The Empty Coffins by John Russell Fearn Page A

position, he looked from one man to the other.
    â€œDo you consider, doctor, there is any point in maintaining guard here?” he asked. “We have proved Mrs. Malden has left her coffin. What more—”
    â€œShe has to be found,” Meadows interrupted. “Two of us must keep on constant watch, being relieved at intervals.... You two men can stop,” he added, motioning to the couple who had done most of the digging. “The rest of us will go and see those prints you’re talking about, Singh.”
    The mystic nodded and led the way from the cem­etery. When a point of the lane was reached near Meadows’ car Singh pulled a small torch from his pocket and flashed the beam on the wet ground.
    After searching for a moment or two he picked up the perfectly clear prints, freshly made, which went up the bank and vanished in the field beyond.
    â€œNo doubt about that,” Meadows admitted. “But they lost themselves in the grass above, didn’t you say?”
    â€œUnfortunately, yes.”
    There was silence for a moment. Then, after pondering, Meadows turned up his coat irritably against the drizzle.
    â€œDoesn’t seem to be much more we can do,” he said. “You said, Peter, that you were staying on watch tonight. That still go?”
    â€œDefinitely,” Peter answered. “If there’s any chance of locating Elsie I don’t intend to lose it. If nothing happens you can take over tomorrow night.”
    Meadows nodded. “Very well then.... There are two men who can help you if anything happens; and you other two”—he looked at the couple standing beside him—“had better stay around here in case of trouble. You’re taking on the job of those two luckless policemen. Or are you scared to do it?”
    The two men shook their heads. Countrymen, both of them, they were not easily frightened.
    â€œWill those two policemen become vampires when they’re buried?” Peter asked; and Meadows shrugged.
    â€œPresumably— if they were killed by a vampire. From these other evidences Singh has found I am beginning to wonder…. Can I give you a lift back, Singh?”
    â€œThank you, no.” The mystic’s white teeth gleamed in a smile. “I have decided to stay. Probably Mr. Malden will be glad of my company.”
    â€œHe has the other two men,” Meadows pointed out.
    â€œThe more I have the better,” Peter answered. “You carry on, Doc, and I’ll see you tomorrow...or rather when the day comes.”
    Meadows nodded and walked back to his car. After a while it started off down the lane, the red rear light disappearing in the drizzle. The two countrymen looked at each other, turned their collars up higher, and then began a slow pacing back and forth after the manner of sentries.
    â€œI suppose we’d better get back to the cemetery grounds, Singh,” Peter remarked.
    â€œI think we could turn our time to better pur­pose, Mr. Malden,” the mystic answered. “Follow­ing those footprints, for example.”
    â€œBut I thought you said the trail lost itself in the grass!”
    â€œTo a certain extent it does. I did not take the time to examine the traces thoroughly. We can do so now, since those other men are on the watch in the cemetery.”
    Peter did not agree immediately. Wandering in an open field in the early hours of the morning, and with only Rawnee Singh for company, seemed to him a dangerous occupation. It was not that he was frightened of the mystic, but he was certainly uneasy about him. Left to his mercy Peter was not sure but what he might suddenly pull a knife.
    â€œYou hesitate,” Singh murmured. “Surely, Mr. Malden, you are anxious to know everything about this unhappy, ghoulish business?”
    â€œOf course.” Peter made his decision abruptly. “We’ll see what we can find.”
    He scrambled up the bank quickly, Singh