Page:Burton Stevenson--The marathon mystery.djvu/207

Rh “Get a light here and we’ll bring him in. Come on, Tremaine”.

At the pier-end lay a dark, huddled figure. A lightning-flash disclosed the staring eyes, the bloodstained face.

“Good God!” cried Delroy, and the horror of it seemed to strike through him, to palsy him.

Tremaine knelt down beside the body and lifted a limp wrist. He held it a moment, then laid it gently down.

“He’s quite dead,” he said, and stood quickly erect again, with a shudder he could not wholly repress.

Delroy, swallowing hard, gripped back his self-control.

“We can’t leave him out here,” he said; “perhaps there’s a spark of life. You take the legs; I’ll take the head.”

It was a heavy load and they staggered under it. From the boathouse a light flashed out, and in a moment young Graham came hurrying out to them and helped them forward, sobbing drily.

They laid their burden on the cot which the son had occupied and stood for a moment looking down at it. The boy seemed on the verge of collapse; his lips were drawn, his teeth chattering; the horrible sobbing did not stop. Delroy turned to him sharply.

“William,” he said, “I want you to show yourself a man. A good deal depends on you. Remember that-remember, too, that with your help, we’re going to catch the scoundrel who did this.”

The boy straightened up with a groan of agony,