I thought I
knew the smell the moment I got a whiff of it. You are slowly
being poisoned by minute quantities of the deadly gas. This
Clutching Hand is a diabolical genius. Think of it--poisoned wall
paper!"
No one said a word. Kennedy reached down and took the two
Clutching Hand messages Elaine had received. "I shall want to
study these notes, more, too," he said, holding them up to the
wall at the head of the bed as he flashed his pocket lens at them.
"You see, Elaine, I may be able to get something from studying the
ink, the paper, the handwriting--"
Suddenly both leaped back, with a cry.
Their faces had been several inches apart. Something had whizzed
between them and literally impaled the two notes on the wall.
Down the street, on the roof of a carriage house, back of a
neighbor's, might have been seen the uncouth figure of the
dilapidated South American Indian crouching behind a chimney and
gazing intently at the Dodge house.
As Craig had thrown open Elaine's window and turned to Elaine, the
figure had crouched closer to his chimney.
Then with an uncanny determination he slowly raised the blow-gun
to his lips.
I jumped forward, followed by Dr. Hayward, Aunt Josephine, and
Marie. Kennedy had a peculiar look as he pulled out from the wall
a blow-gun dart similar in every way to that which had killed
Michael.
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