I shouted for you to come
and see _this_."
Soon the two were examining the rope and the staple.
"Now who put _that_ there?" said Bates, not asking a question but rather
stating a thesis.
"It was not here yesterday," commented his master, accepting all that
Bates's words implied.
"No, sir, that it wasn't. I was a-cuttin' the lawn till nigh bed-time,
an' it wasn't there then."
Grant was himself again. He stooped and grabbed the rope.
"Suppose we solve the mystery," he said.
"No need to dirty your hands, sir," put in Bates. "Let I haul 'un in."
In a few seconds the oaken tint in his face grew many shades lighter.
"Good Gawd!" he wheezed. At the end of the rope was the body of a woman.
There are few more distressing objects than a drowned corpse. On
that bright June morning a dreadful apparition lost little of its
grim repulsiveness because the body was that of a young and
good-looking woman.
If one searched England it would be difficult to find two men of
differing temperaments less likely to yield to the stress of even the
most trying circumstance than Grant and Bates, yet, during some agonized
moments the one, of tried courage and fine mettle, was equally horrified
and shaken as the other, a gnarled and hard-grained rustic.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25