him. The backwater was choked with weeds and the little propeller of the launch must have caught them. If he could only find a boat! He flashed his lamp vainly up and down the bank.
“Plop!”
The bullet was so near this time that it stirred the hair of his head. Hastily extinguishing the light, he waited. Somebody was working frantically at the launch’s propeller, and again raising his gun, he fired. This time his shot struck home, for he heard a howl of fury and pain. But in another few seconds the launch was moving again, and had disappeared into the open river. There was nothing for Tim to do now but to retrace his steps to the house. He came into the room of death, hot, dishevelled, his pyjamas torn to ribbons by the brambles through which he had struggled, to find two police officers in the room. One was kneeling by the side of the dead man; the other was surveying the damaged apparatus.
“This is the young gentleman, sir,” said the shivering butler, and the officers turned their attention to Tim.
In a few words he described what he had seen, and whilst one of the policemen went to telephone a warning along to the lock-keepers, he gave an account to the other of the events of that night so far as he knew them.
“There have been several burglaries here,” said the sergeant. “I shouldn’t be surprised if this is the same fellow that tried to do the other jobs. Do you know anything about this?”
He held a sheet of paper to the boy, and Tim took it. It was covered with Colson’s fine writing.
“It looks almost as though it were a message he’d been writing down. He’d been listening-in — the receivers are still on his ears,” said the officer. “But who could tell him stuff like that?”
Tim read the message:
“Colson was killed by robbers in the third part of the first division of the day. Nobody knows who did this, but the correctors are searching. Colson said there was a great earthquake in the island beyond the yellow sea. This happened in the sixth division of the day and many were killed. This place corresponds to Japan, but we call it the Island of the Yellow Sea. The great oilfields of the Inland Sea have become very rich, and those who own the fields have made millions in the past few days. There will be—”
Here the writing ended.
“What does he mean by ‘Colson was killed in the third division’ or whatever it is?” said the dumbfounded policeman. “He must have known he was going to be killed…it beats me.”
“It beats me, too,” said Tim sadly. “Poor old friend!”
At eleven o’clock came simultaneously Inspector Bennett, from Scotland Yard, and Mr. Colson’s lawyer: a stout, middle-aged man, who had some information to give.
“Poor Colson always expected such a death. He had made an enemy, a powerful enemy, and he told me only two days ago that this man would stop at nothing.”
“Did he give his name?” asked the detective.
Tim waited breathlessly, expecting to hear Hildreth’s name mentioned, but the lawyer shook his head.
“Why did you see him two days ago? On any particular business?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Stamford, the lawyer. “I came here to make a will, by which this young gentleman was named as sole heir!”
“I?” said Tim incredulously. “Surely you’re mistaken?”
“No, Mr. Lensman. I don’t mind admitting that, when he told me how he wished to dispose of his property, I urged him against leaving his money to one who, I understand, is a comparative stranger. But Mr. Colson had great faith in you, and said that he had made a study of your character and was satisfied that you could carry on his work. That was the one thing which worried him, the possibility of his life’s work being broken off with no successor to take it up when he put it down. There is a clause in the will which makes it possible for you to operate his property immediately.”
Tim smiled sadly. “I don’t know what ‘operating his property’ means,” he said. And then, as a thought struck him: “Unless he refers to his speculations. The Stock Exchange is an unknown country to me. Has any discovery been made about the man in the motor-launch?”
Inspector Bennett nodded.
“The launch was found abandoned in a local reach of the Thames,” he said. “The murderer must have landed and made his way on foot. By the way, do you know he is wounded? We found traces of blood on the launch.”
Tim nodded. “I had an idea I winged him,” he said. “The brute!”
Late that afternoon there was a sensational discovery: the body of a man was found, lying amidst the weeds three miles down the river. He had been shot with a revolver.
“He is our man undoubtedly,” said the inspector, who brought the news. “There is a shot wound in his shoulder.”
“But I did not use a rifle or a revolver,” said Tim, puzzled.
“Somebody else did,” said the inspector grimly. “Dead men tell no tales.”
“Where was he found?”
“Near Mr. Hildreth’s private landing stage—” began the inspector.
“Hildreth?” Tim stared at him openmouthed. “Has Hildreth got a property near here?”
“Oh, yes; he has a big estate about three miles down the river.” The detective was eyeing the boy keenly. “What do you know about Mr. Hildreth?”
In a few words Tim told of the interview which he had witnessed, and the detective frowned.
“It can only be a coincidence that the man was found on his estate,” he said. “Mr. Hildreth is a very rich man and a Justice of the Peace.”
Nevertheless, he did not speak with any great conviction, and Tim had the impression that Bennett’s view of Hildreth was not such an exalted one as he made out.
Borrowing the old motor-bicycle of the science master, he rode over to Bisham and broke the news to Chap West and his sister. The girl was horrified.
“But, Tim, it doesn’t seem possible!” she said. “Why should they do it? The poor old man!”
When Chap had recovered from the shock of the news, he advanced a dozen theories in rapid succession, each more wildly improbable than the last; but all his theorising was silenced when Tim told him of Colson’s will.
“I’m only a kid, and absolutely unfitted for the task he has set me,” Tim said quietly; “but I am determined to go on with his work, and shall secure the best technical help I can to reconstitute the apparatus which has been destroyed.”
“What do you think is behind it?” asked Chap.
Tim shook his head. “Something beyond my understanding,” he replied. “Mr. Colson made a discovery, but what that discovery was we have to learn. One of the last things he told me was that he had written out a full account of his investigations, and I am starting an immediate search for that manuscript. And then there is the stone
