Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1924-06-28

success 1t was the old madmans
little book-She little bun-coio. 49,
paper-covered little book tnss 80.
Old fool. he had noticed. wouiu 80
ouently null out OF his pockes %
consult for no reason appa s;t
other than it had become 2 ~
with him. 1t was q common p ,t
a yery common book-an in n
book. Its title was on tno
II was a book OF tide tables.
And again and again now Srne
Francis Newcombe Laughed. t,Se
bronze key and the book o.,.rie
tables. The pieces OF .ne -, &C.
aIirned themselves Of their own
cord into a complete whole. an
hour later every night! Tne er
madman was out an hour raes
every night. So did the TIDE! Inose
footprints there under the oon
house-not Paul Cremarres. s
other ones. The succession ~
nights during which the old manlae
went out until the hour just oelo.e
daybreak was reached-and 1nsn
the period Of inaction. Az AZ"
water, like tonight. Ell? Yes, ~
He did not go out when tne .luS
was low too early in the eVenMs y.
too late in the rhorping' ar
IOTm0I case 1OE 4GaA "a
in the latter because It wouo n
full daylight before the tide wouiu
creep in to wash away the tenuale
ence there-his footmarks ieaolhs
away from the water to the Spo.
where he had collapsed and oie1.
Cremarre with a bronze Key IN ms
hand. and the old maniac's DOCK %
tide tables-Cremarre had made an
attempt to get the money after tne
old man had been there. and some
thing, God knew what. had Done
him down instead. 1t must nave
been subsequent to the old man
visit, for Marlin was now In ms
room-he, Captain Francis New
combe. had listened at the TOOL
door when he had returned long
after 8 o'clock from that trip to the
old hut in the woods-and
o'clock was past the hour OF low
water, and old Marlin had appeared
to be quietly asleep, which under
no circumstances would he have
been had be been conscious OF the
loss of his key and book. There
were a dozen theories that would
logically reconstruct the scene
but none of them mattered. 1t
was the existing fact that mattered.
Cremarre, hidden himself. might.
and very probably had, watched the
old maniac at work; afterward,
whether the old man had lost the
key and book from the pocket OF
his dressing gown as it tapped
around him and Cremarre had found
them. or Paul Cremarre, than whom
there was no craftier thief in
.Christendom, had succeeded in pur-
Joining them. again mattered not q
whit. What mattered was that
there was only one place now
where the old maniac's secret
depository could be-only one. And
he, Captain Francis Newcombe. now
knew where that one place was.
And yet again he laughed-loud
in his evil JOY. vauntingly in his
triumph. 1t was his, now! There
was no longer anything to mar his
plans. Nemesis was dead! No
out of the darkness and drive him
back, with barred teeth. against the
wall. to make him little better than
a cornered rat. Why shouldn't he
laugh now-at man. or devil, or
Heaven, or hell. He was master
as Shadow Varne had always been
master. He tossed the bronze key
up in the air and caught it again
with deft yet savage grasp. The
hiding place was found. There was
only a keyhole to look for now. A
keyhole I" a keyhole . = Mad
mirth caught up the words and
flung them in ocular song hither
and thither within his brain. A
Eeyhole keyhole.
You'd raise your cursed voice to
bawl at Shadow Varne, would you,
Paul Cremarre?" he cried. well,
damn you-thanks!"