The Dinosaur Hunters by Patrick Samphire

Author:Patrick Samphire [Patrick Samphire]
Language: eng
Format: epub

The Martian wilderness was thick and dense. Tall, twisted trees spiked up through the undergrowth, trailing slowly writhing creepers from their branches. Beneath the canopy, pressed in by the heavy undergrowth, the air was sweltering. Within ten minutes, Harriet was soaked through. Sweat dripped from her forehead into her eyes. She dashed it away with a wet sleeve.

They were following a narrow animal track. The undergrowth around them was full of strange rustling and calls, and the occasional piercing shriek. Harriet hadn’t brought a weapon, but she’d brought several canisters of dinosaur repellant, and she clutched them tightly in her damp hands.

Major Beaumont had been as good as his word. The moment they’d left the camp, he’d struck off on his own, saying he knew exactly where his Triceratops watered and he intended to pick up its trail. Nothing Bertrand could say would dissuade him. Harriet wasn’t sure whether the major should be a suspect. He certainly had the ability to kill a man, but Harriet couldn’t see any possible motive for him doing so. But then she couldn’t see any motive for anyone, other than the countess, to kill the professor, and the countess was two hundred yards up the unclimbable Wall.

“What are we thinking?” Bertrand said from behind her, making Harriet jump and almost throw the canister of repellant at him.

She bit her lip as she steadied herself. “About what?”

“The murderer, of course! Come on, Harry. I’m stumped. Most of them seem guilty. Or innocent.”

Harriet glanced around. None of the rest of the party were close, but she lowered her voice anyway. “The way I see it, we didn’t come across the knife when we searched the luggage and the rest of the party after the countess’s jewels were stolen. That leaves two options. Either it was here already, in which case Scott knew about it and he didn’t say anything, or it was on one of the people we didn’t search: the countess, her maid, or Mrs. Patterson.”

The ladies had searched each other in private, but Harriet didn’t know how good a job they’d done.

“I think it must have been the maid,” Bertrand said. “I never trusted her. She’s got a strange nose. I think she must have realized that the professor was the Glass Phantom, so she came down to kill him and retrieve the necklace.”

“Except she didn’t retrieve it, did she?” Harriet said. “And how would she have gotten down? We’d have heard the airship if it had descended again. It’s not exactly quiet.”

“That’s easy! She left the necklace because she must have known we’d find it and return it to her mistress. And she must have used a hover harness or somesuch.”

“But don’t you think we would have seen a hover harness when we were searching? She could hardly have hidden that under her petticoats.”

Bertrand shook his head. “I tell you, it’s her. Or maybe that journalist. He didn’t have an alibi.”

Nor a reason, Harriet thought. Which was more the pity, because if he were the murderer, she’d have a free run at the newspaper article.

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