Weary though he was, he could not sleep forthwith.

His mind was occupied with the signs on the canister head.
"32 divided by 1; an 'X' and a dot," he repeated several times.

"What do they signify ?" Suddenly he sat up, with every sense alert, and grabbed his revolver.
Something impelled him to look towards the spot, a few feet away, where the skeleton was hidden.

It was the rustling of a bird among the trees that had caught his ear.
He thought of the white framework of a once powerful man, lying there among the bushes, abandoned, forgotten, horrific.

Then he smothered a cry of surprise.
"By Jove!" he muttered.