Jane Carter Investigates: Episode Eighty-Eight
I bent lower to examine the wound
on Jack’s head. Blood had nearly stopped flowing, and I was hopeful that it
came from a flesh wound. I pressed Dad’s clean handkerchief against it, and
Jack stirred.
“How long do you suppose he’s
been like this, Dad?”
“Hard to tell. An hour, maybe
two.”
As the boat made full speed up
the river, Jack stirred once more. His lips moved, but the words were
indistinguishable.
“How far to Covert?” Dad asked
the boatman.
“About four miles from this
point,” Griffith flung over his shoulder. “It’s the next town above the
Furstenberg estate. I’m making the best time I can.”
Jack moved restlessly, his hands
plucking at the coat which covered him.
“Flaming eyes,” he muttered.
“Looking at me—looking at me—”
“He’s completely out of his
head,” I said.
“He’s gone back to that other
accident which happened last year. The sinister affair in Old Mansion.”
“Jack’s had more than his share
of bad luck, Dad. Twice now, on this same river, he’s met with disaster. What
if he doesn’t pull through?”
I had a sick feeling in the pit
of my stomach.
“I think he will, if his skull
hasn’t been fractured,” Dad said. “Listen!”
Jack’s lips were moving again,
and this time his words were more rational.
“Got to get word to the Chief.
Got to get word—”
A long while after that Jack
remained perfectly quiet. Abruptly, his eyes opened wide, and he struggled to
sit up. I gently pressed him back down to the floor of the boat.
“Where am I?” Jack muttered. “Let
me out of here! Let me out!”
“Quiet, Jack,” Dad said. “You’re
with friends.”
Jack’s tense grip on my hand
relaxed.
“That you, Chief?”
“Yes, Jack. Just lie still. We’ll
have you to a doctor in a few more minutes.”
“Doctor! I don’t need any
doctor,” he protested, trying once more to sit up. “What happened anyway?”
“That’s what we would like to
know.”
“Can’t you remember anything,
Jack?” I asked. “You went out on the river to try to trace those two men in the
cruiser.”
“Oh, it’s coming back to me now.
I ran into their boat down by Cranberry Cove. They tied up there.”
“And then what happened?” I
demanded as Jack paused.
“I saw ’em walk ashore. Thought I
would follow, so I tied up my boat too. They started off through the trees.
Pretty soon they met a third man, a well-dressed fellow, educated, too, judging
by his speech.”
“Did you hear any of their
conversation?” Dad asked.
“I heard Furstenberg’s name
mentioned. That caught my interest, so I crept closer. Must have given myself
away because that’s about the last I remember. A ton of dynamite seemed to
explode in my head. And here I am.”
“Obviously, you were struck from
behind with some heavy object,” my father said. “They probably dumped you back
in your own boat and set it adrift. You never saw your attacker?”
“No.”
Jack rested for a moment, and
then as it dawned on him that he was being sped to a doctor, he began to
protest.
“Say, Chief, I’ll be all right. I
don’t need any doc. Head’s clear as a bell now.”
“That’s fine, Jack. But you’ll
see a doctor, anyway. We’re taking no chances.”
“Then at least let me go back to
the hospital in Greenville.”
“If you feel equal to the trip, I
guess we can. You seem to be all right, but I want to make sure. Can’t take
chances on the paper being sued later on, you know.”
“Oh, I get the idea,” said Jack
with a grimace. “Thinking of the old cash register, as usual.”
I drew a deep sigh of relief. If
Jack was able to make jokes, he couldn’t be seriously injured. I still felt
weak from the fright I had received, and I didn’t let go of his hand.
“The police will find those men
who attacked you,” I told him. “I hope they’re put in prison for life, too!”
“The police?” Jack repeated.
“Say, Chief, you’re not aiming to spill the story, are you?”
“I was.”
“But see here, if you notify the
police, we’ll show our hand to the Times
and every other paper for a hundred miles around. If we keep this dark, we could
do our own investigating, and maybe land a big scoop.”
“Justice is more important than a
scoop, Jack,” my father insisted. “If those men had anything to do with
Atwood’s disappearance, and it looks as if they did, then we are duty bound to
hand our clues over to the police. By trying to handle it alone, we might let
them escape and further endanger Atwood if he’s still alive.”
“Guess maybe you’re right at
that,” Jack acknowledged.
“Where are we now?” I called
forward to Mr. Griffith.
“Just comin’ to the Furstenberg
estate,” he told me.
“Only that far? We don’t seem to
be making very fast time.”
“We’re buckin’ the current,
Ma’am. And there’s a right stiff wind blowing.”
I had not noticed the wind before
or how overcast the sky had become. I could not see many yards in advance of
the boat. I suddenly realized how cold I was without my coat.
The drawbridge loomed ahead, in
its open position as usual, but I could not see the red lantern which I had
noticed during the trip downstream. Had the light been blown out by the wind?
In any case, it would not greatly
matter, I decided. Few cars traveled the private road. Besides, any person who
came that way would likely know about the bridge.
And then, above the steady hum of
the motorboat engine, I heard another roar which steadily increased in
intensity. A car was coming down the road at great speed. The lantern must be
there, I thought. It was probably hidden by a tree or the high bank.
I listened with a growing alarm.
The car was not slowing down. Even Harry Griffith turned his head to gaze
toward the entrance ramp of the drawbridge.
It was all over in an instant with a scream of brakes and a loud splintering of the wooden barrier. The speeding car struck the side of the steel bridge, spun sideways, and careened down the bank and into the Grassy.
Comments
Post a Comment