What an endless, tedious night it was! Outside we heard the lapping andgurgling of the great river, and the soughing of the rising wind.Within, save for our breathing, the turning of the Doctor’s pages, andthe high, shrill ping of an occasional mosquito, there was a heavysilence. Once my heart sprang into my mouth as Severall’s book suddenlyfell to the ground and he sprang to his feet with his eyes on one of thewindows.
“Did you see anything, Meldrum?”
“No. Did you?”
“Well, I had a vague sense of movement outside that window.” He caughtup his gun and approached it. “No, there’s nothing to be seen, and yet Icould have sworn that something passed slowly across it.”
“A palm leaf, perhaps,” said I, for the wind was growing stronger everyinstant.
“Very likely,” said he, and settled down to his book again, but his eyeswere for ever darting little suspicious glances up at the window. Iwatched it also, but all was quiet outside.
And then suddenly our thoughts were turned into a new direction by thebursting of the storm. A blinding flash was followed by a clap whichshook the building. Again and again came the vivid white glare withthunder at the same instant, like the flash and roar of a monstrouspiece of artillery. And then down came the tropical rain, crashing andrattling on the corrugated iron roofing of the cooperage. The big hollowroom boomed like a drum. From the darkness arose a strange mixture ofnoises, a gurgling, splashing, tinkling, bubbling, washing,dripping—every liquid sound that nature can produce from the thrashingand swishing of the rain to the deep steady boom of the river. Hourafter hour the uproar grew louder and more sustained.
“My word,” said Severall, “we are going to have the father of all thefloods this time. Well, here’s the dawn coming at last and that is ablessing. We’ve about exploded the third night superstition anyhow.”
A grey light was stealing through the room, and there was the day uponus in an instant. The rain had eased off, but the coffee-coloured riverwas roaring past like a waterfall. Its power made me fear for the anchorof the _Gamecock_.
“I must get aboard,” said I. “If she drags she’ll never be able to beatup the river again.”
“The island is as good as a breakwater,” the Doctor answered. “I cangive you a cup of coffee if you will come up to the house.”
I was chilled and miserable, so the suggestion was a welcome one. Weleft the ill-omened cooperage with its mystery still unsolved, and wesplashed our way up to the house.
“There’s the spirit lamp,” said Severall. “If you would just put a lightto it, I will see how Walker feels this morning.”
He left me, but was back in an instant with a dreadful face.
“He’s gone!” he cried hoarsely.
The words sent a thrill of horror through me. I stood with the lamp inmy hand, glaring at him.
“Yes, he’s gone!” he repeated. “Come and look!”
I followed him without a word, and the first thing that I saw as Ientered the bedroom was Walker himself lying huddled on his bed in thegrey flannel sleeping suit in which I had helped to dress him on thenight before.
“Not dead, surely!” I gasped.
The Doctor was terribly agitated. His hands were shaking like leaves inthe wind.
“He’s been dead some hours.”
“Was it fever?”
“Fever! Look at his foot!”
I glanced down and a cry of horror burst from my lips. One foot was notmerely dislocated but was turned completely round in a most grotesquecontortion.
“Good God!” I cried. “What can have done this?”
Severall had laid his hand upon the dead man’s chest.
“Feel here,” he whispered.
I placed my hand at the same spot. There was no resistance. The body wasabsolutely soft and limp. It was like pressing a sawdust doll.
“The breast-bone is gone,” said Severall in the same awed whisper. “He’sbroken to bits. Thank God that he had the laudanum. You can see by hisface that he died in his sleep.”
“But who can have done this?”