“Colton,” said the reporter earnestly, “if I sent in this story as I now see it, it would hit old Deacon Stilley on the telegraph desk. The Deacon would say: ‘Another good man gone wrong,’ and he’d take it over to Mr. Clare, the managing editor. Mr. Clare would read it and say: ‘Too bad, too bad!’ Then he’d work one of the many pulls that he’s always using for his friends and never for himself, and get board and lodging for one, for an indefinite period at reduced rates, in some first-class private sanitarium. The ‘one’ would be I. Let’s go inside.” For two hours Haynes talked with the men in the life-saving station. Then he and Professor Ravenden and Colton walked home in silence, broken only by the professor. “I wish I could have captured that _Lyccena_” he said wistfully. CHAPTER TWELVE THE SENATUS ALL five of the men who composed the male populace of Third House gathered in Haynes’ room at ten o’clock that night. Everard Colton and old Johnston had been told briefly of the killing of Serdholm. “Thus far,” said Haynes, addressing the meeting, “this vigilance committee has been a dismal failure. Had anyone told me that five intelligent men could fail in finding the murderer, with all the evidence at hand, I should have laughed at him.” “Some features which might be regarded as unusual have presented themselves,” suggested Professor Ravenden mildly. “Unusual? They’re absurd, insane, impossible! But there are the dead bodies, man and brute. We’ve got to explain them, or no one knows who may come next.” “We’ve got to be careful, certainly,” said Colton; “but I think if we can capture Whalley, we’ll have no more mysterious killings.” “Oh, that does very well in part; but it doesn’t fill out the requirements,” said the reporter impatiently. “Now, I’m going to run over my notes briefly, and if anyone can add anything, speak up. First, the killing of the seaman, Petersen, on the night of the shipwreck. That was on the thirteenth, an uncanny date, sure enough. Next, the killing of the sheep by the same wound, on the fourteenth, and on the same evening Professor Ravenden’s experience with some threatening object overhead.” “Pardon me; I did not ascribe any threatening motive or purpose to the manifestation,” put in the professor. “Indeed, if I may challenge your memory, I suggested an air-ship. It seems that the unhappy aero-expert’s kites well may have been the source of the sound I heard.” “Let us assume so for the present. Next we come to Mr. Colton’s encounter and the death of the mare on the evening of the fifteenth.” “The kites again, of course,” said Everard. “Even allowing that—and I expect to get conclusive proof against it later—what, then, chased the animal over the cliff?” “Maybe the kites came down later and blew along the ground after her. If you were a horse, and a string of six-foot kites came bounding along in the darkness after you, wouldn’t you jump a cliff?” “Ask Professor Ravenden,” suggested Haynes maliciously.