"But she couldn't have jumped up there the way you did," protested Brown. "She just couldn't have done it."
"She didn't jump," said Jane. "Her tracks would have shown it, if she had jumped. She was lifted up."
"Lifted up! My God, Miss, by what?" Brown's voice was trembling with emotion.
"It might have been a snake, Miss, if you'll pardon me for suggesting it," said Tibbs; "it could have reached down and wound itself around her and pulled her up into the tree."
"She would have screamed," said Brown; "we'd have heard her."
"Snakes charm their victims so that they are helpless," said Tibbs.
"That is all poppycock, Tibbs," said Jane, impatiently. "I don't believe snakes do anything of the sort, and it wasn't a snake that got her anyway. There has been a man up here. He has been in this tree for a long time, or if not a man some sort of a man-like creature."
"How can you tell that?" demanded Brown.
"I can see where he squatted on this big branch," she replied. "The bark is scuffed a little, for he must have remained in the same position for a long time; and then in a line between where his eyes would have been and the camp, some small twigs have been cut away with a knife, giving a less obstructed view of the camp. Whatever it was, sat here for a long time watching us."
Sborov and Tibbs had approached and were standing nearby. "I told you I had nothing to do with it," said the former.
"I can't figure it out," said Brown; "I just can't figure it out. If she had been frightened, she would have screamed for help and some of us would have heard her."
"I don't know," said Tibbs, "but I saw something like it once before, sir. His Grace had a castle on the east coast up in Lincoln. It was a most lonely place, overlooking the North Sea. We only went there once a year for about six weeks; but that was enough, and what happened there the last time was why I gave notice. I couldn't stand the place any longer. Her Grace, the Duchess, was murdered there one night, and that was 'arrowing enough; but what 'appened three days later was, to my way of thinking, even worse.
"Her Grace had a maid she was very fond of, and three nights after the duchess was murdered, the maid disappeared. She just vanished in thin air, as it were, sir. There was never a trace found of her from then until now, and the country folk round said that Her Grace had come back for her—that it had 'appened before in the Castle of the Duke of Doningham—so I was thinking—"
"For Pete's sake, shut up!" cried Brown. "You'll have us all nuts."
"Horrible," muttered Alexis.
"Well, whatever it was, it wasn't a ghost," said Jane. She dropped to the ground beside Brown and laid a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Brown," she said; "I know you were very fond of her, but I don't believe that there is anything we can do, except to try to reach some outpost of civilization and report the matter. Then a search will be made."
"It will be too late then," said Brown. "I reckon it's too late now. She was so little and delicate. She couldn't have stood very much. She probably is dead by this time." He stopped speaking and turned away. "Perhaps she's better off dead," he added.
In silence the four ate of what little they had to eat, and then set out once more on their seemingly hopeless journey.
There were few attempts at conversation. The four seemed stunned by the series of calamities that had overtaken them. Suspicion, fear, and distrust dogged their footsteps; and beside them stalked the shadow of the nameless menace that had snatched Annette away.
Brown suffered more than the others, so much so that his mind was numb even to his hatred of Alexis. So completely did he ignore him that it was as though the man did not exist.
Jane walked at the rear of the column. Her tread was firm and light; but Alexis, who was directly in front of her, was footsore and weary. He was, however, no worse off than Tibbs for whose soft muscles continued exercise was little better than torture.
"Jane," said Sborov, after they had walked a long way in silence, "haven't you any idea what it was took Annette away?"
Jane shook her head. "All I know is that I don't believe in ghosts, and that no animal could have done it; therefore it must have been a man, but what sort of man, I have no idea. Whatever it was must have been as agile as a monkey, and for that reason I cannot bring myself to believe that it was a member of any native tribe—they are, as a rule, far from being excellent climbers; and I never heard of one who traveled through the trees as this—creature must have to reach our camp and depart again with Annette without leaving any spoor on the ground."
"But you are willing to believe now, that it was not I?" queried Sborov.
"There is no reason to believe that you did it," replied Jane.
"Then why not give me the benefit of the doubt in the other matter. You must know that I couldn't have killed Kitty."
"What does it matter what I think?" asked Jane. "That is a matter for the court to decide."
"Your opinion matters a lot to me, Jane. You have no idea how much." She looked at him shortly. "I have no desire to know."
The note of finality in her tone was lost on Sborov. "But I want you to know," he persisted. "I've never known anyone like you; I'm mad about you, Jane. You must have seen it."
The girl shook her head impatiently. "That will be about enough of that, Alexis," she said. "Our situation is sufficiently difficult without your making it any worse."
"Does it make it any worse for you to know that someone is with you who loves you very much?" he demanded.
"Oh, Jane," he cried, "I could make you very happy." Then he seized her arm and tried to draw her to him.
Once again she wrenched herself free; once again she struck him heavily in the face with her open palm. Instantly his expression changed. His face became contorted with rage.
"I'll get you for this, you little—"
"You'll do what?" demanded a man's voice angrily.
The two looked up. Brown was striding toward them, followed by Tibbs. The hand-axe swung at the pilot's side in his right hand. Sborov cowered and backed away.
"I'm going to finish you now, once and for all," said Brown.
Jane stepped between the two men. "No, Brown," she said, "we can't take the law into our own hands, as much as we'd like to."
"But you're not safe as long as he's alive; none of us is."
"I can take care of myself," replied Jane; "and if I can, I guess the rest of you can."
Brown hesitated, but finally he acquiesced. "Very well," he said, "I can wait." There seemed a world of meaning in those few words, nor was it lost on Sborov.
That night they camped again near the little river whose winding the trail followed.
The instant that they stopped, Sborov and Tibbs threw themselves upon the ground thoroughly exhausted.
"If I may say so, Milady," said the latter, "I fancy I couldn't carry on for another half hour if my life depended upon it. Tomorrow you had better go on without me; I'm afraid I can't keep up, ma'am; and I'm only delaying the rest of you."
"You're doing splendidly, Tibbs," said Jane, encouragingly. "I know it's hard on you now; but you'll be surprised how quickly your muscles will toughen as they get accustomed to the work, and then you'll be able to keep up with any of us."
"I 'ope so, Milady, but the way I feel now I don't believe I'll be able to go on."
"Don't worry, Tibbsy, we'll stick by you," said Brown, reassuringly.
"It's mighty good of you, Mr. Brown, but—"
"But nothing," said Brown. "We could get along with one less member in this outfit," and as he spoke, he stared straight at Sborov, "but it ain't you, Tibbsy."