“You are wrong, Woodruff,” Sheldon had said. “Your idea is the abandonment of civilization; yet in reality, you are dependent upon it. You did not build the house in which you are living. You buy the food that you eat. You are merely an outcast — self-created.”
“And yourself, professor?” Woodruff had blandly asked.
“I do not consider this a Utopia,” Sheldon had responded. “This section is as much a portion of our modern civilization as is Broadway, in New York. It is merely an undeveloped section, yet one which is subject to the curse of the present-day barbarism which stupid pedants term enlightenment.”
THAT discussion had brought up the subject of Elbert Cordes. Professor Sheldon had referred to the man as a definite example to prove that Woodruff was wrong.
“Cordes,” Sheldon had remarked, “is a misanthrope. He is living here because he hates mankind. He is a baleful influence. All he gains here is the soulless desire of living apart from fellow men. He ignores us, and we ignore him. If this were Utopia, Woodruff, we would not tolerate the presence of Elbert Cordes.”
Professor Sheldon was not alone in his cottage. He had two attendants, one named Lester, the other Shoyer. Though different in appearance, the two were very much alike. Woodruff jocularly referred to them as Sheldon’s trained seals — using the term only when he was alone with Harry Vincent.
The title was not inappropriate, for both Lester and Shoyer were quiet-mannered individuals who acted only in accordance with Professor Sheldon’s orders.
Lester had the solemn demeanor of a lighthouse keeper. He was the caretaker of Sheldon’s cottage, and never left the place. Shoyer acted as the professor’s chauffeur. He also seemed thoroughly acclimated to the place.
Thus, Harry was able to form a very graphic sketch of conditions at the professor’s abode. Kirby Sheldon came here to get away from the hubbub that he so disliked — the confusion of New York, where he was forced to go when he delivered his lectures. He had wisely chosen two men who possessed no initiative, and were content with permanent work at small pay, regardless of conditions.
Professor Sheldon’s reference to Elbert Cordes had given Harry Vincent an excuse to question Malbray Woodruff regarding the habits of the outcast who lived near the artist and the professor, and desired no acquaintance with either. Thus, by Woodruff’s hearsay, Harry had learned a few facts about the man.
Cordes was a recluse, apparently soured toward the world. He dwelt here all the year around, and never left his home. He had a servant — Harry saw the man on the second day — whose name, so Woodruff believed, was Downs. The one duty which brought Downs out of doors was that of visiting the settlement at the depot. It was while making a trip to the post office that Harry had encountered the fellow after first seeing him leave the Cordes cottage.
Downs was a suitable companion for his master. The servant’s face seemed to possess the same sullen leer that had characterized Elbert Cordes.
Here, Harry decided, was a most important situation. Downs was more likely to be a confidant of Cordes than a mere servitor. Therefore, when Harry mailed his report to Rutledge Mann, he included definite mention of the man called Downs.
One chance remark that Malbray Woodruff happened to pass in mentioning Cordes was of peculiar significance to Harry.
“Cordes,” he remembered Woodruff saying, “hates to have anyone set foot on this Point. Not so long ago, coast guards stopped here. Looking for some boat, they said, that had made trouble out at sea. They made quite a search, even looked through our houses.
“The professor and I made no objection, but Cordes raised a regular song and dance. Shouted out that a man’s home was his castle, and all that sort of rot. He calmed down, finally, and talked with the coast guards. When they went away, they said he was the worst grouch they’d ever met. They seemed to be sorry they couldn’t pin anything on him.”
Woodruff’s comments went into Harry’s detailed report. He had sent a letter each day, and now, returning late in the evening from Professor Sheldon’s, Harry was reviewing the events of the day as he sat in his little upstairs room. He had not troubled to light a lamp, as an oil jet was burning in the hallway.
TONIGHT, Harry reflected, Professor Sheldon had mentioned that he was going to New York the following afternoon. His short stay at East Point was ended. He would be back within three days for another brief sojourn.
Harry’s reflections ended suddenly. He became instantly alert as he heard a faint sound that seemed to come from outside his window. Walking into the hallway, Harry noticed the door of Woodruff’s room open, and he called a low good night, to which Woodruff responded with a muffled grunt.
Extinguishing the lamp, Harry returned to his own room, and softly raised the window shade. Then he noiselessly took out the sliding screen.
The night was dreary, but a misty starlight furnished a vague glow. Harry watched without making a sound. At last he distinguished a motion beneath the window. The huddled figure of a man set forth toward the road, and headed in the direction of Professor Sheldon’s home.
The professor’s cottage was not yet dark, and as Harry gazed, he saw that the departing person was passing by the Sheldon cottage. The man was momentarily lost to view upon the road, but the white paint of the cottage beyond revealed the man again as he headed directly toward it.
Harry needed no further information. He was sure that the prowler had been either Elbert Cordes or his man, Downs.
Harry remained awake a considerable length of time, puzzling over this matter. He could form but one logical conclusion.
Elbert Cordes, of the three persons residing on this Point, was the one who obviously had some secret purpose for remaining isolated. That explained the man’s mistrust of both Sheldon and Woodruff. Cordes must have already learned sufficient about those two. Harry’s arrival, however, would naturally cause Cordes to become suspicious; that was the reason why either he or his man had made this midnight spying trip.
Although he felt no sense of immediate danger, Harry decided that prompt action would be advisable. He decided to sleep on the matter, and did so. In the morning, he strolled from the front door and threw a careful glance of inspection along the side of the house. He could detect slight imprints in the smooth sand.
Woodruff went out early to do some sketching. Harry wrote a report to send to Rutledge Mann. He placed it in an envelope, but did not seal it. Carrying it with him, he started on a walk to the village. There was no telephone service beyond the depot, so Harry had no way of calling the local cab.
After he had passed the large sand dune that hid a view of the Point, Harry proceeded with utmost caution. He was tempted at times to turn into a scrubby spot and wait to see if any one was following. He continued, however, and reached the post office, where he used regular ink to address the letter to Rutledge Mann.
It was during this operation that Harry happened to glance through the window. In the road, he caught a glimpse of Downs, parking his car some fifty yards away.
HARRY had prepared for this. He quickly drew the letter from the open envelope. Bending back the bottom of the note, so as not to let air reach the special ink that he had used in the letter, Harry wrote, with his fountain pen, these words in code:
Downs is watching me. Will send no further communications until receiving special instructions.
Folding the bottom of the letter, Harry inserted the sheet in the envelope. He had just time to drop the letter in the mail chute before Downs strolled into the post office.