Читать книгу Special Detective (Ashton-Kirk) онлайн

11 страница из 68

ssss1

SCANLON paused for a space; he examined a loose place in the wrapper of his cigar, while Ashton-Kirk sat waiting, upon his rug, his hands clasping his knees.

“When I first grabbed at this fact,” said the big man at length, “I gave it a good looking-over. But I kept still, mind you; I said no more than the folks at the castle—and they were saying nothing at all. I tackled the thing from every angle, but nothing come out of it. And yet, all the time, young Campe shivered; and, somehow, I felt that he had cause to do so. I could feel the thing, whatever it was, at every turn, in every shadow, in every sound.”

“The condition of Campe probably had its effect upon you,” said Ashton-Kirk. “He communicated his state of mind to you.”

“In other words,” said Mr. Scanlon, “I was stuck full of suggestion. Well, don’t burden yourself with that notion any longer. I’ve had some brisk experiences of my own from time to time; and a man with a murky past doesn’t go in for mental influences, not even a little bit. But be that as it may, I hadn’t been at Schwartzberg five days before I, too, began to feel like sending out an S.O.S. for help. And now, in a little more than twice that time, I come knocking at your door and urging you to do something.”