The Devils Paw | Page 8

I have the slightest acquaintance in these parts."
"The bridge has been deliberately sawn through," Julian announced
gravely.
Furley nodded. He seemed prepared for the news.
"There is something doing in this section, then," he muttered. "Julian,
will you take my job on?"
"Like a bird," was the prompt response. "Tell me exactly what to do?"
Furley sat up, still nursing his leg.
"Put on your sea boots, and your oilskins over your clothes," he
directed. "You will want your own stick, so take that revolver and an
electric torch. You can't get across the remains of the bridge, but about
fifty yards down to the left, as you leave the door, the water's only
about a foot deep. Walk through it, scramble up the other side, and
come back again along the edge of the dyke until you come to the place
where one lands from the broken bridge. Is that clear?"
"Entirely."

"After that, you go perfectly straight along a sort of cart track until you
come to a gate. When you have passed through it, you must climb a
bank on your lefthand side and walk along the top. It's a beastly path,
and there are dykes on either side of you."
"Pooh!" Julian exclaimed. "You forget that I am a native of this part of
the world."
"You come to a sort of stile at the end of about three hundred yards,"
Furley continued. "You get over that, and the bank breaks up into two.
You keep to the left, and it leads you right down into the marsh. Turn
seaward. It will be a nasty scramble, but there will only be about fifty
yards of it. Then you get to a bit of rough ground - a bank of
grass-grown sand. Below that there is the shingle and the sea. That is
where you take up your post."
"Can I use my torch," Julian enquired, "and what am I to look out for?"
"Heaven knows," replied Furley, "except that there's a general
suggestion of communications between some person on land and some
person approaching from the sea. I don't mind confessing that I've done
this job, on and off, whenever I've been down here, for a couple of
years, and I've never seen or heard a suspicious thing yet. We are never
told a word in our instructions, either, or given any advice. However,
what I should do would be to lie flat down on the top of that bank and
listen. If you hear anything peculiar, then you must use your discretion
about the torch. It's a nasty job to make over to a pal, Julian, but I know
you're keen on anything that looks like an adventure."
"All over it," was the ready reply. "What about leaving you alone,
though, Miles?"
"You put the whisky and soda where I can get at it," Furley directed,
"and I shall be all right. I'm feeling stronger every moment. I expect
your sea boots are in the scullery. And hurry up, there's a good fellow.
We're twenty minutes behind time, as it is."
Julian started on his adventure without any particular enthusiasm. He

found the crossing, returned along the side of the bank, trudged along
the cart track until he arrived at the gate, and climbed up on the dyke
without misadventure. From here he made his way more cautiously,
using his stick with his right hand, his torch, with his thumb upon the
knob, in his left. The lull in the storm seemed to be at an end. Black,
low-hanging clouds were closing in upon him. Away to the right,
where the line of marshes was unbroken, the boom of the wind grew
louder. A gust very nearly blew him down the bank. He was compelled
to shelter for a moment on its lee side, whilst a scud of snow and sleet
passed like an icy whirlwind. The roar of the sea was full in his ears
now, and though he must still have been fully two hundred yards away
from it, little ghostly specks of white spray were dashed, every now and
then, into his face. From here he made his way with great care, almost
crawling, until he came to the stile. In the marshes he was twice in salt
water over his knees, but he scrambled out until he reached the
grass-grown sand bank which Furley had indicated. Obeying orders, he
lay down and listened intently for any fainter sounds mingled with the
tumult of nature. After a few minutes, it was astonishing how his eyes
found themselves able to penetrate the darkness which at first had
seemed like a black wall. Some distance to the right he could make out
the outline of a deserted barn, once used as a coast-guard station and