
They stood for a short time in silence; then Pendleton nudged his friend with an elbow.
"Look,"he whispered. "There at the door of the shed."
Ashton-Kirk did so. And he was just in time to see a large, iron-gray head, a craggy, powerful face, and a pair of thick shoulders; the expression and attitude were those of a man listening intently. Almost instantly, as Ashton-Kirk's gaze fell upon him, the man withdrew.
"Humph,"exclaimed Pendleton under his breath. "Who's that, I wonder?"
They waited for some time longer in silence. But the little man did not return, nor did the head appear again at the shop door. Ashton-Kirk appeared puzzled.
"Locke intended returning at once,"he said to Pendleton. "Otherwise he would have closed his work-shop door."Then his eyes wandered toward the house, and his grip closed tightly upon his companion's arm. "Look,"whispered he, in his turn.
Pendleton's gaze flew toward the house. The lower windows had been dimly lighted when they approached; but now the glow from them was high and brilliant. In one of the rooms they saw Locke; he was striding up and down, his hands clinched and gesturing, his face upturned, writhing hideously. Seated at a table, calmly engaged in examining something traced upon a sheet of paper, and apparently not paying the slightest attention to the gesticulating man, was a young woman. And Pendleton felt himself grow suddenly faint and sick as he recognized Edyth Vale.
CHAPTER XV
MISS VALE DEPARTS SUDDENLY
For a moment there was a silence between the two men; then Ashton-Kirk said, dryly:
"Miss Vale has, apparently, not been altogether frank with us in this matter."
"You think then—"began Pendleton in a voice of terror. But Ashton-Kirk stopped him.
"I think many things,"said he. "But they are neither here nor there. Facts are what count. Put the circumstances together for yourself and see where they lead you. Miss Vale has been from the first mixed up more or less in this crime. She explained. As far as I knew the explanation was made in good faith. Now we find her here in this lonely place, quietly engaged with a man whom I have convinced myself is one of Hume's murderers."
There was another pause; this time it was Pendleton who broke the silence.
"As you say,"spoke he, in a strange, throaty sort of tone, "she has not been quite frank. Take all the circumstances together and they seem to point—"
He paused as though quite unable to finish. Ashton-Kirk laid a hand upon his shoulder.
"Imagination is a thing that is vitally necessary in this sort of work,"said he. "But it must be held in check by reason. The great trouble with an amateur is that he reasons up to a certain point; then he allows his imagination to take a long leap toward a result. The upshot is that his results have seldom anything to support them. The correct method, I think, is to allow the imagination to scurry ahead in the way that is natural to it; but reason must follow close behind, proving each step of the way. To be sure, you may have theories, hypotheses, ideas without end, but you must never take them for granted. Select each in its turn, place it in a tube as the chemist does, add a few drops of reason, and you may produce a fact. It is the only way to go about it. Once a man becomes fixed in a belief, be there ever so little foundation for it, his mind stops revolving the subject; further procedure is hopeless."
"I understand all that well enough,"said Pendleton. "But,"and he waved his hand toward the house, "what does this mean?"
"I don't know,"said Ashton-Kirk. "And neither do you. So—that being the case—there is but one thing to do—find out."
They gazed toward the window once more, Miss Vale had apparently mastered the contents of the paper, and was now engaged in writing rapidly. As the young men watched, she stopped, read carefully what she had written, and then handed it to Locke. The mute carried the paper to the light, and holding it very near to his eyes read it with much attention; then he tore it into strips, placed it upon the red coals of a stove which stood near him and watched it burn. Facing Miss Vale, his fingers began to fly rapidly in intricate signs.