I do not
know what may come of this. I hesitate to put even these words
on to paper. I am doubtful as to what course, in the interests
of humanity, I ought to take.
(Signed) "JAMES MERRILL, M.D.
"Editor's Note. Just as we go to press, a cable announces the
terrible death of Doctor Merrill, the writer of the above notes.
He was attacked by wild animals while alone in a South American
jungle, and torn to pieces."
There was a queer little silence among the company. No one seemed inclined
for speech. They looked at one another in dumb, wondering horror. Then
Quest drew a penknife from his pocket and with a turn of his wrist forced
the lock of the diary. They all watched him with fascinated eyes. It was
something to escape from their thoughts. They leaned over as he spread the
book out before him. Those first two sentences were almost in the light of
a dedication:
"For ten years I have protected my master, Professor Edgar
Ashleigh, at the cost of my peace of mind, my happiness, my
reputation. This book, even though it be too late to help me,
shall clear my reputation."
Quest closed the volume.
"French," he decided, "we must find the Professor. Will you have your men
search the house and grounds immediately?"
The Inspector left the room like a dazed man. They could hear him giving
orders outside.
"The next page," Lenora begged. "Just one page more!"
Quest hesitated for a moment. Then he turned it over.
Pages:
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