Gregor's shovel clanged against something metallic.
"Is that the tomb?" Myra asked.
But when they had thrown aside more dirt, they saw that it was not a tomb. It was the top of a spaceship.
"What's that doing here?" Jameson asked.
"Isn't it apparent?" Arnold said. "The hermit is not on his own planet. We know his feelings about Coelle. Naturally he would be here."
"And naturally he wouldn't leave his spaceship in plain sight!" Gregor said.
"So he's here," Jameson said slowly. "But where? Where on the planet?"
"Almost undoubtedly he's somewhere in the Skag Castle," Arnold said.
Jameson turned in triumph to Myra. "You see? I told you it was that crazy hermit! Now we have to catch him."
"I don't think that will be necessary," Arnold said.
"Why not?"
"At the proper time, Edward the Hermit will appear," Arnold said coolly. And they couldn't get another word out of him.
That evening the auto-cook surpassed itself. Frank Olson was a little stiff at first; but he unbent over the brandy, and regaled them with stories of the planets he had touched upon in his search for mining properties. Jameson wanted to search the castle and drag the hermit out of his hiding place. Sullenly, he yielded when Arnold pointed out the impossibility of four people covering several hundred rooms and passageways.
Later they played bridge. Arnold's mind was elsewhere, however, and after he'd trumped his partner's perfectly good trick a second time, they all decided to call it a night.
V
An hour later, Mike Arnold whispered across the bedroom, "Are you asleep?"
"No," Gregor whispered back.
"Get dressed, then, but leave your shoes off."
"What's up?"
"I think we are going to solve the mystery of Skag Castle tonight. Mind if I borrow your needler?"
Gregor gave it to him. They tiptoed out of the bedroom and down the great central staircase. They found a vantage point behind an enameled suit of Skag armor, from which they could watch without being seen. For half an hour there was silence.
Then they saw a shape at the top of the landing. Soundlessly it crept down the staircase and glided across the hall.
"Who is it?" Gregor whispered.
"Shh!" Arnold whispered back.
They followed the shape into the library. There it hesitated, as though uncertain what to do next.
At that moment the underground rumblings began, shattering the silence. The shape jerked abruptly, startled. A light appeared in its hand. By its feeble glow, the partners recognized Frank Olson.
With his tiny flashlight, Olson searched one library wall. Finally he pressed a panel. It slid back, revealing a small switchboard. Olson turned two dials. The underground noises stopped at once.
Wiping his forehead, Olson listened for several moments. Then he snapped off his light and crept noiselessly back to the hall, up the stairs, and into his bedroom.
Arnold pulled Gregor back behind the enameled armor.
"That ties it," Gregor said. "There's our Undead Scarb."
Arnold shook his head.
"Of course he is," Gregor said. "He must have planned this in order to frighten Myra off the planet. Then he could buy the mineral rights for next to nothing."
"Seems reasonable, doesn't it?" Arnold said. "But you've got a lot to learn about detection. In cases of this sort, what's reasonable is never right. The apparent solution is always wrong. Invariably!"
"Why look for complications that aren't there?" Gregor asked.
"We saw Olson go to that hidden switchboard. We heard the noises stop as soon as he touched the controls. Or was that pure coincidence?"
"No, there's a relationship."
"Hmm. Maybe Olson isn't a mining representative at all. Do you think someone hired him? Edward the Hermit, maybe? As a matter of fact, perhaps he is Edward the Hermit!"
"Shh," Arnold whispered. "Look!"
Gregor's eyes had become accustomed to the darkness. This time he recognized the man at once. It was Jameson, tiptoeing down the stairs.
Jameson walked to one side of the hall and turned on a small flashlight. By its light he found a panel in the wall, and pressed it. The panel slid back, revealing a small switchboard. Jameson breathed heavily and reached for the dials. Before he could touch them he heard a noise, and stepped quickly back.
A figure stepped out of the darkness. It was about six feet in height, and its face was hideous and reptilian. A long, spiked tail dragged behind it, and its fingers were webbed.
"I am the Undead Scarb!" it said to Jameson.
"Awk!" Jameson said, backing away.
"You must leave this planet," the Scarb said. "You must leave at once — or your life is forfeit!"
"Sure," Jameson said hastily. "Sure I will. Just stay away. We'll leave, Myra and I—"
"Not Miss Ryan. The Earthwoman has shown a reverent understanding for the Old Lore, and for the spirit of Skag. But you, Ross Jameson, have profaned the Sacred Burrow."
The Scarb moved closer, its webbed fingers splayed. Jameson backed into a wall, and suddenly pulled a blaster.
At that moment Arnold snapped on the lights. He shouted, "Don't shoot, Ross. You'd be arrested for murder." He turned to Gregor. "Now let's get a close look at this Scarb."
The Undead Scarb put one hand on top of his scaled head and pulled. The terrible head peeled off, revealing beneath it the youthful features of Edward the Hermit.
In a short time everyone was assembled in the great hall. Olson looked sleepy and disgruntled. He was fully dressed, as was Jameson. Myra was wearing a plaid wool bathrobe, and she was staring with interest at Edward the Hermit.
Edward looked younger than the picture on the jacket of his book. He had peeled off the rest of his Scarb disguise, and was wearing patched jeans and a gray sweatshirt. He was deeply tanned, his blond hair was cropped short, and he would have been good-looking if it weren't for the expression of fear and apprehension on his face.
After Arnold had summed up the events of the night, Myra was completely bewildered.
"It just doesn't make sense," she said. "Mr. Olson was turning Skag noises on and off, Ross had a switchboard, and Edward the Hermit was disguised as a Scarb. What's the explanation? Were they all trying to drive me from Coelle?"
"No," Arnold said. "Mr. Olson's part in this was purely accidental. Those underground noises weren't designed to frighten you. Were they, Mr. Olson?"
Olson smiled ruefully. "They certainly were not. As a matter of fact, I came here to stop them."
"I don't understand," Myra said.
"I'm afraid," Arnold said, "that Mr. Olson's company has been engaged in a bit of illegal mining." He smiled modestly. "Of course I recognized the characteristic sound of a Gens-Wilhem automatic oreblaster at once."
"I told them to install mufflers," Olson said. "Well, the full explanation is this. Coelle was surveyed seventeen years ago, and an excellent deposit of sligastrium was found. Transstellar Mining offered the then owner, James McKinney, a very good price for mineral rights. He refused, but after a short stay he left Coelle for good. A company official decided to extract a little ore anyhow, since this planet was so far out, and there were no local observers. You'd be surprised how common a practice that is."
"I think it's despicable," Myra said.
"Don't blame me," Olson said. "I didn't set up the operation."
"Then those underground noises—" Gregor said.
"Were merely the sounds of mining apparatus," Olson told them. "You caught us by surprise, Miss Ryan. We never really expected the planet to be inhabited again. I was sent, posthaste, to turn off the machines. Just half an hour ago I had my first opportunity."