Читать книгу Special Detective (Ashton-Kirk) онлайн

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“Look there,” said Scanlon.

Ashton-Kirk’s eyes followed the pointing finger. Upon the wall of Schwartzberg even at that distance could be seen a human figure.

“It’s Campe,” said Scanlon. “He’s just noticed us.”

As he spoke, the man on the wall drew out a field-glass and trained it upon them. Long and earnestly he looked; then without making a sign, he lowered the glass, turned and disappeared.

“Gone to tell Kretz that I’ve hove in sight and am bringing a stranger,” said Scanlon.

As they approached the building its details became more distinct. The grey stone, the narrow windows, the massive wall, the towers, indeed, all about the edifice, called up memories of those old feudal keeps in the Rhine country.

“It wouldn’t surprise me in the least to see the gates swing wide, and the Baron and his men, with bows and bills, ride forth to bid us stand,” said Ashton-Kirk.

“Well, there goes the gate,” said Scanlon, shading his eyes from the sun. “And here come Campe and the sergeant-major. I don’t see any bows nor bills; but it wouldn’t surprise me if both packed a perfectly competent ‘gat’ somewhere about his person, ready to bring into action should you demonstrate anything but friendship and good will.”