One of 'em is you, the other two is Mexicans. You're at a
water-hole in the mesquite. Now there's a shooting scrape; I see
the body of a dead man." The speaker became silent; evidently his
cataleptic vision was far from perfect. But he soon began to drone
again. "Now I behold a stranger at the same water-hole. He's
alone--he's looking for something. He rides in circles. He's off
his horse and bending over--What? A skeleton! Yes, it's the
skeleton of one of them other Mexicans." Strange's voice became
positively sepulchral as his spirit control took fuller possession
of his earthly shell and as his visions resolved themselves into
clearer outline. "See! He swears an oath to avenge. And now--the
scene changes. Everything dissolves. I'm in a mansion; and the
red-haired woman comes toward me. Over her head floats that
skeleton--"
Dave broke in crisply. "All right! Let's get down to cases. What's
on your mind, Strange?"
The psychic simulated a shudder--a painful contortion, such as any
one might suffer if rudely jerked out of the spirit world.
"Eh? What was I--? There! You've broke the connection," he
declared. "Did I tell you anything?"
"No.
Pages:
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324