The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1925-10-23
CHAPTER XII-Continued


waist and spreading downwards to his
feet and outwards through his Shout
Gers to his hands there slowly began
to creep the most agonizing cramp.
The torture was indescribable and the
sweat dripped off his forehead into his
eyes. And gradually it dawned on
him that the effects Of the poison were
wearing off. Sensation was returning
to his limbs; even through his agony
he could feel that he was resting
against something under the water.
Then he heard strange noise, and
realized that it was he himself groan-
ing with the pain. The use of his
voice had come back. He spoke a
sentence aloud, and made certain.
And then Drummond deliberately de-
cided on doing one of those things
which Peterson had always failed to
legislate for in the past. Ninety-nine
men out of a hundred would have
shouted themselves hoarse under such
circumstances; not so DrummOnd.
Had he done SO a message would have
reached Peterson in just so long as it
took trunk call to get through; the
man called Franz was still assiduously
helping the gatekeeper on the bridge.
And the Reverend Theodosius Long
moor and his little Janet would have
vanished into the night, leaving no
traces behind them.
Which all flashed through Drum
mond's mind, as the cramp took and
racked him, and the impulse to shout
grew stronger and stronger. But
more powerful force was at work with
in him than mere pain-a cold, sbitter
resolve to get even with Carl Peter
son. And it required no great effort
of brain to see that that would be
more easily done if Peterson believed
he had succeeded. Moreover If he
shouted there would be questions
asked. The police would inevitably
come into the matter, demanding to
know why he adopted such peculiar
forms of amusement as going into
twenty feet Of water in a perfectly
good motor car. And all that would
mean delay, which was the last thing
he wanted. He felt tolerably certain,
that, for all his apparent confidence,
Peterson was not going to stop one
minute longer in the country than was
absolutely necessary.
So he stayed where he was, in
silence-and gradually the cramp
passed away. He could turn his head
now, and with eyes that had grown
accustomed to the darkness he saw
what had happened. On each side Of
him the river flowed past smoothly,
and he realized that by wonderful
stroke of luck he had struck a small
shoal. Had he missed it-had he
fioated by on either side-well, Peter
sons plan would have succeeded.
Following the extraordinary motor
accident reported in our previous issue,
we are now informed that the body of
the unfortunate driver has been dis
covered some three miles from the
scene of the tragedy. He was
drowned, and had evidently been dead
some hours"
Drummond smiled grimly to himself
as he imagined the paragraphs in the
papers. His nerves were far too hard
ened to let his narrow escape worry
him for an instant. and he felt an I'M
holy satisfaction in thinking of Peter
son searching the early specials and
the late extras for that little item Of
news.
"rd hate you to be disappointed, my
friend" he muttered to himself, but
you'll have to be content with the coat
and hat. The body has doubtless
drifted farther on and will be recov-
cred later"
He took off his hat, and let it drift
away; he unbuttoned his overcoat and
sent 1t after the hat. Then letting
himself down into the deep water. he
swan noiselessly toward the bank.
A little to his surprise he found that
his legs and arms felt perfectly nor
mal-a trifle stiff perhaps, but beyond
that the effects of the poison seemed
to have worn off completely. Beyond
being very wet he appeared to have
suffered no. evil results at all, and
after he'd done "knees up" on. the
bank for five minutes to restore his
circulation he sat down to consider
his plan of action.
First, Phyllis at Maybrick hall. He
must get at her somehow, and, even
If he couldn't get her away, he must
let her know that she would be all
right. After that things must look
after themselves; everything would
depend on circumstance Always pro-
yided that those circumstances led 10
the one great goal-Peterson. Once
Phyllis was. safe, everything was sub
servient to that.
A church clock near by began to toll
the hour. and Drummond counted the
strokes. Eleven o'clock-not two
hours since he had gone over the
bridge-and it felt like six. SO much
the better; it gave him so many more