The Avenger 29 - The Nightwitch Devil Read Online Free Page A

trouble, from the sound of her.”
    It was a sobbing, a dry, even sobbing, a hopeless sound.
    There were trees all along this side of the roadway, maples, oaks. The trees grew close together, branches interlocked. Narrowing his eyes, the Scot tried to see where the crying woman was.
    The sobbing continued.
    MacMurdie always carried a small flashlight with him. He knew it wouldn’t do any good in this mist—all he’d get would be a reflection of the beam. Carefully, he stepped off the road and made his way through the dark trees.
    He saw her, huddled on the ground beneath a tree, holding tight to herself. She rocked back and forth as she cried, like a mourner at an old country funeral.
    Approaching her, Mac said, “What’s wrong?”
    The sobbing stopped. The woman stood up, drew her dark cloak tighter around her. She laughed.

CHAPTER VI

A Long Vigil
    Anne Barley sat up in the armchair, awake again.
    The dawn light showed at the windows of her cottage. She brushed her hair back, then compared the time showing on her wristwatch with that of the mantel clock.
    “After six-thirty,” she said. She stood up, stretching. She’d dozed, this last time, for almost two hours. “And still no sign of him.”
    MacMurdie had been made to promise, no matter how late it was, he’d stop by at her cottage when he returned from Deacon’s Meadow. Anne had wanted to accompany him, but the Scot had vetoed that.
    “I should have insisted,” she said, pacing the small parlor. “Those meetings never last more than two hours, usually.”
    She went to a window and looked out at the beginning day. There was no rain, no mist. The sun would show today. “He may have gotten lost,” she reflected.
    It hardly seemed likely. A man like MacMurdie, a man who’d been with Justice, Inc., since its founding, wouldn’t get lost.
    “They’ve done something to him.” She stayed, very still, beside the window and watched the lane.
    When the church bells rang, she realized it was seven. She’d been standing there almost a half-hour. “He’s not coming,” she said, biting at her knuckle.
    It was possible, of course, MacMurdie simply hadn’t kept his promise. He might have gone straight to the inn when he returned to town last night. He might be there now.
    Anne hurried into the hall to her phone. “Oh, yes, good morning, Hulda.”
    “You’re up bright and early, Annie,” replied the phone operator.
    “So are you.” Mrs. Dolittle seemed to be on the job no matter when you picked up the phone. “Can you connect me with the inn, please?”
    “No sooner said than done, Annie.”
    After five rings a weary voice answered, “Good morning, Colonial Inn.”
    “I’d like Mr. MacMurdie’s room, please.”
    “A mite early in the day to be disturbing him, don’t you think?”
    “It’s very important.”
    “Well, hang on and I’ll buzz him.”
    The phone in MacMurdie’s room rang a half-dozen times, and a half-dozen more.
    “That’s enough to wake the dead,” said the clerk. “I’d say he ain’t in.”
    “All right, thank you.”
    “Any messages for—”
    Anne hung up. “I’ll wait a bit longer. Yes, and then I’ll . . . what?” She wasn’t sure what she should do next.
    Nightwitch had a police chief, and an assistant police chief. Anne didn’t think they could be of much help, but she might have to go to them if she couldn’t think of anything else to do.
    She waited fifteen minutes more, then threw on a tan coat and left the cottage.

    The coupé pulled up beside her, its old brakes causing it to swing slightly to the left. “Anne, what are you doing out here?”
    The girl, who was on foot, halted at the side of the winding country road. “Good morning, Gil.”
    The young attorney set the brake, switched off the motor, and climbed out of the car. “I’ve got an early appointment with old man Millman,” he said. “Where are you going?”
    “It doesn’t concern you.”
    “Of course it does,” he said. “Does it