The San Juan islander. [volume] (Friday Harbor, Wash.) 1898-1914, 1913-04-25
THE MYSTERY OF
The CAUSEWAY
(Continued.)

We'll, we'll, no one can tnlnK or
everything" said Peace, with a flick
er of a smile. Come and show me
where you found him"
The dark stain upon the slabs be-
tween the nodding reeds was sign-post
sufficient The little detective took
one look at the spot, and then stood
with his hands behind his back. peer
ing about him
Were the prisoners clothes wetT
be asked quietly.
mo, sir; quite dry"
And how deep is the iake?"
From three to six feet deep. or 50
I've always heard"
rs there boat on it,"
Jake keeps an old punt, believe.
but the pleasure craft are under LOCK
and key In the boathouse. They've
not been in the water for years. and
would leak like sleeves"
THAT is all. Go up to the house
and wait for me there. Isshall be
back In an hour or 30"
The policeman saIuted and retired
down the causeway, his heavy boots
Gathering upon the stones.
Now we can get to work. Mr.. Phil
lips" said the little man. cheerfully.
his eyes dancing with pleasant ex-
pectation. while 1 am making lit
tie examination of the causeway.
should be obliged II you will wait for
me at the cottage on the island yond-
err"
The last thing | saw Of him was
neat boot sticking out from the reeds
into which ne was crawling on hands
and knees.
The cottage was an old-fash1oned,
one-storied building The red tiles OF
its gabled roof had been delicately
toned by age until they had sunk to
color very restful to an artists eye.
Wooden shutters blocked the win
dOws; it's door of stained and worm
eaten oak was firmly secured. A path
led through struggling laurel bushes
from the door to the lake, and walked
down to 1t to the loud outcry Of the
nesting ducks that rose with Tapping
wings about noe and circled round to-
splash into the water at safe dis
lance. By q d1lapidated wooden land
ing stage I stopped to light ciga-
rette AS l threw away the match
ragged tear In the deep moss that
covered the planking caught my eye.
stopped to examine it. Under the
moss the wood itself was splintered
with a deep, fresh scar! l studied
thu rest of the landing stage without
result. Neither the moss nor the ex-
posed patches of woodwork showed
any similar signs. The one fresh
scar-that was all.
l was still considering the problem
when Peace joined me. He was. in
high good humor. For a time he
stared at the mark with his head on
one side like meditative sparrow,
and then, Selling me by the arm, led
me back by the way we had come.
| Picturesque. eh!" he said, pointing
to the old pavilion. 1T catches your
artistic eye. Perhaps you will have
time to make sketch of it this
afternoon"
Nonsense" | said, irritably enough.
Who shot this poor fellow?"
mo one"
"What-suicide?
Nothing SO simple. I'm afraid.
Now don't lose your temper. You
will understand within the hour
Come along"
Where are We going?'
ITO visit our esteemed friend. Jake
Warner. There is just chance he
may show temper. Shall we risk It.
Mr.. Phillips, or shall we call the DO
liceman from the house yonder?"
l told him quite briefly that would
see the policeman condemned first
Warmers cottage was straw
matched. UNCOVERED little place.
built on the slope of the park. Be
meath 1t a brook that carried the
overflow from the lake gurgled mo-
notonously by. A thin, long-legeed
man, who was digging in a patch Of
garden, stopped his work at sight of
US and waited. leaning on his spade.
Jake Warner, isn't it?" Peace in
quired over the low fence OF split
pine.
Yes, SIR
Il am Inspector Addington Peace Of
the Criminal Investigation Depart
ment-"
Warner said nothing. but + saw his
fingers clench upon his spade, as he
gave the detective stare for stare.
"A fairly good breeding season Tor
the ducks | should imagine" con