Adventure, June 1911 — page 192: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

378 Quade as he examined me searchingly. ‘*Has Buddha been at work again? Major Temple has just been telling me about his dog. I’ve handled many cases, but this one beats them all for uncanniness and down- right mystery!” “T know how Robert Ashton was killed,” I said, ‘‘and I’m pretty sure I can explain the death of the dog as well. In fact, you came very near having a third mystery on your hands this morning, Sergeant,” I smiled grimly. ‘What do you mean?” they both of them cried together. ‘“T slept in the green room last night,”’ I replied, ‘‘and the thing that did for poor Ashton came very near doing for me as well!” — ‘You slept in the green room?” gasped Major Temple in amazement. ‘What in the name of, heaven! did you do that for? Explain yourself, man!”’ he went on, some- what testily. “‘What happened? Tell us about it, can’t your” “T can and will,’ I said slowly, “but not here. We must go there before you can fully understand.” ‘“Come on, then!” said McQuade, and they both started toward the door. At that moment Muriel came in with a happy smile, which was replaced by a look of deepest concern as she saw my bandaged head. ‘‘Why, Owen!” It was almost the first time she had called me by my Christian name and it made me feel wildly happy in spite of the racking pains in my head. “What on earth is the matter? Are you hurt?” ‘Not much,” I managed to reply. ‘‘ Just abit ofacut. Islept in the green room last night and, as I was telling your father, I managed to find out the secret of Mr. Ash- ton’s death.” “You—you slept in that room?” she cried, turning a bit white. ‘‘Why—you— what could you have been thinking of?” “Don’t think about it,’’ I said, patting the hand she had placed upon my arm. My realization of her concern, her love, her fears, because of my possible danger, filled me with joy. ‘‘We are just going there now, and I hope to explain just what hap- pened.” As we followed the others up the stairway she took my arm and pressed it gently, and the look she gave me repaid me many times over for all the horrors of the night just past. Adventure A pool of blood on the floor of the hall stil] gave mute evidence of the experience through which I had passed. Muriel shud- dered as she looked at it, but I hurriedly pushed open the door and bade the others enter. I had no desire for further sym- pathy, nor did I wish to bring about any dramatic climax. We all entered, the Major and Muriel looking about fearsomely as though they momentarily expected some unseen figure to rise and confront them, weapon in hand. When they were all in- side I closed the door. ‘The weapon that fractured Mr. Ashton’s skull,” I said, ‘“‘has been in plain view of every one, ever since the morning his death was discovered. There it is!’’ 1 continued quietly, and pointed to the heavy bronze chandelier which hung from the ceiling close’ to the side of the bed. CHAPTER: XTX THE SECRET OF THE GREEN ROOM [e all looked a bit non-plussed and nobody said anything for several mo- ments. Then McQuade asked, in his quiet voice, with a shade of comprehension in his tone: ‘“‘ How do you make that out, sir?” The chandelier was an old-fashioned one, originally made, I fancied, for a room with a somewhat higher ceiling. The ceiling here was unusually low, and the extreme lower end of the chandelier extended to a point not much over six feet from the floor. It hung about three feet from the side of the bed and consisted of a heavy central stem and, extending from its lower end, four elaborately carved branches. Below the point from which these four arms sprung was a sort of circular bronze shield, and from the lower face of this projected an octagonal ornamental spike, about two and a half inches long, terminating in a sharp point. Almost directly beneath it, but somewhat nearer to the side of the bed, stood the low bench or stool not over five inches high, the use of which I have already mentioned. I explained the tragedy to the detective and the others as I knew it must have happened. “Last night,’ I said, ‘I was unable to open a window because of the driving rain. The same condition existed upon the fatal night Mr. Ashton spent here. For some reason, which I hope to explain presently, we were both nearly suffocated while COmiclbooks C©