Greye La Spina

“ Funk lighted another cigarette.
"We went sketching next day," Barclay went on, "and Hoddeston brought our canvases back to the studio. That night he told me that Silva had sent me one of his for a gift; so Harry and I went down to see which one. We lighted candles, and really, we got a nasty shock. The flickering, inadequate candle-light made that old man appear more than ever an entity with a horrid existence independent of his painted presentment. Harry said, 'My God!' in a kind of comic dismay. ”

“ One was a blacksmith, dark, sullen, sinister; he was hammering viciously at what appeared to be a battered crucifix. Another was a farmer slaughtering a wretched hog that somehow looked like a naked man; the butcher's face wore a too realistic grin of sadistic enjoyment as he wielded his bloody knife. ”

“ It was dusk when Funk returned on the following day. The seriousness and abstraction that wove a cloak about him struck Barclay's curious inquiries into silence. A certain high air about the younger artist forbade imperiously any break upon that lofty mood. Funk's first query was, Had Silva been duly informed of the occupation of the studio that night?
"He knows. He told Hoddeston that he would call for his unappreciated masterpiece in a couple of days." ”

“ Barclay sighed. "You speak as if you knew what you were talking about, Funk. I can't just understand you, but I feel that you are somehow right. What do you wish done?"
"Get Mulcahy—or Hoddeston—to clear out all Oakey's canvases. Leave only a couple of your own that you don't particularly care about, so as not to stir Silva's suspicions overly. He'll imagine you're exhibiting. Then have Hoddeston step in and tell Silva what happened to the canvases in the studio, and ask him to have his moved out of harm's way. ”

“ Funk sighed resignedly. "Let's go down to the studio. It's easier to understand, when you've seen things with your own eyes."
The telephone rang. Mrs. Hoddeston ran out of the kitchen and answered it. An expression of horror settled on her placid face.
"Manuel Silva's been found dead, with a knife-wound in his throat," she called, and gave closer attention to the telephone.
Funk beckoned Barclay silently, and the two hurried across the barnyard and into the woods. With the key Barclay had loaned him, Funk unlocked the padlock. He pushed the studio door open. Words seemed superfluous. ”

“ An' Silva only gettin' honorable mention last week, where he was lookin' for first prize?"
"Looks as if Silva had a motive," declared Funk as they walked into the barnyard.
Life was stirring normally about the farm now, as if a ban of enchanted silence had been lifted. Funk could see Barclay's bulky body leaning over the valises on the front stoop. He hailed his friend, then asked Mulcahy hastily: "What do the police say?"
"Anny of us might have done it, sor, but the studio was locked from the inside. An' there's no motive. An' they can't figure where the poor lad's blood wint, sor." ”

“ They placed themselves between the shafts and started toward the farmhouse.
Funk exclaimed, and sprang down the steps to meet that odd equippage. He bent over what was obviously an extended hand, white in the dusk. Barclay, staring, saw the young artist touch his lips to those extended fingers. A child's high, shrilly sweet voice gave an order, and the chair-bearers carried the sedan chair toward the barnyard. Funk followed, calling back as he went.
"See you tomorrow morning, Barclay." With that, he disappeared after the chair into the soft darkness beyond the barnyard. ”

“ He knows you'll be there tonight?"
"Hoddeston told him, if there were any further trouble, I'd sleep there from tonight on, to protect his painting."
"Excellent!" Funk rubbed his hands together and blew a cloud of thick smoke from the cigarette in one corner of his mouth. "And was there any?"
"Yes. Last night the two canvases I'd left were demolished."
"Good! He'll be expecting you to sleep there tonight. Let's have supper. Then I'll run into town and fetch Miss Carradorne. She insists upon coming out; the time was too brief to prepare me to handle the situation single-handed." ”

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