Читать книгу The Three Oak Mystery - Edgar Wallace - Страница 6

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LEXINGTON "knew all about it." A wet sponge was pushed into his face and he sat up in bed blinking and gasping. This awakening had interrupted a dream in which John Mandle and the cloaked figure of Molly creeping across the lawn were inextricably mixed.

"Time to get up, my boy," said Socrates softly.

He was already dressed, the window was open, and the land lay shrouded in the morning mist, through which the sun was glowing.

"What time is it?" asked Lexington drowsily, as he reached for his slippers.

"Half-past six, and you've seven miles to walk before you must think of breakfast."

An hour later they let themselves out of the house. It was a late-rising household. John Mandle had warned them as to this. He himself did not put in an appearance until noon, and he had hinted that it was very probable that he would spend the day in bed.

They had to pick their way over almost invisible threads which connected alarm guns, and in one case an ingenious magnesian flare, before they came to the road.

"I'm puzzled about that signal last night," said Socrates, as they swung down the hill side by side. "If you remember, we only saw half of the white house; the rest of it was cut off by the angle of the wall. There it is now," he pointed with his stick. The house looked like a white jewel in the early morning sunlight, for the mist was clearing. Behind, and a little to the right, they saw the red gables of Prince's Place, which was Mr. Bob Stone's demesne.

"I don't think I should worry my head about it, Soc," said Lexington cheerfully. "What a horrible old detective you are. You must be looking for mysteries, even in this pleasant place."

He himself was puzzled about the girl, but he hesitated to put his speculations into words.

Their walk brought them nearer to the White House. It was a plain, square building, with huge windows that glistened in the sunlight.

"That fellow likes a lot of light," said Socrates. "Do you notice those windows on the ground floor, and the unusual size of those on the upper?"

"Proceed with your deductions, oh great man," said Lexington. "I will be your Doctor Watson."

"Don't be a fool," growled Socrates, who was rather sensitive on one point. "There's a path here down into the valley. We'll follow that and get a nearer view of the White House."

The path was a narrow one, and they had not been walking for five minutes before Socrates stopped.

"Three Oaks!" he said, and pointed.

Just ahead of them were three large oak trees, and the path followed a course which would bring them under their spreading branches.

"That's what it was—Three Oaks."

"There are always Three Oaks in a place like this, just as there's always a One Tree Hill and a Three Bridges," said Lexington. "Speaking for myself, I am not sufficiently romantic to be interested in a lover's tryst. I wonder if Mr. Mandle takes this walk—it is delightful."

Soc smiled.

"Poor old John would be glad to be able to walk two yards," he said. "He hasn't left his grounds on his own feet for months."

They had to pass through an avenue of bushes and momentarily lost sight of the trees. The path turned abruptly to the left and brought them to within a dozen feet of the nearest tree. And suddenly Lexington felt his arm gripped.

"Great God!" said Socrates Smith, and pointed.

A thick branch from the nearest tree overhung the path and laying flat along that branch, tied there securely with a rope, was a man, his hands hung helplessly down above the path, his face turned toward them, and between his eyes was a purple mark where a bullet had struck him.

Socrates raced to the tree and looked up. There was no room for doubt in his mind. It was John Mandle, dead—murdered!