Ashton-Kirk, Special Detective. John T. McIntyre

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      “‘Don’t be so confoundedly clumsy, Kretz, says Campe, and he stooped and picked the thing up. But when he got it in his hands and gave it one look, he threw it from him and gave a gurgling sort of cry. Then he swung around and leaped on me like a madman, both hands digging into my throat."

      Ashton-Kirk shook the ash from the Coblentz and nodded at his visitor.

      “Rather impulsive,” said he.

      The big man’s hand caressed his throat; it was as though he still felt the clasp of the young fellow’s fingers.

      “It was no easy job tearing him loose,” said he. “He stuck to me like a wildcat; his intention was to do for me on the spot.”

      “What was the thing that set him off?” asked the crime specialist.

      “After I’d got him into a chair with the sergeant-major holding him,” answered Scanlon, “I took a look at it. It was a smooth stone about the size of an egg, though not that shape, green in color, and with a humped up place on one side of it I had no recollection of ever having seen it before, and I was puzzled about how it got into my pocket. But while I was puzzling, it flashed on me.

      “‘ It’s the thing that fellow gave me while I was crossing the bridge,’ says I.

      “‘ Let me up,’ says young Campe to the German. There was something nearer sanity in his eyes than there had been a few moments before; so the sergeant-major let go of him.

      “‘ What fellow? ’ says Campe.

      “‘ I didn’t know him; it was dark and I didn’t even see him. He spoke to me on the bridge coming from the station. He gave me this thing for you. He said you’d ask no questions, but he didn’t mention,’ I couldn’t help adding, ‘ the other things you’d do.’

      “Campe grabbed my arm with both hands.

      “‘ If you can,’ says he, ‘try and forget that I lost my head just now. If you knew what a bedeviled man I am, you’d only wonder why I don’t go permanently mad.’

      “Then he stands looking at the green stone, which the sergeant-major had put upon the table; his lips twitched, his face was white.

      “‘Oh, they are cunning,’ says he. ‘They know the nature and substance of fear. They play upon it with the expertness of devils. But,’ and he lifted one clenched fist, ‘they’ll never break my nerve; I’ll hold out against them, no matter what they do.’”

      “That was pretty direct,” spoke Ashton-Kirk “What followed? Did he say anything more?”

      “The German sergeant-major took him away before he could indulge in any further remarks; I didn’t see him again until next morning; and then nothing at all was said about the doings of the night. A couple of times I was on the point of asking him to put me up in the reason for his go ings on; but something in his manner and ex pression kept me back.

      “In the late afternoon we all went out for a breather among the hills. But it was more like an expedition into the enemy’s country than an exercise. They put a couple of Colt automatics in my pocket, and each of them took one. Also the sergeant-major carried a Mauser rifle with kick enough to have killed at a couple of miles.

      "‘Sometimes there are vagrants who get impudent,’ said Campe. ‘ I’ve known them to attempt robbery; so we may as well be prepared.’

      “Next day we took the dogs and guns and tried for some birds; at night we locked the place up like a prison. The days that followed were about the same; I never felt so thick a depression anywhere as there was in Schwartzberg. For hours no one would speak; our meals would go through like a funeral rite; sometimes I’d catch myself chewing my food to the tune of a dead march. After dinner we’d have a gloomy game of cards; at about ten we’d all go off to bed, one by one, and seem glad to do it.”

      “Your first visit wasn’t pleasant,” said Ashton-Kirk.

      “I got no fun out of it except the tramping around, and then only when I’d go off by myself. I’d packed and jumped out as soon as I’d sized matters up, but there were two things kept me back. First, I like young Campe, and I wanted to help him out; second, something was doing of a piquant nature, and I had a curiosity to know what it was.

      “Several times, from my bedroom windows, I saw Kretz prowling about the courtyard or upon the wall. Once I fancied I caught the creeping of a couple of figures beyond the wall. I went out to look up the nature of the stunt, and almost got myself shot by what Campe afterward called prowling tramps. On the following night as I sat reading СКАЧАТЬ