It would take him out of this, would it not — farther and farther from the scene of the — of the — accident and in case any one were looking for any one who looked like him, for instance — well, he would not be around where he could be seen and commented upon. THOSE THREE MEN.
Yet, as it now instantly occurred to him, under no circumstances must he leave here without first finding out as definitely as possible whether any one was as yet suspected.
And once at the Casino, and for the moment left alone, he learned on inquiring at the news stand that there would be no Albany, Utica, or any local afternoon paper there until seven or seven-thirty.
He must wait until then to know.
And so although after the lunch there was swimming and dancing, then a return to the Cranstons with Harley Baggott and Bertine — Sondra going to Pine Point, with an agreement to meet him afterwards at the Harriets’ for dinner — still his mind was on the business of getting these papers at the first possible opportunity.
Yet unless, as he now saw, he was so fortunate as to be able to stop on his way from the Cranstons’ to the Harriets’ and so obtain one or all, he must manage to come over to this Casino in the morning before leaving for Bear Lake.
He must have them.
He must know what, if anything, was either being said or done so far in regard to that drowned couple.
But on his way to Harriets’ he was not able to get the papers. They had not come.
And none at the Harriets’ either, when he first arrived.
Yet sitting on the veranda about a half hour later, talking with the others although brooding as to all this, Sondra herself appeared and said:
“Oh, say, people!
I’ve got something to tell you.
Two people were drowned this morning or yesterday up at Big Bittern, so Blanche Locke was telling me just now over the phone. She’s up at Three Mile Bay today and she says they’ve found the body of the girl but not the man yet.
They were drowned in the south part of the lake somewhere, she said.”
At once Clyde sat up, rigid and white, his lips a bloodless line, his eyes fixed not on anything here but rather the distant scene at Big Bittern — the tall pines, the dark water closing over Roberta.
Then they had found her body.
And now would they believe that his body was down there, too, as he had planned?
But, listen!
He must hear in spite of his dizziness.
“Gee, that’s tough!” observed Burchard Taylor, stopping his strumming on a mandolin.
“Anybody we know?”
“She says she didn’t hear yet.”
“I never did like that lake,” put in Frank Harriet.
“It’s too lonely.
Dad and I and Mr. Randall were up there fishing last summer, but we didn’t stay long.
It’s too gloomy.”
“We were up there three weeks ago — don’t you remember, Sondra?” added Harley Baggott.
“You didn’t care for it.”
“Yes, I remember,” replied Sondra.
“A dreadfully lonely place.
I can’t imagine any one wanting to go up there for anything.”
“Well, I only hope it isn’t any one we know from around here,” added Burchard, thoughtfully.
“It would put a crimp in the fun around here for a while, anyhow.”
And Clyde unconsciously wet his dry lips with his tongue and swallowed to moisten his already dry throat.
“I don’t suppose any of to-day’s papers would have anything about it yet.
Has any one looked?” inquired Wynette Phant, who had not heard Sondra’s opening remark.
“There ain’t no papers,” commented Burchard Taylor.
“Besides, it’s not likely yet, didn’t Sondra say she just heard it from Blanche Locke over the phone?
She’s up near there.”
“Oh, yes, that’s right.”
And yet might not that small local afternoon paper of Sharon — The Banner, wasn’t it — have something as to this?
If only he could see it yet to-night!
But another thought!
For Heaven’s sake! It came to him now for the first time. His footprints! Were there any in the mud of that shore?
He had not even stopped to look, climbing out so hastily as he did.
And might there not have been?
And then would they not know and proceed to follow him — the man those three men saw?
Clifford Golden!
That ride down this morning.