' What could I say? Still
believing that they would soon come back, I invented, on the spur of the
moment, a story that Jack, with a couple of intimate friends, had gone
off on a hunting expedition. I took a little comfort in the reflection
that my friends, like myself, were bachelors, and consequently at liberty
to disappear if they chose.
"But when more than a week had passed with out any news of them I was
thrown into despair. I had to give up all hope. Remembering how near we
were to the coast, I concluded that they had drifted out over the sea and
gone down. It was hard for me, after the lie I had told, to let out the
truth to such of their friends as I knew, but I had to do it. Then the
police took the matter in hand and ransacked Stonewall's laboratory and
the shanty without finding anything to throw light on the mystery. It was
a newspaper sensation for a few days, but as nothing came of it everybody
soon forgot all about it--all except me. I was left to my loneliness and
my regrets.
"A year has now passed with no news from them. I write this on the
anniversary of their departure. My friends, I know, are dead--somewhere!
Oh, what an experience it has been! When your friends die and are buried
it is hard enough but when they disappear in a flash and leave no
token--! It is almost beyond endurance!"
CHAPTER II
A TRIP OF TERROR
I take up the story at the point where I dropped it to introduce Church's
narrative.
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