CHAPTER XIII
A NIGHT OF HORROR
The night that I spent in the green room was in many ways like the onewhich Robert Ashton spent there. A heavy rain had set in, and the windfrom the southwest was driving it against the windows of the room, justas it had done that other night. I had attempted to raise one of thewindows before turning in, but it was impossible to keep it open for anylength of time as the rain drove in fiercely and threatened to flood theroom. As I lay in bed, unable to concentrate my thoughts upon themagazine I had picked up, I began to reconstruct in my mind the scenewhich had been enacted in this room but a few nights before. I picturedRobert Ashton, sitting at the small, marble-topped table, laboriouslycopying the inscription upon the base of the emerald figure, for whatpurpose I could not imagine. I saw him as he opened the door for MissTemple, his painful interview with her, and his anger at its conclusion.Then, no doubt, he sat down and thought the whole thing over. Heremembered Major Temple's threat that he should never leave the houseand take the emerald with him. Possibly he may have supposed that Murieland her father were in league in some way to obtain possession of thejewel and thus defraud him, he felt, of the fruits of his labors. Nodoubt the question of where to place the stone, during the night, toinsure its absolute safety, became in his mind an important one. Hedetermined to hide it, and cast about for a place of concealment. Tosecrete it about the room would be impracticable: it must be so situatedthat he could instantly remove it if necessary. Yet to place it in hisbag among his other belongings would be no concealment at all. Probablyhe gave a quick glance about the room, and then the cake of soap, greenlike the emerald itself, lying upon the washstand, suggested ahiding-place which, because of its very conspicuousness, would bethought of by no one. To cut the cake in half, lengthways, with a knifeor more probably a piece of thread, was the work of but a moment. Thehollowing out of the chamber within, no doubt, took longer. A glanceabout for a scrap of paper or other material, to hold the bits of soapas he slowly dug them out with his penknife, revealed the handkerchieflying close at hand upon the floor where Miss Temple had dropped it.Soon the thing was done--the great emerald snugly placed in itsimprovised case, and the edges of the two halves of the soap softenedwith water and pressed tightly together until they were once moreunited. Then it was only necessary to use the soap once to wash hishands, and the telltale line between the two halves would disappear.That his plan had indeed been an ingenious one, subsequent eventsproved, for the room was searched, twice by the police, once by myselfand Major Temple, and once by Li Min, yet of all the people bent upondiscovering the jewel, not one had given the cake of soap, lying soobviously and properly in its china dish, more than a cursory glance.
Then I thought, what next? No doubt Ashton had turned off the gas andclimbed into bed. I say climbed advisedly, for the bed, one of thoseold-fashioned four posters with a feather mattress under the hair one,was far higher from the floor than are our modern beds, and tofacilitate getting into it, there stood beside it a little, low, woodenstool, by which one ascended to its snowy heights.
Presently, over my imaginings, I felt myself growing unaccountablysleepy and tired. I realized that the strain of the long day had been aheavy one. In spite of the feelings of horror with which the room had atfirst inspired me, I could see no reason for going without a goodnight's rest. There was no priceless jewel concealed upon the premises,to bring down upon me either the vengeance of Buddha or the murderousattacks of my fellow men. I laughed a little at my earlier fears as Irose in bed, reached over to the chandelier and turned out the light.The sighing and moaning of the wind, and the dashing of the rain againstthe window panes were the last sound I heard as I passed into a heavyand restless sleep.
I must have slept for several hours, during which I tossed about, a preyto broken and tortured dreams. At one time I seemed to be again in theunderground temple of Buddha, and the glittering green figure of thedeity seemed to grow and swell until it filled the whole room, forcingme down and ever down until I seemed to be choking under its enormousweight. Again I thought myself imprisoned in a huge cake of soap, whichclosed about me slowly and with irresistible force while I vainly triedto force it back with my hands to keep from smothering. For a long timeI seemed to be beneath a dark cloud which dissolved into glitteringpoints of light, only to be swallowed up in darkness again. After a timeI seemed to be struggling to free myself from a huge, soft object whichlay upon my chest and threatened to strangle me. I discovered at lastthat it was the dead body of Boris, the great mastiff, which, try as Iwould, I could not free myself from. Presently the dog seemed to becomesuddenly alive and its huge, dripping jaws opened and closed tightlyupon my throat. I struggled madly to extricate myself from his grasp,but I seemed to be slowly, but surely, choking to death. In a madness offear I half awoke, trembling and weak, and, with a cry, thrust theimaginary body of the animal from me and sprang to my feet in the bed.I saw nothing but the faint light of the window opposite me, and with amad desire for air I sprang violently toward it, my right foot, as Ilurched heavily outward, coming down upon the wooden stool by the sideof the bed. And, as I thus dashed headlong in the direction of thewindow, gasping desperately for breath, I suddenly felt a violentglancing blow upon the side of my head, that shook me to the verymarrow, and stretched me stunned and unconscious upon the floor.
I must have remained in this position for several moments, although Ihad no means of knowing, when I slowly awoke to consciousness, how longa time my insensibility had lasted. Slowly my mind began to grasp thefact that something strange, almost unbelievable, had happened to me,although what it was I did not then understand. I seemed to be swimmingin a vast limitless space, filled with light, which graduallycontracted until it became a single glowing spark which seemed to bemyself, my intelligence. This process of coming back, as it were, seemedto take an age, yet I know now that it could not have been more than afew brief moments. When at last I opened my eyes, and realized mysituation, I was intensely weak, and still gasping madly for air. Iseemed unable to breathe--my lungs, my heart seemed oppressed as thoughby heavy weights. I slowly and painfully struggled to my knees andraised my hand to my head, which seemed ready to burst with pain. Itcame away dripping with blood. The sudden shock of the realization thatI was wounded, together with the sharp pain which the touching of thewound gave me, roused me to the necessity of quick and sudden action. Itried to rise, but my legs seemed made of stone. I fell over upon myside and then began to crawl laboriously and painfully toward the door.The choking sensation increased every moment. For a time I thought Ishould never be able to reach it, and then with a rush I thought ofMuriel, and all that the future held for us, and I made a last terribleeffort, dragged myself across the few feet remaining between myself andthe door, and, with barely enough strength left to reach up and turn theknob, managed somehow to fall across the threshold and into the hall.
I fell with my head and most of my body in the passageway, and, as aresult of my almost superhuman efforts, must have again becomeunconscious. When I once more revived, I no longer felt the horriblesensation of choking which had before oppressed me, and I attributedthis to the cold air of the hall. I felt very weak, and my head waslying in a pool of blood, but my senses were fairly clear, and I knewthat I must regain my room and attempt in some way to stop the flow ofblood from my wound. After some difficulty I managed to rise, andstaggered into my room. My first thought was of a flask of whiskey whichI usually carried in my bag. I prayed that in sending down my thingsfrom London it had not been removed. After groping about for a fewmoments I came upon it, and lost no time in swallowing the bulk of itscontents. Under this sudden and violent stimulation I began to feelbetter, my strength began to return, and I managed to find a wax taperand light the gas. A look into the mirror caused me to shudder. My faceand the entire right side of my head was a gory mass of blood, which,even as I stood there, dripped in heavy drops upon the white cloth onthe top of the dresser. I hastily seized a towel and managed to bring myface t
o some appearance of the human, after which I soaked a couple ofhandkerchiefs in cold water and bound them upon the wound. It proved tobe a long, irregular gash, extending from the side of my head some twoor more inches back of the temple down nearly or quite to my rightear. It was still bleeding profusely, but the blood matting with myhair, had begun to coagulate and in the course of an hour or more,during which I constantly renewed the application of the cold water, hadpractically ceased to flow. I bound my head up, removed the remainingtraces of blood from my face and then, returning cautiously to the greenroom, entered and looked about me. The light from my own room, and thegray signs of dawn without enabled me to see that it was empty. Therewas no silent figure crouching within, waiting to deal me another deadlyblow, nor had I expected to find any. I took one look about, seized mywatch from the table and fled. But, when I left that chamber of horrors,and closed the door behind me, I knew how Robert Ashton had come to hisdeath.
I BOUND MY HEAD UP AND THEN, RETURNING CAUTIOUSLY TO THEGREEN ROOM, ENTERED AND LOOKED ABOUT ME.]
On returning again to my own room I glanced hurriedly at my watch. Itwas nearly six o'clock.
The stimulation of the whiskey had by this time begun to wear off, and Ilay down upon the bed to rest. Presently I fell asleep, from pureexhaustion, and did not awake until I was aroused by a tapping at thedoor. I looked at my watch. It was after ten o'clock, and the brightmorning sun was glistening upon the bare ground and the trees without,brilliant in their coats of frozen rain. One of the maids had brought upmy breakfast upon a tray, and I managed to take it from her withoutexhibiting my bound-up head and generally gory appearance. The wholeright shoulder and side of the pajamas which I still wore were cakedwith blood. I sent word to Major Temple that I would join him shortly,and requested the maid to inform him that, should Sergeant McQuadearrive, he be asked to postpone his final examination of the green roomuntil I had seen him. In somewhat less than an hour I had managed to getmyself into fairly presentable condition, and with my head bound up intowels that looked for all the world like an Eastern turban, I slowlydescended to the main hall and entered the library.
Major Temple was standing with his back to the fire, talking earnestlywith the detective, who stood facing him. As the former caught sight ofmy pale face and bandaged head, he stopped speaking suddenly, sprangforward and took my hand.
"Good God, Mr. Morgan!" he cried, "What's wrong with you?"
I tottered unsteadily to a seat, and laughed. "Nothing much, Sir," Ireplied. "I had a bit of an accident last night and got a nasty cut inthe head. It's nothing serious, however."
"You look rather done up, Sir," said McQuade as he examined mesearchingly. "Has Buddha been at work again? Major Temple has just beentelling me about his dog. The thing is too deep for me. I've handledmany cases, but this one beats them all for uncanniness, and downrightmystery. I wonder if the truth of the affair will ever be known."
"Yes," said I, shortly. "I know it."
"You!" Both Major Temple and the detective turned and looked at me asthough they could scarcely believe their ears.
"I know how Robert Ashton was killed, and I'm pretty sure I can explainthe death of the dog as well. In fact, you came very near having a thirdmystery on your hands this morning, Sergeant." I smiled grimly.
"What do you mean?" asked the both of them, together.
"I slept in the green room last night," I replied, "and the thing thatdid for poor Ashton came very near doing for me as well." As I spoke, Ifelt my wounded head gently. "As it is, I fancy I will be all right,after the doctor has put a few stitches in my head, but it was a closecall, I can tell you."
"You slept in the green room?" asked Major Temple in amazement. "Whatin the name of Heaven did you do that for?"
"To find out what happened to Ashton, and by the merest chance I did so.A little more one way, and you would never have known. And a little morethe other," I added, "and I probably never should."
"Explain yourself, man," said the Major, somewhat testily. "Whathappened? Tell us about it, can't you?"
"I can and will," I said, slowly, "but not here. We must go there,before you can fully understand."
"Come on, then," said McQuade, and they both started toward the door.
At that moment Muriel came in, glancing about, I felt, for me. She cametoward me, as I rose from my chair, with a happy smile, which slowlyfaded away and was replaced by a look of deepest concern as she saw mybandaged head. "Why, Owen!" It was almost the first time she had calledme by my Christian name and it made me feel wildly happy in spite ofthe racking pains in my head. "What on earth is the matter? Are youhurt?" She came up and took my hand, unmindful of the presence of herfather and the man from Scotland Yard.
"Not much," I managed to reply; "just a nasty bit of a cut about thehead. I slept in the green room last night, and, as I was just tellingyour father, I managed to find out the secret of Mr. Ashton's death, butI had rather a bad quarter of an hour doing so." I smiled ruefully andfelt my turban to see if it was on straight.
"You--you slept in that room!" she cried, turning a bit white."Why--you--what could you have been thinking of?"
"Don't think about it," I said, patting the hand she had placed upon myarm. My realization of her concern, her love, her fears, because of mypossible danger, filled me with joy. "We are just going there now, andI hope to explain to all of you just what happened. But I would notadvise you to use it as a guest chamber, in future," I concluded with aslight laugh.
The Major led the way, with Sergeant McQuade at his heels. The littleman from Scotland Yard was all professional eagerness. He felt, nodoubt, that his reputation as a detective had been brought intoquestion. He had worked on the case for nearly a week and had succeededonly in arresting a number of innocent persons, while it was left formyself, a rank outsider, to discover the solution of the mystery whichhad so completely baffled himself and his men. I could not help feelinga secret sensation of satisfaction. The Sergeant had acted very decentlyall through, I had to admit, but I had not quite forgiven InspectorBurns and himself for the famous theory they had so carefullyconstructed, which resulted in so much suffering on Muriel's part, aswell as a great deal of discomfort and unhappiness upon my own.
As we followed the others up the stairway, she took my arm and pressedit gently, and the look she gave me repaid me many times over for allthe horrors of the night just past.
McQuade took out his key as we reached the door of the room, but Iexplained that it was not locked, and that Major Temple had opened itthe night before with a duplicate key. The pool of blood on the floor ofthe hall, which had collected while I lay there earlier in the morning,still gave mute evidence of the experience through which I had passed.Muriel shuddered as she looked at it, but I hurriedly pushed open thedoor, and bade the others enter. I had no desire for further sympathynor did I wish to bring about any dramatic climax. We all entered, theMajor and Muriel looking about fearsomely as though they momentarilyexpected some unseen figure to rise and confront them, weapon in hand.When they had all got inside, I closed the door and said: "The weaponthat fractured Mr. Ashton's skull has been in plain view to everyone,ever since the morning his death was discovered. There it is," Icontinued, quietly, and pointed to the heavy bronze chandelier whichhung from the ceiling close to the side of the bed.
CHAPTER XIV
THE SECRET OF THE GREEN ROOM
I do not know just what my auditors expected in the way of anexplanation of the mystery when they followed me to the greenroom--possibly some well-constructed or finely drawn theory. When Ipointed to the chandelier, they all looked a bit nonplused, and nobodysaid anything for several moments. Then McQuade remarked, in his quietvoice, with a shade of comprehension in his tone and expression: "How doyou make that out, Sir?"
The chandelier to which I had pointed was an old-fashioned one, of thekind in general use in the early fifties. It was, I fancied, originallymade for a room with a somewhat higher ceiling. The ceilings in thewings of The Oaks were unusu
ally low, and the extreme lower end of thechandelier extended to a point not much over six feet from the floor. Ijudged this, because I am myself five feet eleven, and I could just passbeneath it without striking it. It hung in the center of the room, andabout three feet from the side of the bed, which, on account of itsgreat size, extended far out from the wall against which it was placed.The chandelier was of dark bronze or bronzed iron, and consisted of aheavy central stem, from the lower end of which extended fourelaborately carved branches, supported by heavy and useless chainsreaching to a large ball about midway up the stem. Below the point fromwhich these four arms sprung was a sort of circular bronze shield, ortarget, and from the lower face of this, in the center, projected anoctagonal ornamental spike, about two and a half inches long,terminating in a sharp point. The whole thing was ugly and heavy, andseemed in design more suitable to a hall or library than a bedroom.Almost directly beneath it, but somewhat nearer to the side of the bed,stood the low bench or stool, not over five inches high, the use ofwhich I have already mentioned. I explained the tragedy to the detectiveand the others as I knew it must have happened.
"Last night," I said, "I was unable to open either the window in thesouth or that in the west wall, because of the driving rain. The sameconditions, as you will remember, existed upon the fatal night which Mr.Ashton spent here. For some reason, which I hope to explain presently,we were both nearly suffocated while asleep, and rose suddenly in bed,with but one thought, one desire, to get a breath of fresh air. Thewindow in the west wall, directly opposite the bed, attracted us. In Mr.Ashton's case, no doubt, the face of Li Min, peering in from without,increased his terror. Like myself, he sprang up and dashed toward thewindow, placing his right foot, as I did, upon the low stool beside thebed. His first dash forward and upward, to a standing position, like myown, brought his head, elevated by the height of the stool, in contactwith the spike upon the lower end of the chandelier with great force.The spike entered his head, fracturing the skull. He was a taller andheavier man than myself, and the force of the contact as he sprangforward and upward must have been terrific. In my case, owing to myhaving jumped from the bed at a slightly different point, I struck thespike only a glancing blow, which was sufficient however to render meunconscious for several minutes. I fell to the floor, senseless, but ina short time I struggled to my knees and managed, by crawling painfullyto the door, to escape from the room. The interval, from the time Ifirst fell to the time I reached the hall and again became unconscious,must have been very short."
"Why?" asked McQuade, who, like the others, followed my every word withintense interest.
"Because, had the time been very long, I, like Mr. Ashton, should neverhave risen at all. You would have found me here this morning, as he wasfound."
"But why?" asked Major Temple.
For answer I took a box of wax tapers from my pocket and lighted one."Have you ever heard of the Cave of Dogs, near Naples?" I inquired.
"Carbon dioxide," gasped the Major with a look of comprehension.
Sergeant McQuade looked blank, and I saw that to him neither my questionnor the Major's answer had conveyed any definite meaning. "Look," Icried, as I held the match out before me, where it burned with a bright,clear flame.
McQuade's mystification increased. I think he wondered if I were tryingto play some practical joke upon him. But, when I slowly lowered thetaper until it reached a point a few inches above my knee, and itsflame faded away and then suddenly went out, as though the match hadbeen plunged into a basin of water, his expression slowly cleared, andhe gave a significant grunt. "Carbonic-acid gas," he said. "Iunderstand. But where does it come from?"
"That I do not know, at the moment," I said, "but I think there shouldbe no great difficulty in finding out. This room has been closed for along time. Even when Mr. Ashton came here, it was opened for only a fewmoments. Neither he nor I opened the windows, because of the rain, asyou know. Somehow, just how I cannot say, a slow stream of carbonic-acidgas finds its way into this room. It is the product of combustion, asyou of course know, and is produced in large quantities by burning coal.It may come through the register from the furnace, or from some peculiaraction of partially slacked lime in the plaster of the walls. Whereverit comes from, being heavier than air, it slowly settles to the floor,where it collects, becoming deeper and deeper, just as water collectsand rises in a tank. Look." I tore a few sheets from the magazine I hadbeen reading the night before, which still lay upon the bed, andlighting them with another match, extinguished the flame, but allowedthe smoke from the smoldering paper to spread about the room. It slowlysank until it rested upon the surface of the heavy gas, like a layer ofice upon the surface of a body of water. It showed the carbon dioxide tobe considerably over two feet deep, and some six or eight inches belowthe level of the top of the bed. I knew it must have risen higher duringthe night, as it was its deadly fumes, closing about my pillow andbeginning to enter my lungs, that caused my troubled dreams, as well as,ultimately, the feeling of suffocation which had caused me to awake sosuddenly. A considerable portion of the gas had evidently flowed outthrough the open door, as I lay across the threshold, after my escapefrom the room.
"And that is what killed poor Boris," said the Major, as he watched theeddying whirls of smoke which settled and rested upon the surface of thegas. "Exactly," I said, "and probably Ashton as well. His skull wasfractured, it is true, but the divisional surgeon at the inquestreported, you may remember, that the fracture was not sufficient ofitself to have caused instant death. It was ten minutes or more, Ishould say, from the time I was first awakened by Ashton's cry, until wefinally broke in the door and reached his side. By that time he hadsuffocated. The gas, as no doubt you know, is not a poisonous one, butcontaining no oxygen which the lungs can take up, acts very much thesame as water would if breathed into the lungs."
Muriel looked at me with admiring eyes. I did not tell her that myfather had intended me to be, like himself, an engineer, and that I hadtaken a pretty thorough technical course before adopting art as aprofession. And, after all, the simple explanations I had made wereknown to almost every schoolboy with a little knowledge of chemistry orphysics.
"I believe your explanation of Mr. Ashton's death is the correct one,Mr. Morgan," said McQuade, and he said it ungrudgingly. "But how, afterall, did the missing emerald come to be found in the cake of soap?"
"Undoubtedly Ashton put it there," I replied. "He realized the enormousvalue of the thing and feared that some attempt might be made to take itfrom him. His hiding place for the jewel was certainly an ingenious one,and you will remember that you and your men searched the room thoroughlyon more than one occasion without finding it."
McQuade looked a bit sheepish at this. He walked over to the chandelierand examined its ugly-looking spike with deep interest. It was stainedwith dried blood and a few bits of hair still clung to it, but whetherAshton's or my own, we could of course not tell. There seemed nothingfurther that we could do, and, as McQuade said he intended going intoExeter immediately after luncheon to make his report, and have theauthorities make an examination into the cause of the collection of thecarbonic-acid gas in the room, as well as the stains of blood, etc.,upon the point of the chandelier, I suggested that I accompany him, as Iwanted to get my wound dressed without delay.
We set out, about an hour later, with Gibson and the high cart, and onthe way McQuade told me about his attempts to locate the much soughtemerald. It seems that after two days of effort his men had located theunderground temple of Buddha, but, when they found it, it had beenstripped of all its decorations and was merely an old cellar flooredover. It appears that the Chinamen, in taking us from the house inKingsgate street, had passed through an areaway back of the house, andthence through a gateway in the rear wall, into a narrow court, alongwhich they had proceeded some distance. From here they had entered therear of a house facing upon the adjoining street, to which the cellarbelonged. The house had been taken, but a short time before, by a coupleof Chinamen who
wished to use it as a dwelling. They were seldom seen bythe neighbors, and visitors came and went at night, unnoticed by theoccupants of the neighboring houses. They had all, however, completelydisappeared, and left hardly a trace of their presence. No doubt by nowthe emerald Buddha was far on its way toward the little shrine in PingYang, carefully secreted among the belongings of the old temple priest.I felt a sort of secret satisfaction at learning this, and I thinkSergeant McQuade did as well. Certainly it did not belong in this partof the world, and its possession could have brought nothing but troubleand danger to all of us. I think Major Temple was glad, as well,although I never heard him mention the subject of the jewel again. Ifancy he felt to some extent responsible for Ashton's death, or at leastfor having sent him upon the quest which ultimately resulted in it.
I had six stitches taken in my head by an excellent old doctor in town,who tried his best to find out how I had come by such a severe wound,but I refused to satisfy his curiosity, and drove back with Gibson anhour later, after saying good-by to the man from Scotland Yard. Henever, to my knowledge visited The Oaks again, although I received aletter from him later, with reference to the investigation which theauthorities had made into the cause of the accumulation of thecarbonic-acid gas in the room which Ashton and myself had successivelyoccupied with such disastrous results. It seems that the heating systemin the house had been installed by its former occupant and owner, anative of Brazil, unused to our cold English winters. It consisted of aseries of sheet iron pipes, leading from a large furnace in the cellar.The pipe which supplied the heat for the green room, whether by accidentor design, led directly from the combustion chamber of the furnaceinstead of from a hot-air chamber, as was the case with the other pipes.The consequence was that while the hot air taken to the other rooms waspure air, drawn from without and heated, that which supplied the greenroom carried away from the furnace great quantities of carbon dioxide,produced in the combustion of the coal. An old valve in the pipe showedthat this source of supply could be shut off when so desired, and fromthis I judged that the owner of the house may have had the pipingintentionally so constructed, with the idea of putting out of the waysome undesirable friends or relatives. That such was actually the caseseemed borne out by the rumors of at least two sudden and mysteriousdeaths which were known to have occurred in the house. Major Temple,owing to his long residence in India and the East could not endure acold house, and the presence of this heating plant had been one of thereasons which had governed him in leasing the house for the winter. Asfar as I was concerned, I had not noticed the register in the wall atall, during the night I slept in the room, having forgotten itsexistence. I presume it had been turned on by Mr. Ashton. Had I noticedit, I should certainly have turned it off, as I particularly dislike tosleep in a heated room.
I reached the house about four o'clock and found Muriel awaiting myreturn in the library. Her father, she told me, had gone off for awalk. We had a great deal to say to each other, and it took us tilldinner to say it, but I have an idea that it would not interest thereader particularly. We had a lively party at dinner, and the Major gotout some special vintage champagne to celebrate our engagement and drinkto our future happiness. It was late before I turned in, and I did not,you may be sure, sleep in the green room. The next day, I set out forTorquay by rail, to explain to my mother my long delay in arriving, andto tell her about Muriel. With my departure from The Oaks the story ofthe emerald Buddha, and the memorable week it caused me, is ended, butthe blessings that came to me through it I had only begun to appreciate.I have not become a Buddhist, yet I confess that I never see a statue ofthat deity but I bend my head before his benign and inscrutable face,and render up thanks for the great blessings he has showered upon me. Ithas now been three years since Muriel and I were married, and they havebeen three years of almost perfect happiness. We think of making a tripto China, some of these days, and, if we do, we have concluded to make aspecial pilgrimage to Ping Yang, and place upon the altar of Buddha themost beautiful bunch of flowers that money can buy, as a little offeringand testimonial of our appreciation of what he has done for us.
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Transcriber's Notes:
Punctuation has been standardised.
Page 54, "it's" changed to "its" (that its presence)
Page 58, "Sergean" changed to "Sergeant" (Sergeant McQuade looked)
Illustration following Page 276, "GREEN-ROOM" changed to "GREEN ROOM"(TO THE GREEN ROOM)
The "s" in "street" following a proper noun is sometimes with aninitial capital and sometimes with lower case.
The Green God Page 13