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242
THE MYSTERY
kindly living, if one may judge by the face of the dead; and he comes by the same end to the same goal as Handy Solomon. Why not? And why should one philosophise in a book that will never be read? Hold on! Perhaps—just perhaps—it may be read. The officer was not long dead. Ensigns of the U. S. navy do not wander about untraversed waters alone. There must be a warship somewhere in the vicinity. But why, then, an unburied officer floating on the ocean? I will smoke upon this, luxuriously and plentifully. (Later.) No use. I can't solve it. But one thing I do. I put up a signal pole on the headland and caché this record under it this afternoon. From day to day, with the kindly permission of the volcano, I will add to it. … Bad doings by Old Spitfire. The cloud is coming down on me. Also seems to be moving along the cliff. I will retire hastily to my private estate in the cave.
"That's all, except the scrawl on the last page," said Trendon. "Some action of the volcano scared him off. He just had time to scrawl that last message and drop the book into the cache. The question is, did he get back alive?"
"I doubt it," said the captain. "We will search the headland for his body."
"But the cave," insisted the surgeon. "We ought to have found some sign of him there."
"Slade is the solution," said the captain. "We must ask him."
They put back to the ship. Barnett was anxiously awaiting them.
"Your patient has been in a bad way, Dr. Trendon," he said.
