It was the mysterious man he had seen last night in the lightning—the old man of mystery. With him were four policemen, with drawn revolvers.
Jessica grew ghastly pale; she swayed on her feet, staring unbelievingly at the apparition. Teck could not draw his eyes away. It was Jessica who spoke first, a cry drawn from her, involuntarily, amazedly.
“Father!”
Teck stared. “Peter Pomeroy!” he gasped, stepping backward as though from an apparition. It was his last step.
Behind him was a rock, on the very edge of the cliff, over which he tumbled. The last thing they saw was his pale face, disfigured by the scar, disappearing backward down the long drop. A hoarse scream echoed back, there was a crashing of underbrush, and silence.
The policemen jumped for the three toughs and took charge of them, but nobody noticed. Slowly Jessica was advancing to the aged man, who gazed at her, his face transfigured.
“Father!” she breathed again.
“Yes, it is I,” he said.
In an instant she was sobbing on his breast, softly.
Val stared at Eddie and Eddie stared back just as wonderingly at Val.
“Well, I’ll be damned!” Val exclaimed at length.
“So will I, sir,” replied Eddie.
The scene between father and daughter was a touchingly pathetic one, and Val and Eddie discreetly busied themselves in diverting their attention to something else. They leaned over the cliff and tried to discover the body of Teck far below, but he had evidently rolled under a tree, because they could see nothing of him.
