Gregory let go of the wrench and straightened up slowly in his seat. Karl’s limp fingers loosened on the revolver, and it clattered on the bottom of the boat.
“Floyd,” Karl said unbelievingly. “Floyd, what—”
“You’re smart, Doc,” said Floyd. “Oh, you’re pretty smart, all right. You probably figured out why I killed ’em, didn’t you?”
“I think so,” said Gregory. “I think it was because you are Herman Borg’s son.”
“Yeah,” said Floyd. “I am. The cops was after me out West, so I faked that train accident. That was some stumble-bum hobo that got bumped. Not me. But the cops grabbed me anyway on another job and stuck me away for five years. But they never savvied who I really was. And then when I got out, I found my lousy old man had kicked the bucket and left all his dough to this Van Tellen outfit.”
“And you set out to get it back,” said Gregory.
“Sure. And I’m gonna. They’re all dead. Floyd, the boatman, is gonna disappear. And then pretty soon Herman Borg’s son is gonna turn up and claim the dough his old man left. Old lady Van Tellen didn’t leave no will. I saw to that. And neither did this stew-bum husband of hers. I’m all that’s left. I get it.”
“And Danborn?” Gregory said. “Why did you kill him?”
“That dirty rat! He’s the one who thought up the idea for my old man to give his money to the Van Tellens. I fixed him for that. I was trailin’ him, lookin’ for a chance. I seen Karl’s boys jump him in your office. I finished the job after they scrammed with the girl. The knife in the old lady — that surprised you, didn’t it, Doc? I seen the girl pick it up once. I was always watchin’. I glommed on to it and saved it. I didn’t get a chance to stick it in the old lady before you showed. But I did afterwards. How’d you know, Doc?”
“You were in such a hurry to get back to the estate when you were taking me across,” Gregory said. “And then the way you acted about the dog. You knew Mrs. Van Tellen’s terrier was missing. All her servants had been hunting for it. But you didn’t say anything about it when I saw the dead dog, and you tried to keep me from examining it closely, Then, later, when I drove up in the car Carter had tried to take me for a ride in, you recognized the car. You thought it was Carter driving, and you were all set to bawl him out for showing himself so openly. You covered up your surprise very well when you saw I was driving, but I knew you were covering up.”
“I knew you did, damn you,” said Floyd. “But it set me back on my heels so hard when I saw it was you that I couldn’t think of anything sensible to say.”
“Floyd,” Karl said quickly. “Now listen, Floyd. This is fine, boy. You’ve certainly arranged things nicely. We’ve got everything fixed now. I’ll help you—”
“The hell you will,” said Floyd coldly. “I don’t need any help from you. I’ll help you — right over the side with these other two nosey punks!”
“No!” Karl said frantically. “Floyd! You wouldn’t!”
Floyd chuckled thinly, and then there was a thick, low muttering sound close to them in the fog. A round spot of light bloomed out suddenly like an incredibly bright mechanical eye and outlined them all in its ghastly white glow.
“All right!” a voice shouted from behind the light. “All right, you! Pull up! This is a police boat!”
“Police!” Karl screamed.
Floyd swung around, a jerkily moving black silhouette cat out of the gray blanket of fog. The light glittered coldly on the double barrel of the shotgun. Its report was a flat, blasting roar of sound. Glass tinkled, and the light was suddenly gone.
The speed boat jumped forward with a surge of power, heeling over as Floyd turned it in a sharp circle. His voice came hoarsely:
“Sit still! All of you! I’ve still got one barrel left!”
The engine of the invisible police boat drowned out his voice in a thundering crash of sound as it suddenly accelerated. The noise drummed in the fog, closing in invisibly, and then the gray knife-like prow loomed just over them.
Gregory threw himself down and side-wise, covering Anne Bentley with his body. The gray prow hit the speed boat in the side, knocked it up clear out of the water, rolled it over with a sharp, ripping crunch. Karl shrieked in sudden unbearable agony.
Gregory clutched Anne Bentley close against him, felt himself falling dizzily through the air. The coldness of the water closed over them like a great smooth hand. Gregory struggled and fought frantically, kicking up toward the surface. Anne Bentley was limp in his arms, unresisting.
Their heads broke surface suddenly, and a voice yelled just above them:
“Here! Here! Here they are! This side!”
Gregory stroked toward the gray wall that was the police boat’s side. There was a man leaning far out toward him over the water. Gregory looked up and saw dimly the jutting white goatee and sparkling spectacle lenses of Doctor Chicory. Then, over to his left, he saw a swirl of yellow slicker sinking under the surface.
Rope came rushing down toward Gregory. He gripped it with his free hand, pulled himself against the side of the boat and hoisted Anne Bentley up high enough for Doctor Chicory to grasp her. As soon as he felt her weight released from his arm, he let go of the rope, swam away from the boat toward the left.
“Gregory!” Chicory’s voice shouted incoherently. “This way! Wait! Are you crazy?”
Gregory drew in a deep gulp of air, dove. He went plummeting down beneath the slick swell of the surface in a long, driving slant. The inky blackness of the water shut off all sensation except the laboring pound of blood in his temples. The pressure squeezed at his lungs, and little red streaks danced madly in front of his eyes.
Then one clawing hand touched smooth rubbery wetness below him. He grasped at it frantically, caught it. He had the collar of Floyd’s slicker, but the weight of Floyd’s body dragged it down with a leaden weight. He fought against it, kicking and threshing, while his lungs burned for the want of oxygen. He lost all sense of direction, all sense of progress. He didn’t know whether he was going upward toward the surface or sinking. But he locked his fingers on the slicker collar and fought grimly.
Blackness began to wash out the red streaks that danced before his eyes. He knew he was losing consciousness. He concentrated all his will power on one last desperate struggle, and his head broke the surface of the water. He breathed through his open mouth in great, broken sobs, and the freshly moist air seemed to flow all through his body, restoring strength and feeling.
“There! There!” Chicory’s voice shouted thinly, and a rope slapped the water beside him.
Gregory grasped the rope, felt himself hauled forward and then upward. Hands caught him and his limp burden. He sank down on wet boards, still breathing in sobbing gasps.
“You fool!” said Chicory, staring anxiously down at him. “Were you trying to commit suicide?”
“Girl?” Gregory whispered.
“Oh, she’s all right,” Chicory said shortly. “Just fainted. Scared, then the shock of the water. She’s coming around.”
“Floyd,” Gregory said. “Take — care — him.”
“Sure,” said Chicory. He straightened up and shouted. “Here. Take care of this man. All he needs is a little artificial respiration.”
Slicker-clad policemen knelt down beside Floyd’s limp body, began to work on him expertly.
“Where’d you come from?” Gregory asked.
Chicory’s glasses glittered as he turned around. “Well, you told me you were going to see Karl, and when one of his men was dumped on the lawn of the County Hospital with a cracked skull, and the policeman on the beat reported a dead man in your office, why I thought somebody ought to come around and see what was happening. So I commandeered this police boat so I could sneak up on Karl’s place from the bay side. We were lost in the fog, here, and drifting along when we heard your voices and your motor. But what in the devil did you want to risk your life rescuing that fellow for? I saw him shoot at our searchlight.”