The Mystery of the Green Ray, William le Queux [e book reader pdf .txt] 📗

of this matter as you are. But it behoves us both to be careful. It is most important that you should take care of yourself at the present moment. What would happen to Miss McLeod if I carried you back to the house in a state of total blindness?”

“Oh, I shall be all right,” I declared confidently. “But, of course, your point is a good one, and I shall not run any risks.”

“And yet you start by careering up the river here when we have very excellent reasons for supposing that it is hardly the place to spend a quiet afternoon.”

“You don’t really believe that there is anything curious about the river itself, do you?” I asked. “We have agreed that some human agency is responsible for the tragic affliction that has fallen upon poor Myra. In that case we are not safe anywhere.”

“That’s true enough,” he agreed, “but everything that has happened so far has happened here. Sooner or later, no doubt, the operations will be extended to some other region, but at present we know there is a possibility of our being overcome by some strange peril between the Chemist’s Rock and Dead Man’s Pool.”

“Well, as we don’t know how to deal with the danger when it does arrive,” I suggested, “suppose we see as much as we can from the banks. I will go up the centre of the stream and report to you, if you like, but you stay here.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” he cried. “I can’t imagine what we can possibly learn by standing on that rock, but if either of us goes, we go together, or I, in my capacity of bachelor unattached, go alone.”

Naturally, I could only applaud such generous sentiments, and at the same time refuse to countenance his proposal. So we sat among the heather, some distance above the bank, and awaited developments.

“It is four-twenty now,” said my companion presently, looking at his watch. “If anything is going to happen it should happen soon.”

“Don’t you think it was mere coincidence that Myra’s blindness and the General’s strange illusion occurred about this time? Why should this green ray only be visible between four and five?”

“It hasn’t really been visible at all,” Garnesk pointed out. “Miss McLeod saw a green flash, and the General saw a green rock, which had taken upon itself the responsibilities of transportation. That’s all we know about the green ray, except the green veil that Miss McLeod tells us of. I don’t expect to see that.”

“I wish I knew what we did expect to see,” I sighed.

“Exactly,” he replied solemnly. “By the way,” he added after a pause, “do you see anything peculiar about the rocks or the pool between four and five; I mean anything that you couldn’t notice at any other time of the day?”

“Nothing at all,” I answered despondently; “it is pleasanter here then than at any other time—or was until we came under this mysterious spell.”

“Why is it pleasanter?” he asked.

“It is just then that it gets most sunshine,” I pointed out.

I made the remark idly enough, for the course of the river, with its rugged banks and great massive rocks, looked particularly beautiful as the sun streamed full upon it, and I was immeasurably surprised when Garnesk jumped to his feet with a shout.

“What is it?” I cried in alarm. “You’re not——”

“The sun, Ewart, the sun!” he exclaimed, and, snatching a pair of binoculars which I carried in my hand, he dashed up the slope to the foot of a cliff that overhung the stream. I gazed after him for a moment in astonishment, and then set out in pursuit.

“Stop where you are, man!” he called to me as he turned, and saw me tearing after him. “No, no; I want you there. Don’t follow me.”

I did as I was told, for I trusted him implicitly, and I knew that he would not run any risk without first acquainting me of his intention, and I took it for granted that he had arranged a part for me to play, although he had not had time to tell me what it was. But my astonishment increased as I watched him climb the rock, for when he arrived a few feet from the summit he sat down on a ledge and calmly lighted a cigarette!

“What is it all about?” I called to him, when I had fully recovered from my surprise.

“I only wanted to have a look at the view,” he laughed back, and put the glasses to his eyes. First he examined the house, and then he turned his gaze in the direction of the sea. It was then that it dawned on me that he was looking for a yacht. This was the fateful hour, and it had naturally struck him that the unknown yacht might be in the vicinity.

“Well,” I shouted, “can you see the yacht?”

“No,” he replied, “there’s nothing in sight, only a paddle steamer; looks like an excursion of some sort.”

“Oh! that’s the Glencoe,” I explained; “she won’t help us at all. She runs with tourists from Mallaig.”

“She seems to be barely able to take care of herself,” he laughed. “I shouldn’t like to be on her in a storm.”

We conversed fairly easily while he was on the cliff, for we were not many yards apart, and I began to wonder when he was coming down again.

“Have you any objection to my joining you?” I asked presently, as there seemed to be nothing for me to do below.

“Stop where you are for a bit, old man,” he advised. “I shall be down in a minute.”

“As long as you like,” I replied. “You’ve got a fine view from there, anyway. Don’t worry about me.”

I sat down on a rock, refilled my pipe, and prepared to wait till he rejoined me.

“Hi! Ewart!” he called presently, for my mind had already wandered to that darkened “den” at the house.

“Hullo,” I answered, jumping to my feet. “What is it?”

“Do you notice anything unusual?”

“No,” I shouted, “nothing that——,” but suddenly I felt a strange singing in my ears, my pulses quickened, my voice died away into nothing. I looked up at Garnesk; he was leaning perilously near the edge of the cliff waving to me. I saw his lips move, yet I heard no sound. My heart was thumping against my chest with audible beats. I looked round me in every direction. No, there was nothing strange happening that the eye could see, yet here was I with a choking pulsation in my throat. My temples too were throbbing like a couple of steam hammers. Again I looked up at Garnesk; he was climbing hurriedly down the cliff. He paused and waved to me, and again his lips moved, and again I heard nothing.

Surely, I told myself, the events of the past few days had told on my strength. This was nerves, sheer nerves. Garnesk must give me his arm to the house. I would lie down and rest, and I should be all right in a few moments. It was nerves, that was all. But if Garnesk were not very quick about it I should have burst a blood-vessel in my brain before he reached me. Already my chest seemed to have swelled to twice its size. Garnesk, as I looked, seemed to be farther off than ever, a tiny speck in the distance.

The singing in my ears became a rushing torrent. It was the waterfall, I told myself; how stupid of me! Of course I should be all right in a minute. But my friend must hurry. I collapsed on the rock and gasped for breath. I looked for Garnesk. Still he seemed to be as far away as ever, and he scarcely seemed to be moving at all. I must tell him to be quick. It was simply nerves, of course; but I mustn’t let them get the better of me, or what would poor Myra do? I staggered to my feet to call to Garnesk.

“Hurry up; I’m not well.” I framed the words in my brain, but no sound passed my lips. I struggled for breath, and called again with all the power I could muster. I could not hear myself speak. And then I understood! My knees rocked beneath me, the river swirled round me, a rowan tree rushed by me in a flash, and as I fell sprawling on my face among the heather a thousand hammers seemed to pound the hideous sickening truth into the heaving pulp that was once my brain.

CHAPTER XI. HOW THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENED.

When I came to myself I was lying with my head pillowed on Garnesk’s arm. My coat and collar were on the ground beside me, and my head and shoulders were dripping with water.

“Ah!” said my companion, with a sigh of relief, “that’s better. You’ll be all right in a few minutes, Ewart. Take it easy, old chap, and rest.”

“Where am I?” I asked. “Good heavens!” I exclaimed, as I heard my own voice, and sat bolt upright in my astonishment, “I thought I was dumb!”

“Well, never mind about that now, old fellow,” Garnesk advised. “We’ll hear all about that later. Shut your eyes and rest a minute.”

“All right,” I agreed, “pass me my pipe and I will.”

Garnesk laughed aloud as he leaned over to reach my coat pocket.

“When a man shouts for his pipe he’s a long way from being dead or dumb or anything else,” he said.

Truth to tell, I was feeling very queer. I was dizzy and confused, but I felt that I wanted my pipe to help me collect my thoughts. So I lay there for some minutes quietly smoking, and indeed I felt as if I could have stayed like that for ever.

“I must have fainted,” I explained presently, overlooking the fact that Garnesk probably knew more about my ridiculous seizure than I did myself. “I don’t know when I did a thing like that before,” I added, beginning to get angry with myself.

“Well, I hope you won’t do it again,” said my friend fervently. “It’s not a thing to make a hobby of. And don’t you come near this infernal river any more until we know something definite.”

“You mean that the place has got on my nerves,” I said. “I suppose it has; I’m very sorry.”

“Do you feel well enough to tell me all about it?” he asked, “or would you rather wait till we get up to the house?”

“Oh, I’ll tell you now,” I agreed readily. “We mustn’t say anything about this at the house.” So I told him exactly how I had felt.

“When did it first come on?” he asked.

“When I heard you shout, and jumped up to see what it was. By the way, what was it?”

“Well,” he replied, “we’ll discuss the matter if you wouldn’t mind releasing my arm?”

“My dear fellow,” I cried, sitting up suddenly, as I realised that he was still propping up my head, “I’m most awfully sorry.”

“Now then,” he said, as he lighted his pipe and made himself comfortable, “we’ll go into the latest development. You remember what made me rush off and leave you there?”

“I remember saying something about the sunlight, and you suddenly dashed off.”

“To tell you the truth, I had very little faith in the theory that at this hour, above all, the spook of the Chemist’s Rock was active, until you pointed out that only about that time is the whole of the river course up to the rock, and the whole of the rock itself, flooded with sunlight. Then, when you made that remark, I suddenly felt that I ought to be on the cliff on the look out for this unknown yacht. We connect the two together in some way which we don’t yet understand,