CHAPTER VI
The Mystery at the Pier
FOR a moment, no one spoke. Only the boy’s laboured breathing broke the stillness; he was shivering convulsively, clutching at the hat-rack for support.
“It was the lightning, I suppose,” said Tremaine, at last, in a suppressed voice. “I knew that bolt struck somewhere near. The pier would naturally be a dangerous place.”
“I told him not to stay there,” broke in Delroy angrily. “There was no sense in it. Was it the lightning?” he demanded, wheeling on the boy.
“No,” he gasped, “it’s murder.”
“What!” cried Delroy incredulously.
“Lightnin’ don’t cave a man’s head in, does it?” asked the boy doggedly.
Delroy grabbed a raincoat from the rack and Tremaine caught up another. Across the lawn they sped, under the trees, down to the water-front, with young Graham stumbling blindly along behind. The little white boathouse gleamed vivid in the glare of the lightning. They entered and paused uncertainly in the gloom.
“Where is he?” asked Delroy.
“Out there on th’ pier,” answered Graham brokenly, “Out there where they struck him down.”
182
